“Your men also brought the story of Sir Robert's death.”
“I do not believe that of her.”
“Still, strife which you do not need.”
“Strife or not, she will be safe here, as Morvan ordered.”
“The men who came with Gregory also say that she has become your lover.” David spoke with the tone of a man being casual but wanting information nonetheless.
“I let them think it to protect her from them. I understand Morvan's goals here, David, but these men have lived a rough life a long while now—”
“I am not here to criticize, Ian. But I am glad to hear you have not taken up with her, because it will be best if the lady leaves.”
So that was why David had come. To remove Reyna. The realization that she would disappear soon, that he would not even have her company at meals, numbed him in a strange way.
“As you know, Ian, Morvan has promised her safety to her father. Duncan Graham's neutrality is important.” David explained as if he sensed that Ian needed convincing. “Morvan can not be fighting the Grahams while he also deals with the Armstrongs. With the accusations against Lady Reyna, the issue of her safety takes on new meaning. If the Armstrongs abduct her from here to judge her, the Grahams will interfere.”
Ian listened to the relentless logic that would remove Reyna from Black Lyne Keep. “Where will you take her?”
“To her father, Duncan Graham. The colors of Senlis are permitted to cross his border.”
“She may not want to go back there. She has asked to leave, but not to go to her father.”
“She will be safe there. Call the lady, Ian.”
His squire John waited outside the door, and Ian sent him to fetch Reyna. While they waited he asked David about Christiana and their children. David's normally inscrutable face lit when he talked about his family, and a warm expression suffused his eyes at the mention of Christiana in particular. Ian had seen that look on young men newly enraptured, but rarely in a man married for years. He glanced away, because the emotions that he saw left him a little hollow.
Reyna arrived, looking like a servant in the simple gown she wore in the kitchen. At least she had removed the kerchief.
David invited Reyna to sit in the chair, and then perched himself on the stool behind the desk. “I met with your father before this war began,” he said. “He was concerned for your safety once the fighting started.”
“I find that peculiar—er— How am I to address you, my lord?”
My lord. Ian's teeth gritted.
“David would be fine.”
“I will not be comfortable addressing you thus.”
“Then, if you prefer, Sir David. I finally allowed Morvan to knight me some years back. Since he once threatened to kill me with his sword, I thought this other use of it wonderfully ironic.”
She laughed, lyrically. “That will suit me better, Sir David. Anyway, I have not seen my father since I left his household twelve years ago. Nor have I heard from him. His sudden interest makes little sense.”
“You are his daughter.”
A silence ensued. Ian watched Reyna. She was acting like a demure, sweet woman. Submissive. Not one whoreson or bastard out of her yet.
David absently pulled a book toward him. A little frown puckered Reyna's brow. “Do be careful, Sir David,” she blurted. “They are very rare.”
“I know their value, my lady. This is a large library for a minor Scottish lord. Some of these are quite old. How did your husband come by them?”
“He had some when he came back to Scotland. Over the years he purchased more. Some of them are mine.”
“Back to Scotland from where?”
“He had traveled widely. Constantinople and Greece, I think. Then the Continent. France. It was long ago. Upon returning he met Maccus Armstrong and entered his service, and had been here ever since.”
“I am sorry that I never met him. We would have had much to discuss. You say some of these are yours?”
“A few. I keep them here with the others. I trust that when I am allowed to leave that I will be permitted to take them.”
“The laws of chivalry say a noblewoman should be allowed to take her clothing and jewels. They do not mention books.”
For the first time since she had entered, Ian saw a flash of the Reyna he knew. “I own no jewels, Sir David. These books are all I possess. I chose them instead of fine garments and pearls,” she said pointedly.
“It will be for Morvan to decide their disposition. It would help if your ownership were documented. Perhaps your husband's accounts made note of it. Have you found the papers related to this estate, Ian? The ledgers and charters and whatnot?”
“The ledgers, but nothing else. I assume that Thomas took the rest when he escaped.” Actually, he had found something else: the ambiguous letter from the bishop. It was now tucked among his own belongings.
David abruptly lost interest in the books. “Your father has made your safety an important matter, Lady Reyna, whether you accept the sense of it or not. Considering the accusations made against you in your husband's death, it would be best to remove you from here. Tomorrow I will bring you to your family.”
His announcement stripped Reyna of her demure demeanor. She shot to her feet. “The hell you will.”
“The charges against you promise to complicate things in ways we do not need. You will return to your father.”
“My father has no authority over me.” She raised her chin obstinately. “He handed that over when he gave me to Robert. He has no rights to me, and I will not return there.”
“Would you return to those who do have authority over you?”
“And who would that be? My husband had no family. His liege lord, Maccus Armstrong, is besieged in Harclow. Does he want me so badly that he will open Harclow's gate to let me enter?”
Ian watched their exchange with delight. That's my girl.
“There is the option of sending you to Clivedale,” David said.
“If you do, Thomas Armstrong will execute me in violation of all laws and his authority. Would Morvan Fitzwaryn send me to my death, and an unjust one at that?” Reyna spoke defiantly, but the threat had some effect, because her body shook as though a chill had slid through it.
David studied her. “Why do you refuse to return to your father? It is the safest place for you.”
“Have you visited my father's household, Sir David? Surely you noticed the fear in the servants. You saw the way the women were treated and used. It has been thus since he put my mother away.”
“I saw what you describe. But you are his daughter. Surely—”
“It was no different for me as a child, and it will be worse now. Duncan Graham holds no love for me. I will not go back there.”
The air pulsed with the force of emotion echoing off her words.
“Ian said that you have asked to leave, however.”
“Aye, but not to go to Duncan. I wish to go to Edinburgh. I have a friend there who will help me.”
“Who is this friend?”
“His name is Edmund.”
Edmund? “Edmund!” Ian shouted.
“He is the brother of one of my husband's knights. He is a cleric,” she said, keeping her eyes on David. “A Hospitaller, with the knightly Order of Saint John. He is attached to their prefectory near Edinburgh. He knows of a widow who will give me a home.”
“You mean he knows of a knightly monk who will give you a bed,” Ian said.
“He is avowed to celibacy, damn you,” Reyna shot back.
“Jesus. Are you that ignorant? A lot of good your books have done you, woman, if you think the Hospitaller's livery changes a man that much.”
“Just like you to impugn a good man's intentions. What would you know of a man's chivalric concern for a woman in trouble? You prey on such as me. It is your life.”
“What do you know of this honorable cleric?” Ian demanded.
“We have corresponded at length for five y
ears.”
“You write a few letters to a man about philosophy and you think that you know him? Christ.”
“I have met him, you idiot. He visited his brother Reginald here five years ago. Robert was much taken with him, and he visited again last year. He and Robert became good friends.”
“And you and he became better friends.”
“Just like you to think such a friendship could never be virtuous. What good is a woman, after all, unless she is on her back.”
“Enough.” David's quiet voice interrupted firmly.
Ian bit back the ribald retort that had formed in response to her last statement. Edmund the Hospitaller, for heaven's sake. “She obviously can not go to Edinburgh, David,” he said. “If she has misjudged this man, she will be helpless.”
“I am not such a poor judge of men. I had your measure in two blinks, you conceited, ignominious, hedonistic, English whore—”
“Enough, my lady,” David warned. “Leave us now. You will not be going to Edinburgh, for we can not ensure your safety there. As for returning to your father, I will decide by morning, but you should prepare yourself.”
Reyna marched out of the chamber with a determined gait that did not bode well for the next few days. Ian wondered if he should put a guard on the grain supply.
“A hellcat to be sure,” David said.
“Hell. If I had not seen through her plan that night, she would be at that man's mercy by week's end.”
“He might be as she claims.”
Ian gave David a man-to-man look of supreme skepticism.
“She seems quite taken with you,” David said dryly.
“Aye, I have clearly impressed the lady.”
David sat behind the desk again. “Her father's home is as she described. With the concern he expressed for her, I thought, however—”He frowned as he flipped through the open folio. “I wonder why he wants her back.”
“Does he? You said he sought only her safety. If he wants her, why not let him come and get her. Perhaps they will reconcile upon meeting here.”
“I will think about that. Right now, help me to go through these books. I often place important documents in mine. Personal things. Perhaps he did too.”
“What do we seek?”
“Anything. His testament. The marriage contract. His entitlement. It is odd that you did not find them. Why would Thomas Armstrong take them?”
They spent the hours until supper working their way through the tomes. Ian found a few private letters of no consequence, and a short poem of a religious nature.
Some of the volumes distracted Ian. One was a small Book of Hours with lovely illustrations showing the labors of the months. Toward the end he found a small scrap of parchment with a crude drawing. Just some circles and a square and some curving lines. It appeared that, among his other interests, Robert of Kelso toyed with astronomy.
Toward the end of their search, David discovered a large parchment inside a folio of the Gospels.
“Here is something.”
“What is it?” Ian asked.
“The testament of Sir Robert of Kelso. However, it is also a motive for the lady to murder her husband.” He handed the parchment over. “He left her everything. Not just some dower lands. Everything.”
Chapter SEVEN
Ian stayed up most of the night thinking about Robert's death. He kept weighing the evidence against Reyna.
The discovery of the testament had certainly tipped the scales against her. He suspected that she knew that the document lay within that book, and had perhaps even placed it there herself. She would not destroy it, for it might still prove valuable, but she didn't want it found. It was an effective hiding place, since no one but Reyna and her husband read those tomes. That was why David's handling of the books had distressed her, and not concern that he might do damage.
So, she had known that Sir Robert had left Black Lyne Keep and all of its lands to her, making her a wealthy widow. Even if Maccus sought to depose her, that testament would have given Reyna a powerful weapon in any negotiations. At the least she would have probably been spared the fate of most childless widows, left with a small dower property and condemned to an impecunious existence.
Worse, if Sir Robert had sought to find a way to put her aside and annul the marriage because she was barren, she had good motive to hasten the man's death to get this inheritance before it slipped from her grasp.
Finally, if all that were not bad enough, there was Edmund. She had been corresponding with this man for over five years. Philosophy and theology and the great questions regarding the human condition, no doubt. Hell's teeth.
Dawn broke. He rose and pulled on some clothes. As he headed down to the hall, he finally let his mind follow the obvious path that he had been avoiding all night.
She and Edmund had fallen in love when he visited. They had continued their friendship with their letters, and he had come again to see her last year. Slowly, subtly, Edmund had begun to lament that they would forever be separated. She regretted this, but she had put off contemplation of any solution until Robert began the moves to put her aside. Suddenly her future was at risk, and that alluring life with the other man not only seemed attainable but necessary. Robert dies, she inherits, Edmund arrives first to console her and then to stay, and eventually he finds a way to be relieved of his vows.
But the suspicions against her had fouled her plans, and suddenly the testament became a piece of damning evidence to be hidden. Then, with the arrival of Morvan's army, these lands were no longer Robert's to bequeath and hers to inherit. She still sought to join her love, but now it was to escape the consequences of her action.
Aye, with the discovery of the testament and her relationship with Edmund, the thin evidence against Lady Reyna had gotten much thicker. It was neat, plausible, and convincing enough to send her to her death.
And what could be placed on her side of the scales? All he could summon in her defense was his own sense that she would not do such things. It didn't amount to much.
David sat at a table with his bread and ale. Ian slid onto the bench across from him. “She will not be going with you,” he said.
Defying David was the same as defying Morvan. He was risking the future he had planned in the cause of a woman who could well be a poisoner, whom he may have misjudged, and to whom he owed nothing. It annoyed him to admit that he wasn't even sure why he had spoken.
David placidly ate his food. “Nay, she will not. I would probably have to tie her to the saddle, and even then she would bolt and we'd be searching the Cheviot Hills for days. I will go back to Harclow on my way to Carlisle and tell Morvan, and suggest that Duncan come for her. If he does, however, you must let her go.”
“I will let her go, but I will not force her to.”
“Whatever waits for her in Duncan's household, it is better than a noose or the stake. Have no expectations that Morvan will ignore this crime.”
“She does not know a recipe for poison. If she did, she would have tried to use it on me. Much easier than a dagger.”
“If she knows about poisons, she knows that their properties are changeable and unstable. A dagger is harder to use, but it is also surer.”
“You have already decided her guilt.”
“I only point out the damning evidence. Actually, I do not think she did it. She is very intelligent. If she had wanted to kill Robert of Kelso, I think that she would have found a way to do so that would have never brought suspicion on her. All the same, keep a close eye on her. She will try to escape. Behind her brave pose she is very frightened, as well she should be.” He brushed his hands and rose. “The men and horses await. Hopefully I will make Harclow by sunset.”
Ian accompanied David out to the yard. Lady Reyna stood at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed over her breast, her foot tapping impatiently.
“I am not going,” she announced. “Furthermore, I have a message for you to bring to Sir Morvan. I have learned something of the fall of
Harclow when he was a boy. Remind him that Maccus Armstrong allowed his mother and her children to depart, and to go where she wished. I demand the same chivalry of him.”
“I will give Morvan your message, but I will soften the tone. He has small tolerance for women who presume to lecture him. Until your disposition is decided, you will remain here and obey Sir Ian.”
Ian accompanied David across the yard to the horses.
“Nothing but trouble there, Ian.”
“Aye.”
“Don't lose her. I don't want to have to explain to Duncan that we don't know where his girl is.”
“I won't.”
David swung up on his horse. He looked again to Lady Reyna. She stood straight and determined and not one bit cowed. He clamped his hand on Ian's shoulder. “I will pray for you.”
The next day, a tenant farmer arrived at the gate to make a complaint about thievery. It had taken all of his courage to come, since the thieves had threatened to kill him if he did. Not much had been stolen, for these farmers did not own much, but that only made such losses more severe on them.
Ian had the man identify the culprits, and then searched their camp outside the wall. When the stolen items were found, the thieves' fate was sealed.
He had the thieves brought to a large tree near the river. He could have hanged them within the walls, but he took this action as leader of the company and not lord of the manor. He required forty of his men to attend, and included the ones he most expected trouble from. He made it clear that the punishment was not for the thievery, since that would be hypocritical, but instead for disobeying his order.
When it was done, one of his youngest knights walked forward and unsheathed his sword. It was the most direct of challenges, a blatant bid to replace him. Like two animals, they would fight for supremacy of the herd. Ian had not won his own authority in this manner, but had been elected by the other knights three years earlier, when the last captain died.
The other men formed a circle, and Ian turned to the challenger. It took him very little time to defeat the man.
The two experiences left him feeling sour and dark the rest of the day, and in no mood to brook any defiance. And so when Lady Reyna did not show for the evening meal, he stormed out of the hall in search of her.
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