by Amanda Scott
“There be nowt o’ that, sir. The lad and me just brought her here safe.”
“I see,” Farnsworth said, frowning.
“Ha’ ye some’un wha’ can show the lass where she is tae sleep?” Patrick went on, avoiding Beth’s eye. “I would ha’ further speech wi’ ye in private.”
“Aye, surely.” Farnsworth shouted for a servant and gave the order.
Thus, Beth heard no more, and she tried to imagine what Patrick might say to him that could ease the reception she would endure when Lady Farnsworth arrived.
“Ye were right, Lucy,” Claud said with satisfaction. “Our lass be safe in Stirling just as ye said, but I canna think why we couldna find her again afore now.”
Lucy shrugged. “What does it matter since we have found her?”
She reclined on a cushioned chest in the chamber to which they had followed Bessie, and Claud liked being near her, just looking at her. She was so comfortable, his Lucy, more comfortable than Catriona had ever been. But she had secrets, he was sure, and had Maggie not warned him that someone was up to mischief? Could it be Lucy? He did not want to think such a thing, but the plain fact was that one moment he was watching Bessie on the hillside with Lucy, and in the next, he and Lucy were in another place entirely. And she had been at his side ever since.
Not that he minded that part, he told himself as she gently altered her position to lay her head in his lap. Her fingers became busy, too, and his thoughts shifted abruptly. He gave no more thought just then to Bessie.
Having done what he could to protect Beth, Patrick delivered the two horses and Zeus to Oscar Farnsworth’s people. He was reluctant to part with the hawk because he had developed a fondness for it, but he was even more reluctant to find himself afterward still saddled with young Jock and his two faithful companions.
“You can stay with Zeus, you know,” Patrick said, for he had asked the Farnsworth falconer if he could use Jock’s help, and the man had agreed to try him.
“Ye’ll no be leaving me wi’ that lot,” Jock said scornfully. “I’ve nae use for townsfolk. Sakes, man, ye’ll ha’ much more need o’ me than them. I doubt they’d let me within ten feet o’ our Zeus. Most likely they’d set me tae all the chores and muck they dinna want tae do theirselves, and sithee, I’m for a better life than that. I’ll go along wi’ ye for now, and mind yer boots and such for ye.”
“Will you indeed?” Patrick said grimly.
“Aye,” Jock declared. “I’ll let ye use Jackie anytime ye want, too, and Thunder will guard your things better than ye could yourself.”
“An offer like that is hard to resist.”
“Aye, that’s wha’ I thought, so where be we going now?”
Tempted though he was to go first to the castle and make sure that Fin and Molly were safe, Patrick knew his first task was to report to Beaton. He was not eager to take his small entourage along, but seeing no other course that would not require a heavy hand, he said, “We’re bound for Cambuskenneth Abbey.”
Jock nodded. “Right, then. How far?”
“Two miles and a bit,” Patrick said. “We’ll cross the River Forth.”
“Good,” the boy said. Leading Jackie, he chattered until they were halfway across Stirling Bridge, when they came within sight of the tall abbey tower. Then he stopped in the road and said in an awestruck voice, “Be that where we’re a-going?”
“It is,” Patrick said. “You can hear its bells ringing from Stirling town. The man I must see keeps his apartments behind those double windows there, and under the altar of the church by the tower, our third King James and his wife are buried.”
“Aye, well, if they dinna trouble us, we’ll no trouble them,” Jock said, tugging on the pony’s reins to urge it forward again.
“You will stay outside to look after Thunder and Jackie,” Patrick said. “If anyone speaks to you, say naught of my business or of our journey to Stirling.”
Jock nodded and made no objection to being left outside, which was good, since Patrick’s disposition had deteriorated considerably since leaving Beth. He was in no mood for more of the lad’s impudence.
Leaving him in the cobblestone yard between church and tower, he strode to the tower entrance, where he asked the black-cassocked porter to inform Beaton that he had returned from his journey and would like to have speech with him. An hour’s delay would not have surprised him, for he knew that Beaton enjoyed pomp and circumstance. On his first visit, the porter had taken him to the prior’s chamber first. This time, however, the man said brusquely, “Come with me, sir.”
Patrick’s satisfaction lasted only until the porter showed him into a bleak chamber on the second floor.
“What’s this?” he demanded. “I want to see the cardinal.”
“Aye, sir, so ye said,” the porter replied, “and his eminence will want to see you, too, but he is away until late tonight. He gave orders that if you arrived in his absence, you were to bide here and speak to no one else until he speaks with you.”
Patrick opened his mouth to argue, realized the futility of it, and said only, “I’ve a lad with me who tends my beasts and boots. Ask someone to send him here when he’s stabled the pony.”
The porter nodded. “He can fetch your supper to you.”
“I must be elsewhere tomorrow at two o’clock,” Patrick said.
“His eminence will doubtless see you first thing in the morning, sir.”
Left alone, Patrick wondered briefly what Beaton was up to. It didn’t much matter though. He cared more about Beth’s fate than about Beaton’s or his own.
Nell and Jane arrived in Stirling that evening and rode directly to the cottage of Jane’s cousin, Agnes Geddes. There was little rest for them, however, for Nell meant to attend court the next morning, and she did not mean to look dowdy when she did. James had an eye for a beautiful woman, and although she showed her age more now than the last time they met, she still meant to catch that eye.
“I depend on you to furbish me up, the pair of you,” she said when Agnes sent her grown son to fetch a bathtub into the little kitchen.
“Tae my mind, ye’ll no need much furbishing, m’lady,” Agnes said, looking her over critically. “Ye’ve kept yourself well, and nae mistake.”
“Nonetheless, I must win the attention of his grace,” Nell said bluntly. “I have no man to speak for me, nor do I want one, so Jamie will have to notice me. And unless custom has altered since my last visit to court, a woman cannot simply march up to the King and say ‘how do you fare, sire?’ ”
Jane sniffed, but Agnes chuckled, assuring Nell that times had not changed.
“Then do your best for me,” Nell said, “both of you!”
It was by no means “first thing in the morning” when the abbey porter came to fetch Patrick, but it was before noon. Leaving Jock to return their breakfast things to the kitchen and ready himself to leave when Patrick returned, he followed the porter to the cardinal’s chambers.
Davy Beaton looked just as he had the two previous times they had met. His elegant red garments might have been the same as he had worn on those occasions, and his smile was the same quick, confident smile. He sat in an elaborately carved chair on a raised, carpeted dais, and as he invited Patrick to enter, he dismissed the two clerics sitting with him, first asking one to pour wine for them.
“So, Patrick MacRae, you return safely,” he said, holding out his hand with its cardinal’s ruby winking in a ray of sunlight from a nearby window.
Obediently, Patrick knelt and kissed the ring. “As you see, eminence.” Standing, he added, “I’ve come to appreciate the size and facility of your network of informers, so I do not know how much of what I’ve learned will be news to you. Still, I’ve done as you asked and I trust that you will now see to Kintail’s release.”
“I have already set matters in train,” Beaton said. “Oliver Sinclair continues to insist that the chiefs are dangerous, but I am confident I can now persuade his grace they are not, and awaite
d only your return. Now, tell me what you know about Henry’s plan. I learned some time ago, of course, that he’d arrived safely in York.”
“Aye, and awaits his grace’s arrival there with impatience.”
“His mood does not interest me, and he will continue to wait,” Beaton said. “When did you see him last?”
“I traveled with him to York, and then followed Angus to Midgeholme.”
“Ah, yes.” Beaton nodded. “That nest of Cumberland vipers has been busy for some time. Dacre was there, I expect.”
“He was, but Angus is more dangerous. He boasts that he retains loyal followers thoughout the Scottish Borders, and he means to help Henry bring Scotland under his rule. The prize for Angus, of course, is Henry’s promise to restore all the Douglas lands to him.”
“Angus believes Henry, does he?”
Patrick nodded.
“You have not been at Midgeholme all this time, I warrant.”
“I nearly came to grief when I arrived there,” Patrick admitted. “I was careless after having strutted around the English court with apparent impunity. I even had dinner with young Donald of Sleat, for he, too, enjoys Henry’s court. You will recall that Donald took ship for England rather than welcome his king.”
“I remember,” Beaton said dryly. “You have done well, and now that God has blessed Jamie with a second son, I believe I can stir him to release at least Kintail, who has remained loyal. Do you mean to attend the festivities Monday?”
“I heard there was to be a celebration, but I had not given it much thought.”
“Have you aught to wear other than that commoner’s rig you stand in?”
Patrick smiled. “If you recall, my lord, you recommended that I purchase court attire from an English tailor, so I left my things with Kintail. I was forced by circumstance to leave all my English-made courtly attire at Midgeholme, but fortunately, fashions do not change as quickly here as they do in London.”
Beaton’s eyes twinkled, and since he was known for his sartorial sensitivity, Patrick was not surprised when he said, “You will be sadly out-of-date, but so are most of Jamie’s courtiers. You should attend the ball, I think, and pay your respects to his grace.”
“As to that,” Patrick said, “I should tell you that Sir Hector Farnsworth desires me to accompany him to court this afternoon.”
“Does he? Why?”
When Patrick explained, Beaton’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Making your bow to Jamie as a falconer should be highly amusing. I wonder if he will recognize you.”
“It matters not if he does,” Patrick said. “I have done with falsehoods, sir. I accompany Farnsworth because he has been kind to me and I do not want to upset him, but he will see me as myself soon enough, especially if I am to attend the ball. Will Kintail and the other hostages do so?”
“No, and that is why I think you should go. Once Jamie recognizes you, he will remember the courtesy that Kintail and his lady showed us at Eilean Donan.”
They talked more about Patrick’s time in England, and his escape, and it seemed to him yet again that Beaton was singularly well informed.
“What have you learned from all this?” Beaton asked at last.
“That the threat of invasion looms large. If his grace continues to defy Henry and refuses to meet with him, I believe the threat will become a reality.”
Beaton nodded. “How came you to stay so long at Farnsworth Tower?”
Having come to like Sir Hector, Patrick was reluctant to explain his initial motive. He said, “Has Farnsworth ever figured in your intelligence, eminence?”
“Not yet,” Beaton said. “Should it?”
“Angus mentioned him at Midgeholme. Seems Farnsworth is one of his tenants, although he lives in the west march. That area teems with Douglases of one ilk or another, but most are loyal to the Crown, I believe.”
“In my experience, Borderers reserve their loyalty for their clan chiefs, and no Douglas loves the King,” Beaton said. “Indeed, I know of no Borderer that I’d trust completely. What more do you know of this Farnsworth?”
“Naught against his credit, for he showed me only kindness,” Patrick said.
“A clever ploy, playing the falconer to learn more of him,” Beaton said.
“I did not set out to do so,” Patrick said. “Chance took me there, and he seems a gentle, scholarly sort, unlikely to be a conspirator. He arrives in Stirling today at the house of Oscar Farnsworth in St. Mary’s Wynd. Angus did not connect him to their plot, and instinct tells me that he is no party to it.”
“But he was kind to you. That may have weakened your instincts.”
“Aye,” Patrick admitted.
“You’ve kept your word, and I’ll demand no more of you,” Beaton said, “but I’d be grateful if you could keep an eye on him until we can be sure of his loyalty.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Patrick said. It was an excuse to maintain contact with the house in St. Mary’s Wynd, and he was certainly willing to do that. He already missed Beth so much that his body ached for her.
Beth was peeling vegetables for Saturday’s dinner when the family arrived shortly before noon. Her summons arrived twenty minutes later.
Wiping quaking hands on her apron, she smoothed her hair and retied her coif despite knowing that such details would make no difference. Following the gillie to the chamber where she and Patrick had met Oscar Farnsworth, she found Sir Hector alone with his cousin.
“Come in, lass,” Sir Hector said, nodding encouragement when she hesitated on the threshold. “I am not going to eat you, but you did give me a dreadful fright.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, curtsying deeply. “I… I behaved impulsively, and… and foolishly.”
“Jelyan told me that she and Drusilla were unkind to you,” he said gently. “I have spoken to them, and they will apologize. I hope you will not find it necessary to run away again, lassie. I missed you sorely.”
She was stunned. “I thought you would be angry.”
“I am certainly not pleased,” he said. “Running away like that was foolhardy. It is fortunate that Patrick Falconer found you, and fortunate, too, that apparently he is a man who can be trusted with an innocent young girl.”
Since she did not know what Patrick had told Oscar Farnsworth, and could not tell Sir Hector that Patrick was only barely that trustworthy, she said, “He was kind, sir. He scolded me fiercely for leaving, but I am grateful for his protection.”
“So you should be,” Sir Hector said. He hesitated, then added, “I wonder, did he speak to you of anything unusual that he might have learned at Farnsworth?”
Suprised by the question but glad she could answer honestly, she said, “Why no, sir. Indeed, he told me that he knew little about the household because he was always busy with the hawk and kept to himself.”
Sir Hector frowned but did not pursue the topic. “I shall not scold you, my dear,” he said. “I wager Lady Farnsworth will say enough for both of us, but do not fear her. She may scold, but I promise she will do no more than that.”
Beth suppressed a sigh, hoping she could believe him.
An hour earlier, Nell had ridden up the hill to the castle with Jane and young Seth in attendance. Encountering no trouble at the gate, she gave her name to the Lord Chamberlain, who greeted her cheerfully, clearly remembering her from her previous visit to Stirling.
“I shall require a chamber where my maid and my page can await my pleasure,” Nell told him.
He agreed at once, and thanking him, she made her way to the great hall, where she found acquaintances and even a few friends, but she was not interested in gossip. Instead, she kept her eyes on the royal dais, where James sat surrounded by chattering courtiers. He had aged more than she had, she decided. His once-slender body had thickened, and his complexion was not as fine and smooth as it had been, but his red hair was still thick and healthy-looking, and his blue eyes still lit with laughter. He was a handsome man. She waited until he rose and,
flanked by two gentlemen, stepped off the dais and into the crowd. Then, timing her movements carefully, she managed to bump into one of his escorts.
“Godamercy, sir,” she exclaimed, sweeping a low curtsy and adding with a chuckle, “one of us seems to have been a trifle clumsy!” Then, as her gaze met the King’s, she bowed her head submissively, drawing a deep breath as she did and adding as if she had just recollected her manners, “Pray, forgive me, sire.”
“You may rise, madam,” James said, amusement clear in his tone. “Or you may remain as you are and afford us all that splendid view a wee bit longer.”
“You flatter me, your grace,” she said, looking up and smiling.
He held out a hand, and she put hers in it, allowing him to assist her. He did not let go, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm instead, and putting his head near hers to say, “I want to do more than flatter you, Nell. Are you conveniently alone, or have you come encumbered with yet another new husband?”
“I am entirely alone, sire,” she murmured, fluttering her lashes.
“Then I know exactly what you can give me for my birthday,” James said.
“Your wish is my command, sire, as ever,” Nell said demurely, satisfied that the first move in her game had gone just as she had planned.
Chapter 15
When Cardinal Beaton dismissed him, Patrick collected his companions and went back into town, arriving in St. Mary’s Wynd at the appointed time. He saw no sign of Beth, but Sir Hector was ready and eager to present Zeus to the King.
They walked up to the castle, where the Lord Chamberlain led them directly to James in the new palace audience chamber. Patrick felt the jolt of excitement that always accompanied risk, the same jolt he had experienced facing the cardinal’s men in Lady Farnsworth’s red wig and petticoat.