by Amanda Scott
“Aye, sure, we kept him in Scotland just as the English king kept Jamie in England, though not nearly as long. Even so, if the current Earl of Northumberland, likes us now, I’ve seen no evidence of it here in the Borders.”
“Aye, but the fourth Douglas hoped to persuade him at least to support Scotland’s right to its own territory. He sent me to keep an eye on him and judge when the time was right for a parley. But when the fourth Douglas died three years ago and his son inherited the earldom, I was reluctant to send messages to him, having no knowledge of him other than that his father deemed him a weakling.”
“Fine words from him,” Wat growled, knowing that the fourth Douglas had been much to blame for the disaster that had taken the life of his grandfather and thus robbed Lady Meg of her beloved husband.
“See you,” Len went on, “Lady Rosalie’s husband, Richard Percy, was a close cousin of Harry’s and part of his entourage until the King summoned Harry to London. Harry sent Richard Percy to Wales to learn what remnants, if any, remained of the rebellion there. And, as you know, Richard died there. When he was dying, he asked me to look after Lady Rosalie, and I vowed that I would.”
“ ’Twas good of you,” Wat said, making his decision. “My people are raising Teviotdale, but I want them to do it quietly, without involving Douglas. My injured man will also find help easily enough getting home. So, Len Gray, unless you feel obliged to report to Douglas, I’d liefer keep you with me.”
Len nodded. “I’d prefer that, too, my lord. I feared you might not trust me.”
“I don’t,” Wat said. “But you’re good with a sword, and that’s enough for now. Where the devil is Ned Cockburn?” he demanded, letting Sym help him up.
“Here, laird,” someone behind him said. “We didna like tae interrupt ye.”
Turning, Wat saw one of his lads with Cockburn in tow. Someone had tied Ned’s hands behind him and hobbled his ankles, so he could take only small steps. Shorter than his keeper or Wat, Ned was broad shouldered with a slim, wiry frame.
“I ha’ nowt tae say to ye, Wat,” he snapped.
“Well, I have something to say to you. Do you know where your sister is?”
“I do, aye. She’s at Scott’s Hall, where she has nae business to be!”
Wat wished he could see Ned more clearly. “You look and sound as if you believe that, Ned,” he said. “Do you know where Ring Tuedy is?”
Ned shrugged elaborately. “I canna say I do.”
“If I tell you that he abducted Molly from Rankilburn Kirk yestermorn and killed Father Eamon, our priest, will that aid your memory?”
Ned frowned but shook his head. “I still canna tell ye where he is, though I dinna hold wi’ killing priests. But ye canna call aught that Ring may ha’ done wi’ me sister an abduction. The man be married tae her, after all.”
“Not any longer,” Wat said, adding a chill to his tone. “Molly declared that forced marriage unlawful because she was still a maiden afterward.”
“Then she lied about that,” Ned snapped.
“Nay, she did not. And take care of how you speak of her, for she is my wife now. I can swear, as will my grandmother, Lady Meg Scott, that Molly was chaste when she married me. The Abbot of Melrose agrees that her marriage to Tuedy was unlawful and that her marriage to me is a legal one, properly witnessed.”
“Whether that be true or no, I canna tell ye where Tuedy keeps hisself.”
“You were part and party to the attack on me and my men,” Wat said coldly. “And Ring Tuedy has threatened to kill Molly if he does not get his way. If you cannot help me find her, I might as well just hang you from the nearest tree.”
Even by torchlight, he saw Ned’s face pale. Wat waited patiently.
At last, Ned said, “I canna tell ye what I dinna ken, Wat. I got clouted afore they took off, and nae one lingered tae tell me where they was a-going. I knew only that we were to rescue Gil.”
“Your brother Will is with them, aye?”
“I canna deny that. Dunamany o’ your own men must ha’ seen him.”
“I don’t believe you when you claim not to know where they’re going. So, before I hang you, tell me this much. Was Tuedy with the men who ambushed us?”
Ned hesitated for a long moment, making Wat fear that he would not answer.
Much as he wanted to shake the man, he forced himself to remain patient.
“Aye, then, he was,” Ned said with a grimace and a sigh.
Wat nearly sighed, too. “I do believe that, at all events,” he said. “Moreover, I’d liefer not hang my own good-brother, especially since, for some cause of which I am ignorant, and despite your foul treatment of her, Molly loves you and Will. She defends you both against all who speak ill of you.”
Ned opened his mouth, doubtless to deny ever treating his sister badly. But a glance at Wat’s face evidently changed his mind, for he shut his mouth again.
“Do not mistake my clemency for stupidity,” Wat said with pure ice in his tone. “I will set you free but only if you promise to go home to St. Mary’s Loch and tell your father that Tuedy has taken Molly and threatens to kill her. You will also tell him that he must either do all he can to help find her or suffer dire consequences if Tuedy harms her. If you cannot persuade him of that, I’ll make you both sorry.”
Waiting until he saw Ned’s expression change from wariness to hope and something slyer and less identifiable, Wat said with gentle menace, “You should know before you go that my men are raising all of Teviotdale to find her. That means the Douglas will likely send his men out, too.”
Ned nodded, but other than a nervous twitch of his lips, he revealed nothing.
“Since you will be alone,” Wat added, icy again, “you should take the fastest route you know. No one will trouble a lone rider, riding urgently, so you can make all speed for Molly’s sake. Just keep out of mischief on your way.”
“Aye, sure, Wat,” Ned said, nodding more fervently. “I… I dinna think Ring would really kill the lass, but I’ll go straightaway, I promise.”
“Untie him then, and find him a horse,” Wat said in nearly the same frosty tone to the man who had brought Ned to him.
As they watched the two walk away, Sym murmured, “Ye dinna really think he’ll go to Henderland or persuade Cockburn to aid her ladyship, do ye, laird?”
“I do not,” Wat said grimly. “I think he’ll head straight for wherever Tuedy, Will, and Rutherford are going and warn them that I’m raising Teviotdale, including the Douglas’s men from Hawick, to search for them.”
“That willna do us any good if they’ve left Teviotdale,” Sym said.
“But I’ll wager they haven’t,” Wat said. “Recall that Tuedy knew of Rutherford’s capture when he sent his messengers to you at the Hall.”
“Aye, and I said m’self that he must ha’ known about that to suggest trading her ladyship for the reiver,” Sym said, nodding. “Also, Tuedy likely learned about it from them two what escaped when ye captured the reivers.”
“Which means that Tuedy’s lair, the Hall, and Black Law must be close enough to each other for men to have ridden from one place to the other in the time available since we captured Rutherford,” Wat said. “In fact, Tuedy’s messenger had to ride to the Hall, and you had to ride here in time to meet me at Black Law.”
“Aye, sure, laird. I do see how ye be thinking, but if we’re a-going to make Peat Law anytime near dawn, we’d best ride.”
“We’re not going to Peat Law,” Wat said flatly. “You will follow Ned Cockburn now, just as Jed and Ferg are following Rutherford’s rescuers. Jed will be leaving our marks, so you will soon know if Ned is following Will and Rutherford. As you know, St. Mary’s Loch lies due west of here, so if Ned takes the fastest route there, as he said he would, he’ll cross the Hawick highroad and ride through Rankilburn Glen.”
Sym nodded but frowned, too. “Methinks he’d be gey unlikely to do that.”
“Agreed,” Wat said. “I think he’ll head
into some hills nearby, instead. For the two who got away at Black Law to have ridden to Tuedy’s lair, and for Tuedy’s lot to organize and ride here in time to ambush us, his lair must be nearby.”
“Aye, but Herself did say—”
“Never mind Herself,” Wat said curtly. “You are the best tracker I have.”
“True,” Sym said. “But Ned could just be taking another route to Henderland. If Tuedy wanted ye to meet him at Peat Law—”
“I think that was just a ruse to make us ride through these hills, so they could attack us. Tuedy does not want to exchange Molly for anyone, Sym, so she is likely closer than we thought. Now, take Aggie’s Pete with you and get going. The rest of us will be close behind you. If I’m right, Ned will head into the rugged country west of the Hawick highroad, which is the slowest way to Henderland.”
“What if ye’re wrong?”
“Pray that I’m not,” Wat said grimly.
How long, Molly wondered, had the others waited at the bridge before they looked for her? Surely, Wat must know by now that Tuedy and the false monks had taken her from the kirk, leaving poor Father Eamon and Emma dead on the floor.
But what if Len Gray was an English spy and had captured Lady Rosalie and Janet? What if Len, Tuedy, and the false monks were all in league together?
Her common sense recoiled from that notion. Lady Rosalie herself had said that Len Gray had been with her for the past two years, since her husband’s death. Whether he was spying on Scots for Northumberland or the English king, or on Rosalie for the Percies, he would have had to keep secrets from Rosalie, who was Scottish. And she had said her husband sent Len to her. In any event, Len would have had to report to someone, somewhere. Yet he’d stuck like a burr to Rosalie.
Molly’s thoughts returned to Wat until her imagination presented a picture of him lying at Tuedy’s feet, stabbed by Tuedy’s sword. At that point, declaring herself a ninny, she returned her attention to her primary objective.
A short time later, she realized that she could see the black outline of her hand clearly against the fading darkness. Dawn was breaking at last.
The next time she tried the hole for size, she could almost squeeze her shoulders through. But try as she did, she could not quite manage it. The sky was lighter but gray with overcast. She would at least be able to see where she was going if she could just get out. One more stone, she told herself, would do it.
A bird chirped as Molly straightened and reached for the spurtle. Animals were waking. Then she heard a less welcome sound, hoofbeats, fast approaching.
She dared not look again, to see if she could see them. She could only pray that, if it was Tuedy, he would not see the hole she had made in the wall.
Terrified, but aware that if he saw it from outside she could do nothing about it, she gathered her wits and snatched up the pallet he had given her. Rolling it, she shoved it under the shelf to hide the hole and the stones she’d removed to make it.
Wrapping her cloak around her, she waited, scarcely able to breathe. A minute later, muttering that she was worse than a fool, she dove back to the pallet and grabbed a stone—the only one she could grasp in one hand—from behind it.
Standing again, with her ears aprick for the slightest sound, she moved quietly the few steps to the corner farthest from the hole she had made and the door.
A thin beam of pale dawn light touched the top of the pallet and made a faint line across the floor, but Tuedy was at the door. Molly prayed he would not see it.
As Wat expected, Ned had crossed the highroad and headed into the rugged hills northwest of Hawick. They found Sym’s mark, and soon found Jed’s. Another set of marks that Wat and Geordie identified as Ferg’s way of making the Scotts’ cryptic sign indicated that Ferg had turned northward on the highroad.
“Might be another ambush in the making,” Geordie said morosely, as they reined in their mounts to confer. “We canna tell much from tracks on the highroad, laird. There be dunamany of ’em. There must ha’ been at least a score o’ riders.”
Sym said, “Jed would ken fine, from them tracks we be a-following, that the rescuers ha’ split up. I’d say mayhap a dozen besides Jed be a-going this way.”
“Agreed,” Wat said. “Others must have gone north, but I’d wager that Jed and Ferg saw them split up.”
“Aye,” Sym said. “And Jed would follow Ruther—” He frowned. “Nay then, he’d follow Tuedy. Jed kens the reiver be worth less to ye than her ladyship.”
“He’s likely following both,” Wat said, although his heart ached at the mere hint that anyone, let alone the damned reiver, could be worth more than Molly.
Forcing himself to think aloud, if only to keep his thoughts on track, he said, “Rutherford will want to avoid Melrose and his grace’s men. But his own lads can seek sanctuary on the Rutherford estates as long as Rutherford does not. Moreover, if Tuedy is keeping Molly near here, he won’t want Rutherford’s men crawling about. Sakes, he won’t want Rutherford, but he may have no choice about him.”
“If Tuedy has our lady Molly with him, she’ll no be pleased to see her brothers,” Sym said with a grimace. “D’ye still think Ned can lead us to her, laird?”
“That he is heading into these hills does encourage me,” Wat said. “In any event, I don’t want to take an army with me. Wherever Tuedy has hidden himself, he’ll likely have watchers.”
Sym stiffened, but if he was going to object, Geordie beat him to it, saying, “Ye willna go alone, laird, nor wi’ fewer men than what this lot has wi’ them.”
“I did not plan to go alone,” Wat said. “But neither do I want so many with me that every watcher will raise the alarm.”
“With respect, my lord,” Len Gray said, “I do have some experience with this sort of situation. Moreover, I am unknown to any of Tuedy’s men. The two so-called monks who were with Father Eamon may have taken notice of me, but I think their attention was firmly on persuading your lady to go with them to the kirk. Had I, or any of us, objected to their doing so, they might have paid us greater heed. My point is that—”
“If you think I’ll let you ride ahead to Tuedy’s alone—”
“I know better than that, sir. But I have a keen eye, and I was thinking that we’ll likely catch up with your Jed before we find Tuedy. He and I together might attend to watchers just as I’m told your men did when you approached Black Law.”
“My lads did that in darkness,” Wat reminded him.
Len continued to look at him, his lean body relaxed, his demeanor expectant.
Sym said, “The notion isna a daft one, laird. Jed kens these hills well.”
“So do you and I,” Wat said as another thought occurred to him. He met Sym’s gaze. “What think you of that old sheepfold this side of Drinkstone Hill?”
“The one near the moss, aye,” Sym said.
To Len, Wat said, “The place has been empty for years, because the moss turns into deep bog when it rains, and the daft sheep would walk into it and drown.”
“Would Tuedy leave her ladyship in such a place?” Len asked.
“There’s an old cottage there, or there was. I haven’t been there for years. Hills surround the sheepfold and there is no good track through them. Few folks want to climb up and down hills to reach such a place when there are other folds that require less exertion. So, if Tuedy sought an isolated place near the Hall that he could reach from the kirk without drawing attention, it would be a good choice.”
“Someone might also ha’ thought it would be a good place to keep stolen kine whilst he led searchers elsewhere,” Sym said.
Geordie said, “Even so, laird, we dinna ken but that Tuedy may ha’ left an army o’ his own there to guard her ladyship.”
“We’ll continue following Ned Cockburn’s tracks, Geordie,” Wat said. “You and the other lads fall back, but I’ll keep Sym with me. I ken fine that I can’t dislodge him.”
“And I, sir?” Len Gray said.
“Stay with us and keep yo
ur eyes skinned. If you see anyone above us on the hills, speak up. When we catch up with Jed, if we do, I’ll decide then what to do with you.”
The pantry door swung wide, and Tuedy filled the doorway.
Unable to read his expression with only the dusky interior light behind him, Molly took an involuntary step backward and bumped hard into a shelf there.
Something rattled, but she kept her gaze tensely fixed on Tuedy.
“What be ye doing there?” he asked.
“You are back earlier than I expected,” she said.
“I feared ye’d miss me,” he replied, his voice low, almost caressing.
It sent shivers up her spine.
Dampening lips that had unexpectedly dried, she tried to think of something to say without stirring his ire.
“Dinna be afeard o’ me, lass,” he said in that same strange tone. “We’ll get on much better an ye treat me kindly.”
“You have not treated me kindly at all,” she replied tartly. Drawing a breath, aware that neither the statement nor her tone would soothe him, she swallowed hard.
He seemed almost conciliatory when he said, “If Wat Scott hadna persuaded ye to make mock o’ our marriage, I’ll wager I’d ha’ made ye love me.”
“I doubt that,” Molly said. The man was daft. Naught that she could say to him would alter that.
“I’m thinking now that Wattie must ha’ used the dark arts to make ye love him instead o’ me.”
“He did not. He wouldn’t! He is a better man and a more honorable one than you could ever be, Ring Tuedy. He is kind and gentle. His people love him. I… I…” Realizing that she had nearly said that she loved him, too, she said instead, “He has many, many good qualities. You have none.”
“There, ye see. Ye’d never ha’ said that to me afore now. He’s put some sort o’ dark spell on ye. I wonder what the Kirk would think o’ that.”
“I… I don’t know,” she said, struggling to understand what he was doing but able to think only that she needed Wat and was uncomfortably aware of that hole in the outer wall. Had Tuedy seen it? Would he?