The Lanimer Bride

by Pat McIntosh

  ‘I’ve a good purging mix,’ said Lady Egidia. ‘I can send some over if this continues. Tell your mistress,’ she added as she made her way down the forestair, ‘I’m right sorry to find her in sic state. I’ll call again when she’s more herself.’

  ‘You’ll aye be welcome, madam,’ Agnes assured her, almost credibly, and below them Annet withdrew and Steenie straightened up from where he leaned against the wall, and offered Lady Egidia his arm to step down off the stair.

  In the private chamber at Juggling Nick’s which she and Gil had used before, Alys laid the papers out on the table, Lady Egidia watching her with interest.

  ‘That was cleverly done. I’ve seen Gil use the same methods. It’s like guddling for trout,’ she commented. ‘And here’s the men reporting several o my beasts in the stable waiting. What’s that about?’

  ‘We hired fresh horses last night,’ Alys explained. ‘Those we came home on, that we brought back the now. But it troubles me that Gil’s animal is still here. He must have gone to the ford on foot. I wish I knew where he went from there.’

  ‘So do I,’ admitted her mother-in-law. ‘What do you have there?’

  ‘I’m not certain,’ Alys said. ‘There are many papers here, but still I think some must be missing.’ She looked from one to another of the documents before her. ‘As for why he would keep such material, it seems the height of foolishness to me. This one mentions a barrel of gunpowder, sent with the bearer.’

  ‘Gunpowder?’ Lady Egidia repeated. ‘So the rumours are true? Does it mention guns as well?’

  ‘Not so far. Who is Ramsay?’

  ‘John Ramsay?’ Lady Egidia craned to see the papers.

  ‘There are three letters signed only R,’ Alys shuffled them round on the table so that the older woman could study them,’brief ones, but this one in another hand refers to Ramsay.’ She grimaced at the crooked writing. ‘There is no Christian name. And another refers to B.’

  ‘That could be the same man. Ramsay was Lord Bothwell till he was forfeit after Sauchieburn.’

  ‘It says R has scrievit B,’ Alys reported.

  ‘So obviously not.’ Lady Egidia considered the letters before her. ‘It might be Stewart of Buchan, I suppose, who is half-uncle to the King. They aye ran thegither, if I recall right.’

  And were not friends to the young King, Alys surmised, if Ramsay had forfeited his lands and title after the uprising in which James Third had happenit to be slain, as the next Parliament had put it.

  ‘Buchan was aye plotting one thing or another in corners when I was at Court,’ Lady Egidia continued. ‘I never understood why the King put up wi him. The late King, that is. The Queen my mistress never put any trust in him, nor in Ramsay, for all he was one o the King’s favourites.’

  ‘But what are they planning now,’ Alys wondered, not trying to distinguish between kings, ‘and what had Somerville to do with it?’

  ‘Here is Ios M,’ Lady Egidia pointed. ‘So Jocelyn Madur is in it as well. But what is it? What are they planning, as you say? I canny make out.’

  ‘Nor can I.’ Alys rearranged the papers, setting them in the order of the dates they bore. ‘These three from R, who may be Ramsay, refer to one RH, on embassy to C. He is to ask for the person of John of Albany.’

  ‘One of the heralds, perhaps,’ said her mother-in-law. ‘The English have a Richmond Herald, I believe. Sent to France on Embassy, and asking your king to give them the Duke of Albany, who must be first cousin to James Stewart and would make a useful pretender for England to wield against us. He might get him, too,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘Charles of France is busy harrying the Pope this year, rather than looking north.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Alys agreed. ‘Not that Charles de Valois is my king,’ she added. ‘I am married to a Scot, after all. But in the third letter, when the Valois has given no answer, Ramsay turns to discussing making sure of the death of someone.’

  ‘Who?’ demanded Lady Egidia pertinently.

  ‘It calls him the boy. His name is not here.’ She turned the letter over. ‘I suppose it is the same boy as Michael heard discussed.’

  ‘The Duke of York,’ said Lady Egidia. ‘Or whoever he is. They seem very sure he will come to Scotland.’

  ‘It seems certain he is invited, at the least, by what Sandy told Gil, and a bride picked out for him as well. Poor girl. I see why Sandy wanted these,’ Alys said absently, unfolding the letter with the bright splash of green wax on the outer folds. ‘But why Somerville kept them, as I said—’

  Lady Egidia was reading Ramsay’s third letter, brows knitted over the cramped lines.

  ‘This makes it clear there is a third player,’ she said, ‘though it never names him. But is that the Irishman Gil spoke of, or another?’

  ‘This one names him,’ said Alys. ‘It’s not the Irishman. It also names a very great sum of money. We must speak to the Depute, I think, ask him for armed support and a warrant. Perhaps he will come with us.’

  Lady Egidia looked up from the letter.

  ‘How could I ever have been against your marriage?’ she wondered. ‘You are an ornament to our house, my dear.’

  ‘I try,’ Alys said, feeling her face warming. ‘Do you know what is an espinyard?’

  ‘I’ve seen them in action,’ said Robert Hamilton. ‘Nasty things they are, for all they’re no that big, no more than an ell in length. I can tell you, madam, they’re as like to slay the gunners as their target. A kick like a mule, no wonderful accurate, and one o the three I watched blew into schairds and the two men wi’t, a dreadfu sicht.’

  ‘Dreadfu!’ declared Provost Lockhart, refilling the glasses. ‘An instrument o the Deil, clearly!’

  ‘Indeed aye,’ said Lady Egidia, crossing herself. ‘A sorry end to meet wi. And as you can see here in these letters, maisters, there’s now a half-dozen o the things wandering about the countryside wi these tinkers, though they don’t belong to them, they’re for delivery to someone unnamed. They might no even ken what they’re carrying.’

  ‘Believe that, madam—’ began Hamilton, grinning wryly.

  ‘Believe the moon’s made o green cheese, aye,’ she agreed, and sat back, watching him study the letter. Alys kept silence and nibbled a little cake, allowing the older woman the discussion; she had yet to meet the man, other than Gil, who could withstand Lady Egidia at full tilt. And not even Gil, she reflected, most of the time.

  It was sheer good fortune that they had found Hamilton in the burgh, discussing the capture and release of Audrey Madur with the Provost. The two ladies had been made welcome, and offered a refreshment; the ale was good, the little cakes were light and crisp. But Alys was aware of a growing anxiety about Gil, probably baseless but hard to ignore, a gathering feeling that he was going into danger.

  Where was he? she wondered. It seemed likely that he had compeared at the ford as demanded in the ransom note, and equally likely that Sandy Boyd was with him, and probably also Doig. Since Boyd was not back in Lanark, they had presumably all gone elsewhere with the messenger who came for the ransom money. But had they gone willingly, or otherwise? Who was the messenger? Where had they gone, and had they gone afoot, as she had speculated, or had someone provided ponies? That would affect how far they might have gone since moonrise, particularly if Doig was still with them.

  All this reasoning is a waste of time, she admitted to herself. You know perfectly well where he has gone, and that is—

  ‘Kersewell?’ said Robert Hamilton. ‘Why Kersewell, madam? Gregory Vary’s a dismal fellow, but the law kens nothing o the man. What gars ye think we should ask at his yettabout these guns?’

  ‘The place, and the man himsel, are named clear enough in this paper here,’ Lady Egidia said, pointing with a long forefinger. ‘It all reads to me as if Somerville’s been in correspondence wi more than one person furth o Lanarkshire, furth o Scotland indeed, to more than one purpose, none o them good. But since the man’s deid, we’ll say no more o that,’ she said
inaccurately, ‘save for this matter o the Spanish goods. You see, this section here.’ She pointed again, and read aloud, interpreting the very individual spelling with ease. ‘Your Spanish goods are sent, and will reach K by Midsummer.’

  ‘There’s mony another place in Scotland begins wi a K,’ observed the Provost reasonably, and Hamilton nodded agreement. ‘Kirkcaldy, Kirkcudbright, Kirkpatrick. Or a C. Cauldhope, Cambuslang, Cadzow. No need to assume it’s Kersewell that’s meant here.’

  ‘No need to assume it isny,’ Lady Egidia countered. ‘I hope you areny going to be misobliging, Robert. This is important, and I think we’re short o time.’

  Hamilton’s fair-skinned, handsome countenance reddened.

  ‘I’d be pleased to oblige you, madam, gin matters were otherwise! But this sounds to me like a hunt-the-peesweep, wi no evidence to go by but some ill-scribed letters from the Deil kens where. You’ve not let me hear yet where you got them.’

  ‘We are not free to tell you that,’ Alys offered. Hamilton’s head jerked round, as if he had forgotten she was there, and he frowned at her. She smiled sweetly in return. ‘If you reckon my good-mother’s kin, sir – my husband’s kin – you’ll see why.’

  The frown intensified. She maintained the smile, and after a moment he turned away, looking dissatisfied. The Provost, however, gave him a significant nod and hitched up his gown again.

  ‘If that’s the case, madam,’ he said, ‘I’ll can let ye have a few o the constables, which at least looks better as an escort, however good your own men might be.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Hamilton. ‘I can send Richie to round up a few and all.’

  ‘I kent you’d see your way to helping us,’ said Lady Egidia in satisfied tones. ‘You’re a good laddie, Robert. And my thanks, Provost. A few o your constables will be a good help.’

  Maybe, thought Alys, reviewing the constables she had seen so far. But maybe not.

  There was a rasping at the door. Lockhart broke off his reply to Lady Egidia and called, ‘Aye, Dandy, what is it?’

  ‘If you please, sir,’ said his clerk, putting his head round the door, ‘here’s a fellow from up the coalheugh, seeking Lady Cunningham, says it’s an urgent matter.’

  ‘Seeking me?’ Alarm flared in Lady Egidia’s face, and she looked from Lockhart to his man. ‘May I—?’

  ‘Bid him come ben, Dandy,’ the Provost said, nodding. The clerk stepped aside for a man in the mud-caked garments the miners wore, breathing heavily, his face and hands grimy with coal-dust, his padded bonnet in his hand. He cast a swift glance about the group, and went down on one knee to Lady Egidia, who rose, staring intently down at him, one hand at her mouth, her face unreadable. The other three people in the chamber also stood perforce.

  ‘If you please, mem,’ he said, ‘it’s the mistress. Lady Tib. It’s her time. The maister sent me to find you.’

  ‘Already,’ she said, on a little gasp. ‘How – when did it start? Do you ken—?’

  ‘All I ken’s what Maister Michael bade me say, mem,’ said the miner in apologetic tones. ‘Which is that she was groaning hard when I left, and eager for you to come to her. That was maybe an hour since. Beattie’s wi her,’ he added reassuringly, ‘doesny seem ower concerned.’

  ‘You must go, madam,’ Alys said. ‘Tib will need you. I can go to Kersewell—’

  ‘That you’ll no,’ said Hamilton. ‘I’ll no be responsible for you your lone, madam. Two ladies is bad enough,’ he glanced at Lady Egidia and went scarlet again at his clumsiness, ‘I mean, two ladies is a trouble to keep safe if we meet wi any problems at Kersewell, one lady by her lone is more than I’ll be answerable for. You’d take up the attention o two o my men, when they’re maybe needed elsewhere.’

  Alys was considering her reply to this, and noting how the situation had gone from being a peesweep-chase to needing all Hamilton’s men, when her mother-in-law caught her eye and said firmly, ‘Well, we’d best get away then. Thank you both for hearing us, gentlemen, and I can take it you’ll send a company to Kersewell as soon as it’s gathered?’

  ‘Aye, well,’ said Hamilton, clearly taken aback, as if he had been expecting an argument. ‘Aye, you need to get on the road, madam, and I hope matters go well for Lady Tib. Her first, is it no?’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Lady Egidia, gathering her skirts together. ‘And we thought she’d a month yet. Pray for her, if you will, sir. Forgive me, man,’ she added to the miner, who had risen and was standing aside for her, ‘I dinna ken your name. Get to Juggling Nick’s and bid Henry see to the horses, if you would. We can ride out as soon as maybe. Here.’ She reached for the purse which she wore at her belt like a man, and handed him some coins. ‘Get yoursel some food and a stoup o the good brew, and follow us when you’re rested.’

  He clapped his padded bonnet back on his head in order to remove it again to her, gabbled something grateful, and left the chamber precipitately. The two ladies, bidding farewell as rapidly as was polite, followed him. Down in the street where Steenie waited for them Lady Egidia took Alys’s arm.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ she said. ‘We’d no time for an argument. If you take Steenie and Euan and Henry, I’ll be for the Pow Burn wi the other lad. One man’s enough. There’s none will get between me and my lassie at a time like this.’

  ‘I was about to suggest the same,’ Alys said, making for the Nicholas Tavern at a half-run to keep up with her mother-in-law’s long strides, wondering what would happen to the man who got between Lady Egidia and her target at any time. ‘You’ll give my love to Tib, tell her I’m praying for a successful outcome.’

  ‘Be sure I will.’ Lady Egidia halted at the mouth of the pend which led through to the tavern’s busy yard, and tugged Alys into a fierce embrace. ‘My dear child. Keep Gil safe for me.’

  ‘I will,’ Alys promised, as Henry led the first of the Belstane horses through the pend, the animal’s head tossing indignantly at the speed with which it had been saddled up.

  ‘It’s Lady Tib, I hear. She miscounted, then?’ said Henry, placing the beast for his mistress to mount up. ‘She’ll be a while, mem, what wi it being her first.’

  ‘Aye, and you ken what happens when you rely on that,’ retorted his mistress, arranging her wide skirts about her. ‘Jaikie, you’re wi me. Henry, you and Steenie and Euan do Mistress Mason’s bidding. You ken the way to Kersewell, I think? And avoiding Lockharthill,’ she added, gathering up the reins. ‘God speed ye.’

  ‘And you, mistress,’ said Henry, and Steenie echoed it. Euan, leading the remaining beasts out into the street, looked after the Lady of Belstane and then at Alys.

  ‘They’ll be helping Maister Michael get through it,’ he said wistfully. ‘Plenty ale and cheese, there will be.’

  ‘We need to find Maister Gil,’ Alys said, patting her horse’s nose.

  ‘Avoiding Lockharthill,’ said Henry intelligently. ‘The Depute forbade ye to go wi him then, mem?’

  ‘How far is it?’ she asked, wondering how the servants always seemed to know what they were about almost before they knew themselves.

  ‘No that far, even if we go roundabout. Ten mile, maybe?’

  ‘Then we must get on the road,’ she said.

  The road was much the same as they had taken up to Tarbrax, winding eastward through Carstairs and Carnwath. Steenie seemed to know the tracks and byways of Carstairs parish well, and kept them hidden from the house of Lockharthill and its policies by slipping among small lumpy hills from one sand-digging to another.

  ‘They are quarrying sand?’ Alys said in surprise. ‘What is it used for?’

  ‘Folk’s gairdens,’ said Henry. ‘It makes rare paths, so I believe, though the mistress doesny like it so much. Or it’s wanted for tilting grounds or the like, or maybe the ground for a riding school, a covered one. Like a great barn, you ken, for schooling the beasts.’

  ‘It makes a right good bed for growing carrots,’ said Steenie.

  ‘They’s a gravel quarry yonder an
d all,’ Henry added, ‘that the Belstane paths came fro. Haud on a wee, Steenie, there’s horses on the other road.’

  ‘I have seen them already,’ said Euan from the rear. ‘It is a fat merchant, just, and all his men. I’ll wager they are carrying coin, for they are all well armed. Not the Lanark constables, any road, I would be knowing that Mattha Speirs from a mile off, seeing he is riding like a great sack o neeps.’

  ‘So what’s afoot up at Kersewell, mem?’ Steenie asked. ‘What’s Maister Gil got hissel into now?’

  ‘We’ll find that out when we get there,’ Alys answered. ‘Does either of you ken the house? How does it lie?’

  ‘I’ve rid there once or twice,’ Henry said. ‘It’s an auld tower-house, no so unlike Belstane, but he’s set out a pleasance inside the barmekin, so all the stables and offices and that’s outside it, an orra way o doing things to my mind.’

  ‘Indeed, yes,’ Alys agreed. ‘So how does one approach the place?’

  Between them, Henry and Steenie described for her a tower set in a valley, by a burn which ran eastward down to the Medwin Water. There was thick woodland to the west, with a track through it; the main approach was from the south, off the Peebles road.

  ‘We should take the track through the woodland,’ Alys said, wondering where Peebles was.

  ‘If those tinkers are there,’ observed Euan. ‘they will be hiding in the trees.’

  ‘Why should they be there?’ Steenie demanded.

  ‘They’ve been a’ the places we’ve been the last few days,’ Henry said. ‘He’s right.’

  ‘I think they are friendly,’ said Alys. Henry made a dubious noise, but did not comment.

  They pressed on, despite the heat of the afternoon, through Carnwath, passing St Mary’s church again, and on to the Edinburgh road. The landscape had changed; they had left the small lumpy hillocks behind and rode among higher, round-shouldered hills, with the blue bulk of the Pentlands up ahead of them. A couple of miles beyond St Mary’s they came upon a track which led off eastward, climbing gently into a dense woodland which clothed the saddle between two hills.