Free The Rogues by Jane Yolen and Robert J. Harris Page B

“It’s clear yer only here to line yer own pocket. Well, we’ll deal with our problems without yer advice or yer whisky.”
    With a shrug, the Rogue hefted his musket and his whisky. He winked at Ishbel and me, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “If ye willna act like men, ye may as well drink like sots.” Then he turned on his heel and headed back up the aisle and out the door at a jaunty pace. He left the door wide open, and many eyes followed him—mine especially—and a few voices grumbled at his departure.
    A child cried out, “I’m hungry, Ma.”
    As if that were some kind of signal, the women gathered their children and funneled out the open door.
    Tam went to light the lamp near the pulpit, and its feeble light sent shadows racing about the front of the kirk.
    â€œNow the entertainment’s gone, we need to pick a deputation,” said Da, calling everybody’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Nae more than a dozen men. We mustna be taken for a mob or that will make matters worse.” There was a small rumble of approval, and he added, “We’ll put it to the laird that he must reconsider what he’s done, for the good of the clan and his own immortal soul.”
    â€œNae!” cried a voice. “The Rogue is right! This laird will never listen. Nor will he ever change.”
    Da stared hard at the congregation through the fading light, anger and disbelief warring in his face. “Was that ye speaking, Roddy?”
    I bit my lip and stood, but I couldn’t take back what I’d just said. The Rogue had been right. He’d shown us the way. “Aye, Da, it was me.” I said my piece and would stand by it, even if Da whipped me with his belt, for I’d only spoken the truth, and well he knew it.
    There was a sudden silence in the kirk as if God himself had decreed that all the men be mute. I started to tremble. What had I begun ? I wondered. What had I begun ?

8 SUPPER AND GRAVES
    Da’s scowl was thundery as the sky outside. Shadows made his face dark. “Curb that tongue, laddie. Only grown men are allowed to speak in kirk.”
    â€œMaybe we should hear the lad out,” said Tam, “since we’re talking here, no praying.” Then, without waiting for Da to agree, he leaned forward and said to me, “What do ye mean, Roddy, that Alan Dunbar is right about the laird?”
    Whatever spirit had made me bold enough just a moment before began to waver like a dying candle, but I recalled my encounter at the Lodge, and that stoked my anger. Though the kirk was chilly, I was afire with the memory.
    â€œI’ve been to the Lodge,” I said, my voice soft, though all leaned toward me to listen. “I’ve heard the laird speak about us as if we were dumb beasts. ‘Ignorant rabble,’ he called us. He said, ‘We might as well have sheep in their place and do without the inconvenience of the rabble’s dirt and noise.’” I took a deep breath and went on. “And I’ve seen Bonnie Josie defy him to his face, and she only a lass.”
    Da folded his arms over his chest. His face was awful to behold, dark and with a deep crease between his eyes. “Well, now ye’ve made a start of it, son, go on with it.”
    I took a deep breath and thought about Bonnie Josie and her mother and how they’d called me a terrier. Then I put my teeth into the thought, shook my head with it, and began again, this time louder.
    â€œAs little as he cares for us, the laird cares less for his own kin. I saw that with my own eyes, heard it with these two ears.” I took another deep breath, my heart hammering so fast beneath my breastbone, I was sure everyone could see it. “He wants to take from Bonnie Josie and her mother the little the old laird left them, because they’ve given refuge to the Glendoun folk.”
    There was a rustling all around me as the men