A Spy at the Highland Court

by Barclay, Celeste

  The woman had turned away, but at the threat, she leaned forward, so only the man and Ric could hear.

  “I only have one blind eye.” The woman looked to three children who ran toward the stall, and the man’s flushed face lost all its color.

  “Ye would threaten my children?”

  “I don’t recall doing that.”

  “Ye’re blackmailing me,” he hissed.

  “No more than you are me. Now do we have a deal or not? I shall freckle if I remain out here much longer.” Her imperious voice once more back in place, reminding the man of her status.

  “Ye win, my lady.” The man handed a purse over as the woman handed him the parchments.

  “Thank you. Until next time, neighbor.” The woman had the audacity to wink while the man spluttered.

  She walked away with the poise and grace that set her apart as a lady-in-waiting. Ric watched her as she lifted her hood and tucked her hair back underneath it. Something urged him to follow her as she blended into the crowd. He assumed Robbie would keep up or know to meet him back at the stables. He followed the hood until it suddenly disappeared. Ric pushed through the crowd until he nearly stumbled over the woman as she bent over to hand several of her hard-earned coins to children who clearly needed food. Their hollow cheeks and sallow skin spoke of their situation.

  “Thank ye, my lady. If ye didn’t find us each week, my sisters and I wouldn’t eat. We would have starved by now.” The oldest boy spoke as he held three younger girls against his side.

  “I know, love. That’s why I do it. Be careful not to have anyone nick the coins from you.”

  Ric was mesmerized as she used a handkerchief to wipe away snot that ran down the youngest one’s nose and lip. When she was done, she folded it over and stuffed it into a hidden pocket. “Watch out for one another.”

  The woman moved on, but Ric was struck by the children. He knew what it was to be an orphan, and he suspected these children were the same. Had he not been taken, he would have been raised in the keep alongside his cousin. But he also knew that had the king’s whim changed, there would have been little difference between him and the four children standing before him. He looked back over his shoulder at Robbie.

  “Take them to wash their hands and faces, then take them to the inn for a proper meal. See if the innkeeper will hire them for any odd jobs. The little one may be too young, but the other three should be able to do something.” Ric spoke softly lest his voice travel.

  “You want me to speak?” Robbie murmured.

  “You’ve heard enough of people speak to pretend to sound like them, or use your French accent.”

  Robbie nodded, and Ric handed him several coins. The children stood wide eyed as the two men discussed them, then they followed Robbie, only looking back at Ric twice.

  “That was very kind of you.”

  Ric was unprepared for the woman to be standing at his side when he stood up. Her hood was still covering her head, but he noticed she was tall for a woman, even a willowy one. She tilted her head back just enough for him to see eyes that were a mixture of green and gray, reminding him of Italian marble he had seen while traveling with Edward in Europe. She did have a smattering of freckles across her nose, but the shadow of her hood hid her cheeks.

  “No more so than you, my lady.”

  “English.” It was not an accusation but more an observation.

  “Yes, my lady. But only half.”

  Her eyes raked over him, and he felt a heat surge through him that began in his bollocks. It was not a seductive or provocative gaze—at least Ric was sure she did not intend it to be—but he prayed his cock would desist before she saw far more than she intended. Fortunately, her eyes returned to his before he made a fool of himself.

  “Which half?”

  Ric cleared his throat and blinked several times before he realized she meant which half of his family, and not which half of him.

  “My father.”

  Ric watched her eyes shutter as she nodded and prepared to turn away. He suspected she believed his father had been an English knight who raped his Scottish mother. He could not let her leave with that misperception. He felt compelled to make sure she understood.

  “My father married into the MacLellan clan. They lived there until they both died.”

  “My condolences. Is that why you sound English? Even though you were raised in Scotland.”

  “I wasn’t raised here, my lady. Unfortunately, that was not a choice given to me. I was taken to England where I was raised.”

  She gasped, and a look of sympathy pushed away the distaste.

  “Your father’s family took you from your home.”

  “No, my lady. That’s not it either. I don’t know much about my father’s family. He has a brother, but he left for the Crusades, and I know not whether he ever returned.”

  Ric was entering dangerous water confessing so much about himself before having an audience with the king. He needed to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

  “An English knight in Scotland is a man who doesn’t plan to live long. You had better conduct your business and speak as little as you can.” The woman looked up at the castle and then at the sun. “I must be on my way. Thank you for what you did for those children. I surmise you realized they are orphans. If they can find work, then they may survive the winter. I wish I had thought to do as you sent your squire to do.”

  “You couldn’t have taken them to an inn, my lady. It’s not for lack of care on your part. We all have limitations, some placed upon us.” Ric watched as she scanned the crowd, her gaze finally resting on the group of ladies-in-waiting he noticed earlier. “May I ask your name, my lady?”

  “Isabella Dunbar,” and with that, she blended into the crowd, and Ric watched her go. She had not asked for his name in return, but neither had she refused to give hers.

  Chapter Five

  Ric returned to the inn to find Robbie had secured the children’s employment, and the innkeeper’s wife took pity on the youngest child. The couple had not been able to have children of their own, and Ric was struck by the kindness they both showed the children. He suspected they would treat the children well, and that their kindness was not just a display.

  He and Robbie retrieved their horses and walked through the town until they reached the gates of Stirling Castle. Unlike the city gates, these were closed to anyone who did not have a purpose within the castle grounds.

  “State your business,” a guard demanded.

  Ric knew this would be the first test of many within the next few hours.

  “Sir Dedric Hage sent with a letter of voucher from Laird Malcolm MacLellan, my cousin. I am here to hire out my services as a knight.”

  “English.”

  “Half.”

  “Which half?”

  This time Ric knew the question did not refer to his parents.

  “The half that doesn’t like bannocks or haggis.”

  Ric and Robbie waited a long moment before the guard grunted and stepped aside.

  “We don’t have knights in Scotland. We have men.”

  Ric nodded and shuffled Robbie through the gate and toward the stables.

  “Now what?” Robbie asked.

  “I’m not sure. We shall see if I can get an audience with the king.”

  “What would you have me do while you attempt that?”

  “See what you can find out but keep quiet. I heard your attempt at a Scottish accent. It was miserable. Muck out stalls if you have to, but keep your ears open and your gob shut.”

  Ric turned toward the castle, but not without a glance over his shoulder. Robbie was leading their horses into the stables. He made his way inside with little trouble until he arrived at the king’s solar. There was a line of men waiting outside, and no one seemed in a hurry to call them within. Ric stood for nearly two hours before the doors opened and a thin man with a booming voice announced the king was finished with his audience, and that they would have t
o return tomorrow. Ric had no intention of waiting until the next day. If he did, it meant another night at the inn. After what he gave the children, he did not have enough to spend on another night if he and Robbie could find accommodations here, even if they were in the barracks. The men lingering in the hallway filed past him, but he stood rooted in his place.

  “I said the king was not holding any further audiences until tomorrow. Be on your way,” the man sniffed.

  “Since I have nowhere else to be, I shall wait. Perhaps the king shall find he has time after all.”

  “English.”

  Ric was becoming tired of how “English” was always an accusation and never an observation. Except for Isabella Dunbar. She had not meant it derisively, but curiously.

  “My father was English, and my mother was the cousin of Lady Emelyn MacLellan. I am the son of Christian Hage and Emelote MacLellan Hage.”

  “Hage, you say?” The man inched closer as though frightened that Ric would attack. “You have the look of him.”

  “You knew my father?” Ric was stunned.

  “Not well, mind you. But he was presented at court shortly after marrying your mother. The king wanted to meet the English knight who renounced his king for a Scottish lass.”

  “Then you might understand why I have returned to Scotland after being kept away for so long.”

  “What does that have to do with the king? You haven’t been summoned.”

  “That is true. I doubt he knows of me. I have left England behind, but that doesn’t mean I have left my skills there. I bear a voucher of confidence from my cousin, Laird Malcolm MacLellan. I would offer my sword to the king. The rightful king.”

  Ric found it was not as difficult to acknowledge Robert the Bruce as king of Scotland now that he had been here for more than a fortnight. Before arriving in Scotland, he had not cared whether Robert had a legitimate claim to the throne. He had only cared about the missions and the battles and staying alive. Now, with distance from King Edward, he admitted to himself that the man who demanded his fealty was a man he detested and no longer feared. Distance did not make the heart grow fonder, at least not Ric’s.

  “Wait here.” The man banged upon the door, and it opened immediately.

  It was nearly another hour before Ric was finally admitted. He looked around the solar, surprised at how small it was compared to the chambers Edward selected for his throne. The chamber was barely larger than Malcolm’s solar, but had a similar oblong wooden table in the center with parchments strewn across it. A man with russet hair sat at the head with a crown slightly askew as he reviewed the document before him.

  “Sire, may I present Sir Christian Hage.” The man from the passageway stepped forward.

  Ric bent his knee and lowered his head as he heard the king lay the vellum on the table.

  “Rise.”

  “Your Majesty, if I may, I’m Sir Dedric Hage. Sir Christian’s son.”

  King Robert scowled first at him for speaking out of turn, then at his advisor for the incorrect introduction.

  “The resemblance is strong. I suppose I can see the confusion, though your father would have been close to my age.”

  Ric did not move, knowing from years with Edward that Robert’s comments were not meant to draw a response.

  “What brings you to my court?” King Robert wasted no time with formalities.

  “My tenure as a knight is done, and I chose to return to my home.”

  “Tenure as whose knight and what home? If I recall correctly, your father died fighting another clan on behalf of the MacLellan, and your mother died a few years later during a raid led by the English.”

  Ric forced his face to remain neutral when he wanted to grimace.

  “I was taken from my home during that raid and handed over to King Edward. I served as a page, then became a squire to one of his knights before earning my own spurs. I was indebted to the king and forced to swear my oath. I have served my time and do not wish to remain with the man who ruined my life.” Ric found each word was true, and the bitterness that crept into his voice was not forced. He did not wish to return to Edward, and dreaded the day when he would have to.

  “And so you thought to appear before me.” The king’s voice remained impassive as he cast an assessing eye over Ric from the top of his head to the tip of his boots.

  “I have been to my mother’s people and spent a fortnight with them; however, I would not wear out my welcome.”

  “They are your family. How could you not be welcome?”

  Ric recognized the test and knew that King Robert had spent time in King Edward’s service, too. Ric had been too young to know there would be any significance to that connection. It was the type of question Edward would have asked.

  “I have been away most of my life. To appear and expect the laird’s family and clan to house me and feed me simply because my mother was one of them seems rather brazen and presumptuous.”

  “So you appear here instead, and expect my household to house you and feed you.” It was not a question.

  “I request a position among your guardsmen. I bear a missive from Laird Malcolm attesting to my time spent training his warriors and the knowledge I can offer.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  “The English king killed my family and ruined my life. I thought to say thank you.” Ric’s bitterness was genuine and caused King Robert to stare harder.

  “How long do you intend to remain in my employ? Do you intend to swear your loyalty to me? Did you not once do that to Edward?”

  “I swore it out of compulsion, whereas I would swear mine to you out of choice. I will remain as long as I am useful, but I would ask for a piece of land that I might retire to afterward. I would like to have a home where I can live in peace.”

  “Peace?” The king’s laugh held no mirth. “And just where would you plan to find that? Why not return to the MacLellans?”

  “I would not ask my cousin to share his land with me. I have no right to inheritance, and I do not presume to believe I will have an unlimited invitation to stay.”

  “But you are family. You are one of the MacLellans.”

  Ric shrugged. “If Malcolm sees fit to offer me something, then I shall be thankful. Perhaps I will need to prove myself first.”

  “And that is where I come in.”

  Ric did not speak. It was a comment not a question, and Ric had learned long ago that one only spoke when spoken to when it came to conversations with sovereigns.

  “Are you prepared to swear your oath today?”

  “I am prepared to serve you at your leisure, Your Majesty.”

  “Hmmm.” The king looked him over once more, noticing the evasion. “Mayhap I will test you out and then decide whether I wish to keep you.”

  Ric felt like a horse about to be put through its paces, but if it offered him the opportunity to stay, then he would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Don’t thank me quite yet. You may join the court for the evening meal.” The king returned his attention to the documents before him, and Ric bowed, knowing he had been dismissed.

  To be included in the evening meal meant that Ric was being treated with the deference of a knight and would not be spending the night sleeping in the barracks with the regular guardsmen. He would need to find Robbie and then the chamber he would be assigned.

  It took Ric the better part of half an hour to track his squire down, finally finding him flirting with a servant near the doors to the kitchen. The young woman looked to be the same age as Robbie, and Ric could not help but smile as he remembered being that age. He had discovered women later than some of his counterparts, but he soon realized that they had noticed him for quite some time. It was a sour experience with Bella that taught Ric to keep his attachments short and inconsequential.

  As he reminded himself of that, a flash of white-blonde hair passed through his mind, and he pictured the woman from th
e market with the haughty and expressive eyebrow who had blackmailed the merchant so she could give part of her money to the orphans. As quickly as she came to mind, he pushed her aside. He did not dally with virgins, which she undoubtedly was or was supposed to be, and he did not dally with ladies-in-waiting. He kept his interludes to widows. He did not want to catch the pox, so he only accepted certain services from tavern whores. He did not pursue married women no matter how unhappy their marriage, even if the marriage was in name only. He did not want to wake up at the end of an angry husband’s sword.

  “Squire,” he called out.

  Robbie scrambled away from the wall, but not before he whispered something that made the woman blush and smile. The squire jogged over to Ric and the two went back into the keep.

  “I have been included in the evening meal, which means a chamber within the keep. I would like to find the chamber and then conveniently get lost in the passageways to see if I can learn anything.”

  “I learned guards change four times each night, and the southern wall is the least watched since it is the hardest to attack. I know that there are guards posted throughout the keep at night, but primarily along any approach to the king and queen’s chambers. I know that the guards, along with everyone else but the servants, are expected to attend Mass each morning before considering breaking their fast.”

  “And just how do you know so much?”

  “Millie told me.”

  “The servant?”

  “She works in the buttery.”

  “She seemed to have told you things that are only useful if you are planning an assignation.”

  “Or murdering,” Robbie mouthed the second word, “the king.”

  Ric sent him a quelling look, but he had to admit that his squire, while planning a romp with the pretty maid, had learned more than he had. They found the seneschal and were shown their chamber. Robbie set to work brushing and airing out the formal surcoat Ric would be required to wear to the evening meal. Ric made use of the pitcher of water and the soap as he refreshed himself, then departed for his exploration of the castle. He kept to the shadows in the passageways and ducked into more than one alcove when he heard footsteps or voices, once stumbling upon a couple in the midst of a tryst. He slipped out of the alcove as quickly as he entered, but not before he received an eyeful of a lovely breast and an ample backside.