by Susan King
Sir Henry Forster cleared his throat. "We have several bills of complaint against these men and others who ride with them, complaints made by both Scottish and English citizens," he said. "Now they are fouled for lack of answer. Guilty by default."
Simon shook his head. "The day is early. They may yet come. We'll call them again." He snapped open another paper.
"Thomas Armstrong, called the Priest. Come forward."
Mairi grabbed Rowan's arm. "Tammie!" she said.
He looked around, and saw Tammie shouldering forward into the cleared space. His elfish grin was firmly in place, and he winked when he saw Rowan and Mairi.
"Hey hey, the Black Laird and his bonny bride," he said, smiled broadly. He turned to Simon. "Yer wardenship, sir. God bless ye for a good and lawful man!"
Simon glared at him. "Thomas Armstrong, you were named an outlaw last month and twice last year, for not answering your summons. Now we have another bill for you."
"I'm here this time. I wish to make redress for a' my sins," Tammie said blithely.
"This recent complaint says"—Simon regarded the page, his lips moving silently—"that you stole eight head o' cattle and four sheep from John Heron in Tynedale in England, and the next night you returned to take his mother's goat."
"John Heron took my beasts. I went back to reclaim them," Tammie said. "I only took what was mine. Including the goat. I give my own oath that I am clean, sir."
"You swear by heaven and hell, by Paradise and God himself, that you are innocent of art and part in this?" Simon asked. Archie scribbled while he spoke. "So help you God?"
"I do. And I have an avower." Tammie pointed.
Dickie the Mountain came through the crowd to stand before the wardens' table. "Richard Armstrong, a kirk minister," he announced, his huge voice filling the tent. "I swear by all that is holy and made by God himself that my brother Tammie, er, Thomas, a priest, did not take gear or beasts from John Heron that did not belong to him already and were unlawfully stolen in the first place."
Simon frowned and repeated the oath for Dickie, who swore to it earnestly. Then Simon leaned to muttere with Forster. The English warden then slapped a hand on the table.
"Cleared! Cleared by your own assurance and by your avower's good faith, as Border code allows," Forster said. "But we demand compensation for what you stole last September, when you did not answer your summons. Three times the value of those goods."
"But—" Tammie began.
"If I see your name on another bill, Tammie Armstrong, you will be imprisoned and fined deeper," Simon warned.
Tammie subsided, took the paper that Archie handed him and turned with Dickie to make their way through the crowd.
Raucous cheers swelled in the distance beyond the tent, and Rowan realized that the football match continued. A few men, responding to the cheers, left the tent to go watch the game.
"Mairi Macrae," Simon called. "Come forward."
Rowan sensed Mairi tense. She lifted her chin and moved forward, while Simon handed a paper to Sir Henry Forster. The Englishman read the complaint and raised his eyebrows.
"This is a matter for the Scottish crown," he said. "Assaulting king's messengers is treason, and well beyond the truce day court."
"I act as the Crown's representative in this, and will take the charges further as needed," Simon said. "Mairi Macrae—"
"Lady Mairi Scott of Blackdrummond," Mairi said.
"My wife, sir," Rowan reminded Simon. Beside him, Henry Forster looked up quickly. Rowan gave him a nod.
Simon snapped his brows together. "Mairi Macrae," he said stubbornly, "you are accused o' riding out on the Lincraig road to willfully assault and rob messengers at arms sent by the Scottish council. You were seen on the night o' October the twenty-first, attacking a man along that road. And there are other dates listed here. Tell us who else rode wi' you to commit the other highway crimes included in this complaint." He read out the full complaint, listing the dates that messengers—with the exception of Rowan, whose assault was unknown to Simon—had been waylaid by the Lincraig riders.
"Do you have witnesses who saw me ride out on those dates?" Mairi asked, her voice calm.
Rowan felt a surge of pride as he listened, despite the circumstances. She was holding her own well. Beside him, Iain watched soberly. Christie came through the crowd just then to stand with them, his young face infinitely serious.
"Someone assaulted these men," Simon said. "No one invented this. You were seen riding the Lincraig road at night, clandestinely, dressed all up in black gear. As warden o' this March, I accuse you o' taking down the council messengers and robbing purses. State, now, who else rode wi' you." He scowled. "Was it Blackdrummond Scotts?"
Mairi stood straight, squaring her shoulders beneath the long drape of her black cloak. She looked slight and demure beside burly reivers and officers. "You have no assurance against me or anyone else in this matter," she pointed out.
"You rode out at night, dressed in black. You clearly had nefarious intent. You were seen. Others have avowed this."
"I admit to riding that road, but so have most others in the upper Middle March. So have you, and in black gear at times. I have seen you just so." A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
"That's true," someone chuckled.
"But I did not rob purses," she said.
Rowan knew that was true, if quite literal.
"Where are the messengers who accuse me?" she asked.
Simon looked irritated. "We could not wait for them to be summoned from Edinburgh. You were seen the night Jennet Macrae's house was burned. It was reported to me that you attacked a man on that road."
"Who made such a report?" she asked.
"There were many men out on the moors that night. I do not need to reveal their names to you. They rode on private matters concerning the wardenry."
"I was riding for help that night, as my brother's house had been set afire by Heckie Elliot and his gang," she said. "While I was going for help from kinsmen, Clem Elliot ambushed me. I fought back. Knocked him from his horse."
A wave of laughter sounded again.
As far as Rowan knew, only he and Clem Elliot had seen her on the Lincraig road that night. Mairi had not robbed or attacked anyone that particular night. The complaint for that date was false.
He could not prove that she had never assaulted council's messengers, but this was outright injustice. He took a step forward.
Simon scowled and ignored him, but Archie leaned to murmur to the wardens.
"Rowan Scott of Blackdrummond, come forward," Forster called, and Rowan walked up to stand beside Mairi.
"You took this woman down on the Lincraig road and arrested her that night in October," Simon said.
"I aided her when she was injured by Clem Elliot," Rowan said. "I took her into custody, true—but I was hasty in that, for it was proven to me that she was riding to fetch help after the Elliots set fire to her brother's house. I swear this to be true, and I will avow for that night."
"She was dressed for highway crime!" Simon snarled.
"I was dressed to protect myself from being harmed," Mairi said, "a woman riding out alone at night, in a nest of reivers and thieves. No one could blame me for that."
Geordie Bell, the English warden's deputy, leaned forward and murmured to Sir Henry, who nodded and looked at Simon.
"The lady's defense is reasonable and Rowan Scott's avowal clears her of the charge," Forster said. "Let this one go. 'Tis Border code."
"But he's her husband!" Simon sputtered.
"And your deputy. Border code applies," Forster said.
"Well, she's suspected in other crimes," Simon insisted. "My witness saw her riding along that road. No one else had any reason to attack the king's messengers."
"I am a council-appointed deputy, and my avowal clears her," Rowan said. "You have no witnesses for the rest."
"Then I avow against her!" Simon said. "I believe she meant to steal the coun
cil's warrant for her brother Iain Macrae, since the Lincraig riders attacked king's messengers. She was seen on that road in reiver's gear. Stealing from a king's messenger is treason. And I want to know who rode wi' her. Speak, Mairi!" he roared the last demand.
Mairi held her head high and stood silent, though Rowan saw the hot pink flush staining her pale cheeks in the dim light. Rain drummed on the canvas roof as the silence drew out.
Then, like a rushing of the sea, murmurs rolled through the crowd of witnesses. Rowan heard admiration, not condemnation, for what the lady had done—or was falsely accused of doing. Loyalty to kin was so highly valued among Bordermen that any deed, even murder, could be seen as honorable in the name of defending and avenging kin.
"I took no papers that condemned Iain," Mairi said.
Rowan felt both pride in her fortitude and her literal turn of mind, as well as fear for her life, mount equally within him. She had not taken the warrant—she never found it, for he had kept it hidden inside his own pouch the night she had taken him down.
"Say what you know about the Lincraig riders," Simon insisted. "Or by God, you will hang for treason wi' your brother. You both know more than you will say."
"Warden," Christie said, stepping forward. Mairi spun to look at him in surprise and a flash of alarm. "I rode that highway, meaning to save Mairi's brother. 'Twas a poor plan. Mairi is innocent of all these charges."
"You?" Simon asked disdainfully. "Christie Armstrong, you're a pup. Get gone." A few men in the crowd chuckled.
Christie blushed to the roots of his blond hair. "I am the Lincraig rider," he insisted. "I took down the messengers—"
"He did not," Mairi cut in. "He's enamored of me, I think, and means chivalry. He's never been on that road at night."
Simon snorted a laugh. "Pin your heart elsewhere, Devil's lad. This wench has her man already. Best fear Blackdrummond more than the law."
"Devil Davy's son is a good lad," Rowan called out. "I'll not hold his love-longing against him." Several laughed.
"But if I see a bill o' complaint wi' your name on it for snatching cows, Christopher Armstrong," Simon warned, "I'll believe it. You're a reiver's pup and will grow to the same mischief. Now go on, so we can continue this case." Simon waved Christie away. "Go, or I'll have you removed. Worse, I'll accept your avowal, and you'll hang." He laughed coldly.
As Christie turned, Mairi touched his sleeve, but he jerked his arm away. As she looked up at him, pleading, Rowan saw genuine hurt on both their faces. Christie shoved between Iain and the troopers and walked toward Jock and Sandie, who had come through the crowd to stand behind Iain.
Simon leaned sideways to confer with Henry Forster. While they spoke, Mairi looked down at the straw scattered around her feet. Watching her slender shoulders and her glossy, dark head, Rowan wanted to hold her and lend her his strength. But he knew that she did not need it. She could endure this on her own, and somehow he knew that she wanted to bear it alone. But he would stand beside her throughout, and make certain, no matter what, that no ill came to her.
He felt a certainty in his gut like a bitter blade: Simon was determined to condemn Mairi regardless of innocence, guilt or motives. Simon had his reasons—and Rowan was equally determined to prevent the wardon from pressing her. Mairi's transgressions sprang from loyalty and love for her brother.
Rowan had known the love of a brother, and betrayal as well. He could not bear for Mairi to suffer for doing what she deeply felt was right. He had disagreed with Jock when his grandfather had admired Mairi's actions. Now he understood.
He stepped forward. "I avow for this woman in all matters," he told the wardens. "I swear to her innocence. I will place my life in the balance for hers."
Beside him, Mairi drew in a soft breath. He touched her arm to keep her silent.
Henry Forster looked at him, frowning, assessing him. He leaned over and murmured to Simon. As Rowan waited, he saw Geordie Bell, who stood behind the English warden, meet Rowan's gaze, deep concern in his eyes.
Finally Simon looked up. "Mairi Macrae, this bill has not been proved foul or clear to my satisfaction—and I cannot accept avowal in a treason case. I declare warden's honor, which means that I myself avow your guilt, on my own responsibility." He smacked his hand on the table. "Mark the bill fouled," he told Archie. "She will be held at Abermuir until the messengers can be brought to give witness against her. Send word to Edinburgh."
Murmurs rolled through the gathering. Rowan sensed Mairi sway a little beside him. He took her arm. "Warden," he said, "you lack sufficient cause for such a decision. I said that I will avow for her."
"One man, her husband? 'Tis not enough," Simon growled.
"I avow for her as well," a voice said from behind them. Rowan turned quickly. Jock Scott stepped toward the warden's table. "I swear that Mairi Macrae is clean in this."
"I avow for her as well," Sandie said, striding forward.
"As do I," Christie added. "Despite I'm a pup."
Simon came to his feet behind the table, his face darkening. Beside him, Henry Forster stood, Archie too.
"I will swear for the lass too," Dickie Armstrong said from within the crowd.
"I do as well," Tammie said. "And we're men o' God."
"As do I," another called out. Rowan saw Nebless Will Scott raise his hand; his sons spoke their avowals after him.
"I will too," echoed a deep, sure voice—a very familiar voice. Rowan glanced quickly at the many faces shadowed by helmets and hoods, but could not identify the man.
Nor could he identify each man who called out after that. So many avowals sounded out, so many arms were raised inside the tent that it soon seemed that each man who watched the proceedings called out an avowal, whether or not he knew Mairi Macrae.
"Ye'll have to let her go," Tammie said with a grin.
Rowan turned to Simon. "These men have all sworn on behalf of her innocence." He glanced at Archie. "Write that on the bill, sir—cleared by avowal of all witnesses present."
"Wi' pleasure," Archie said, and picked up his quill.
* * *
Mairi took a breath, filled with relief and gratitude. "Why do they avow for me?" she asked Rowan, beside her. "Most of them do not even know me!"
He leaned down to answer. "They approve of loyalty to kin, and so they do not need to know you, by their thinking. Simon wants to declare your guilt on poor evidence—if he was allowed to do that, they might all be in trouble one day at his hands."
"Their loyalty, I suspect, is to the Black Laird o' Blackdrummond. Your notorious reputation saved me."
"It did you no harm," he said with a quick smile.
Simon pounded his hand on the table. "This bill may be cleared," he shouted angrily over the crowd's chatter and laughter. "But there is another bill. Iain Macrae, come forward!"
A subdued silence took over the ranks of the men, replaced by the patter of rain on the tent's roof. Mairi felt Rowan's hand tighten on her elbow as she saw her brother step forward. Iain stood tall and quiet, gazing at Simon.
"I have a signed warrant from the king's council, marked by their seal," Simon said, picking up a folded parchment sheet with a dangling red ribbon attached.
Mairi felt suddenly sick inside. Simon held the document that she had repeatedly tried to capture, the paper she would have taken off of Rowan had she known he carried it. Now, in Simon's hands, that page testified that she had failed her brother, and proclaimed Iain's death.
She fisted her hands and edged closer to watch her brother, away from Rowan's side. Regret and resentment filled her for a moment—she felt caught in a tight web of conflicting loyalties.
She had married the man who had brought the order for her brother's death. No matter how much she loved and needed Rowan, she did not know if she could forgive him that one deed.
She watched Iain's back, straight and proud, and lifted her chin. And though she felt Rowan step closer, his presence at her back, she did not turn.
Ch
apter 25
"O has he robbd? Or has he stown?
Or has he killed ony?
Or what is the ill that he has done,
That he's gaun to be hangd sae shortly?"
—"Geordie"
Simon handed the warrant to Forster. "I entrust this prisoner to you, sir. He has committed treasonous acts against your queen in league wi' Spain."
"Have you proof? Spanish gold?" Forster asked. "I've been ordered to take custody of that, and the prisoner."
Simon nodded. "There, guarded by my men." He gestured toward a small chest at the back of the tent. Henry signaled to two English troopers, who took Iain by his arms.
Mairi gasped. "Iain—"
He looked at her, silent, his eyes sad.
Rowan's arm came around her shoulders, leading her back, but she whirled toward Simon. A wildness erupted inside of her, a fierceness born of loyalty, love, righteousness.
"This is wrong!" She faced Simon. "You have no proof against Iain!"
"I have what I need," Simon answered.
"You have no witness to swear against him," she said.
"I will swear against him myself."
"Why—" she began.
"Where will you take him?" Rowan asked Forster.
"To Carlisle Castle dungeon," the man answered.
Rowan sucked in a breath. "Border code allows him to walk free and unbound on the truce field until day's end."
Forster shrugged. "Well enough, if he's under guard."
"What will happen to him at Carlisle?" Mairi demanded.
"He will be tried according to English law for treason." Forster turned a grim gaze on her.
"But he is not English!" She was breathing hard, fast.
"Border code allows us to try him by our laws," he replied.
"Mairi lass," Simon said, his voice surprisingly quiet, though his eyes were cold. "I suspect you've known something of your brother's misdeeds. You may have found men to avow for your freedom, but you cannot do the same for your brother. He'll be tried in England—and hanged there."
Mairi felt her breath catch in her throat. "I swear on my honor that he is innocent."