Mary was nervous. Magnus hadn’t noticed that before. He could see that her hands were trembling as she downed her wine.
“I’ve been here before,” she said. “I’ve seen ye fight many a time. Ye’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen. A beauteous lad, ye are.”
Magnus grinned, flashing straight and white teeth. “And ye’ve never wanted tae meet me before now?”
Mary shrugged. “There are a hundred women waiting for ye every time I come,” she said. “I paid well tae have ye tae myself tonight because I’ve come with a purpose.”
“Oh?” he said, sipping his wine. “What is that?”
Mary took another gulp of wine that drained her cup. Oddly, she wasn’t as confident as she had been when he’d first entered the chamber. She seemed nervous and…forlorn. It was difficult to describe, but he knew that he was starting to feel some pity for her.
He filled her cup again.
“Tell me, Mary,” he said. “Why did ye come?”
She took another big drink before looking at him. “I came tae be with ye,” she said. “And I’ll give ye something in exchange.”
“Of course ye will. Money.”
She shook her head. “Something better,” she said. “I have no heirs. When I pass, Whitekirk Castle will return tae the king and I dunna want him tae have it.”
“I canna help ye, lady.”
She nodded eagerly. “Ye can,” she said. “Instead of money, I’ll make ye my heir. I’d rather have Whitekirk go tae a fighter than go tae the bastard on the throne. Will ye take the castle instead of money?”
Magnus almost started laughing. If the woman knew who he really was, she would not have made such an offer. It certainly wasn’t an offer he had expected.
At first, he wasn’t sure what to say, but the royal bastard in him who had been denied everything from birth wasn’t afraid to speak up. It was the entire reason Magnus had become a fighter for profit—he had to work for everything he ever had and ever would have. He’d been born illegitimately, held captive for years with the understanding that his father wanted nothing to do with him, before finally being released and having nowhere to go. Therefore, he’d learned to take money where he could get it.
Including accepting a castle from an old woman with no heirs.
“Are ye certain about that?” he said. “It seems like a high price tae pay, even tae me.”
“I’ve no one else. Will ye accept?”
He eyed her a moment as if deliberating, but it was all an act. If she was serious, then he’d be foolish to pass it up.
“Of course,” he said. “I wouldna want ye tae go tae yer grave fearful of leaving yer property behind. But tell me again so there are no misunderstandings—are ye sure ye want me tae have it?”
The old woman nodded. “I do,” she said, downing most of her second cup of wine. “And dunna worry—I’ve no relatives tae contest my wishes. I’ll find a Serjeant-at-Law and have him witness my signature on my will. But I only know ye as the Eagle, love. What’s yer name?”
“Magnus Alexander Albert Hugh Stewart.”
The long name sank into her wine-soaked mind and she gave him a startled expression. “Stewart?” she repeated. “Like the king?”
“Not like the king.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t question it. She accepted his answer and settled down quickly, finishing off her cup of wine. She was well on her way to becoming drunk and with the next measure of drink, Magnus watered down the wine significantly. He didn’t need a drunken old woman on his hands.
“Well and good yer not related tae the king,” she said. “I dunna want Whitekirk tae fall tae a relation.”
“Ye worry too much,” he said, avoiding a direct answer to her statement. “Tell me about yer family. Where do ye come from?”
It was a distraction. He wanted to get her talking, hoping she might forget that she’d come to bed him. In fact, the wine was making her chatty and Magnus feigned interest when she spoke of her childhood as a lass in Blackness and how Harry MacMerry—as that was truly his name—came courting.
After her third full cup of wine, Mary lay her head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. She’d stopped talking and was now simply staring up into space. Magnus watched her carefully, wondering if she was about to pass out, when she quietly spoke.
“I like ye, Magnus,” she said. “Ye listened tae an old woman talk about herself, and most men wouldna do such a thing.”
Magnus propped his elbows on his knees, folding his hands and resting his chin upon them as he watched her.
“I want tae know about the woman who is tae give me her castle,” he said. “If ye truly want tae make me yer heir, then I should know about ye.”
She didn’t reply for a moment. She just kept staring up to the ceiling. But then, her head came up and she looked at him.
“Ye know that yer friends put me in this chamber as a joke, don’t ye?” she asked softly.
It was a strange change in subject, but not entirely unexpected in hindsight. She was sharp for her age and even she saw the irony of their situation. As if a man of Magnus’s stature would really want a woman of her advanced years.
He didn’t hesitate in his reply.
“I know.”
“And ye still are willing tae go through with it?”
“Are ye still willing tae give me yer castle?”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I’ve a suspicion that yer friends like tae play jokes on ye,” she said, avoiding his question. “I got that sense from them because they were quite gleeful tae put me here. Am I wrong?”
“Ye’re not wrong.”
“Then they’ve done this kind of thing before?”
He fought off a grin. “We’ve done many things tae each other all in the name of the friendship.”
“They dunna sound like good friends.”
“They’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“Do ye want tae seek revenge on them?”
He was intrigued at the suggestion. “Always,” he said. “What did ye have in mind?”
“Give me one of those coin purses ye were carrying when ye entered the chamber and I’ll tell ye.”
He snorted; he couldn’t help it. “Are ye saying ye’ll help me for a price?”
She nodded, a smug grin on her face. “I’m sure ye have no intention of bedding me. But I’ll help ye get revenge on yer friends just the same.”
“Why?”
“I told ye. Because ye’ve been kind tae me and I like ye. And this was a nasty little joke they wanted tae play on ye.”
She may have been tipsy, but she wasn’t stupid. In fact, her dark eyes were glittering with surprising lucidity. He snorted.
“Very well, Mary MacMerry,” he said. “What did ye have in mind?”
“Money first. Then I’ll tell ye.”
Magnus stood up, going to the table with the wine on it, and collected one of the coin-filled hose. He weighed a couple of them and, selecting the lighter one, handed it over to Mary. She snatched it, feeling the weight, before tucking it into the purse on her belt.
“Follow me,” she said.
Up she came from the couch, moving with surprising agility considering the wine she’d ingested. There was a sleeping area in a sectioned off corner of the apartment, back behind a massive screen with a scene depicting ancient Rome painted upon it. Mary headed straight to the bed.
It was a big piece of furniture, with a carved wooden frame, and she braced her hands on the end of the bed. She silently gestured, making quick motions as if to shove the bed right into the wall, but she was doing it in a rhythmic motion. Magnus quickly understood what she meant and with a grin, he put his hands on one of the four end posts.
If his friends thought they’d pulled a joke on him, they were about to learn differently.
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He was about to turn the table on them.
Magnus and Mary started ramming the bed into the wall regular rhythm, as a man would when making love to a woman. The banging bed was accompanied by loud grunts on his part, as if he were genuinely bedding the woman and having a good time doing it. His grunts were peppered with high-pitched gasps from Mary, mimicking cries of pleasure.
They went on for an hour.
A solid hour of the bed bumping, of his loud growls of pleasure, and of her female shrieks. It was the performance of a lifetime. They only stopped because Magnus was becoming weary, especially after having fought three bouts that night, so he ended the spectacle with rapid thumps against the wall and then a high-pitched scream from Mary.
After that, there was dead silence.
At least, silence to anyone listening in from the outside, but by then, he and Mary were nearly doubled over with laughter. Magnus could just see the shocked faces of Lor and Bane and Galan as they realized their arrogant friend had not only taken the bait but had used it. By the sounds emitting from the apartment, he’d had a good time of it, too.
After he and Mary rested a few minutes, they went on to bed bump for another half-hour that would certainly impress his friends. They were going to know that their trick on him had failed spectacularly. But soon, Magnus’s exhaustion got the better of him and they ended their brilliant performance for the night.
It had been glorious.
In the quiet of pseudo afterglow that followed, Magnus went to bathe as Mary ate the food that had been brought up earlier. Magnus joined her once he was clean, taking the time to eat and chat with the clever old woman he was genuinely coming to like. They passed the hours until it neared dawn and the Ludus Caledonia was shutting down for the night. Patrons were leaving on horseback or fine carriages, and warriors were retreating to their cottages, so Magnus finished up his food and stood up from the table.
“Time tae leave, m’dear,” he said. “‘Ye’ve been a grand companion this night, but ’tis time for ye tae go home.”
Mary was groggy. She had been sitting at the table for the last hour, her eyes half-lidded from wine, food, and exhaustion. She stood up, weaving dangerously, as Magnus draped her with the shawl that was tossed over a chair. She smoothed at her white hair, but he ruffled it, making it a wild mass of silver. Mary looked as if she’d spent all night being pleasured by a virile warrior and when she realized why he’d done it, she cast him a reproachful look.
Naughty lad.
He simply smiled.
Magnus wanted to make sure her disheveled appearance matched the screaming she’d done earlier and once he was satisfied that she appeared properly pleasured, he directed her towards the entry that led out into the common areas of the Ludus Caledonia.
“Ye have a carriage, I assume?” he asked as he escorted her to the door.
Mary nodded. “Aye.”
“Good,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice and leaned down to her. “If ye dunna look as if I’ve taken advantage of ye all night, no one will believe the performance we just gave, so look properly weary, will ye?”
Mary nodded quickly, leaning against him as if she could hardly stand. Magnus threw open the door and began walking her out to the area where the carriages usually waited. His gaze scanned the area, immediately spying Galan and Axel, the enormous Saxon manager of the Ludus Caledonia. He could see that they were trying to stay out of sight, but everyone made eye contact, so there was no use in trying to hide.
He could see the pair smirking in the torchlight.
That only made Magnus give the old woman a squeeze.
“There, now, m’lady,” he said for all to hear. “Ye had quite a night. Go home and rest and I will see ye another time.”
Mary was pretending to have difficulty with her balance, but she managed to spy her carriage. She pointed to it and Magnus turned her in that direction.
“Did we have a good time, then?” she asked loudly.
Magnus nodded confidently. “The best time ye’ve ever had.”
“Was I good?”
“Ye were excellent. And so was I.”
That was enough for the nosy ears around them. Magnus took her right up to the carriage. The driver was there, an old man who took Mary from Magnus and practically lifted her into the open carriage. When the driver returned to his seat, Mary crooked a finger at Magnus.
He moved closer.
“I’m sorry for ye, my beauteous lad,” she said. “But there’s something ye must know.”
“What?”
“Yer friends will have the last laugh, after all.”
He frowned. “What do ye mean?”
“I mean that I never paid them for the chance tae be with ye,” she said. “They paid me. It was all part of the joke. When ye paid me tae help ye get revenge upon them, I was paid twice. Dunna be angry, lad; there’s not much opportunity for a woman my age tae make good money.”
A creeping sense of realization filled him. “I see,” he said. “They paid ye tae trick me.”
“They did.”
“And Whitekirk?”
She sighed heavily. “It willna belong tae ye, sorry tae say,” she said, reaching out to pat his cheek. “And my name isn’t Mary MacMerry. That’s what I meant by yer friends having the last laugh. Ye did well, but in the end, the victory is theirs. Better luck next time, Magnus.”
The carriage pulled away, leaving Magnus standing there with his mouth open. A split second of shock was followed by the acute awareness that he’d been duped all the way around. He loved his friends at the Ludus Caledonia, the only real friends he’d ever had, and they’d spent the past year playing pranks on one another as part of the bond of their brotherhood, but this one…this one was a master stroke.
He had to admit, it had been brilliant.
A crafty old woman in need of money and their plan had been perfect.
As more carriages began to pull away beneath the pewter skies of the breaking dawn, he turned to see Galan and Axel waving at him, rejoicing in his humiliation. Lor and Bane had probably already gone to bed, with wives who were waiting for them, but Galan and Axel didn’t have any female baggage.
They had the freedom to stay up all night, reveling in the Eagle’s humiliation.
It had been the biggest one yet.
Even Magnus appreciated the very clever prank. To prove how un-humiliated he was, he waved back at them and even bowed, as if to acknowledge that they’d wholly tricked him. It was a gesture of respect, but beneath it, he was already calculating his revenge.
Surely, they had to know he would come for them, and he would.
When they least expected it.
Chapter Two
Edinburgh
“I want something that will make them think their guts are all coming out through the one small hole in their arses, but I dunna want tae truly hurt them. I just want them tae think they’re dying.”
Two days after his bout with the faux Mary MacMerry, Magnus was bent on revenge. He was completely serious as he delivered his request to a wool-swathed apothecary, the most reputable one in all of Edinburgh. The shop was called The Seed, run by two brothers who were nearly as old as Scotland herself.
At least, that was the rumor. They were quite old, and identical twins, and some said they’d found the very secret to immortality. But Magnus didn’t want their secret of life.
He simply wanted something to make his friends ill.
The old apothecary tried not to look too shocked or too confused.
“Ye want tae make them…ill?” he asked.
Magnus nodded. “For a day or two,” he said. “As a joke, ye see. They saddled me with a… Well, it doesna matter. I need tae punish them but not hurt them. I want everything they’ve eaten tae come out from the top and the bottom. What can ye sell me that will do that b
ut not harm them?”
“Ye want a cleanse?”
“If that will expel everything from their innards, I do.”
The old man with the yellow beard was beginning to understand. He didn’t seem confused any longer, but rather disapproving of what he was being asked for and the purpose for which it would be used. However, given that he’d seen this man before, once in the company of the owner of the Ludus Caledonia and a few other times on his own, he didn’t press him further. He wanted to get through this without any trouble from the muscular warrior, so he turned back to his shelves of glass phials.
Each little bottle held mysterious or expensive ingredients. There had to be hundreds of the phials lining the shelves of the shop. Most contained what was called a “simple” ingredient, meaning that it was only one element. But others had multiple ingredients, or “compounds,” which were mixed for a specific purpose.
The old man went to a particular area of the shop, peering up towards the top shelf, lined with dusty glass bottles. Pulling forth a small ladder, he climbed the rickety rungs and plucked one of the bottles from the top shelf. With the glass carefully cradled in one hand, he returned to Magnus.
The phial was filled with silver pellets. Removing the stopper, he plucked one of the pellets and held it up to Magnus.
“Steep this in wine a few hours,” he said. “Have yer…friends drink the wine without the pellet in it. It will have the desired effect without injuring them.”
Magnus took the silver bit out of his hand, holding it up to the dim light of the shop to get a better look at it.
“What is it?” he asked.
The old man was already turning away from him, returning the bottle to its proper place.
“It is called tartar emetic,” he said. “It is used tae purge foul humors. Careful ye dunna give yer friends too much or it will kill them.”
Magnus didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to get back at them for the old whore trick.
“I let it soak just a few hours?” he clarified.
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