Dagger in the Crown (Tam Eildor mystery no.1)

by Alanna Knight

  'Pax was pleased to give me employment. I learned many things in my short time with him - that he was a spy in English pay. Part of one important document I managed to decode was a thinly disguised plot to kill the Queen.

  'At Craigmillar even the horse-keepers had observed secret comings and goings that concerned Darnley and knew that Bothwell was involved. So I decided to visit the tavern at Peffermill, where I met Paris, who did not recognize the stable boy in the dim light as this fine lady of uncertain morals.

  'Over his ale he became distinctly amorous, his confidential manner leading us to a very fine bedchamber in Peffermill House, empty most nights since his master had better entertainment at Lady Buccleuch's lodging. Paris was soon asleep and my virtue intact, since I carried a tincture for such matters which I added to his ale. In Shetland there are witches too, Tam,' she added.

  'I set about searching through his master's possessions, to see if there was anything that might be saleable to Walter Pax. I was surprised indeed and quite moved to find he had kept all my letters. I should never have thought him capable of such sentiment.

  They were neatly folded in a casket I had given him, and there were also letters from the Queen. I realized their value.

  'I knew from Paris that the Court was moving to Stirling and that suited me well. I had no wish to be deprived of tormenting him. I would stay with Else and take Lady Morham, who had been invited to Fleming's wedding.'

  Her smile was weary. 'Then I met you. A very unexpected pleasure. We shared some happy hours together, did we not, Tam?'

  'I remember one in particular when you were very upset about having your hand read.'

  She looked at him without speaking for a moment. 'I was never quite sure about you, Tam. Who or what you were worried me. Had you really lost your memory? Or were you, as Else said, a creature of the devil's, conjured up, as rumour whispered, by the Witch Lady of Branxholm? I laughed at such foolishness.'

  'But you did not think it was worth the risk, having your fortune told,' he said, and before she could reply, he added, 'I should have suspected. And the reason your sister was so uneasy is now perfectly obvious, aware that you were really her sister Anna, involved in some elaborate pretence she did not understand.’

  'I had to confide in her, but as little as possible.'

  'Did that not concern you?'

  She shrugged. 'It did. Else is not a very good actress. She was confused and could not get used to hearing me called "Dorothy".'

  'I never quite believed it was because she had an attachment for me, as you put it. You were afraid that one day she would say "Anna" in my presence,' said Tam.

  She nodded. ‘A possibility very difficult to explain away.'

  Tam smiled. ‘As you did so many other things.'

  'Poor Else. She is a very honest woman and a very conventional one as well. She did not like her sister Anna pretending to be a boy called Ned whose twin sister was maid to Marie Seton.' And with a sly look, Anything concerning Marie Seton's safety showed you up as a very poor actor, Tam.'

  He ignored that. 'So it was your hand behind the poisoned marchpane?'

  ‘As Ned, I made Abigail's acquaintance and discovered that, like so many maids, she was wildly in love with the master and he had made advances, promised her more favours than a few stolen kisses. Such as sharing his bed,' she added grimly and with a gesture of irritation. 'I suppose it was wicked of me and quite unnecessary to suggest the sweetmeats. I didn't want the Queen's poor dog to die. I love animals - in fact, I am quite besotted with horses and dogs. They are much more loyal and rewarding than humans.' She sighed. 'I told poor Abigail that this special marchpane had certain amorous effects on men which would be to her advantage. She was to lurk about when he left the Queen's apartment, and she immediately brightened at the thought of what was to follow. She was not very clever, alas, and panicked when she heard the little dog had died. Fortunately she was consoled by learning from Seton that it was a greedy animal and had died of old age and overeating.'

  She put a hand on his arm. 'I was happy in Stirling, and with you, Tam. I often forgot Anna and really believed I was Dorothy Sinclair, with a handsome suitor who was falling in love with me. I shall never forget days we shared together.'

  'And the ones we did not share? Like Inchmahome.'

  She smiled. 'I had heard about the priory from Else and I wanted to go there. When I was awakened by the lads talking and saddling up, they were nothing loath to let me carry one of the torches.'

  'What were you doing on your own, wandering about in the ruinous part?'

  'That was of necessity, an urgent need for a private place - to relieve myself. One of the reasons I did not care to play dice with them and avoided too much close contact which might reveal that I was a woman. Suddenly I saw James walking below. I could not resist that loose stone. The damage that could have done! I could have hurt him quite badly.'

  'You gave him a fright, that's for sure.'

  She laughed bitterly. 'How happy that makes me.'

  'And he thought you were Will Fellows.'

  'He saw my face briefly. So I decided I had best make my way back alone as I had an important assignation. With the King. The reason Ned had a room above the stables.'

  'The lads told me they did not know you.'

  'Some of that was true. They did not care to talk to a stranger - like yourself - about a page who was in royal favour. Such gossip could be dangerous.'

  'Could the King not have given you more comfortable accommodation?'

  'He would have done so willingly. But I refused. For the same reasons as I kept the stable boys at a

  distance. And aware of the King's taste, I did not want him to take me by surprise! Besides, I had my nervous sister Else to deal with - and yourself.

  'Life was becoming very complicated being Ned and Dorothy. At last, since having his amorous advances thwarted did not please the King, to keep his lust at bay, I had to confess that I did not have a twin sister who was maid to Marie Seton but that I liked dressing as a woman. How that small wickedness delighted him!'

  Her laughter faded. 'I was summoned on the night of the fireworks after the Prince's christening. He had drunk too much and was very maudlin. He discussed in a casual manner what I thought about gunpowder used to better ends than fireworks. I knew he hated Mary and guessed what was in his mind when he said that castles were useless, with too many guards and sentries, as well as anxious courtiers. A small house would be more convenient.

  'And I had the perfect place, in Kirk O'Field, a house James had rented from Robert Balfour. A safe distance, a short ride from Holyrood and his Border castles, suitable for his amours. He had installed me there when I was pregnant a second time, to keep me away from any social contacts at court. I was so unhappy - friendless, homesick for my loving family. My father the Admiral was dying, so I took William, returned home and had my baby.' She closed her eyes. 'Magdala was beautiful. I was certain James would never be able to resist her. We returned to Kirk O'Field and implored James to see us. He had us turned away like beggars from Holyrood, saying we were impostors, that he had no wife and no children. We were caught in heavy rain Magdala took a fever and died in my arms that night.'

  Tam took her hands. 'I saw her grave in Greyfriars.'

  Wild-eyed, she thumped her fists on the counterpane. 'May he rot in hell for that! May God forgive him, for I never shall! He killed our child. Now, by helping the King, I could have my revenge. The plot was to kill the Queen in the explosion and implicate the Earl of Bothwell, since the King loathed the mention of his name. He would be rid of both of them, and I knew enough of King Henry's vicious nature to guess that everyone who had opposed him in word or deed would go speedily to the executioner's block. And through her enemies, he would use my letters to James, which I had stolen and sold to Pax, to prove that his late wife the Queen of Scots had been Bothwell's whore.

  'So I was Mistress Sinclair by day and at night I went across to the King's lodging
as Ned Wells. The King's excitement was almost childlike. Unable to keep a secret, he confided in me and soon I knew all the intricacies of the plot. I even suggested Archie Crozer, whom I had seen on market days in Edinburgh, as the purveyor of the gunpowder from the arsenal at the castle.

  ‘“Is he to be trusted?” was the nervous question. I assured him that money would buy his silence. And afterwards? "He will have to be disposed of, Ned. We can have no witnesses to this deed," was the grim reply.

  ‘And so it was all arranged. The Queen would return from Pagez's masque and sleep in the room below. Before dawn, the King would slip out, his horses ready and waiting, the given signal for Taylor, his loyal servant, and myself to light the fuse. The house would be blown up and all of Scotland would mourn their dead Queen.'

  In the short silence that followed, both gathered their thoughts, remembering the horrors of that fatal night, the enormity of all that had gone wrong.

  'After the royal party left, there was silence in the house, the fuses being prepared under the salle in readiness for the Queen's return. And then, as I was making my way through the kitchens, I heard the sound of voices, screams of pain. Easton, one of the King's servants, was being questioned by James and others. Sickened by the scene, I heard him telling them all. And saw him executed, a knife in his heart as James said, "I will light the fuse."

  'I warned the King. Saw him climb down from the window with Taylor, run across the gardens. I waited no longer, but I was already too late. You know the rest.'

  She smiled at him. 'You saved my life. Poor King Henry, I thought I had saved him, but instead he ran straight into the arms of the Hamiltons - or the Douglases. And now James will succeed in his ambition to marry the Queen and together they will rule Scotland.'

  Tam was silent.

  'Is that not what will happen?' And when he did not reply, she said accusingly, 'You know something, do you not?'

  'I only know that what is about to happen will be recorded in history.'

  'That is not a great deal of consolation to me.'

  'What would be of consolation to you?'

  Her eyes narrowed. 'If I were a Catholic and believed in Purgatory, in eternal damnation, I would condemn James to long and lingering death, so that he can be haunted by the ghost of Magdala, and by my hatred, like a thousand daggers in his immortal soul.'

  'And what of you?'

  She smiled, all hatred and anger gone as she looked at him. 'I am grateful to you, Tam, for rescuing me that night. I might have been just one more victim, but you gave me back my life. But I am not sure for how long. I am in great pain and I cannot imagine ever being free from it.'

  Janet had told him that her injuries were serious, her legs affected.

  'I fear not being able to walk or ride again. And that would be my answer, a living death.'

  'Will you stay in Scotland?'

  'I think not. If it is at all possible, I will go back to Norway. My mother needs me. And I will take William with me. An Earl's son or not, he deserves a better life. But what of you, Tam? Is it Branxholm?'

  When he said yes, she was silent for a moment, then, straightening her shoulders, she said, 'I am very tired, Tam, and soon I must sleep again. Before we part, will you hold me in your arms, so that I might keep the memory of what could have been had we not been who we are and met when we did. One last embrace, Tam.'

  He held her for a while, hearing her wildly beating heart. Then he kissed her and she fell back against the pillows, closing her eyes. Her sigh, as he gently shut the door, was deep and happy, like that of a contented child.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Branxholm. Sunday 16 March 1567. Evening

  Without a word being spoken between them, both were conscious that this was the anniversary of the night Janet Beaton had found Tam in her garden.

  A messenger had brought word that day from Lady Morham. Her daughter-in-law, Lady Jean Gordon, had made a good recovery from her recent illness but, alas, her dear friend Dorothy was still an anxiety to them all, especially to little William, who wished to spend all his waking hours at her bedside.

  As Janet cast the letter aside there was a feeling of new life, of spring and a world preparing for rebirth around them. Unseen, a blackbird tentatively tried out the first unsteady notes of what would be, one day soon, a rhapsody of joy.

  Janet looked across at Tam. A quiet peaceful evening lay ahead of them, with his day's work as steward laid aside, like so many days they had shared since their return to Branxholm.

  But Janet was uneasy. She had sensed for several days now that Tam was restless, withdrawn. How often mid-conversation his hand flew to the charmstone concealed under his collar. He reminded her of someone on the outset of a long journey, wondering anxiously whether he had with him all his goods and chattels.

  As they sat by the window overlooking the garden, where dusk shrouded the trees and the blackbird's song grew stronger, he leaned across, took her hands and said gently, 'You know what I am going to say, do you not?'

  ‘Aye, Tam. Ye're going away. That crystal ye wear. . .'

  He nodded. 'I have no option.'

  'Has your memory come back, then?' she demanded eagerly.

  'Memory? What is that, Janet?'

  Bewildered, she said, 'Tell me, Please tell me.'

  He shook his head. 'I cannot. Just let us say that I have been summoned to return.'

  'Return - but where, Tam, where?'

  He shrugged. 'Whence I came, Janet.'

  'What sort of place? You can tell me,' she insisted.

  His head turned towards the window and he said softly, 'Where there is no memory, where all time -past, present and future - is as one.'

  She frowned. 'I have never encountered such a thing, not in all my dealings with the occult, with the other worlds.'

  'It is not occult, Janet. One day, when we are just a recorded fragment of history, men will have found the answer to all the things that the alchemists seek, things that will remain hidden for centuries to come, achievements and inventions that the world is not yet ready for but which men - and women - of the future will discover.'

  She leaned forward. 'Tell me about them, Tam. Tell me what you know,' she insisted.

  'Chariots on wheels that will travel without horses. Machines that will fly in the air, like our songster out there in the garden.'

  'What else, what else?' she demanded.

  'Machines that show pictures of what is happening on the other side of the world, in continents not yet discovered, in the universe and beyond the furthest stars. Machines that let us talk to people in lands far beyond our own.' He stood up, staring into the garden, hands resting on the windowsill, a listener. ‘I must leave you now. It is imperative that I return by the same route, from the exact spot where you found me - out there.'

  'Oh Tam, Tam. I shall miss you.'

  'And I shall miss you.' He kissed her gently. 'But you must promise not to follow me and not to call me back.'

  Holding him, she said, ‘I promise. But, Tam, there is so much I want you to tell me of all these wonders of the future.'

  He smiled. ‘I have already told you too much.' And once more he kissed her, held her close. 'Who knows, maybe we shall meet again, in some of those other worlds.'

  Tears welled in her eyes as he released her.

  'Do not look. Do not watch me leave. Remember your promise. Close your eyes, Janet.'

  She felt him kiss her eyelids and then the door closed softly.

  For a few moments she remained where she was and then, unable to bear the tension any longer, despite her promise, she ran out into the dusk, to the place under the trees where she had found him.

  The guard dogs had followed her and settled down a few feet away as she knelt and touched the grass. Her hand came away warm, as if a body had lain there, as had Tam's a year ago.

  On her feet again, all around her the air was strange, almost menacing.

  Nothing was visible but the first stars, a thin
sliver of moon, far away, yet the atmosphere seemed to vibrate with unseen life, with some strange and terrifying quality beyond her comprehension, beyond her own certainty of other worlds.

  She stood up, called out, 'Tam - fare thee well.'

  But the garden was empty, the guard dogs had not moved and although the blackbird sang no more, there was just an echo of a name whispered in the wind:

  TAM - TAM EILDOR.

  Afterword

  Mary lost favour as in Edinburgh the scurrilous placards continued, depicting Bothwell and herself as adulterers and Darnley's slayers, with lurid posters of the infant Prince crying piteously to avenge his father's murder.

  Bothwell demanded that their instigator, Lennox, take him to trial and make good his accusations, but when the day arrived, Lennox failed to appear and Bothwell walked free.

  But the stigma remained. After her forty days of mourning, Mary left the seclusion of Seton for Stirling, to see her baby son, who on the death of his godmother Elizabeth would inherit the English throne as James I. They spent one happy April day together. He was ten months old and they never saw each other again.

  On the journey back to Edinburgh, Mary was met at Gogar Bank on the outskirts of the city by Bothwell with a group of armed men. He seized her bridle, told her she was not safe to go further and that she was to go to Dunbar with him.

  Once there, according to the story put about, he ravished her and she was forced to marry him. The nobles did not want him as King either and public opinion was soon stirred up against them, culminating in the meeting of two opposing forces at Carberry Hill, more of a skirmish than a battle, where Mary's supporters, few in number, melted away.

  Bothwell was eager to settle scores by single combat with the nobles, but Mary urged him to flee so as to live and raise an army to restore her to her throne.

  This he solemnly promised to do, but fate ruled otherwise. They never met again. Loyal forces joined Mary in the struggle to regain her kingdom, but they were beaten. She was betrayed, sold over the border to Elizabeth of England, who had promised to help her dear cousin in her time of trial.