Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

“For me as well.” He gathered her into his arms and held her snugly against him.

  Elizabeth had never dreamed Ian’s hands would be so warm, so tender. She was astonished at the fulfillment she felt. She allowed her thoughts to emerge from their hidden depths, and looking back, she knew Ian was never the battle-hardened warrior everyone made him out to be.

  She lay in the drowsy warmth of her bed, thinking of the days to come.

  * * *

  Ian and Ruairi stood in front of the large, wooden doors to the king’s private study, knowing at least one member of the king’s inner circle wasn’t happy with them. After insisting they needed to speak with King James on a matter of grave importance, they had finally managed to convince the king’s secretary to grant them an audience.

  “Are ye sure about this?” asked Ian.

  “If anything is in our favor, ’tis that Ravenna is my wife and her uncle was Mildmay. For now, that’s all we have.”

  “Aye, but for some reason, that does nae make me feel any better.”

  The king’s secretary opened the door. “The king will see you now.”

  Ian and Ruairi entered the room and passed a large window on the left that overlooked the king’s private gardens. Ian stole a quick glance, and there were so many colored blooms that the ground looked like a rainbow of flowers. When he noticed the fine paintings displayed on the walls, he whispered to Ruairi, “Did ye take notice of the walls? They look like yours, naught but scenes of death and battle.”

  “The king has good taste. I’m sure he would appreciate my tapestries.”

  As they approached King James, he was sitting behind a large desk in front of a stone fireplace. His brown hair was combed back, and a large chain hung around his shoulders over his silk doublet. There was a tall man, about as old as Ian, gazing over the king’s shoulder at something on the desk. When both men looked up, Ian and Ruairi gave their liege a low bow.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise. I heard you mention my paintings. Do you favor Mantegna?”

  “My apologies, but I donna know of whom you speak,” said Ruairi.

  The king stood and walked over to one of the canvases. “These paintings are a series of nine called the Triumphs of Caesar. This one depicts a military procession celebrating the victory of Julius Caesar in the Gallic Wars. They’re my favorite collection.” He resumed his position behind the desk and gestured for Ian and Ruairi to sit. “This is Lord Tullibardine.”

  “My lord, I believe your daughters are acquainted with my sister-in-law,” said Ruairi.

  “Ah, yes. They’ve told me about Lady Elizabeth.” The man rounded the desk and sat in a chair beside Ruairi.

  “My apologies we couldn’t meet sooner, gentlemen. I’m sure you’re aware there are more pressing matters that require my attention,” said the king in a scolding tone. “Nevertheless, Mildmay was my trusted friend. If Lady Elizabeth wants for anything, be sure to let my man know.”

  “Thank ye, Your Majesty,” said Ruairi.

  “My secretary tells me that you couldn’t wait for an audience on the morrow because of a matter of grave importance. What can I do for you Laird Sutherland and Laird Munro?” asked the king in a dry tone.

  Ruairi shifted in the chair. “We have information regarding members of the Privy Council.”

  “Go on.” The king leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “You have my undivided attention.”

  The way he said the words made Ian wonder if he talked to all his subjects that way or just the Highland lairds. It was no secret the Scots were nothing more than savages by the king’s standards.

  “There are two men responsible for murdering the men of your council and Lord Mildmay.”

  “Are you going to make me ask you, Laird Sutherland, or are you going to tell me?”

  “Condell and Lord Kinghorne.”

  There was a heavy silence, and then the king sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Mister Condell? The actor playing Henry VIII at the Globe Theatre?” He cast a speculative gaze at Lord Tullibardine and then chuckled. “I find that highly unlikely. He has been my guest.”

  “He said ye favored his performances and had given him leave to certain parts of the palace,” said Ian.

  “Yes, he was walking the same path, so to speak, as King Henry for his role at the theatre.” He sat forward. “And Lord Kinghorne you say?”

  “Aye. He murdered Lord Dormer,” said Ruairi.

  “Laird Sutherland,” said the king in a patronizing tone. “My personal guard has the man who murdered Lord Dormer in custody. There were hundreds of eyewitnesses.”

  “Ye have the wrong man.” When Ian realized he blurted out the words, he added, “Lord Kinghorne admitted he switched out the lance, Your Majesty.”

  “And to whom did he give this confession of guilt to, Laird Munro? You?”

  Ian was starting to lose patience. Evidently, the king didn’t believe a word he or Ruairi said.

  “My sister-in-law, Lady Elizabeth, overheard both men.”

  When King James gave them an amused grin, Ian willed himself not to reach across the desk and smack his liege.

  “So neither of you heard Mister Condell or Lord Kinghorne give this confession, you’re taking the word of a mere woman, and you’re accusing a peer of the realm of a heinous crime.”

  “Ye had nay trouble listening to the words of my wife, a mere woman,” Ruairi snapped.

  Ian placed the heel of his boot into his friend’s foot as the king’s eyes darkened.

  “Because you care for Mildmay’s nieces, Lady Ravenna’s sisters, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your words. But I suggest you tread carefully, Laird Sutherland. These accusations are quite serious, and you have no tangible evidence to support your claim. Tell me, gentlemen. Did Mister Condell or Lord Kinghorne give an explanation why they’re killing members of my council?”

  “Lady Elizabeth heard Condell admit that he killed her uncle, Mildmay. He also knew about my wife being a spy for the Crown.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Ruairi continued. “Condell said he does nae want Spain to war with England because it would be costly for both sides. He went further to say that ye have nay parliamentary support and that your Privy Council consists of the only men left who support your efforts for war with Spain. He told Kinghorne that within a sennight, ye will be lost without your faithful council to guide ye. Ye will have nay support.”

  Ian cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, ye are verra well protected. The men can nae reach ye to cause ye harm, but if they kill your advisors, the men who guide ye, what impact would that have on the realm? As Lady Elizabeth recalled the words of Condell and Lord Kinghorne, the men are somehow going to attack the council in whole.”

  “Guards watch over the members of the council as we speak. And I will not take the word of some Highlan—er, someone without tangible proof, before I accuse Lord Kinghorne and Mister Condell of a crime against the Crown.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Lord Tullibardine, “I don’t know if the words these men speak are the truth, but most council members are attending the final performance of Henry VIII on the morrow at the Globe. I believe Lady Elizabeth has been asked to accompany my daughters. Perhaps we shouldn’t attend.”

  When the king studied Ian and Ruairi intently, Ian had a feeling whatever was coming next out of the king’s mouth wasn’t going to be good. “If what you say is true, there needs to be proof. What better way to expose Mister Condell and Lord Kinghorne’s machinations and bring their true character to light? No. Let members of the council attend the play. We don’t want to alert anyone that you’ve voiced your suspicions to me. If the men are responsible, give them the noose to hang themselves. Laird Sutherland and Laird Munro, you will accompany Lady Elizabeth to the play. I’ll speak with the captain of my
guard later and devise my next move. Good day to you.”

  Twenty-four

  Ruairi and Ian rode with Elizabeth in the coach to the theatre. She couldn’t believe the king hadn’t believed them. Because she was a woman, and Ruairi and Ian were Highlanders, they couldn’t be trusted. For heaven’s sake, Uncle Walter had been the king’s friend for years, and Ravenna had been a spy for his realm.

  When the carriage stopped, she took Ian’s hand and stepped down. She hoped the king was taking necessary precautions to see to their safety. There weren’t guards around the theatre—well, at least none that she could see.

  The grounds surrounding the building were bustling with men and women, like the first time she’d attended the play. Merchants were selling their wares of breads, cheeses, pastries, and pies, and men were cooking sweet-smelling meat on a spit. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

  “I’m glad Fagan’s nae here with us now. He’d be over there eating the entire time,” said Ian.

  “There is that,” replied Ruairi. “He’s around. He’ll keep watch and have our backs.”

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” said Elizabeth, her hands shaking.

  Ian placed his hand at the small of her back. “’Tis nae every day ye get to take your sister’s place as a spy for the Crown. But remember…”

  “I know. I’m just an observer. I suppose that I’ll observe while you slumber in the chair.”

  “I donna think I’ll have any trouble staying awake this time.” He gestured to the door of the theatre. “They’re beginning to let people in.”

  Seats filled up quickly as Ruairi, Ian, and Elizabeth made their way to their seats. Members of the Privy Council sat in the two playhouse boxes on each side of the stage. When Lady Margery and Lady Gillian waved from the balcony, Elizabeth smiled. She wished she would’ve had the opportunity to warn them, but their father would keep them safe.

  The trumpet sounded to signal the start of the play.

  “Do you see anything yet?” Elizabeth asked softly.

  “Lass, we just sat,” Ian whispered. “If ye’re going to ask me that question every few moments, ’tis going to be a long night.”

  “Of course.”

  The play opened again with the Duke of Norfolk, Buckingham, and Lord Abergavenny discussing the power of Cardinal Wolsey. King Henry wouldn’t be introduced until the second scene, and she wondered if Mister Condell dared to show his injured face.

  Gazing around the theatre, everyone’s eyes remained fixed on the actors. Elizabeth didn’t notice anything or anyone out of place. When the second scene arrived, she realized Lady Gillian was right. Another actor was playing King Henry. Elizabeth studied the playhouse box on the left, and when that grew tiresome, she gazed at the one on the right. She’d watch the play and then switch her attention back to the members of the council.

  Scanning the crowd, she started to ponder if she’d lost her mind. She hadn’t seen Mister Condell or Lord Kinghorne, and the play was almost over. Although she was grateful that nothing untoward had befallen the members of the council, now it would be that much harder to prove that Mister Condell and Lord Kinghorne were behind the attacks.

  As the final act approached, a cannon was rolled onto the stage. This must have been the surprise for the audience that Mister Condell had told her about. Apparently, the rumors were true. After the last word was spoken, cannon fire shot through the air and she jumped, but then it hit the thatched roof, setting it on fire.

  Panic swept through the crowd as men and women made their way hastily to the door. Ruairi and Fagan flew to their feet and escorted Elizabeth to the front of the theatre. Men were pounding the door and women were screaming. Smoke billowed into the air. The door wouldn’t open, and the fire was spreading quickly, making its way down the walls of the theatre.

  Ian handed her a cloth from his sporran. “Place this over your mouth.”

  She glanced at the council members. A handful of men were pushing on the second-story playhouse door, which wouldn’t open, and that’s the moment when Elizabeth realized they’d all been locked inside to die. That was Mister Condell’s grand scheme.

  Kill them all.

  Even with the strength of Ruairi and Fagan, the men couldn’t break down the door. It must have been barricaded from the outside. A large man ran past her and knocked her to the ground. Smoke filled her lungs, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Elizabeth sat up, her eyes burning and tearing. She could barely see. Strong arms lifted her and carried her onto the stage.

  “There is a hidden door somewhere under here. I saw it the last time,” Ian yelled. “An cuidich thu mi?” Will you help me? Ian placed her down on the stage, and Ruairi searched for the secret door.

  “Tha e a-bhos an seo!” It’s over here!

  Ruairi lifted the latch and climbed down as Ian grabbed Elizabeth, lowering her into the floor. The smoke wasn’t as thick where they were, but she felt as though she was suffocating. Her chest burned. Even the men were coughing.

  Candles lit their way, as some actors had used the passage earlier for the performance. They walked a short distance until they found another door on the right. She prayed the darned thing wasn’t locked or barricaded.

  Ruairi swung open the door. Costumes, gowns, masks, and shoes hung on the wall and lay throughout the room. Ruairi quickly found another exit that led outside, but then Elizabeth froze.

  “Wait!”

  “Lass, there is nay time. We have to get out,” said Ian.

  “Look at this! Do you recognize it?” She held up the material.

  “’Tis a gown.”

  She coughed and tried to find her voice. “Not just any gown. It’s Lady Glamis’s gown.” She dropped the dress on the floor and picked up another gown that was green. “And this is what she wore in the garden.” Her expression darkened. “Dear God.” She pointed to the wall, and Ian’s eyes widened.

  “Is that…hair?”

  “That’s why Lord Kinghorne grabbed his mother’s arse! His mother is Mistress Alexander! She’s Mister Condell’s sister!”

  By the time Ian pulled her from the room and out the door, the Globe Theatre was engulfed in flames. There were a large number of men and women sitting on the grass, the only sounds crying and coughing. She prayed everyone got out safely.

  “Elizabeth, are ye…all right?” Ian’s voice was rough, and he could barely speak.

  She nodded. “Ruairi?”

  Her brother-in-law held up his hand and coughed again.

  “’Tis done,” said Fagan. He poured water onto a cloth and handed it to Elizabeth.

  “Did everyone…get…out?” she asked, coughing between each word.

  “Aye, lass. The king’s guard knocked down the barricades and caught Condell, Kinghorne, and a woman as they fled the theatre after the doors were blocked.”

  “The woman…is…Lady Glamis,” said Elizabeth.

  Fagan’s jaw dropped. “Did ye say what I think ye said? The woman they captured was young. How is that even possible? She was in costume?”

  Elizabeth bobbed her head. She had to look pitiful sitting there in the grass with her blackened face. She leaned into Ian, who smelled of smoke.

  “Have ye had enough…of court?” he choked out.

  “Will you take me home now?”

  The man smiled from ear to ear.

  * * *

  Elizabeth tapped her foot nervously, and Ian took her hand. “There is naught to fear.”

  “Why would the king ask to see me too?”

  The king’s secretary opened the door. “The king will see you now.”

  Ian, Elizabeth, and Ruairi entered the king’s study and passed the garden window. When Ian stole a quick glance at Elizabeth, she was gazing at scenes of death and battle on the walls. As they approached King James, he was sitting behind his large desk. The
y gave their liege a low bow, and Elizabeth curtsied.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise. Please, please rise,” he said in a jovial tone. The king stood and walked around his desk. He approached Elizabeth and grasped her hands. “Lady Elizabeth, I hear that I have you to thank. Because of you, members of my council still live. I’m certain your actions have made your uncle and your sister very proud.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  The king released her hands and gestured for them to sit, once again resuming his place behind the desk. “Mildmay was a good man, and as you already know, Lady Ravenna is no longer in my employ. I could use someone with your family’s talents to work for the Crown.” The king sat forward, “I could use someone like you, Lady Elizabeth, if you’re interested in such a task.”

  “Nay.” Ian stiffened, and the king lifted a brow.

  “Pardon, Laird Munro?”

  Elizabeth placed her hand on Ian’s arm, probably to prevent him from jumping out of the chair. “What Laird Munro is trying to say is that my family has served you well, Your Majesty. I am honored that you would offer me such a place among your court. But Lady Ravenna is again with child, and my place is beside my husband. I am betrothed to Laird Munro.”

  “Is this true, Laird Sutherland?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.”

  The king paused and tapped his finger on his desk. For a moment, silence enveloped the room. Ian had never been so afraid in his life. King James had the power to shatter his hopes and dreams, his life with Elizabeth, with a single command. Furthermore, their liege could force Elizabeth to do his bidding whether she was willing or not. He could place her life in danger.

  “I have to admit that answer was not what I’d expected to hear. But as you stated, your family has served me well. I want to repay you for your service to the Crown and saving my council. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, Your Majesty. We’d just like to return home.”

  The king cast a wry grin. “Lady Elizabeth, when your king grants you favor, you accept. I’ll wed the two of you before you leave court. Would that please you?”