The Gowrie Conspiracy

by Alanna Knight

  Once in royal service in the Netherlands, he claimed to be newly returned from official duties on the Queen’s behalf, with her brother, King Christian of Denmark. The Captain had many tales to tell of intrigues and exciting adventures especially for the wide-eyed simple lass from an Edinburgh close who hung upon his every word, intoxicated by the vicarious pleasure of living in Falkland Palace and rubbing shoulders with a servant of the Duke of Lennox, the king’s cousin.

  A smiling kindly man, with two bairns of his own he told her, the Captain brought her small gifts, urging her to talk about her uncle Davy and what had brought her to Falkland.

  Praising her bravery in facing that long horrid journey, he was disappointed to hear that she had met her caring uncle but once at her mother’s funeral. Afterwards he had stayed long enough to see the orphaned Jane settled in St Mary’s Close with his daughter’s friend and her man, the notorious Bart.

  Coming down to the kitchen and finding Jane’s new companion laughing and enjoying a tankard of ale with Martha, who dearly loved a gossip, Tansy would have been surprised to know that the visitor had a less genial side.

  He was in fact Sandy Kay, one-time servant to her husband Walter Murray, and was being paid to spy on her, while enjoying a similar role with the Duke of Lennox, who was anxious to investigate and bring down Tam Eildor.

  She would not have been so welcoming had she known that this ex-soldier was the wielder of the crossbow that had almost cost her – or Tam – their lives. And, that the same hand had slipped the poison into her goblet at the Masque.

  Bowing her out of the kitchen, Kay decided that he had not finished with either Tam or Tansy yet. Their leaving Falkland meant that his lucrative mission was at an end. However, as Master Murray would pay exceeding well for the privilege of appearing in the role of grieving widower at the Tullibardine wedding, should a convenient accident befall his estranged wife, Sandy Kay soon had the matter in hand.

  Kirktillo was only a few hours ride from Falkland and it was there she would be staying with her paramour, Will Hepburn, until the wedding.

  Jubilantly he decided that Fate was playing into his hands with an opportunity not to be missed, which would offer grateful and lucrative rewards from both Walt Murray and the Duke of Lennox.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Agreeably disposed towards the Ruthvens, in particular to young Alexander, Queen Anne was pleased to offer assistance to Tansy in the matter of refurbishing Gowrie House by placing at her disposal a carriage and coachman from the royal stables for the journey.

  Tansy was suitably grateful. In addition to herself, in charge of the many items from her sewing-room, Martin Hailes would also welcome being a passenger, having received a message from his brother-in-law Simon who intended to meet him at Kirktillo.

  And so, in the misty dawn of the first day in August, the carriage rattled through the gatehouse of Falkland Palace with William and Tam as outriders.

  Tam did not care for horse-riding, but he had learned to adjust to it as a frequent necessity of his quest-life which often offered no other means of transport. He had also discovered that, having a natural affinity with animals, even horses appeared to understand and make allowances for his clumsy lack of skill.

  The long dry spell had hardened the earth and made roads considerably more accessible than they were in winter or in wet weather when they disappeared into muddy tracks and became not only uncomfortable but extremely hazardous for travellers both outside and inside carriages.

  So it was with a certain lightness of heart that the four left Falkland behind and journeyed through the still-sleeping landscape, along avenues of great trees, whose drowsy heads drooped under their heavy burdens of summer leaves. Birds and small animals darted across their path and as the moon faded high in the sky, the morning yawned its way into another day.

  They traveled through small villages and hamlets until at last they emerged from a glen above the twisting river Tay. Far below, a cluster of houses and a church steeple indicated the fair city of Perth.

  Will halted the carriage to give the coachman directions to Kirktillo and to allow the passengers to stretch their legs.

  Looking down on the scene before him, he said, ‘Folks who are better travelled than I am consider it similar to Rome, both built on the banks of rivers, Rome having the Campus Martins and Perth, two majestic parklands called the North and South Inches.’

  ‘And our destination, Gowrie House, is on the west bank of the river yonder,’ said Tansy, adding with a happy sigh, ‘For me, this is always homecoming. In truth Perth means much more than any royal palace.’

  ‘Once it was the capital of Scotland until some 50 years ago when the court moved and Edinburgh became the seat of government,’ said Tansy for Tam’s benefit. ‘But some of the old customs remain. In the order of procedure our Lord Provost – ’

  ‘John Ruthven, who happens to be my foster-brother, takes precedence over Edinburgh’s Lord Provost’, she added proudly.

  ‘I am often confused when people refer to it as St Johnstoun’, said Will.

  ‘What brought about the change of name?’ Tam asked.

  ‘A derivation of Aber-tha – the mouth of the river Tay,’ Will exlained. ‘Which became the Roman fort of Bertha, an important trading post on the river and a defence against the wild northern tribes.’

  Pausing he pointed in the direction of the church tower. ‘After the Romans left, Christianity came. The church over yonder was built in the twelfth century and dedicated to John the Baptist. The settlement grew and became known as “St John’s Town at Perth.”’

  Looking at Tam, Tansy smiled. ‘When I can be released from my activities in Gowrie we will have time to walk by the river. You will of course be expected to attend church on Sundays. The minister Mr Galloway is renowned for his sermons. On occasion he gets quite carried away by his own oratory.’

  Tam groaned inwardly at the prospect. As they crossed the bridge heading towards the Inch the townsfolk were already wide awake with a bustling market of noisy livestock in full spate.

  ‘We go first to Gowrie House,’ said Tansy, ‘and make the carriage lighter by depositing most of the heavy luggage to await my return.’

  Tam was very impressed by the approach; far exceeding his expectations of the Ruthven’s town house, the building had the monumental dimensions of a castle. The additions of a turret at each corner to the simple tower house purchased by the present Ruthvens’ grandfather, Patrick, had earned it the local description of “Gowrie’s Palace”.

  And such it appeared to Tam. The main gate was locked, so the carriage with Martin had to remain outside while he followed Tansy and Will, who unlatched a side gate and crossed the small courtyard and up steps to the main entrance.

  That door too was locked. Neither bell nor stout blows yielded any result. There were no caretakers visible and as the three walked around the building, occasionally stopping to shout up at the windows, it became obvious that the occupants were either very soundly asleep or still absent.

  As Tansy continued to look up at the windows, staring like vacant eyes upon them, Tam was overcome suddenly by the sense of desolation that empty houses gave him. As if they had souls of their own, dreams – and nightmares – to be hidden from the world.

  And at that moment he decided that Gowrie House repelled him. It emanated something that chilled his heart. A long-dead house, biding its time, dark and secret, waiting for something to happen.

  Tansy came to his side and, as ever, had that strange ability to interpret his thoughts. She smiled sadly. ‘So long neglected, I dare not think of the tasks that await me inside. It needs life and laughter to bring it back to life.’

  She laughed. ‘Alexander and John will soon do that. I am certain of that. There will be merry times ahead.’

  And seeing Tam staring gloomily at gunloops and keyhole windows, she said, ‘Do not be put off by those sinister tokens of an age gone by. It really is a lovely house.’

 
Watching Tam’s sombre expression as they walked back towards the gate, wanting his approval, she said almost apologetically, ‘So many different histories in its making. Originally built for defence, but those days of bloodshed are long past. Perth is a peaceful law-abiding city now.’

  Will, who was walking alongside looked back and said, ‘I fail to understand why people who own one castle want to have a town house of this size.’

  To which Martin awaiting them by the gate added, ‘Nor I, William. I much prefer Edinburgh’s town houses. Even the highest in the land, earls and lords, were quite satisfied with them, conveniently situated close to Holyrood Palace or the Castle.’

  ‘But consider the fresh air of Perth – the abominable smells of Edinburgh’s High Street,’ said Tansy.

  A small argument about the relative merits of Gowrie House was terminated by their return to the carriage.

  Half an hour later and a few steep slopes brought them within sight of Kirktillo. Perched on a hill with sweeping lawns down to the river, it aroused a very different set of feelings in Tam. Little more than a modest tower with none of the architectural grandeur of the house they had left in Perth, the morning sun on its walls seemed to emanate warmth as if it beckoned a welcome to the arrivals.

  Will noted Tam’s approving glance and smiled proudly. ‘Once it was moated and approached by a drawbridge. That was long since replaced by an ordinary wooden bridge over the steep rock-sided burn. Good for fishing, Tam,’ he added with a laugh.

  As they escorted the carriage slowly down the slope, Will said, ‘We will need to take care. The bridge is quite narrow and we rarely see anything as large or grand as this carriage.’

  All was well until they were in sight of the bridge when two of the Kirktillo servants rushed forward, waving their arms frantically.

  Will recognised his steward Thomas. Before he could ask what was amiss the man said, ‘Sir, it is dangerous to proceed any further. The bridge has been damaged. You must leave the carriage on this side and lead your horses across in single file –’

  Dismounting Will asked, ‘When did this happen? Has there been a storm?’

  The steward shook his head, looking bewildered. ‘An accident, sir. A gentleman was almost killed just hours ago.’

  ‘Who on earth –’

  ‘A gentleman – he came to escort Master Hailes.’

  And Martin stepped out of the carriage with a cry of alarm. ‘Simon Fuller – is he injured? Where is he?’

  Thomas turned to him. ‘Sir, he is uninjured apart from a few bruises. He had a very lucky escape. He was driving his carriage across the bridge when the left-hand parapet collapsed and fell into the burn. The carriage was overthrown and the gentleman would have been hurled down into the burn. He escaped injury by clinging to one of the spars. Fortunately the gardeners who were at work, heard his cries for help and ran to the rescue. We had arisen before dawn to have everything prepared for the Master,’ he paused and bowed towards Will, ‘so we were able to make the gentleman comfortable whilst he awaited your arrival.’

  ‘How is he in his spirits?’ asked Martin anxiously.

  ‘A little shaken, sir, as might be expected from such an ordeal. But there were no bones broken, only a few bruises, which he assured us were quite trivial.’ Thomas shook his head. ‘A fortunate escape, thanks be to God.’

  Peering over, they saw that the parapet on one side had fallen and disappeared into a pile of matchwood in the burn. The whole structure of the bridge was now precarious and completely unstable. They walked very carefully with the servants leading their horses and warning them to keep well to the undamaged area.

  Gazing over the edge to the rock-sided burn Tam realised that it was steep drop of some twelve feet, enough for a carriage to be crushed and its occupants severely, if not fatally, injured in the fall.

  A groom led their horses away to the stable and with servants carrying what Tansy had removed from the carriage as their essential luggage, the four walked up to the sloping lawns to the house with Martin leaning on Will’s arm.

  Reunited with Martin and introduced to the newcomers, Simon immediately launched into the story of his misadventure, of how, as the carriage set onto the bridge, the structure began to vibrate and shake.

  ‘There was an enormous sound of breaking wood, I looked out, saw the parapet leaving the bridge and I jumped clear. Not clear enough, I thought I was going down into the rocks too, but I grabbed hold of one of the hanging spars and yelled for help.’

  As he spoke, Tam observed that Simon Fuller was considerably younger and fitter than his brother-in-law. His quick wits doubtless accounted for his surviving a particularly nasty accident, where an older less agile man might not have been so fortunate.

  ‘Master Fuller’s carriage will need repair, sir,’ said the steward.

  ‘The carriage was provided at my good lady’s suggestion for Martin’s convenience and comfort, Thomas,’ said Simon.

  ‘We will attend to its repair,’ said Will. ‘You shall both continue your journey in the carriage we have on loan from the royal stables – at present reposing on the other side of the burn.’

  ‘That is very handsome of you,’ said Simon. ‘Thankfully my faithful horse escaped injury – a splendid animal. He is in your stable with a good feed of oats.’

  Will declined sitting down with his guests as they took the food and ale set before them to break their fast. Motioning to Thomas to follow him, Tansy thought that he looked very worried indeed as they retreated towards the study. As for Tam, he was delighted to observe that Tansy was regarded by the servants as mistress of Kirktillo.

  While Simon regaled Martin with news of this late wife’s family, Tam remarked on the comfort of their surroundings, the elegant furniture much superior to Tansy’s lodging at Falkland Palace.

  Tansy looked pleased. ‘In many homes of the wealthy tables such as this have replaced the board on a trestle.’

  ‘As in the gardens at the Masque?’

  Tansy nodded. ‘Indeed. Before Will’s time here, in his granddam’s day, they sat down twelve to fourteen on forms before a long board against the wall. Now most houses of quality have individual chairs, like you are sitting on now.’

  As the servants hovered awaiting Tansy’s requests. Tam saw that the dishes were of pewter and many bore Lady Morham’s coat of arms. They had come from Will’s childhood home, as had the silver laver and jug to pour water over the diners’ hands into a handsome silver basin held by one of the servants, with linen over his arm in readiness to dry them.

  On one side of the small room with its two windows overlooking the garden, a tall dresser with a display of silver, cups, goblets, bowls and spoons both table and dessert, since the latter were for fruit and sweets often taken in an ante room away from the dining-hall.

  It seemed all very civilised to Tam and he noted the huge stone fireplace with logs already crackling, a welcoming sight lit in readiness for guests in the chilly early hours of a summer morning. He was wondering how this room, so snug and comfortable and easy, could cope with any more than half a dozen guests when Tansy provided the answer.

  ‘Will uses the parlour for informal dining, with a few friends or when we are alone together. The walls used to be tapestried but Will changed over to panelling which is much warmer. There is a large dining hall, much grander but, I fear, far less comfortable. Come and I will show you the house,’ she whispered and glancing at the two men in deep conversation on the other side of the table, ‘They will never miss us and Martin knows it well.’

  Following her down to the kitchens, Tansy’s popularity with the servants was immediate. Serving-men bowed, maids curtseyed. All clustered around her smiling, delighted to have her home again. They talked of not only practical domestic matters, but homely topics concering their families, who had been born and who had died. At last released, laughing and happy, she led the the way up the wheelstair. Turning, she asked eagerly, ‘So what do you think of Will’s home?’

>   ‘I am very impressed. It is remarkably comfortable.’

  Again she laughed. ‘But you are just at the beginning, there is much more to see and admire.’

  Pausing as stairs suddenly changed direction and led to the smaller tower wherein were set the guest chambers, they reached the second storey where, she told him, the handsome windows overlooking the garden had been a recent renovation.

  ‘Fifty years ago they were little more than arrow slits but Will changed all that. He wanted fresh air and light.’ And opening the doors into what had once been the Great Hall with its two massive fireplaces one at either end, Tam noticed that, as well as handsome chairs upholstered in velvet and brocade set back against the walls, there were mirrors and on the floor, carpets and rugs.

  Tansy touched one with her foot. ‘A great improvement. Once upon a time such a house as this would have had only bent grass as a covering. Frequently changed but not very healthy and smelling like a hayloft.’

  Tam had walked across to a corner containing musical instruments; fiddles, fifes, a harpsichord and virginals.

  ‘Do you play and sing?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘A little, sometimes – only to entertain Will,’ she said modestly. ‘I do not rate it as one of my best achievements.’

  Tam looked at her fondly. ‘Perhaps you will sing for me sometime?’ he whispered hopefully.

  ‘Perhaps, Tam. Perhaps.’ And as always she moved quickly away from him, as though afraid or embarrassed by their closeness.

  His expectations no more than a gentle kiss, feeling spurned and a little hurt, Tam followed her through the house which was considerably larger than it appeared from the outside.

  At one time the house provided accommodation for many guests and their servants, for glimpsed through opened doors were dark panelled walls, polished floors, rooms dominated by postered beds with exquisite bed-hangings.