Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (28 page)

Having made up her mind to act, Meg considered her options carefully and decided two things were paramount. She would have to do something about Tom, but first she had to do all she could to assure that the countess and Carrick stayed safe. Just how she could do that, she did not know.

She had no men from Raven’s Law with her to help protect the countess, because except for Sym, those who had escorted her and Amalie to the Hall had returned home, where she had thought them needed. And she could not seek advice from the Douglas men or the countess’s, not after Tom had told her he had allies at Hermitage. Even if he had lied, she could no longer be certain of anyone there.

Even if she could trust them, she could not be sure they would do as she asked without explanation, and that would mean accusing Tom.

She decided she would have to apply directly to the countess. But she would have to do so in such a way that Isabel would ask few questions and still do as she asked. The notion sounded simple in her thoughts, but Meg knew it would not be.

Once again, she wished Wat were there to advise her. But that thought only made her smile in self-derision. Had she not told him she was capable of using her own brain, that she was sensible and trustworthy, and would take no more risks?

In any case, if Wat were there, he would do everything himself and doubtless manage to whisk the countess safely out of Hermitage and back to Dalkeith or even farther away to the Douglas fortress of Tantallon, high above the Firth of Forth.

That thought stirred others until she got out of bed and shook her sister.

“Amalie, wake up.”

Opening bleary eyes, Amalie moaned, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but it is after dawn and I need you,” Meg said quietly, knowing Sym very likely lay just outside the door.

“What’s wrong?” Amalie asked as she raised herself onto an elbow. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some, but not enough,” Meg said with a wry smile. “I’ve been thinking, though, and you were right when you said we must do something. I mean to speak to the countess, but we must find a way to keep Tom from any further plotting.”

“Will the countess know how to do that?”

“I am not going to ask her,” Meg admitted. “I don’t intend to discuss Tom with her. I must at least try to keep my word or it means nothing to give it.”

Amalie clicked her tongue. “Tom does not keep his word. I don’t see why you should feel bound by yours.”

Tempted again to explain bluntly that Tom had threatened to kill them both if she betrayed him, Meg had to bite her tongue. Amalie would not be able to hide such knowledge, not from Tom or from anyone else.

Instead, Meg said, “Do you expect me always to behave toward others as they behave toward me, love? Think how it would be if I got moody every time you do.”

“I don’t mean that.”

“I know you don’t, but how would you have me decide when to break my word? Would you trust me to keep promises to you if I failed to keep promises I’d made to others any time I disapproved of their behavior?”

“This is a stupid conversation. I know I can trust you.”

“We’d do better, then, to discuss what to do next,” Meg said. “I’ll talk to the countess, but I’m not sure how to do that without first doing something about Tom.”

“You could go to her bedchamber. She is just downstairs in Douglas’s chamber, and her ladies both sleep in that wee room between it and the garderobe.”

Meg nodded. “I’d not ordinarily think of doing anything so brazen, but this is an extraordinary situation. As your mind is clearly more inventive than mine, can you think of a way to keep Tom out of mischief until Douglas returns?”

Amalie chuckled. “We could borrow a club from someone and clout him.”

“Then what?” Meg asked, stifling her own amusement. “Do you think we should drag Tom in here or bounce him downstairs and through the halls?”

“It is a pity we cannot find a flask of the potion he gave Douglas to make him sick,” Amalie said. “I do think he gave him something, don’t you?”

“It does not matter as we don’t know what it is or if there is any more,” Meg said. “Keep thinking, whilst I slip downstairs and wake Countess Isabel.”

Hastily donning a plain gray kirtle and pale green robe, she belted the latter with her embroidered girdle, slipped her feet into soft shoes, and replaited her hair.

Then, as quietly as she could, she lifted the latch and pulled open the door.

As she had expected, Sym lay curled on his left side on a pallet in front of the door, softly snoring. Lifting her skirts high, she stepped over him, but before her foot touched the floor on the other side, she heard a soft, plaintive mew.

Looking down, she saw Pawky’s head emerge from under the boy’s right arm. The kitten’s mouth opened again with a louder, more demanding meow.

Sym’s eyes opened, and Meg stepped quickly out of the way as he scrambled to his feet. The kitten meowed again in protest.

“Me lady!”

“Hush, Sym. There is no need for you to get up, because I want you to stay here and keep watch over the lady Amalie until I return. I’ll be back shortly.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue,” she said firmly. “I want your word that you will obey me.”

He nodded, eyes wide. “I will, aye.”

Satisfied, Meg left him with his pet and hurried down to the next level, where the master’s chamber lay. It had occurred to her that the countess might also keep a guard outside her room, but the area was clear.

Hesitating at the door, she wondered if she should rap but decided it was foolish to worry about proprieties at such a time. Quietly opening the door, and hoping that neither of Isabel’s ladies was with her, she peeked in.

The chamber was nearly as large as the upper hall just below it, and boasted two windows slightly wider than the one in Meg’s chamber. Both were curtained, but a crack of gray dawn light let her see the large bed, likewise curtained, against the wall to her right. Its occupant was alone in the room.

Slipping inside and shutting the door, Meg went nearer and said quietly, “Madam, I beg your pardon, but you must wake up. I need to talk with you.”

“What is it?” Isabel asked, pulling the bed curtain open enough to peer out.

“’Tis important,” Meg said. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I do not explain it all to you. I have given my word to say nothing, and I fear I’m close to breaking it just by coming here to you.”

“I know it must be vital to bring you to me in such a way, so what
can
you tell me?” Isabel asked, sitting up with the coverlet clutched to her breast.

Meg had thought of several tactful, discreet ways of explaining what she wanted, but the countess’s open manner made it easier just to answer her question.

“You should leave here as soon as you can and ride to meet the Earl of Carrick. If you must tell anyone why you are leaving, I pray you, say only that much, that you are going to meet him. Let them believe you will ride back here with him. Instead, though, you should persuade him to seek a place of safety.”

There was light enough to see Isabel’s frown, but she said only, “Might Dalkeith be such a place?”

“Aye, or I thought Tantallon might serve.”

“I see.” Isabel’s gaze locked with Meg’s. “May I ask what you mean to do?”

“I must stay here,” Meg said. “Amalie must stay as well. I had thought your ladies might likewise have to, whilst you slipped secretly away—”

“Nay, that would never do. You clearly suspect something is amiss here at Hermitage. If that is so, it will be wiser for me to go openly and with all ceremony. Everyone here expects Carrick to arrive tomorrow, after all. He told Ralph Lindsay he will stay tonight at Dryburgh, so I shall simply say I am to meet him there.”

“I thought the English burned Dryburgh Abbey, and Melrose, three years ago.”

“They burned much of both, aye, but the monks rebuilt their chapter houses and dormitories. And Dryburgh’s abbot is a good friend of Carrick’s. John loves the abbey’s setting, because although many of its beautiful trees burned, the Tweed still flows past and the place is as green as ever now. He likes to sit and watch the river.”

“It is possible that someone may try to stop you,” Meg warned her.

Isabel smiled. “Nay, for am I not Countess of Douglas, and the King of Scots’ daughter? There are still many loyal men here, my dear.”

“But things have happened,” Meg said, wondering what she could tell her.

“I do recall Jamie’s strange illnesses, and I’d wondered if betrayal might be a cause. But for all that there may be traitors here, most are loyal to Jamie. Indeed,” Isabel added, “if you would just tell me what or whom you suspect, we could lay the whole before Sir Ralph. The Lindsays have long been loyal to the Douglas.”

“I would tell Sir Ralph myself if I could, my lady, but I know only enough to bring more danger down upon us if I make a misstep. I do wonder, though,” she added thoughtfully when an idea stirred. “What would Sir Ralph do if you were to report that you had lost something and that perhaps someone had taken it?”

“He would search for it, of course.”

“Would he search everyone?”

“Certainly.”

“And, if he found it, what then?”

Isabel’s eyes gleamed. “He would cast the culprit into the pit until my lord could decide what to do with him. Of course,” she added with a wry smile, “Jamie may be so vexed with me that he will say it served me right to lose it, for disobeying him. But he would still punish the thief severely unless I could somehow manage to persuade him to be merciful.”

Meg hesitated again, certain that the Douglas would hang such a thief as quickly as he would hang a spy. Deciding to worry about that later and, if necessary, confess what she had done, she said, “Have you some object you would be willing to lend me? It is much to ask, I know, but—”

“Sakes, my dear, I am trusting you all in all, am I not? Do you want something of value that would guarantee his hanging, or a trinket of little value?”

“A trinket,” Meg said quickly. “And, pray, madam, say nothing about it until you are on the very point of departure. But if you could let me have it now and perhaps say nothing to anyone else about this meeting, I would be most grateful.”

“I confess, I am seething with curiosity, but I have every confidence in you,” Isabel said. “If Sir Ralph offers to escort me, I shall command him to stay here. Then, if aught goes amiss with your plans, you must promise me you will go to him.”

Meg promised, but she was by no means sure Sir Ralph Lindsay was a man she could trust, because heaven alone knew who was in league with Tom. But if things did go awry, doubtless Tom would keep his promise to kill her and there would be no need to face yet another dilemma about keeping her own promises.

Accepting a pretty lavender-bead necklace with a silver Celtic cross pendant from the Highlands that Isabel said one of her brothers had given her, Meg thanked her and hurried back to her own chamber, finding Sym where she had left him.

He had rolled his pallet and was sitting back against the wall, trailing a string for Pawky to attack. When he saw Meg, he stuffed the string into the waist of his breeks and got quickly to his feet.

“Sym, I’ve an important task for you if you can manage it safely,” she said in a low tone as she reached the door. Looking in to see that Amalie had dressed, she added, “Come in, and I’ll tell you.”

Scooping up the kitten, he obeyed, and once inside, Meg explained to him and Amalie what she hoped he could do.

“I can do that as easy as winking,” Sym said with a nod.

Meg waited for him to ask why she wanted him to do such a thing, but he continued to regard her as if he expected more commands.

“What I have asked of you is dangerous,” she said. “I hope you understand that, Sym. You must do it as soon as possible, and you must
not
be seen.”

“I’m thinking I’ll do it afore that gallous ill-willer wakes up.”

“Why do you call him so, Sym?”

“Does he no spy on the Douglas, then?”

Meg looked at Amalie, who shook her head, clearly as much at a loss as Meg was. But as Meg opened her mouth to ask why he would believe the minstrel to be a spy, the answer came to her. “Faith, you were listening at the door the other night!”

“I were no listening. When I come back wi’ your water, I heard a man’s voice inside. He sounded cross and vexsome, and I didna think he belonged in your bedchamber, for all he were saying ye was family. So I thought I’d just listen to see should I do summat about him. Then ye said he were a-spying for Hotspur, so I listened closer. But I didna think ye’d want me to tell anyone, for ye’d said I must no talk o’ the things I hear ye say. And ye’ll recall, too, that our Dod said he’d skelp me till me wagging tongue fell out—”

“I remember,” Meg said. “And I meant what I said. It would be
very
dangerous for you to tell anyone else what you heard.” Realizing it would be risky even for the boy to remain at Hermitage after doing what she had asked of him, she decided he might serve her in yet another way.

He was earnestly reassuring her that he would keep safe, but she cut in to say, “I want you to do one thing more for me, Sym. And you must prepare for it before you do the first task, so it cannot delay you afterward. The countess will leave soon to meet the Earl of Carrick, and I want you to ride with her as far as—”

“But I canna leave! Master Wat said I must stay with ye.”

“This is just like when we met the poachers, Sym. My only fear is that you may not be able to find Master Wat this time, or may run into more danger. Douglas and his men crossed the line at Carter Bar, though, and that is not far from Elishaw. You have traveled that way before. Do you think you can find the road again?”

“Aye, for I’ve only to ask here and about as I go,” he said confidently. “Sithee, I’ve followed our Dod and the others many times. It be nae great thing. As to finding Master Wat, I warrant plenty o’ folk can tell me where Douglas’s army has got to. And if I tell him ye have need o’ him, he’ll no be wroth wi’ me.”

“But if there’s fighting, you must hide until it is over,” Meg told him.

“Aye, sure, I dinna want to get m’self killed!”