by Amanda Scott
Meeting Rob’s gaze, he said, “Before you rip up at me, I should mention that one of your lads rode right behind us all afternoon.”
“Even so . . .” Rob paused, remaining silent long enough to make Giff feel the same disturbing sense of guilt the lass could arouse in him.
“. . . I would know your intentions.”
“Sakes, I don’t know that myself,” Giff said. “I’ve said I have no wish to marry yet, which is true, and she has said the same. But I’ll not deny that when the time comes to settle down and produce a family, I may well want her for my wife.”
“How magnanimous of you. How delightfully frank.”
Giff winced. “I did not put that well, but in troth, I’m no better at this than at courtly manners. I like her more than any other woman I’ve met. She is not only gentle and kind but intelligent and never coy. One can enjoy sensible conversation with her. She makes me laugh—and I don’t mean that unkindly,” he added hastily.
Noting the twinkle that had crept into Rob’s eyes, Giff felt deep relief, but he knew he must stay on guard. Mild of manner though Rob might be, he was also one of the finest warriors ever trained at Dunclathy and, thanks to years in the Borders, one of the most experienced. Moreover, Giff wanted to keep him as a good friend.
“Sidony is also an innocent maiden,” Rob said. “So mind your step, lad, for it is not only her good-brothers you will face if you hurt her, but her sisters as well. You may not know it, but in the end, that could prove the worse for you.”
A light rap at the door interrupted them, and when Rob said, “Enter,” the door opened to admit Lady Clendenen. The gillie who accompanied her left at once, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, madam,” Rob said, drawing up a back stool for her and another for himself as Giff moved to stand by the hearth. “Pray, tell us how you came to learn that the countess means to delay her journey to town.”
“Mercy, sir, is that why you’ve sent for me? I feared something dreadful had occurred, especially as Sir Giffard is here with you.” She glanced at Giff.
“Forgive me,” Rob said, recalling her attention with a smile. “I did not mean to frighten you, but sithee, I am sure that had Isabella intended to send you such a message, she would have entrusted it to me. She did not, and we concern ourselves with her safety, so we did wonder how you chanced to come by that news.”
“Is it not accurate, then?”
“On the contrary, my lady, it is accurate.”
“Well, I heard it at the Castle, where I dined today with the princess Mary.”
“I see. Was it the princess herself who told you?”
She frowned. “Do you know, I don’t recall who did. There were any number of us—all ladies, you see, and all talking at once, as we do—so talk just flowed. I’m sorry I cannot tell you more, or even hazard a guess as to who may have said what.”
“Thank you, madam,” Rob said. “Do not concern yourself further about this. You have done nowt but aid us, and for that I am most grateful.”
She rose, and Giff went with her to open the door. Smiling up at him as he did, she murmured, “Thank you, sir. I trust you enjoyed your afternoon.”
The conspiratorial manner in which she spoke made him grin as he nodded. Then, shutting the door behind her, he turned back to find Rob smiling.
“So the plan marches, does it?” Giff said.
Rob nodded. “It does. I must let the others know, so it’s as well I’d planned to leave early, for I dare not draw notice by going now, nor can I entrust this message to a gillie. You just make sure that ship of yours is in place by first light Friday and that you can load her and be away quickly. Our success may depend on that.”
“I won’t fail you,” Giff promised.
For all the attention Sidony paid while dressing for Adela’s supper, her maid could have turned her out in rags instead of a becoming pale-yellow sideless surcoat trimmed with bands of colorful embroidery over a gown of mossy green silk.
When the maid had arranged the soft folds of the skirt and linked a silver girdle low on her hips so that it would show through the surcoat’s deep side openings, she handed her mistress a looking glass, then settled a green-and-yellow chaplet carefully over her smooth tresses and bent to buckle her shoes.
As soon as Sidony was ready, she went in search of Ealga. Learning from her that she had been able to tell Rob only that she had heard about Isabella’s intended delay at the Castle, Sidony wondered if Giff might be persuaded to tell her more.
The supper was excellent, as all Adela’s suppers were, but it was also just like all the others of its ilk that Sidony had attended. A din of minstrels’ music and chatter accompanied the meal, and afterward musicians played for dancing. But although she enjoyed the dancing, she saw disappointingly little of Giff.
He wore a blue-velvet doublet with jeweled buttons down the front and matching soled hose, all of which she was sure he had borrowed from Rob, and he deigned to join one ring dance. Otherwise he circulated without lighting anywhere and, most annoyingly, paid her no heed aside from a bow and a smile or two. He left before midnight, and she excused herself shortly afterward to go to bed.
Rob left for Roslin before dawn Wednesday and Giff left as well to make final preparations for his journey, so Sidony and Isobel spent the morning at Lestalric with Adela. They returned to Sinclair House late that afternoon and retired much earlier than they had the previous night.
Thursday morning arrived with a brisk wind whistling around the house, and as Sidony donned her riding dress hours later, she saw clouds flying high and low through a gray sky. But the sun peeped through as she and Isobel ate their midday meal, an hour earlier than usual, and despite the wind, the air outside was clear and brisk when she joined Lady Clendenen and their escort of six men-at-arms.
Sidony knew the ride might grow tedious, thanks to Ealga’s preference for the boxy lady’s saddle that many noblewomen had begun using. Although well lined and padded with sheepskin, it forced her to sit sideways and rocked precipitously with the movements of her horse. It was no wonder, Sidony thought as she rode beside her through town, that her ladyship did not enjoy riding. That she would endure it to meet Isabella only proved how highly she esteemed the countess.
Giff had spent much of Wednesday seeing everything ready for Friday’s departure. He had found the Zee Handelaar tied to the shorter of Leith’s two wharves, its crew efficiently loading provisions. The Dutch captain was not with them at the time, so when he returned in the afternoon, Giff asked him where he had been.
The Dutchman said, “When you travel, mynheer, do you not enjoy to see something of places you visit?” When Giff agreed that he did, the other spoke enthusiastically about Edinburgh, then said earnestly, “My men are reliable, mynheer. Also, I have the accounts for your provisions if you would care to see them now.”
Finding them satisfactory and having funds that Rob had given him for the purpose, Giff nodded, saying, “I’ll pay you half of this amount now, as we agreed, and the rest when we have loaded our cargo Friday morning, before we sail.”
The man hesitated, so Giff said, “Recall that I shall also pay you half what we agreed for you and your crew then, too, the rest when we reach our destination.”
Although neither captain nor crew would go north, Giff had bargained in good faith, knowing the Sinclairs and Rob would honor all promises he made for hiring the ship. Its men would share a generous sum for doing little, so he was sure they would see it as an excellent bargain unless, of course, he and the others failed to persuade the Dutchman, when they put their own men on as crew, that they were not stealing his ship. Certainly, the man was confident enough, because he shook hands warmly before they parted and he returned the Zee Handelaar to its mooring.
Giff returned then to Lestalric, took fond and formal leave of his hostess after supper, and arose early Thursday morning to carry his own gear to the ship. He intended to sleep aboard to be certain that
all remained in order until they sailed.
The wind blew, chilling the air and warning of heavier weather to come.
Passing through the tiny, bustling village of North Leith, he emerged onto the shore of the harbor, seeing only then that the Dutch ship had gone.
The ride to meet Isabella was proving longer than either Sidony or Ealga had anticipated, for they had reached the turn onto the track along the river North Esk without seeing any sign of the countess’s cavalcade.
“She must have started out much later than we’d expected,” Sidony said.
“Aye, well, mayhap sheep and wool carts still obstruct even this track, but I expect we’ll find her soon now. This wind is becoming a nuisance, though.”
Sidony agreed, and they rode on for another half hour before she noted with a worried glance that her companion was flagging. “Are you unwell, madam?”
“I do wish you and your sisters would just call me Ealga,” her ladyship said querulously. “By law, I shall be your mother in less than a month.”
“I think you must be very tired,” Sidony said. “It cannot be comfortable or easy to ride in a way that makes you fear being flung to the ground at any moment.”
“No, it isn’t,” her ladyship agreed. “But I owe a duty to Isabella, and one does not shirk one’s duty. I just wish we knew how much longer she will be.”
“If you will consent to rest here for a time, out of the wind, I can ride on until I catch sight of them. The track is dry and my pony nimble, so it should not take me long to find them and ride back to tell you where they are.”
Lady Clendenen agreed with obvious relief. “But you must not go without taking at least two of our men with you, my dear.”
Since they had six in their escort, Sidony laughed. “They may come if they can keep up, but should I not see you made comfortable first?”
“Mercy, no, just go. The other men will look after me, and the sooner you find Isabella, the sooner I shall be comfortably at home again.”
Needing no further encouragement, Sidony urged her mount forward and gave it a touch of heel, exhilarating in the faster pace. Moments later, she looked over her shoulder to see two of their escort riding after her.
Chuckling, she urged her mount to a faster pace. The men would not scold her, and unless she ran right into Isabella or Hugo, no one else would, either.
The track had been steep as it led to higher ground from Edinburgh’s alluvial plain, but it eased now to a gentler incline through shady woodland that did not tax her mount in the least. When the woods thinned, she knew the path would soon run nearer the cliff edge at the deepest part of the gorge, so she slowed a bit.
Soon she could see the turbulent river below, and in the distance, the tall, square tower of Hawthornden thrusting through thick-growing trees. The castle was still some distance away, because the gorge did not run straight. The track would soon head into the woods again to avoid having to follow each bend in the river.
Abruptly, she had a long view of the west bank deep in the gorge and saw riders on the path there with banners waving that she recognized as the Sinclairs’. She recognized the slender countess astride her white mare among the leaders.
Having traveled with Isabella’s cavalcade the previous year, Sidony knew they had followed the track she was on now. The one down in the gorge was narrow and not frequently traveled. Nor was it suitable for the carts and wagons that usually carried Isabella’s astonishing amount of baggage.
Although Sidony felt a little annoyed at what was clearly a change in route, she knew she could not blame Giff or Rob for not telling her. Neither man could have expected that she and Ealga would have to ride so far to meet Isabella.
Noting a single oxcart piled high with canvas-covered contents following the riders, and deducing that it doubtless accounted for their snail’s pace, she saw no other baggage vehicle, only laden sumpter ponies in a string.
Knowing that she and Ealga could easily return to where the main road crossed the river in time to meet the others, she wondered if Ealga would want to wait for them. On the winding, narrow path, Isabella could well be another hour.
“Mistress!” shouted one of the men who had been following her, as she turned to head back. “There be riders yonder!”
He was pointing, and she realized with shock that he did not mean Isabella’s party. North of them on the river track, a larger group of riders approached a curve in the river that would soon bring them into view of the riders from Roslin.
Sidony was nearly certain the banner the newcomers flew was a royal one.
“Sakes, we must warn them!” she exclaimed. But the cliff was a hundred feet higher than the river path, and she knew they could not hear her shouts above the echoing roar of the water as it tumbled headlong through the gorge.
No one looked up at them, nor could she imagine how to warn them of the danger ahead even if someone did. Only then did it occur to her that no Roslin guards had intercepted her on the way. That Hugo might have called them all off with Isabella on the move made no sense.
A tickle of fear slid up her spine, and when her brain refused to provide a solution, she shifted her gaze to her two men-at-arms, only to see that both were waiting for her to decide what to do.
Gritting her teeth, she told herself it was exactly the sort of hobble that Rob would call a “bubbly-jock” and just what she had meant in telling Giff she could not make decisions. Sorcha, Adela, or Isobel would know what to do. Why didn’t she?
Then, suddenly, it came to her that the only route possible for Isabella’s usual baggage train was the ridge track, and she said crisply, “You two, we’re going on. The baggage carts must lie ahead of us, and they will have men-at-arms with them. Their captain will know what to do, but we must hurry!”
Urging her mount to its fastest pace, she fairly flew into the woods, only to round a curve and meet horsemen so abruptly that her mount reared. As she fought to stay in the saddle, the men closed in quickly around her.
The two lads with her did not reach for their swords, nor did she blame them. They were far outnumbered, and the others wore all black and carried the same royal banner as the riders down in the gorge.
To her astonishment, despite their black clothing, their leader was not the Earl of Fife but the Chevalier de Gredin. His jade-green eyes gleamed as he flashed the smile that she and her sisters had once thought charming.
“My lady, how pleasant to meet you here.” Without pause, he flung orders over his shoulder: “Four of you, with me. Two others, ride on and tell his lordship I’ve means now to force his enemies to tell him what he wants to know if his search proves unproductive. Tell him I will keep it safe for him. You others, go back and slow those carts until the wench and I are well away. Search them again if you must.”
“What are you doing?” Sidony demanded. “I’m going nowhere with you!”
“Mais bien sûr, ma chère, you will,” he said. “Further, you will go quietly, or I’ll order your men killed right here. Then I shall tie your hands behind your back and lead your horse myself. Decide quickly which course you prefer.”
With the Dutch ship gone from its mooring, Giff had hoped briefly to find her tied again at one of the wharves. But a single question at the first wharf elicited the information that before dawn that morning, its captain had taken on a load of wool from the abbeys and sailed for Bruges with the outgoing tide.
Recalling that the Dutchman had sailed with half of his provisions paid for, Giff winced, recalling the man’s hesitation to take the money and seeing it in new light. Recalling then the two louts that had attacked him on Sunday, and Sidony’s suggestion that they might be Fife’s men, it occurred to him that he might glean some useful information if they were still residents of the Tollgate.
Remounting, he rode back into town.
The wiry, middle-aged baillie at the Tollgate remembered them. “Aye, sure, sir,” he said. “But a man did come late Monday night to fetch them away.”
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nbsp; Learning that the man wore black was not proof, but Giff was as certain as he could be that Fife, having discovered that the Dutch ship figured in the reel he danced with the Sinclairs, had persuaded the Dutch captain to take a load of wool and go. The plain fact, Giff decided, was that he could waste time railing that the ship was gone and scramble his brains trying to create a message that would tell the others what had happened without giving information to the messenger or anyone who intercepted him—or he could find another ship.
Any number of them still rode at anchor in the harbor, so he got to it at once. Leaving his horse in the harbor stable, he visited ship after ship only to discover that most captains still in port had either already loaded and were awaiting the next tide, or intended to load that day or the next with cargo for which they had contracted.
He even tried the two French longboats, still moored in the harbor. Both captains seemed willing enough at first but asked more questions about his destination and cargo than Giff wanted to answer, with the predictable result that each declined his offer after wasting a good deal of his time.
Near day’s end, he remembered how friendly Captain Maxwell had been. Although undeniably Fife’s man, Maxwell had struck him as a seaman first. He would know most of the ships and might be willing to suggest one Giff could hire.
Accordingly, knowing he’d be wise to take along something to ease his welcome in case Fife had warned Maxwell against him, he purchased three hot meat rolls and collected from the stable the satchel containing his gear and a jug of heady Isles brogac to take with him. Then he looked for the Serpent’s towboat and found it beached in the same place it had been on Sunday, with its oarsmen nearby.
The harbor water was choppier than Sunday, and the wind blew spray at them as the men rowed him to the ship. When they reached it, Giff slung his satchel over a shoulder and went nimbly up the rope ladder and aboard.