by E R Dillon
They were halfway to the horses when Inchcape stepped into the courtyard from the barracks over a hundred feet away, at the head of a four-man squad of soldiers armed with halberds.
The sight of the halberdiers, undoubtedly the official squad sent to arrest Count Jardine, raised a prickle of sweat on Upton’s brow that had nothing to do with the warmth of the midday sun. His first instinct was to run for the horses. He resisted the urge to panic, keeping his gait measured and steady until he reached the wooden rail.
Inchcape, who apparently recognized Count Jardine and guessed that something was amiss, drew his sword. “Halt!” he shouted. “Stand where you are.” He set out toward them at a jog.
The halberdiers followed Inchcape at the same brisk pace, their lance-like weapons leveled and ready to wield.
Upton and Turnbull discarded their halberds, which were too cumbersome and awkward to carry with them during their flight. Upton freed three sets of reins from the rail before he leaped onto the back of his horse. Turnbull swung into the saddle, as did Count Jardine. They turned their mounts and urged them into a frantic gallop, bound for the garrison gates.
“Shut the gates,” Inchcape bellowed at the startled guards. “Shut the bloody gates.” He cut across the open courtyard at an angle to intercept the escapees, moving with surprising speed for such a big man.
The watchman in the gate tower nocked an arrow and let it fly at Upton, who at that instant swerved his horse around Inchcape and the charging halberdiers to avoid being struck by their blades.
The arrow thudded into the ground, narrowly missing one of the halberdiers.
The three horsemen hurtled through the gateway to freedom. The thunder of hooves rang out as their mounts galloped across the wooden drawbridge beyond the raised portcullis, only seconds before the two burly guards managed to close the gates.
****
Inchcape hurled his sword to the ground in a fit of rage. “Open the gates, you idiots,” he bellowed, shaking his meaty fist at the guards. “Open the bloody gates.” He pounced on the nearest halberdier, who made the mistake of pausing too long to catch his breath. “Don’t just stand there with your head up your arse,” he snarled, his red face accentuating the blue veins throbbing at his temples. “Mount up and give chase.”
Inchcape’s shouts brought a number of soldiers out from the main hall into the courtyard in time to see the quick-stepping halberdiers headed for the stable. Most of them were seasoned soldiers who knew which situations required the use of a horse, so they hurried after the halberdiers to join them in the impending chase.
Kyle and John followed the crowd outside. They stood beside the entryway of the main hall to watch the goings-on in the courtyard.
“Count Jardine was moving rather slowly when he came down to eat,” Kyle said. “I fear he may not hold up under a grueling pursuit.”
“There will be no pursuit,” John said. The skeptical expression on his companion’s face evidently prompted him to explain. “After our conversation this morning, I went to my shop to fetch the belt. While I was there, I mixed a powder extracted from poppies with honey to make a sleeping draught. When I came back here, I put the belt in Count Jardine’s saddle roll, as ye requested. After that, I ducked into the stable to a smear a bit of the dosed honey onto the lips of each of the forty-odd horses in there.” He indulged in a wry smile, which caused a dimple to flash in his left cheek. “Those horses aren’t going anywhere for at least two hours.”
“My gelding, too?”
“Of course. Ye don’t want yer mount to stand out from the others.”
“Good thinking. It won’t hurt him, will it?”
“Not at all.”
Kyle glanced over at the older man. “From now on,” he said dryly, “I shall be more careful to stay on your good side.”
****
Upton slowed his mount to a trot as he, Turnbull, and Count Jardine drew abreast of St. John’s Church. He did not want to draw undue attention by galloping up Harbour Street through pedestrian traffic.
He turned to the right at the first corner, only to turn right again at the next corner, which brought him to the road that followed the coastline to the south.
“This will throw them off our scent for a while,” Upton said.
Turnbull gave the young man a piercing look. “I hope you know what you’re doing, boy.”
“It’s something I should have done a year ago,” Upton said. He laid the reins on his mount’s neck and turned to the left.
The three of them set out along the coastal road. They turned inland at Alloway and followed the River Doon to Harefoot Law. Before they reached the village, Upton and Turnbull disposed of their helmets and their bull hide armor somewhere in the woods off the beaten track. They rode into the chapel yard and halted in front of the chapel.
Father Ian appeared in the arched doorway and descended the steps to welcome them. “As soon as ye left here this morning,” he said to Upton, “I sent a trusted fellow to fetch Mistress Elspeth. She should be here any time now.”
Count Jardine placed both hands on the saddle bow and leaned back against the cantle, his gaze on Upton. “I have not yet thanked you,” he said, “for removing me from Sir Percy’s reach.”
“Until you leave this country,” Upton said, “you will remain within Sir Percy’s reach.”
“At the risk of sounding ungrateful,” Count Jardine said, “I cannot return to my homeland without certain documents of vital importance to my king.”
“Those documents are in your saddle roll,” Upton said.
Count Jardine opened the saddle roll to find his belt inside. He checked the lining to make sure the documents hidden within were intact. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as though overwhelmed with relief and exhaustion at the same time. “Words fail me,” he said as he fastened the belt around his waist.
“Though you are a stranger to our shores, m’sire le comte,” Upton said, “you are not without friends.” He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, for the count’s reply to the question he was about to pose would determine his future course. “About three weeks ago, you asked me to serve as your aide. Is that offer still open?”
“It is,” the count said with a nod.
“Then I accept,” Upton said, relieved now that a weight had been lifted from his mind.
“How does the lady for whom we are waiting figure into this?” Count Jardine said.
“You are a hunted fugitive,” Upton said, “as am I at present for helping you escape. I propose a trade to balance the scales: your life and your freedom for a boon.”
“What is it you want?” Count Jardine said with a slight frown.
“When you take me with you to France as your aide,” Upton said, “I ask that you book passage for Mistress Elspeth and Turnbull, too.”
Turnbull’s head snapped around. “Now, hold on a moment.”
“What’s the problem?” Upton said. “I want you to come to France with me.”
“Don’t be daft, boy,” Turnbull said. “You have your whole life ahead of you, you and Mistress Elspeth. In France, you’ll have a new life and a new occupation.” He shook his head. “I’m too old, too cranky, and too set in my ways to start over in some foreign country.”
“You will be hanged if you go back to Ayr Garrison,” Upton said.
“I don’t intend to go anywhere near that or any other garrison,” Turnbull said. “I plan to head to the border to see your father. Before I left to play wet-nurse to you, he told me I would always be welcome if I ever wanted to go back there.”
Whatever Upton was about to say was drowned out by the crunch of wheels from the one-horse open carriage that rolled into the chapel yard.
The young woman in the driver’s seat waved to Upton with one hand and pulled back on the reins with the other to stop the horse. Sunlight glinted on the golden highlights of her honey-colored hair. Her brown dress was suitable for traveling, as were her sturdy leather boots.
&nb
sp; The thirteen-year-old boy sharing the driver’s seat with the young woman jumped to the ground and held out his hand to help her down.
She rewarded his gallantry with a luminous smile.
A blush suffused his youthful face all the way to the tips of his ears. His expression left no doubt that he was clearly smitten.
Upton slid from the saddle and went over to meet them. “I appreciate your bringing Mistress Elspeth here so quickly,” he said to the boy. “Your name is Ewan, isn’t it?”
Ewan nodded, grinning. He set about unhitching the horse from the carriage traces.
Upton took the young woman’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Dearest Elspeth,” he said, with a warm smile. “I’ve longed for this moment.”
“I came as quickly as I could,” Elspeth said. “I packed only a few things so that no one would notice I was going on a journey.”
“I come to you with what I have on,” Upton said, indicating his tan linen shirt and brown leggings. “We left in rather a hurry, you see.” He clasped her hand between both of his own. “Are you sure about this? I don’t wish to press you into doing something you will later regret.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “I didn’t come here because ye invited me,” she said. “I came because I wanted to be with ye, of my own free will.”
“My darling girl,” Upton said, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.
By that time, Turnbull, who had climbed down from the saddle, walked over to join them. He greeted Elspeth in a cordial manner, touching his forehead with his knuckle as a sign of respect.
Count Jardine dismounted to accompany Father Ian to where the others were standing by the carriage.
After the introductions, the count gave Elspeth a courtly bow. “You are quite lovely, my dear,” he said. He turned his gaze to Upton. “I now understand why you are determined to take her with you. You have my word that her passage will be secured.”
“Thank you, m’sire le comte,” Upton said. He exchanged a glance with Elspeth before he turned to the old priest. “Father Ian,” he said, “we want to marry.”
“That’s wonderful, my children,” the old priest said. “When do ye wish to do so?”
“Now, if you please,” Upton said.
“But the banns,” Father Ian said in dismay. “They must be announced three weeks ahead. And Sir Ross must be present to show his consent by giving his daughter away.”
“We will be departing,” Upton said, “within the hour to embark on a two-week journey to a country across the sea. I will see her bound to me by marriage before I do anything that would cast a shadow upon her good name. Will you bless our union, or must we look for some other priest who will?”
“This is most unusual,” Father Ian said, wringing his hands. “I suppose the banns can be dispensed with.” He glanced over at Elspeth. “But yer father,” he added, with a disapproving shake of his head. “He will be sorely vexed when he hears that ye ran away with an Englishman.”
“Then I shall make my peace with him,” Elspeth said, “but at some future date, after the deed is done.”
“Does not a man and a woman,” Count Jardine said, intruding into the conversation, “simply pledge their troth before witnesses to bind themselves in matrimony?”
“The bride and groom must also jump the broomstick,” Elspeth said.
“Even so,” Father Ian said, “only a priest can bless their union in the eyes of God.”
“If you wish to proceed,” Count Jardine said to Upton, “I will stand as witness for you.”
“I will, too,” Turnbull said.
Ewan had been listening to their conversation while he saddled the carriage horse for Elspeth and tied her bundle behind the cantle. He gathered a handful of clover flowers from the verge before easing up beside her. “For the bride,” he said, handing the tiny cluster to her. He blushed scarlet at the grateful smile that she bestowed upon him.
Father Ian turned and headed for the chapel doorway. He disappeared inside, reappearing a moment later with a straw broom in his hand. “If ye are determined to go through with this,” he said, “then it must be done proper.” He went down the steps to where they waited in the chapel yard.
Under a canopy of blue sky, with the birds in the trees singing in the background, Upton and Elspeth stood facing each other on that sunny afternoon in early May. In front of witnesses, they exchanged vows to love, to care for, and to be faithful to one another all the rest of their days together. Hand in hand, they jumped over the broomstick lying in the grass at their feet. Father Ian then raised his hands to pronounce a blessing upon them.
The newly wedded couple received with pleasure the pats on the back, the kisses on the cheek, and the congratulations of those in attendance.
Now that the ceremony was over, Turnbull started toward his horse.
Upton put out a hand to delay Turnbull’s departure. “I shall miss you,” he said, enfolding the older man in a bear hug. It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat.
Turnbull extricated himself from the young man’s embrace. “Take care of yourself, boy,” he said gruffly, as though he had a lump in his throat as well. “And your lady, too.”
“I’ll write to you when we get settled,” Upton said.
“I’d like that,” Turnbull said as he mounted his horse. “So will your father.” With a wave of farewell, he set out for the road that would take him south to Upton manor house across the English border, perhaps to resume his former post as a retainer to old Lord Upton.
Upton and Elspeth prepared to leave with Count Jardine, to travel to some isolated quay along the southern coast of the Firth of Forth, where a hired seagoing vessel would take the three of them on to France.
Chapter 16
Shortly after Upton, Turnbull, and Count Jardine rode from the garrison, Sir Percy bustled out of the main hall with a forbidding scowl on his face.
“It appears he heard the news,” Kyle said, tilting his head toward the disgruntled castellan of Ayr.
“I think it best if I depart,” John said, “lest anyone get the notion I had a hand in it.”
Kyle glanced around open courtyard, where most of the soldiers had gathered in tight knots with their heads together. “Where’s your mule?”
“I left him tied to the rail at the kirk,” John said. “I didn’t want him laid low like the horses. It’s too far to walk back to my shop.”
“I’ll let you know later what Sir Percy decides to do,” Kyle said.
“I will be at the tavern tonight,” John said, after which he headed for the garrison gates.
Kyle directed his attention to the matter at hand.
From Sir Percy’s frowning countenance, it was apparent he doubted the reports carried to him by hitherto reliable men. With a visible tightening of his lips, he strode across the courtyard to see with his own eyes the strange malady that seemed to afflict every horse in the garrison stable.
Kyle followed along behind Sir Percy, as did the soldiers in the courtyard.
On entering the stable, Sir Percy walked down the entire length of the center aisle, pausing at each occupied stall to stare in disbelief at the collapsed creature within, on which the only sign of life was the rise and fall of its rounded belly.
At the end of the long aisle, Sir Percy paused in front of the last stall to gaze down at his own steed: a dappled gray lying on its side in the straw. He broke the protracted silence he had maintained during his inspection of the downed horses by rounding on the groom beside him. “What did you do to them?” he cried, grasping a fistful of the hapless man’s shirt.
White-faced and trembling, the groom could only shrug his shoulders, his expression reflecting his perplexity as to why such ill luck should befall him alone. “I—I did nothing, my lord,” he stuttered. “They just lay down like that on their own.”
“Every one of them?” Sir Percy said.
“Every one of them, my lord,” the groom said, bobbing his head.
The groom scratched his head as he peered into the gray’s stall. “It’s like someone placed a curse upon them,” he said, mystified.
“A very timely curse for Count Jardine, if you ask me,” Sir Percy said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Inchcape pushed his way through those gathered to stand before Sir Percy. “Do you want me to commandeer horses here in town to pursue the fugitives?”
“What’s the use?” Sir Percy said. “By the time you round up a sufficient number of suitable mounts, Count Jardine will be halfway to France.”
****
It was midafternoon before the horses in the garrison stable began to stagger to their hoofed feet. After being fed and watered by the especially attentive groom, the creatures appeared to revive completely, without any sign of relapse. The groom sent word of their miraculous recovery to Sir Percy, who paid another visit to the stable.
Since the horses had recuperated from their earlier debilitated state, Sir Percy at once dispatched a troop of soldiers into the countryside to search for Count Jardine. It was a perfunctory gesture, without expectation of actual success. He did it because he was answerable to his king for his actions, or in this case, his inactions, which would surely reflect laxity on his part if he did not at least make an effort to pursue a traitor to the Crown.
Kyle went to the stable to check on the gelding. To his relief, all was well, as John predicted it would be. He returned to the sheriff’s office to write out a report on Count Jardine’s escape. He would, of course, exclude certain incriminating details that resulted in the timely execution of that event.