by Olivia Rae
A heavy cough left Hetta’s lips and poisoned the air between them. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and wheezed. “Why, is he interferin’ with yer other son or botherin’ yer new guest?”
Gavin pulled back, remembering the ride on the marches with Audrey. “Mistress Hayes is not my guest. She is my mother’s companion. Nothing more.”
“I wager she is more than that. Best ye watch yer back, whelp.”
Was Hetta searching for the truth, or did she know Audrey was a spy? The woman had a sense about these things. Her eyes and ears were always open. “I would think you would be pleased if someone stuck a knife between my shoulder blades.”
The old woman cackled, which quickly turned into a laborious wheeze. “There was a time, but now I’m thinkin’ it’s best if yer cold heart suffers a little more.”
“I didnae kill Edlyn.”
“Ye didn’t push her from the tower, but yer words sent her to her death.”
Edlyn and he did fight viciously that awful night. I dinnae care what you do. Take your son. Leave.
Gavin shook his head to wipe away the memory. “I never—”
“Aye, ye never thought about anybody but yerself. And now ye want me to believe yer thinkin’ of the boy?” Hetta sneezed into her sleeve. “Go back to yer cold tower, whelp.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “I dinnae have much time. Maxwell will be coming through that door at any moment. Please. Just listen.”
Hetta pursed her cracked lips and nodded.
“You know Warring Tower can have only one heir. I willnae have my sons fighting over the land. One might die like my father’s brother. I willnae have it.”
“Then leave the land and tower to yer precious new son if yer afraid Thomas might kill the boy when they get older.”
Gavin shook his head. “Nay. I willnae have others question Thomas’s heritage.”
The older woman’s eyes tapered. “Ye are an odd man, Gavin Armstrong. Ye want the boy gone, but ye care about his future.”
Flexing his fingers for patience, Gavin drew in a long breath. “That is why I am here. If I help you leave this place, can you get Thomas to his father?”
A rumble built up in Hetta’s throat before uncontrollable laughter spewed out. Gavin’s ire rose as she kept on with her glee.
“I dinnae jest,” he growled.
“Aye, I am sure.” Hetta wiped her eyes and let out one more hearty hoot. “Ye are such a fool. Did ye really think Edlyn’s father had enough coin to purchase Warring Tower from Maxwell? Think back, who else was present at yer weddin’?”
Gavin pressed his mind, digging up five years past. Broke and drunk, he begged in the streets of Lanercost. Many a day Edlyn’s father, Lord Hadley, passed by, ignoring Gavin. Until one day, Hadley stopped and invited Gavin to his home. There he met Edlyn and another man of the clergy, John Feckenham. Lord Hadley offered Gavin salvation. If he married Edlyn and claimed her illegitimate son as his own legal child, not telling a soul the truth about the boy’s parentage, then Lord Hadley would purchase Warring Tower from Rory Maxwell, giving it back to Gavin as a wedding present. Never did he think Maxwell would sell, but he did. A week later Gavin found himself a married man and owner of Warring Tower again.
“I see nothing amiss. Edlyn was in trouble, no respectable Englishman would have her. Feckenham married us.”
“Feckenham married ye. Do ye know who he is?” Hetta waved a boney finger in front of Gavin.
“A clergyman. What of it?”
Hetta tapped the table with her withered fingers, her eyes glowed in the hazy cottage light. “Not just a clergy. A priest.”
“So what?” Gavin rubbed his hands together to keep from throttling the old crone.
“My sweet Edlyn was of the Reformed Faith. A righteous girl.” Hetta hung her head and sighed.
“Apparently not that righteous, she did have a child out of wedlock. Feckenham married us because Hadley didnae want his daughter married by their local clergy. He knew there would be talk.”
For the third time, Hetta barked out a gut-wrenching guffaw. “So that is what Hadley told ye.” She lifted her chin and stuck out her jaw. “Ye were given a bushel of muck. Edlyn was as pure as the driven snow when she married ye. She never knew a man.”
“Nay, that is impossible.” Clouds parted revealing the past to his wedding night. He remembered being overly drunk, though he had sworn he had very little to drink. The whole room shifted and swirled—Edlyn’s soft body warm against him, her cries, gripping his arms tight. Fear in her eyes. He shook away the dreadful memory. “There wasnae any blood.”
Hetta’s worn lips snaked upward. “Ye woke up on the floor. Do ye remember that? By Hadley’s command I drugged ye. Ye took a virgin to bed and didn’t even know it. Edlyn and I rolled ye off the bed, and I changed the linen.”
The night wobbled before Gavin’s eyes. Edlyn’s cries filled his ears as he carelessly used her. He clutched his head between his hands. “I had been drunk so often. I just believed…” Gavin stared up into Hetta’s bottomless eyes. “Why? Why would a man want to make his daughter out to be a whore?”
“A poor one, that’s who.”
“But Hadley paid a high price to purchase Warring Tower.”
Hetta leaned over the table, her sour breath seeping into Gavin’s soul. “He didn’t buy it, Feckenham did.”
Gavin’s temper rose. Why did she play with him? “Where would a priest get enough—”
“The coin wasn’t his either. It came from royal coffers. Back then, Feckenham was Queen Mary Tudor’s chaplain. He came with the boy and paid off Hadley’s debts and yers.” She nodded, reading the doubt in Gavin’s eyes.
The muscles in his back and shoulders tightened, bracing for the truth that was to come.
“Take a good look at the boy. Red hair, pale skin, Tudor looks.”
“But Queen Mary wanted children,” Gavin said lamely.
“The child isn’t hers. Who sits on the throne now?”
Gavin drew back and almost fell off his chair. There had been rumors that Queen Elizabeth had been intimate with Thomas Seymour while living with Catherine Parr, the last wife of Henry VIII. A chill of betrayal slid down Gavin’s back. Could his Thomas be the son of Thomas Seymour? Nay, it wasnae possible. Thomas Seymour died years before young Thomas’s birth.
But there probably were others. In fact, it was known that the Princess Elizabeth had many suitors. Gavin gripped the table. “A bastard cannae inherit the throne.”
“But what if the child was born of a legal union?”
What would Queen Mary do if she found out Elizabeth had married and had a child? A child that the English people might embrace over a barren queen, especially a male child. She’d kill it or give it away.
Hetta roared with laughter. “Aye, whelp. Ye might just be raisin’ the future king of England.”
Chapter Sixteen
Audrey peeked out of the scullery at the pair sitting in the hall. One man was of middling years and another younger, possibly thirty summers old. Both were dressed in leather jack of plates and brown breeks. And both had long unkempt coppery beards.
“That be Ewart Maxwell and his cousin Ualan,” Blair said, pouring a couple of mugs of small beer. “Ewart is as dull as the cows grazing in our fields, but Ualan is as sharp as Cook’s ax. He be the one ye best watch out for. Laird Armstrong left Clyde to protect us, and he be takin’ his nap in the corner.” Blair shook her head.
A twist of worry curled down Audrey’s spine. “Laird Armstrong asked me to find Thomas. How am I to do so with these two lurking in the hall?”
Blair hefted a mug in each hand. “Worry not. I will take them some beer and make a fuss over them. That be the time to sneak out.” She motioned with her head. “Cover yer hair with me cap.”
Audrey swiftly complied, jamming her thick braid into the well-worn cap.
“There. We are ready. Once I have made it to the table, ye scurry away. And dinnae come
back until these brutes have left. Laird Armstrong’s dug is upstairs with Lady Francis. She should be safe.”
How Audrey hoped this would work. One false move and she could be entertaining the two men as well. Not to mention how cross Laird Armstrong would be if she did not make sure Thomas stayed out of harm’s way.
Blair waltzed into the hall sashaying her hips. “Are ye thirsty, gents?” she called as she approached the table.
Their wide eyes on Blair, Audrey stayed in the shadows and quickly made her way outside the keep. She escaped to Thomas’s favorite place and gave up a thankful prayer when she saw the boy fishing.
“I thought I would find you here,” she said cheerily, taking a seat next to him.
He glanced at her saying nothing, his eyes filled with distrust before he turned his attention back to his pole.
“Oh, Thomas. Please do not be this way. Your father ordered me to stay away from you.”
“Then why are you talkin’ to me now?” His brows drew down, and his lips grew tight.
“Because now he asked me to come and find you.”
Thomas lifted a doubtful gaze. “Dinnae make any sense. Why would Da say not to talk to me, then change his mind?”
For a young child, Thomas was quite astute. She did not want to scare him with the truth, knowing he would dash back to the hall and pull out his wooden sword challenging Ewart Maxwell. Or worse, Ualan.
Audrey reached over and tousled the boy’s curly locks. “I think his heart softened when he saw how sad you were.”
Thomas’s frown deepened as he pulled his head away. “Me da doesnae care.”
Right, he would not. Poor Thomas, suffering, looking for love. Audrey searched her brain, trying to come up with a feasible tale. One to heal the hurt without revealing the reason for her presence. When none came forth, she went with the truth regardless of the consequences. “There are Maxwells at the tower, and your father is worried about your safety. He wants me to stay with you until they leave.”
Thomas glanced in the direction of the tower, probably digesting her words. His frown softened, and he concentrated on his pole “Then I guess we should stay here, fishin’.”
“Sounds like a wonderful plan.” Audrey placed her hands on the ground and lifted her face to the sun. Honesty was always the right course.
“But I sure would like to see them up close. Me da says you should never trust a Maxwell.”
Her brief relief skipped away. “Thomas, that would be foolish. Your father does not want you to be hurt.”
“My brother is there.”
“He is hidden in your room with Mistress Jonet. We should stay here until they leave.”
Thomas wrinkled his nose. “I could help Da.”
And there it was. The boy constantly trying to prove his worth to his father. This child loved Gavin unconditionally. That type of love should be given by a father, not a son.
“Your father is not there. He went somewhere with Laird Maxwell, and I am not sure when he will be back.”
Thomas jumped to his feet. “Then we must go back. Gran is there! She should not be alone with those men.”
Why had she not weaved some fanciful tale instead of speaking the truth? Audrey stood. There was no way she was letting Thomas near those men. “I think your grandmother will be fine. Bairn is with her. Besides, she did not seem afraid of them at all.”
“Gran is strong, but she might need our help.” He slipped around Audrey and started walking toward the tower with his fishing pole in hand.
Audrey let out a heavy sigh and ran after him. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Let us not go charging in there. Methinks it would be wiser to stay here and wait for your father to return.”
“Those Maxwells can be trouble. I’ll not let Gran and me brother with them.” Thomas wiggled loose from her grasp and shot off like a slender hare shaking off a dog.
“Ugh.” Audrey gave chase. The boy was so much like his father.
* * *
Sneaking into their own home like a pair of robbers was going to take a sack full of cunning. Audrey tapped her skirt, searching for her dagger. She let out a heavy sigh. She’d left the weapon in her room again. Gavin’s reprimand boomed in her head. He warned her not to go anywhere without the blade.
“Thomas, we should turn back. I left my dagger in my chamber.”
He did not pause at her omission. “Dinnae worry. We can get weapons in the stable. Surely there is something there that will crush a Maxwell’s head.”
She should have kept her discovery to herself. Thomas dashed to the stable. Hopefully, she could find a way to keep the boy there until Ewart and Ualan left.
The stable master started to shoo Thomas away, then stopped when he saw Audrey. “Good day to ye, mistress,” the older man said, pulling his cap from his head. “What can I do for ye?”
“We are just looking for a few things. Thomas wishes to build another tower.” The stable master blanched, no doubt remembering the mess Thomas had caused the last time he was on such a mission. When he appeared with a pair of rusty spurs and a mud-caked horseshoe, the poor man all but passed out.
“What ye be needin’ those for buildin’ a tower?” The stable master hobbled over to get a bucket of pitch. “Here, take this and be gone.”
But Thomas would not relinquish his prizes, putting them behind his back. “I need these for something else.”
The man started to shake. “Yer da willnae like this. Takin’ things from his stables.”
Audrey stepped in front of Thomas and bent down until their eyes were level. “We do not need those things.” She tapped her head. “We have our wits. And my wits are telling me we should stay here for a while.”
A look of defiance crossed the boy’s face as he stuck out his chin and leaned in. “We cannae stay here. What if they are hurting Gran? What if they hurt Bairn or Marcas? I forgot me knife just like you did,” he whispered.
He spoke of the rusty blade hidden under his special rock. “We should go back and get it.” Anything would be better than confronting the two visitors.
Thomas shook his head. “We may not be able to sneak back into the tower.” He glanced at the stable master. “Can I at least have the horseshoe?”
The older man itched his nose. “I suppose. ’Tis worn and not good for anything.”
Beaming once again, Thomas handed over the spurs and tightened his grasp on the shoe. With fast feet, he made a dash to the tower and up the spiral stairs. Then he paused, pressing his body against the stone wall next to the hall entry. Audrey trailed along, trying to figure out a way to prevent this folly.
Thomas peeked into the hall. “We shall try to sneak along the inner wall without being noticed, until we can reach the scullery. I am sure Cook has a large knife,” he whispered.
Audrey reached out and pulled the boy back. Her mind racing. She had to figure out a way to keep Thomas safe. “Nay, we will be spotted. I will draw their attention while you sneak into the scullery. Stay there until you hear me say, ‘leave now.’”
The boy nodded, and Audrey inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She had no intentions of ever uttering those words. “Are you ready?” The boy nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Audrey walked in with her head held high. Ewart Maxwell’s eyes flared, and Ualan’s lips moved upward in a lecherous grin.
“Well now. What do we have here?” Ualan pushed Blair off his lap. “The dagger lady has come to test our mettle?”
Both men guffawed. A quick scan of the hall confirmed that Lady Francis was nowhere in sight. Smart woman. Clyde sat snoring on a bench against the wall. Perhaps if she was loud enough he might wake up and come to her aid.
“Come here, mistress,” Ewart called, motioning with his hand. “Come show us yer precious blade.” The men laughed again.
Audrey swallowed and stepped further into the lion’s den. How she wished she did have her weapon, for she would slit these villains in two. Whatever these fools had planned could not
be any worse than the intrigue at court. Many a time she had to fight off lustful courtiers. She pulled out a chair a fair distance from the pair.
Blair picked up another mug and placed it in front of Audrey, pouring the amber liquid. “A drink, mistress? Are things fine out in the meadows?”
Audrey touched her ear, knowing the maid spoke of Thomas. “Aye. Our guests look hungry. Please bring some oatcakes and cheese. I am sure there is some in the scullery,” she all but shouted this command, but Clyde slept on. Gad, the man was deaf as well as old.
Dawning flashed in Blair’s eyes, and she swiftly retreated. Believing the boy to be safe, Audrey contemplated the wolves in front of her. “So then, after we have eaten, shall we go to the courtyard and have a throw with the blades?”
The pair howled with laughter again. “Mistress, we would really like to see yer skills with the dagger, but we are wonderin’ if ye have other talents as well?”
Their lewd comments made her skin crawl. Would they speak to her in such a way if she were the lady of these lands? Where had such a grand reflection come from? Even when she lived at court, she never presumed she would ever rise above her station. She was a poor merchant’s daughter. All her life she relied on the goodwill of others for her keeping. These oafs did not have a care for her welfare.
“Good sirs, you tease. Surely you would not in earnest make such a suggestion of a guest of Laird Armstrong’s?” Audrey played with the handle of the mug, trying to hide her fear.
Blair came with oatcakes and a bit of cheese, and momentarily the men were preoccupied with the food set before them. “Mistress, could I have a word with ye? There seems to be a problem in the scullery.”
“But of course.” Audrey quickly rose at the chance to escape the pair.
Ewart flashed out of his seat and grabbed her arm, holding his dagger to her throat. “Not so fast, mistress. I’ll not be havin’ ye scurry away.”
Blair cried out as Ualan jumped up and wrapped an arm around her waist. “And ye too, sweet. Dinnae run off.”