King of Storms

by Amanda Scott

  But Philip had not waited for papal action. In October 1307, he raided the Paris temple and arrested as many Templars as he could lay hands on in France, including their grand master. But his raid on the temple failed in its objective. His raiders found the treasury empty and most of the members gone. Their great fleet, harbored at La Rochelle, had vanished with them.

  “One does hear rumors that Templars who came to Scotland when the Bruce offered sanctuary to any who could get here may have brought at least part of the treasure with them,” Giff said thoughtfully. “We all know that the Scottish Templars were never disbanded because the Pope had excommunicated Bruce the year before, so Bruce never received the edict. Also, he needed the Templars to help him free Scotland. Still, most folks here believe the Scottish Knights Templar are mythical,” he added. “Even most of us Templars don’t believe all the treasure tales were true.”

  “Our Order guards its secrets well,” Rob said.

  “And must continue to do so,” Hugo said. “This does not concern the Paris treasure, Giff. The item we are discussing has never left Scotland. Bruce himself entrusted it to two men, knowing them to be Templars.” He hesitated, then added with obvious reluctance, “I should tell you, however, that Fife suspects it lies with the rest of the Templar treasure. He suspects, as well, that the Sinclair family knows the treasure’s whereabouts.”

  “Do they?”

  “That is irrelevant. Nor need we discuss it now. My point is that Fife is willing to do whatever he must to find what he seeks. He hopes to win Scotland by seizing it, and he has narrowed his search to a critical point. The object must be moved as quickly as possible now to avoid possible discovery.”

  “Sakes, man, what is this so-desirable object?” Giff demanded.

  “’Tis the most sacred object in Scotland,” Hugo replied evenly.

  “Well, it must be second most, because the most sacred item to Scots is no longer in Scotland,” Giff protested. “The English stole that nearly a century ago.”

  “Did they?”

  A chill shot through Giff, accompanied by a hope so overwhelming that he found it impossible to say what he was thinking without resorting to the language of his childhood, the Gaelic of the Highlands and Isles. “The Lia Fail,” he murmured.

  “Aye,” Hugo said. “The—”

  He broke off, and Giff heard the distant light tapping sound that had stopped him, and recognized it. One of the women was coming downstairs.

  “We’ll talk more after supper,” Hugo said, moving toward the door again as he spoke. “You’ll doubtless welcome time to refresh yourselves before we eat.”

  On the words, he opened the door, stepped back, and said, “Come in, lass.”

  Giff stared as Lady Sidony, wearing only pale yellow and gold, stepped into the room with her head high and paused serenely by Hugo.

  She was a treasure in and of herself, Giff thought, like an exquisite golden statue come to life.

  Chapter 4

  Don’t encourage Sir Giffard, lass,” Hugo said as he shut the door behind the other two, making Sidony wonder if he had meant Sir Giffard to hear the warning.

  “I don’t encourage anyone,” she said.

  “True enough,” he said. “But you are not always very wise, are you?”

  “I did not mean to get lost, sir, or to be away so long.”

  “You know that is not what I mean. What demon possessed you to wander alone into the abbey woods?”

  Although she did not like anyone to be displeased with her, she met his stern gaze without difficulty. “I get tired of being always with other people,” she said. “The woods are peaceful and quiet. They belong to the Kirk, after all.”

  “Even so,” he said.

  “But who would harm me there, knowing God must be watching them?”

  “You left the woods with a man you did not even know,” he pointed out.

  “But you know him,” she said. “Isobel said you sent for him.”

  “Aye, but you did not know that then.” More brusquely, he added, “Or did he dare to impose on you by claiming friendship with me?”

  “Nay,” she said, remembering. “He told me he had met you, but that only made him more determined to bring me straight back here.”

  “I see,” he said. Whether he did or not, he cast no more blame on Sir Giffard but went on instead to describe her lack of judgment in most uncivil terms.

  Sidony listened respectfully, and when he had said all he wanted to say, she said quietly, “I am very sorry to have upset everyone, sir.”

  “I don’t want to hear of your ever doing such a thing again.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good lass,” he said, patting her shoulder. “We’ll go in to supper now, before Lady Clendenen comes looking for us. I can hear them gathering.”

  Relieved to have it over, she obeyed with alacrity when he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.

  They found the others in the great chamber with its stone walls and beamed ceiling. The linen-draped table and the dais on which it sat at the south end were smaller than those of other places where Sidony had lived during her year in Midlothian, although the table was still larger than required for the six people gathered there. Nevertheless, the great chamber was comfortable and boasted a fireplace that shared its chimney with the one in the vaulted kitchen below the house. So, although throughout the winter her ladyship frequently grumbled that the chamber was too chilly for comfort, it felt pleasantly warm now.

  Isobel began to assure them that she and Lady Clendenen had just arrived themselves, but Sidony’s gaze moved to Sir Giffard standing by Rob near the fire. When Giff smiled, she looked quickly away. When she looked again, Rob had engaged his attention to present him to their hostess.

  Hugo touched Sidony’s elbow, guiding her toward the table.

  A narrow screen passage along the east wall contained the buttery and pantry as well as concealing the servants’ wall stair to the kitchen and the three upper floors. The dais table bore pewter goblets and platters, polished wooden trenchers at each place, a basket of manchet loaves, and a wine jug. Two back stools occupied each long side of the table with armchairs at head and foot, and a large carving board stood ready for the roast lamb at the pantry entrance.

  Two tables for her ladyship’s servants occupied space away from the dais.

  “We’re an odd assortment tonight, are we not?” Ealga, Lady Clendenen, observed as she moved to stand by her chair. “I am very pleased, though, that you all are here with me.” A plump, personable woman in her fiftieth summer, she suffered—often vocally—from a lack of height but boasted smooth, fair skin and a ready smile that appeared as she turned to Sir Giffard.

  “You may sit at my right hand, sir, if you will,” she said. “Rob, dear, take the place beside him. Isobel and Sidony will sit across from you, and Hugo, pray be so obliging as to take the chair at the foot of the table and say the grace-before-meat.”

  Hugo obeyed without comment, after which everyone took seats. Her ladyship signed to her carver to serve the meat, informed everyone that the fine salmon on the fish platter was the one Sidony had caught, and then added, “Now, my dear Sir Giffard, do tell us all about yourself.”

  His visibly startled reaction tickled Sidony’s sense of humor, but as Hugo was probably still annoyed with her, she hoped her amusement did not show. To her surprise, it was Hugo who intervened, saying, “I doubt you want to know all about him, madam. He is as known for daft, impulsive behavior as for aught else. But as Rob may have told you, Giff is here at my invitation, and Michael’s.”

  “No, Rob did not tell me that,” her ladyship said with a glance at that gentleman, who seemed interested only in the gillie who leaned past her ladyship as she spoke to fill her goblet with claret. The lad, clearly aware that she was prone to sudden movements, kept a careful eye on her and managed his task without accident. Two other lads moved from place to place, offering bowls and platters of side dishes as the car
ver piled meat on trenchers his assistant handed to him.

  Impulsively, Sidony said, “Sir Giffard comes from Kintail, madam, so we are practically neighbors. Are we not, sir?”

  “Faith, do you know him from home then?” Lady Clendenen said as their guest shifted his gaze to Sidony. “I thought you’d met him only this afternoon.”

  Recalling that little escaped her ladyship’s notice, Sidony said, “That is true, but he told me he is from Kintail. Moreover, I have heard the name MacLennan before, although I do not believe we have any living in Glenelg.”

  “So whereabouts in Kintail does your family live, sir?” Lady Clendenen inquired. As he drew breath to speak, she added, “I should tell you, perhaps, that I am most inquisitive. Moreover, I shall be marrying Macleod of Glenelg in just over a month, on July the sixth. And now that I have met you, I shall want to be certain that he has thought to invite your people to the ceremony—unless,” she added with a roguish look, “you are sure he will already have done so.”

  The fleeting shadow Sidony had noted earlier crossed his face again, but Sir Giffard said easily, “I have no notion one way or the other, my lady. I have scarcely been next or nigh my home in a decade.”

  “As long as that? Do you not get on with your people?”

  Their guest looked wary, and Rob said mildly, “She warned you that she is inquisitive, but you’ll get used to it if you spend any time in Edinburgh. I have.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lady Clendenen said, nodding to another hovering gillie to serve her from a bowl of steamed cabbage. “I fear I am one whose thoughts tumble out of her mouth as she thinks them. My cousin Ardelve—may his soul rest in peace—was frequently heard to say that I had no acquaintance with tact, and I suppose that may be so. But, in troth, I accept blunt comments as easily as I offer them, so you must tell me if I overstep the mark, sir. I promise you will not offend me by doing so.”

  Sidony wondered idly if that was true. In her admittedly limited experience, people who prided themselves on plain speaking rarely appreciated it when anyone else spoke plainly to them. She looked sympathetically at Sir Giffard. It could not be easy to reply to such a barrage of questions from a stranger.

  But he was smiling and seemed completely at his ease.

  Into that brief silence, Isobel said, “You must let me thank you for your kindness to my sister this afternoon, sir. She was fortunate to come upon a friend in the woods, when she might so easily have encountered an enemy.”

  Sidony shot her an aggrieved look as Lady Clendenen exclaimed, “Mercy, Isobel, do you think enemies lurk behind the abbot’s trees? I would not choose to walk there, myself, because the drainage in those woods is so uncertain, but they are as safe as my own gardens, surely.”

  Sir Giffard said, “I certainly saw no one lurking there.”

  “Except yourself,” Hugo said sardonically. He went on in a more appreciative tone to say, “This lamb is excellent, madam.”

  “Thank you, but you should not speak as if Sir Giffard had not done us a service, for he has, and Isobel is right to thank him. You have my thanks, as well, sir, and I am sure that Sidony has thanked you, too.”

  “Aye, mayhap she did,” Isobel said, smiling at him. “But I must tell you, sir, that she still fears that, from some cause or other, you may be irked with her.”

  “Her ladyship need have no fear,” he said. “Indeed, my lady, I do not know why you should imagine I was irked at all.”

  “There is,” Rob murmured, helping himself for a second time from the fish platter, “the small matter of this excellent salmon. One feared it might be a bit bruised, but apparently it survived its encounter without injury.”

  “Survived?” Hugo said with a grin.

  Sidony looked down at her trencher, wishing they would all just disappear.

  Giff noted her blushes but turned his gaze back to Lady Isobel, who still watched him quizzically. Her expression and the tilt of her head reminded him of a gull perched on a ship’s rail, hoping for a scrap. He had no intention of tossing any to her ladyship, but he could not be sure of Hugo or Rob. The latter’s comment might not have been intentionally provocative, but if it was, Giff felt certain that he, not the lady Sidony, had been Rob’s target. That Rob looked rueful now was plain evidence of that.

  He had not expected Lady Isobel to drop the subject, nor did she.

  “Does the salmon enter into your annoyance with Sidony, sir?” she asked demurely. “I confess I am as inquisitive as Lady Clendenen.”

  “Sakes, sir, Isobel is more so,” that lady said. “But do answer her. I cannot think how a salmon could enter into a man’s ire with a woman unless she stole it from him, and I cannot imagine our Sidony doing any such uncivil thing.”

  “Nor can I, madam,” Giff said. “Her ladyship caught that splendid creature before I encountered her. As to the other, I am not, nor was I then, annoyed with her in any way for any reason whatsoever.”

  And if that lie perjures my immortal soul, he told himself, so be it.

  He flicked a look at Lady Sidony, hoping she would reveal some small gratitude for his thoughtfulness, but she stared at her trencher and steadily ate her supper. Her wine goblet remained untouched.

  Reinforcing his notion that Rob’s provocation had been unintentional, that gentleman tore his attention from his food long enough to introduce a more general topic. Conversation became desultory until some time after they had finished eating, when Hugo said, “I’m thinking we should be on our way soon, lads. We can discuss things more whilst we ride. You can house Giff at Lestalric, can you not, Rob?”

  “Aye, sure, and I presume that you will also sleep there.”

  “I will tonight. Tomorrow I must get back to Hawthornden, though, or soon after I do get there, I’ll find my head in my lap.”

  Giff grinned. “Is your wife so fierce? I own, if she is, I look forward to meeting her.”

  Hugo grinned right back as he said, “You may hope.”

  “We should leave, too, Sidony,” Lady Isobel said.

  “We’ll go with you,” Hugo said, “and see you safely inside Sinclair House.”

  “Thank you, but I must first collect Will and his nurse. He’s been fussing a good deal of late, so it may take a while, and I know you want to be on your way. One of her ladyship’s gillies can easily—”

  “We’ll wait, lass,” Hugo said. “We’re not in such a hurry as that. Lestalric is less than two miles away, so take as long as you like with the bairn.”

  As they all stood, Giff watched Lady Sidony, noting how much quieter she was than the others, and how serene—much more so than the other two women, who seemed to chatter nonstop with each other and with the men.

  She held back as everyone moved toward the stair-hall doorway, so he let Rob and Hugo go ahead of him, following the other two ladies. Just as he was congratulating himself on a deft maneuver, however, Sidony murmured that she had forgotten her eating knife and turned back toward the table.

  Knowing that Hugo would notice if he followed her, he caught up with the men instead and murmured, “Hugo, whereabouts is the . . . ?”

  “Behind us,” Hugo said. “Go through the little solar at the southwest corner of this chamber, and you’ll find steps leading to the garden. The garderobe is to the east before you reach the shed. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” he said. He half expected Hugo to realize Sidony had gone the same way, but Hugo had rejoined Rob and the two were turning into the parlor as if the lass had slipped right out of their minds.

  Wondering if she might be seeking the privacy of the garderobe herself, he hurried to catch sight of her and observed with relief through a window of the solar that she was walking along a path down the center of the garden.

  He did visit the garderobe first, as much to keep her from realizing that he had followed her as from a need to relieve himself. Then he strolled into the garden, noting that the sky had cleared of all but a few drifting clouds. The sun had dipped a good portion of it
s lower half behind the horizon of housetops to the west, splashing its fading rays upward to paint the clouds every shade of pink, orange, and rose.

  For a moment, with the sun in his eyes, he lost sight of the lass and wondered if she had dared to slip into the woods again. Then he saw that she had stopped close to a tree at the bottom of the garden to watch the sunset.

  When his footsteps crunched on the pebbled path, she turned and soberly watched his approach. The sun’s rays gilded her from top to toe.

  “I see that I’m not the only one who wanted fresh air,” he said when he was near enough to speak without raising his voice.

  “You followed me,” she said.

  He opened his mouth to deny it, to insist that he had come innocently in search of the garderobe and happened to see her. But he could not, so he smiled instead and said, “I did. I wanted to further our acquaintance. Art vexed with me?”

  “Nay, although I warrant Hugo warned you to keep your distance.”

  “Aye, just as he warned you not to encourage me.”

  She smiled. “You did hear that. I wondered if he meant you to.”

  “Certainly, he did.”

  “Are you truly not afraid of him? He has a fearsome temper, as you must know, for you told me yourself that he knocked you down the last time you met.”

  “He won’t do so again,” Giff said.

  “You sound very confident of that. I must say I am glad you did not tell him why I struck you. And thank you, too,” she added, “for not telling Isobel about it.”

  He frowned. “Would Hugo strike you?”

  “He never has, but he does scold rather fiercely. If I were a man, it would be different, though, I’m sure, so I don’t understand why you think you need not fear his anger.” She tilted her head as she added, “Is it because he sent for you? Why did he, and why did you not tell me that he had?”