Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02]

by Border Lass

“Aye, sir,” she replied. “I am content in my service to Isabel. And tomorrow we return to Sweethope Hill. I vow, sir, we shall all be thankful to be home at last.”

  “But your home is at Elishaw,” he said, frowning. “And your lady mother and I have decided ye should return. In troth, she fears ye might resist the notion, but she’s that determined— That is to say,” he went on hastily, “I’ve missed ye sorely and hope ye’ll bide with us again till ye marry. Sithee, ye’ve been away now for nigh onto two years, daughter.”

  Amalie looked him in the eye. As a child, she had found his customary bluster frightening, but that was no longer the case. “Forgive me, sir, but in that two years’ time you’ve said not one word about missing me until today. I was at Scott’s Hall for nearly six months after Meg’s wedding before Isabel invited me to bide with her.”

  “ ’Twas not that we didna miss ye, lass,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I just had more important matters to attend. After Douglas’s death, when Fife tried and failed to take Hermitage Castle, he was angry that he’d failed. Your brothers were angry, too, aye. So, although your mam wanted ye to come home then, I thought ye’d be safer at the Hall till everything settled down. But then . . .” He shrugged. “Time passes gey fast, Amalie.”

  His memory of events seemed distorted to one who had been at Hermitage with Isabel—then Countess of Douglas—when Fife’s men, including the two Murray brothers, had tried and failed to take the castle. But Amalie knew that trying to correct Sir Iagan’s recollections would irritate him, and thus do her no good.

  “I cannot return to Elishaw yet, sir,” she said calmly. “Isabel will need me more than ever at Sweethope Hill. It is a big house, and although they’ve done much to make it more habitable whilst we’ve been away, there will be much still to do.”

  He frowned more heavily, and she knew she had stirred his temper, but she refused to look away or back down. She did not want to go home.

  Grimacing, his voice clearly under tight control, he said, “I ken fine what ye’re thinking, lassie, and I’ll no say ye’re mistaken. Your mam ought no to have flung this marriage at ye yet that she and Simon have in mind for ye.”

  “I suspect it was Simon’s notion,” she said bitterly.

  “It was, aye, but Simon is heir to Elishaw and just trying to look after our interests. Moreover, I cannot deny ’tis a good notion. The man has nae estate of his own yet, but he’s a knight with connections of the highest order. Sakes, I should think ye may even have met him, because—”

  “Whether I know him or not, sir, I don’t want to marry anyone. I have said that before, and you should know that I don’t say things I do not mean.”

  “I do, lass, but when I tell ye who it is, ’tis gey likely ye’ll change your mind, for he is a fine-looking chap, as well, Simon says. And, if ye dinna ken him ye soon will, because he’ll be going into east Lothian, to Lauder wi’—”

  “I don’t care,” Amalie said fiercely. “I won’t marry anyone—ever—not to please you or my mother, and certainly not to please Simon. I’m sorry if I seem rude or disobedient, sir, but I do have the right to refuse, do I not?” Fearing he might erupt in fury, she added hastily, “Isabel said that I do.”

  “Aye, ye do,” he said with visible reluctance. “If I had me own priest at Elishaw, likely I could force your obedience. But for all that your mam says . . .”

  When he paused, clearly realizing it would do him no good to tell her what her mother had said, Amalie said dryly, “I can imagine what she has said, sir. But please believe me when I say that no one will persuade me.”

  “Then ye’ve nae need to fear paying us a visit, lassie. If ye’ll come, I’ll swear to see that nae one presses ye to wed.”

  She knew he meant well, but she also knew that after ten minutes with Lady Murray, his resolve would crumble. For that matter, despite her own determination, she was not sure she could hold out any better against her formidable mother.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “Isabel is ready to go now, so I must go as well.”

  He looked long at her, and then to her relief, he kissed her and walked away.

  Inside Abbots’ House a short time later, Simon Murray faced the Governor of the Realm in the upstairs chamber that the latter had taken for his own use.

  Tall, like nearly all the Stewarts, but darker and thinner, Fife was sharp of mind and still fit despite being nearly fifty years of age. Simon knew that he was politically astute and utterly ruthless when acquiring power for himself.

  Fife enjoyed the trappings of power, and the room they were in was small by comparison with those he customarily occupied at Stirling or Edinburgh Castle. However, the finer rooms in Abbots’ House being more appropriate for the new King of Scots, Simon knew that Fife had had no choice.

  That the Governor of the Realm should take rooms in Perth as lesser folk had, nearly two and a half miles from the King, was unthinkable with so many at hand who might try to influence his grace. Therefore, Fife had let everyone know from the first that he would also be staying at Abbots’ House.

  Fife dismissed the servant with whom he had been speaking when Simon entered. Only after the door had shut behind the man did the Governor say in his customary, soft-spoken way, “What news have you brought me?”

  “None of any use, my lord,” Simon admitted. “I’d hoped my father might persuade her. But apparently, the princess told her she can legally refuse to marry.”

  “Isabel really must learn not to meddle,” Fife said. “She begins to annoy me. But I will deal with her, and you must deal with your sister. You do support me in this endeavor, do you not?”

  “I do, sir,” Simon assured him.

  “It is important that I develop strong connections in the Borders, in particular with those who control fortresses there. I want to persuade such men that it behooves them to make clear their staunch loyalty to me.”

  “I should think, sir, that now that you have the Earl of Douglas in your camp, the rest of the Border lords will submit quickly.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Fife said testily. “Archie the Grim is a Douglas first. Whilst he’s the best of that scurrilous lot and knows Scotland needs my strong hand to guide it, he is hardly in my camp. At present, he believes I’m the best man to rule, so he supports me as Governor. But he will do so only until he disagrees with me.”

  “Surely, my lord—”

  “The Douglas power that has long irritated us has weakened since the death of the second earl, and I mean to see it grow weaker yet. It does this country no good constantly to be at the mercy of factions that thirst for war instead of peace.”

  “I agree, sir, but I do not understand how that makes marrying my sister to Sir Harald Boyd so important to us.”

  “I reward my supporters well, Simon, as you know and will continue to know for as long as you do support me. But your father supports no one.”

  “He believes that remaining neutral protects our land, and so it has, sir.”

  “He succeeds only in irritating everyone thereby, on both sides,” Fife said grimly. “Your family owns a large estate, and it will do him good to provide your sister with a proper dowry, including a sizeable piece of land. Having earned his spurs, Boyd is entitled to such, and he will be loyal to me.”

  Simon nodded, wondering if Fife had forgotten that he, Simon, was heir to that land. Fife could easily have granted the new knight land from his own holdings or those of the Crown, which now amounted to the same thing. Such holdings had steadily and considerably multiplied over the past several years.

  As if reading his thoughts, Fife added, “I’ll see you generously rewarded, of course, when you succeed your father.”

  The cynical voice that lived in Simon’s head muttered that since Fife was acquiring land as fast as he could, to think he would give up any when he could force someone else to do so had been foolish. Still, as heir to Elishaw, Simon’s attitude toward sharing even a piece of it with Boyd was not enthusiastic.

/>   “I’ll expect to hear soon that you have forced your sister’s submission,” Fife said. “I have already told Boyd that he can expect the marriage negotiations to proceed quickly, so do not disappoint me, Simon.”

  “No, sir. It shall be as you desire.”

  Furious with his sister, Simon decided as he left Abbots’ House that he had no choice now but to force the issue.

  Chapter 4

  The henchman who had beckoned to Garth led him through the crowd to stables near the western monastic buildings, where knights and noblemen had stabled or penned their horses.

  Although the crowd in the park had barely thinned, many men were shouting for mounts. At his guide’s urging, Garth grabbed a passing gillie and gave him a coin to fetch his horse. “Make haste, lad, and I’ll have another for you.”

  “Aye, sir. I ken fine that the Douglas be riding.”

  Finding his guide still at his side, Garth said, “Do you take me to his lordship, or should I go alone?”

  “We’ll do neither, an it please ye, sir,” the man said quietly. “He aims to discover ye as if by chance.”

  Garth nodded, his curiosity urging him to ask why. Experience warned him though that Archie the Grim would choose what to tell him, and when.

  Accordingly, he practiced patience as he nodded to acquaintances but encouraged none to stop for conversation. Not only would the gillie expect to find him where he’d left him when he brought his horse, but it would also be easier for Douglas to find him if he stayed in one place. When he realized that his erstwhile guide had melted into the crowd, he knew he had judged the situation correctly.

  Minutes later, hearing his name shouted in stentorian tones, he turned to see the earl striding toward him as other men stepped quickly out of his path.

  Archie the Grim, known far and wide as the Black Douglas because of his dark complexion and darker eyes, was an inch or two shorter than Garth. His black hair, worn long and free in the fashion of his youth, had acquired flecks of silver but was still darker than that of most dark-haired men who could boast of living sixty years, as he had. His figure was long-limbed and lanky, his shoulders stooped with age, but his manner was brisk, and he wore his great power with easy assurance.

  Looking sternly sober, as always, he put out his right hand and gripped Garth’s firmly as he clapped him on the back with his left. “ ’Tis glad I am to see you, lad,” he said. “How have you been keeping yourself?”

  “Well, my lord, I thank you,” Garth said.

  “I warrant you must be heading back to Perth now, as I am.”

  “I am, aye.”

  “Then you’ll ride with me for a time.”

  Minutes later, Garth was riding beside Archie at the head of Archie’s large fighting tail. Archie considered it a measure of his importance that he rarely traveled with fewer than a hundred men, and despite the lack of housing for large retinues in Perth, Garth knew that Archie would think a smaller one unreasonable.

  He also knew from experience that the Douglas rode fast. Archie and his men nearly always thundered across the countryside with banners waving, even in darkness. After all, few Borderers minded riding at night. Their ponies were nimble and used to long distances. Therefore, fast travel was common to Border life.

  Tonight, though, Archie kept his mount to a near walk. When he signed brusquely to his tail to fall well behind, Garth realized their conversation would be strictly private and hoped he had not done anything to draw Archie’s ire.

  “I’ve had news,” the earl said bluntly. “But first, have you learned aught that we did not know before?”

  “Very little, my lord,” Garth admitted. “I had thought I’d tracked our quarry to his lair, because I met one of Will’s men from Danzig, who told me Ben Haldane had taken service with Sir John Edmonstone of that Ilk.”

  “Our Isabel’s so-unsatisfactory new husband,” Douglas said. “Aye, well, I agreed to that arrangement, and sithee, Edmonstone was a crusader himself, so he might take a man claiming a like past into his household without question.”

  “Aye, but no one at Edmonstone knew aught of Haldane,” Garth said.

  “I ken fine that I’ve asked you before,” Archie said, shooting him a look from under dark, bushy eyebrows. “But are you sure you heard the name right?”

  “I am,” Garth said, taking no offense. “Will was in great pain and near the end when I came upon him, but he recognized me. His men were chasing those of his attackers who’d run off, so I knelt to see if I could aid him. He called me by name, sir, and he gripped my hand. As clearly as I’m speaking now, he said, ‘It was Haldane, Gar. Send him to hell for me.’ I found only a few men afterward who knew the name, but they all assured me that Haldane had returned to Scotland from Danzig nearly a sennight before, after a minor disagreement with Will.”

  “I believe all of that,” Douglas said. “But you know as well I do that Will’s own lads say it was English Cliffords who attacked them. They said the battle was fast and furious and Lord Clifford himself killed Will.”

  “I do know that, my lord. And Clifford was in Danzig when we were there. There was some tension, and the attackers who fell did wear Clifford’s device, but I talked to Clifford, and he swore that the men were not his. In his favor, and although he is English, I have never heard anyone accuse him of lying.”

  “Nor have I,” Douglas said. “But someone is lying, and I mean to learn who. I never thought to ask before, but did you tell Will’s men what he had said to you?”

  “Nay, for I could prove nowt. I did see a man running before I reached Will, but it was too dark to see his face. I don’t even know that he was involved, other than perhaps in running away from the attack. In any event, Will’s lads were so certain Clifford had done it that they would not have listened even if I had tried to tell them. By the time I learned that a knight named Haldane had served Will, we could do nowt in Danzig anyway. So we took Will home to you, and since then, as you know, I’ve been searching for Haldane.”

  Douglas nodded, was silent for a moment or two, and then said, “I know you can’t say yet if Haldane and his men acted alone. But I don’t hesitate to tell you that Isabel has placed Will’s death at Fife’s door, just as she did with James’s.”

  “Could she be right, sir?”

  “To my mind, such thinking is rash,” Archie said. “Everyone knows that Fife was with me when Jamie died. We led a huge Scottish army from Galloway into England. Whilst James was keeping Hotspur busy in the east, in Northumberland, we harried folks all over Cumberland. Fife did not even know Jamie’s battle plan.”

  “In fairness to her ladyship, sir, Fife did know where James would be and might have conspired with someone else to kill him,” Garth said, speaking his thoughts frankly as he usually did. “That has been Fife’s way in the past, has it not? Men who stand in his path often die. But he is never at hand when they do.”

  Archie shot him a grim look. “So people say. I’ve not seen it myself though, and I’ll not condemn any man on rumor alone. Fife is strong, and I’d see him stronger, because I believe he is the man Scotland needs at her helm. We certainly need him more than we need that pusillanimous priests’ man, Carrick. For all that we’ll serve Carrick as King of Scots till he dies, he is no ruler. But bring me evidence that Fife had aught to do with murdering my son or Jamie Douglas, and I won’t just revoke my support, Gar. I’ll spit Fife’s traitorous head on a pike at Threave.”

  Garth believed him, and they rode in silence until the north wall of the city of Perth loomed before them under a pale quarter moon.

  Perth was one of only two walled cities in Scotland, Berwick the other, because the English had occupied both towns for extended periods from the last years of the previous century into the early years of the current one. They had built those walls and maintained them, and they had shut the city gates at night.

  The gates shut no longer, and as the earl’s party neared the north gate, Archie said, “I’ve been thinking about what you
said. It fits with other thoughts I’ve had lately, so I want you to go to Sweethope Hill.”

  Garth had no objection. Indeed, the thought of going to Sweethope Hill intrigued him, although he thought he’d neglect to mention that to Wat Scott. To Archie, he said only, “Will you share your reasons, sir?”

  “Aye, sure, for ’tis why I wanted our meeting tonight to look chanceful. I’ve some concern, as you do, about Fife’s habit of removing obstacles in his path. For the past two years, Isabel has been pricking at him about James. Thus far, Fife has ignored her. But she has stirred others to her thinking, and this of Will is bound to add fuel to any fire she has ignited.”

  “I’ve suspected Fife’s involvement, myself,” Garth told him. “But if you are worried about her safety, my lord, you should send her more men-at-arms.”

  “Nay, for if you are right, Fife will be subtle. She is his sister, and one would think that must keep her safe, but many doubt that her brother David of Strathearn died naturally. So I want someone who knows my thinking to keep an eye on her.”

  After a brief pause, he added, “Mayhap you can learn something to aid your search, too. You’ve not talked with her yet about Jamie’s death, have you?”

  “No, sir, for as you know, I was at Otterburn myself. His people believe his armorer failed to fasten his cuirass properly, leaving it open for any lance or dirk. Some even think the armorer stabbed him, but as the man died in a knife fight a day or two afterward, we cannot ask him. His killer disappeared, and many believe that he, too, is dead. Others believe he never existed and James died heroically in battle.”

  “ ’Tis all rumor then save the last,” Archie said as they passed the market square at the foot of the High Street. “Everyone agrees that Jamie’s death was heroic whatever its cause. But this of Will, with what you saw and what Will himself told you at the end . . . Have you shared that with anyone but me since you left Threave?”

  “No, sir. I’d intended to tell Buccleuch, and I should tell him, but I have not yet done so.”