Bond of Passion

by Bertrice Small

  A look of distress passed over the good woman’s face. “Then ye must go if the priest calls ye,” she said. “Will ye return?” She took another sweet from the box.

  “If I can, my lady, for it has been a pleasure to serve ye,” Callum said with a bow.

  “Inform the steward of yer departure,” Lady Fleming told him. “Tell him I have said he is to hold yer position for ye until Twelfth Night.”

  “Thank ye, my lady.” Callum hurried off.

  The castle steward was not happy to see him go. “She likes ye, and ye’ve served her well, but still, we only hae one mam, and if the priest sent for ye, then it is serious.”

  Callum ate a larger than usual supper. In the very early morning he arose from the pallet that had been his in a corner of Lady Fleming’s apartments. He had dressed the night before in his own clothing, carefully folding the garb he had been given and laying it on the pallet. The false dawn was lighting the skies as he came out into the courtyard and made his way across it to the stables. There he sought out his horse, saddled and bridled the beast, and led it outside.

  To his surprise Lord Fleming’s secretary, Allan, approached him in the half-light. He thrust a small packet at Callum. “His Lordship wants this delivered to the Hamiltons. If their messenger hasn’t died and is still at yer master’s house, have him take it. Otherwise tell the steward of Duin he is to arrange for its delivery himself.”

  “Aye, sir, gladly,” Callum replied, taking the leather packet and tucking it in his shirt. The Earl of Duin was going to be very interested to see what this message contained.

  He mounted his horse, Allan walking him to the barred gate.

  “Let the lad through,” Lord Fleming’s secretary said.

  The portcullis was raised, and Callum Ferguson departed Dumbarton. He met his kinsman eventually on the road to the borders. Together they rode home to Duin, riding in as the late-November sun was setting over the sea. Callum went immediately to find the earl and tell him what small information he had discovered, and to deliver the packet meant for the Hamiltons. He found both his master and his mistress in the hall.

  Annabella jumped up from the high board when she saw him. “Oh, lad, thank God ye’re back safely!” she said. “I hae been so worried.” She collapsed back into her seat.

  Callum bowed to the earl. “I bring some small news, but more important, I bring a message meant for the Hamiltons,” he said, laying the leather packet on the table before Angus Ferguson. “They plan to assassinate Moray as soon after Twelfth Night as they can, Lennox next, and then Erskine. They dinna believe they can bring the queen back until this is done. And they said they will hae to rescue the queen from the English.”

  “Did ye learn where they will accost Moray?” Angus asked the boy.

  Callum shook his head. “I heard Lord Fleming complain to his wife that Moray never remains in one place long enough to catch.”

  “Moray knows the dangers he faces,” the earl said grimly. “Ye’ve done well, lad, and I thank ye. Go and get something to eat. After the old year turns ye’ll come into my personal service.”

  “What did ye do at Dumbarton?” Annabella asked him, curious.

  “I was assigned the task of scribe to Lady Fleming,” Callum said. “She writes letters each day to her family and her friends. I learned nothing, however, from her dictation. Mostly gossip and her thoughts on being cooped up in Dumbarton. She dinna like it, and fears the castle will eventually be taken.”

  “Dumbarton’s impregnable,” the earl said.

  “Everything hae its weak spot,” Annabella said.

  Callum went off, and Angus Ferguson reached to open the packet. Taking his knife, he carefully slipped it beneath the seal, easing it from the parchment enough to open. If he decided to send the message on, he could reseal it in such a manner that no one would realize that the letter had been opened.

  The inside revealed little new but for one important thing: Lord Fleming had learned that Moray would be spending the twelve days of Christmas at Stirling, where the little king was now housed, as his mother before him had been. Sometime in mid to late January he would go to Edinburgh. An assassination at Stirling with the king in residence was unthinkable. But a watch would be kept to learn of the departure of Moray for the capital. And when that date was learned, a messenger would be dispatched to the Hamiltons. It was up to them when and how the deed was to be done.

  Angus read the message aloud to his wife. “They are being cautious,” he noted.

  “Will ye send the message on?” Annabella wanted to know. “And where will ye send it, as we never asked our guest from where he came?”

  “Remember he said the Hamiltons move around quite a bit to avoid the King’s Men. But he must know some way of getting in touch with them,” Angus answered her.

  “Shall I ask him?” Annabella teased. “He seems to be willing to speak wi’ me.”

  The earl laughed. “Let me try first.”

  The dungeons were colder now with the onset of cooler weather. Angus Ferguson was not a cruel man, however. His prisoner had both a brazier heating his small cell, and blankets. He was seated on his bed, finishing a bowl of what appeared to be lamb stew.

  “Good evening,” the earl said.

  The courier jumped to his feet as his spoon clattered to the floor. “My lord!”

  “Sit down,” the earl said. “Finish yer food. Lamb stew is nae good cold. I hae a few questions for ye.”

  The prisoner picked up his spoon and sat back down. “I will answer whatever I can, my lord,” he said.

  “Are ye a kinsman in any degree to the Hamiltons?” Angus asked him.

  “Nay, I am just a messenger,” came the answer.

  “Hae ye any loyalty to the Hamiltons?”

  “My loyalty, my lord, is to he who pays my fee,” came the candid reply.

  “Yer message was delivered safely to Dumbarton,” the earl told the man. “It was said you fell ill and could nae continue on, so my brother sent one of his own people in yer place. He hae now returned wi’ a message for the Hamiltons, but we dinna know how to reach those who dispatched ye.” Angus Ferguson paused to see how this news was affecting the face of his prisoner. He saw curiosity, nothing more.

  “I was told that if I received a return message for them that yer brother would know how to direct me,” the courier replied.

  The earl was both astounded and furious. Matthew had shown a proclivity for taking Mary Stuart’s side in this, but Angus had assumed from his brother that he had only offered Duin as a way stop. Now it would appear his brother was involved more deeply than he had admitted, and by being so Matthew had endangered them all. He focused his gaze upon his prisoner. “I may require yer services. I will pay ye far more than the Hamiltons will, for I need your complete loyalty. I think ye have learned in these last few months that I am a man of my word.”

  “Aye, my lord, I have,” the messenger said quietly.

  “I will pay ye in gold for yer services, and should ye choose ye may make yer home here at Duin. A man should hae a safe place, and yer accent tells me ye’re an Edinburgh man,” the earl said with a small smile.

  “I am,” the courier replied, “and yer offer is generous. I will serve ye loyally, my lord, but Edinburgh is a better place for a man of my profession. However, I will gladly accept yer gold in payment for my services,” he finished with a grin.

  “’Tis fair,” the earl agreed, smiling. He instinctively knew he might trust this man he had held prisoner for these last months. “I will bid ye good night then,” he said. Then he stopped. “Ye hae never told me yer name.”

  “My name is Ian Elliot,” came the answer.

  “Good night, Ian Elliot,” Angus Ferguson said a second time. Then he returned to the hall from the dungeon. Arriving there, he called to Jean’s husband. “Fetch Matthew to me immediately,” he said.

  “What is it?” Annabella asked anxiously, for she had heard the severe tone in her husband’s deep voice.r />
  “Matthew is deeper into this treason than he has admitted,” Angus said.

  “Oh, sweet Lord!” Agnes half whispered. “What hae he done, my lord?”

  “He is in contact wi’ the Hamiltons. He can get in touch wi’ them. This goes deeper than just assassinations, and I mean to learn everything he knows. I think it best that ye take the children and leave the hall, Agnes,” the earl told her.

  “I hae a right to know!” Agnes cried out.

  “Aye, ye do. And ye will, but not until after I hae spoken wi’ my brother. Please obey me. Take the bairns and leave the hall.”

  “I’ll go wi’ her,” Annabella said quietly. She could see the panic and fear in Aggie’s beautiful blue eyes.

  “Nay,” Angus told her. “I want ye and Jeannie here. Agnes! Go now!”

  Very frightened now, Agnes gathered the twins and her own infant, and hurried them all from the hall.

  “What do ye mean to do?” Jean asked her brother. “Remember our mam, my lord. Remember Matthew’s devotion to ye, to Duin all these years,” she pleaded for her brother. “He would nae be disloyal to ye, to us, to Duin.”

  “He hae been disloyal, Jeannie,” the earl responded. “I dinna know why, but he hae betrayed us. I must know why if I am to even consider forgieing him.”

  Jean’s lips pressed together as she fought to control her emotions. She said nothing more as they waited for Matthew to make an appearance in the hall.

  He came, and his stance was one full of defiance. “Am I to finally be recalled to my position as Duin’s steward?” he asked bluntly.

  “Nay, ye will nae serve me ever again,” the earl told his young brother, and derived satisfaction from the look of complete surprise upon Matthew’s handsome face. “Ye’ve committed treason, and put Duin and all of its inhabitants at risk, including my wife, my bairns, and yer own wife and bairn. Why, Matthew? Why hae ye involved yerself wi’ the Queen’s Men? They fight a losing battle. Can ye nae see it? The King’s Men hold the wee king. They hold Stirling. The power is wi’ them. I care nae a whit for who rules Scotland as long as Duin and its folk are safe. Yer actions hae put us all in danger.”

  “She’s the queen!” Matthew burst out.

  “Mary Stuart is dethroned. Finished! It is my opinion that she will never again sit on Scotland’s throne. The people loved her for her beauty, her kindness, her daring, her love for Scotland. But it was nae enough when she disappointed them wi’ one bad marriage after another. I believe her innocent of Darnley’s murder, but her association wi’ James Hepburn tainted her purity, for Bothwell hae many detractors only too glad to defame them both. I believe that even if she hae converted from the old Church to this new Protestant faith, Knox and his ilk would hae hated her. Mary Stuart is an intelligent and educated woman. Those who advised her had a difficult time wi’ that.”

  “England’s queen rules supreme,” Matthew said. “Why is Mary Stuart so different?”

  “England’s queen hae nae husband,” the earl said.

  “There is the Dudley scandal,” Matthew countered.

  “Suspected, but nae proven,” Angus retorted. “Mary Stuart, on the other hand, hae publicly paraded her marriages and love affair. They will nae take her back. And for this ye hae endangered us all. Worse, however, ye lied to me, Matthew.”

  “I dinna!” he exclaimed.

  “Ye dinna tell me the entire truth of yer involvement wi’ these misguided men,” Angus said. “My whole life I hae loved ye. I hae done my best by ye because of that love, and because of the love our father held for ye, but ye hae betrayed Duin. Ye show nae remorse for this. I dinna know what hae happened to ye, Matthew, but ye are nae the brother that I knew.”

  “How stiff-necked ye’ve become,” Matthew said bitterly. “All ye can see is Duin, nothing more. They hae driven our queen away. Our beautiful queen wi’ her good heart, who generously gave freedom of faith to us all, old kirk or new kirk. They imprisoned her and stole her bairn. Why can ye nae see the wrong in it, Angus? Why?”

  “I see the wrong. But ’tis a wrong that canna be righted. Much of Mary Stuart’s fate was of her own making. She was advised strongly not to wed Darnley, but she did. She was advised even more strongly nae to wed Bothwell. She did. Now she must live wi’ her decisions as ye must live wi’ yers. Ye will leave Duin on the morrow. I am banishing ye from my lands. Where ye go or what ye do is yer own choice. But ye will nae longer make decisions for Duin that ye hae nae right to make and put at risk all here.”

  “No!” Agnes cried out, and then she flung herself at Angus’s feet. “Please, my lord, I beg ye. Dinna send Matthew away! Hae mercy!”

  “Get up, Aggie!” Matthew Ferguson took his wife by the arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. “I need nae mercy of him. We’ll go to the Hamiltons. They are yer mam’s kin, and will surely take us in for our faithful service to the queen.”

  Annabella had listened to it all, never speaking once. This was a tragedy. Now she spoke. “Angus, my lord and my love,” she began, putting a restraining hand on his arm, “surely if Matthew will repent of his errors in judgment, ye can forgie him.”

  “I dinna need yer intercession, madam,” Matthew said angrily.

  “Aye, ye do,” Annabella replied sharply.

  “I dinna want it, then! Ever since ye came to Duin my brother hae changed. That is yer doing. He might hae wed a woman whose beauty matched his own. A fair lass wi’ a large dower. Instead he wed ye for a bit of land he could hae eventually bought. Ye hae turned him from Ferguson ways and now he takes sides wi’ murderers and usurpers instead of our true anointed queen. I hae committed nae sins from which I must repent, madam, but yer husband hae. When the queen is restored I will be given a title that I may pass on to my son, and he to his son one day.”

  “Oh, Matthew, I dinna know what I hae done to gain yer enmity, but however I hae offended ye, I beg yer pardon for it. I want things to be as they were when I first came to Duin. I want ye and Angus once again to be loving brothers. I hae nae changed Angus. He hae done what he had to in order that we all might survive these changing times.”

  “My God!” Angus Ferguson exclaimed, shocked by his younger brother’s words. “Is that how they turned ye? Is that the bauble they dangled before ye? A title? Jesu, Matthew! Mary Stuart will ne’er again sit on Scotland’s throne, and ye’re more likely to end up at the end of rope than gain a title. But I will nae allow ye to bring the rest of us down wi’ ye! Nor will ye blame my sweet good wife for imagined faults. I love this woman, Matthew. She hae no beauty that is visible. Her beauty is a different kind. It is one of the heart and of the soul. She is the best, the most perfect wife any man could hae, and she is mine. I am sorry ye canna understand that, brother.” He turned his gaze on Agnes, whose shocked face told him she had known nothing of the depth of her husband’s betrayals. “Aggie, ye may remain at Duin wi’ yer bairn. I’ll nae send ye into danger with this fool to whom ye’re wed.”

  “I thank ye, my lord,” Agnes said with as much dignity as she could muster, “but I must go wi’ my husband. I will, however, ask sanctuary for our bairn until it is possible for us to establish another home.” When Matthew made to protest, Agnes said in soft but firm tones, “Nay, Matthew. I will follow ye into danger and the unknown, but I will nae expose our son to yer folly; nor should ye. Come now. We must pack if we are to leave on the morrow.”

  “Wait!” the earl said. “I want to know how to get in touch wi’ the Hamiltons.”

  “Why would I tell ye that? So ye can tell the King’s Men?”

  “So I can release to them the messenger I have held imprisoned these past months. Lord Fleming sent a message that needs to go on. Since I hae already read it and found it harmless, I would let it pass on, for this is the last time Duin shall be used as a way stop.”

  “Do whatever ye choose wi’ the courier,” Matthew said coldly. “I will carry the message myself to John Hamilton. It will help to ingratiate me wi’ him.”

  “If
the Queen’s Men should catch ye, brother, there will be nae doubt of yer treason. They will hang ye at the side of the road, and heaven help yer wife then,” the earl said quietly. “The messenger is paid to take the risk.”

  “I’ll tell ye nothing,” Matthew said stubbornly. “Either ye gie me the message from Dumbarton, or it will nae be delivered, for ye’ll nae find the Hamiltons.”

  “Angus, nay,” Annabella murmured low. “For my sister’s sake I beg ye to find another way. The countryside is so dangerous right now. Ye hae said it yerself.”

  The Earl of Duin thought for a long moment. He was not of a mind to argue, and he wanted Matthew Ferguson gone. Though it broke his heart, he could no longer bear the sight of his younger brother. “Go to Brittany,” he said. “Yer mam still hae kinsmen in Mont de Devereaux. I will write a letter to Monsieur Claude. He could use a man of yer many skills. Go to Brittany, and avoid the Hamiltons for yer own sake, and that of yer family,” the earl advised.

  “Go to hell!” Matthew said. “I will help to restore Scotland to the glory it lost when our beautiful queen was driven from this land.” Then he turned on his heel and left the hall, Agnes hurrying after him.

  “Aggie!” Annabella cried.

  Agnes turned to see her eldest sister with her arms outstretched. Unable to resist, she flew into Annabella’s embrace. “There is time for farewells, sister,” she said, and she kissed her sibling several times upon the cheeks. “Take good care of my wee Robbie.” Then she pressed her lips together to attempt to stave off the tears she felt near.

  “Dinna go!” Annabella said. “It is too dangerous.” Her eyes were welling up.

  “I am his wife,” Agnes said simply. “I go where he goes, no matter the danger.”

  “Dinna stay wi’ the Hamiltons. They are at war, and their living will be rough. Their own women will be housed in hidden places to keep them and the bairns safe. The women in the encampment are whores and camp followers. They are nae fit company for ye. Go to our parents at Rath for shelter. Ye will be safe from the King’s Men there, Aggie.” She hugged her sister a final time, then released her.