Rivals for the Crown (40 page)

"Notice the Bruces are not wooing me." Nell sipped her wine. "But.. .if they do decide to, I just may listen. I paid my debt to the Comyns when I agreed to come and serve Balliol's queen."

Nell did not say the rest of it—how much she disliked Balliol's queen. The woman was haughty, accustomed to servility, and she expected her household to run itself. Nell had soon learned that she was expected to be little more than a well-dressed housekeeper, which suited her fine. She distrusted the Englishwomen with whom the queen surrounded herself, distrusted even more the many letters that came to the queen from England. They were a constant reminder that Scotland was under Edward's scrutiny at all times.

"I thought I was finished serving in a court," she said. "I'm weary of it all. I keep reminding myself that just a few months ago I was worried the whole countryside of Ayrshire would have been murdered or burnt out of their homes. And I think of all those I ken who had nowhere else to go, while I have Stirling and could be taken in by Margaret or yer Da. I'm the fortunate one, lad, and while I may be bored, I've a roof over my head, and that's better than where we were before Balliol became king. But what a disappointment he has been. He looks the other way while the abuses continue, and it's men like ye who keep the people safe."

"Aye, we've been trying to. And now Edward's drawing his soldiers home to fight the Welsh and then the French. It is better out there now, Nell."

"Tell me true, Kieran, are any of the stories I'm hearing close to what ye're doing? I've heard ye've cleared half of western Ayrshire of English soldiers, and Andrew de Moray is doing the same in the north."

"We've been busy."

"So it's more than just talk ye and Rory are doing these days."

"Perhaps."

"Ye willna tell me more?"

"I canna, Nell, for the truth of it is we're all waiting to see what's next. If Balliol does defy Edward, we'll have war and we're sure to be in the thick of it. Right now all we're doing is getting promises of men and aid from the clans. William's not a Highlander like us, and he doesna have the same ties to some of the families, so Rory and I are doing the talking. That's all we're doing."

"I willna even ask ye if ye're both being careful. I ken what ye would say."

"And what would that be?"

"Ye'd say, 'Aye, Nell, whenever we're in a dangerous pinch, we just explain to the others that we canna get hurt. It does wonders to calm things.'"

He laughed. "I hope I wouldna be so rude. But d'ye think it would work?"

"Just tell me ye'll be mindful of all of us waiting and woriying, aye?"

"I am. We are." He rose to his feet. "I have to get back to the others."

She stood. "Already?"

"Already. Dinna worry so much, Nell. We're sensible."

"Ha! That is the one thing none of ye are." She placed her hand on his cheek. "Ye are very dear to me, lad. Keep yerselves safe. And tell madman Rory that there are other lasses in the world."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm trying to remember it myself."

Nell watched him go down the hallway. At the corner he waved and then was gone. She laid her head against the door, saying a brief prayer for Kieran, for Rory, and all those she loved. Liam, come home to me. I need ye here, love. I am afraid.

"Rachel."

Mama's voice was low. She pulled Rachel to the door of the kitchen.

"Come. Look outside.

Rachel followed her mother to the foyer, where she stood in the shadow and looked out into the street before the inn. Her heart began to pound.

Henry de Boyer.

He stood alone in the middle of the pathway, staring impassively at the inn, as though deciding whether to enter. He wore the uniform of the king's own, his clothing even finer than she remembered it. His head was uncovered, his dark hair gleaming in the last rays of this late September day.

"Pray that this does not mean the English are returning," Papa said as he came to Rachel's side.

"I do," she whispered. "We've not heard anything of that, though."

"But would we? We will have nothing to do with these people, Rachel."

"Perhaps he has news of Isabel."

"If she had wanted us to know where she was, she would have written."

"How could she, Papa? She did not know where we would have gone."

"Where else did we have to go but to Sarah? She would know that."

Rachel was silent. They'd had the same conversation dozens of times in the last two years.

"I will not have this family endangered again." Papa looked into her eyes. "Isabel knows her presence here harmed us and that's why she keeps away."

"I just want to know she is alive, Papa, that's all. Just that she is alive and has not paid a price for what she did."

"Of course she's paid a price. As we have. Here he comes."

They stood where they were as Henry climbed the stairs to the door. He hesitated when he saw them, then gave Rachel and her father a smile.

"I am glad to see you both well. Sir, Rachel, I bid you good day."

"And you, sir," Papa said. "It has been a long time."

"Two years," Henry said, looking past Rachel. "Is she here?"

"Isabel?" Rachel asked. "No. Do you not know where she is?"

"I've not seen her since I helped her leave Berwick Castle. Truly, she is not here? Please, tell me if she is."

"You helped her leave the castle?"

"Stop," Papa said. "Sir, come to another room. Rachel, take him away from those who may be listening. I will get someone to man the tavern. We cannot be talking about this here."

"No," Henry said. "Of course you're right."

Rachel led Henry to the suite of rooms she shared with her parents. She offered him food, which he accepted, and drink, which he did not.

"You've heard nothing of her since?" Henry asked.

"No," Rachel said. "I hoped perhaps you had some news."

"She's not been back in London that I can tell you. Neither her mother nor grandmother told me anything. But she cannot have vanished in air. How has she lived, these two years? She had nothing with her, only the clothing she wore."

"She had coins sewn in her hems. Not enough to live well for a long time, but enough to feed her."

Her father entered then, closing the door behind him softly.

"Where would she have gone?" Henry asked. "Have you heard from MacGannon? Perhaps she's with him."

Rachel ignored the sharp glance her father threw her. "No. His cousin has been here, but not Rory. And they'd not heard anything the last time he was here."

"Why are you in Berwick now?" Papa asked. "Is King Edward returning?"

"Not now, but who knows what's to come? I'm sure you know how high tensions are. I am part of a group.. .We are seeing whose loyalties lie where. I am glad to find you well and safe. I had worried that you had suffered as well."

He rose to his feet.

"Do not go yet, sir," Papa said. "Tell us of that night, if you would."

Henry sat again, telling them a story that made Rachel's skin crawl. How had Isabel been close enough to Langton to stab him? What had happened between them?

"That's the last I saw of her," Henry said, spreading his hands wide. "I cannot believe what she did. And, of course, the worst of it is that Langton lived."

"I've always wondered how she got away," Rachel said. "We'd heard she'd been aided by someone within the castle, but did not know who it would be."

"Who else would aid her? My wife? The king? Only a few of us even knew who she was," Henry said. "I'm just grateful that no one else was around. If Alis had not told me that Isabel had arrived..." He shook his head.

"How is it you've managed to avoid suspicion?" Papa asked

"I did not avoid it." His laugh was bitter. "Alis even told them that I went in search of Isabel. I told them that I did but had not found her, that my knock on Langton's door went unanswered."

"No one saw you?"

"A few did. But the castle was full of men and many women, and I was dressed simply that night, a brown tunic and leggings, like half the men there, so those who did see me might not have known who I was. I was questioned several times. It was fortunate for me that Langton lived and he absolved me of attacking him. And I had a bit of revenge on my dear wife. I told them that Alis had been with Langton when Isabel arrived, and that she and Isabel had been close friends when they were in London. I hinted that perhaps she had aided Isabel. She added her own twist, that she had talked with Isabel that night, that Isabel was in a rage of jealousy about Alis's affair with Langton. They loved it in London. They're still talking about it."

"And Langton? What does he say about it all?"

"Very little. He is back at his offices, although I'm told his voice is higher than before. Isabel said that Langton harmed you

all. When I could, I came to see you. But you were gone and the inn closed. No one knew where you had gone."

Papa nodded, and Rachel could see he'd made his decision to trust Henry, at least a little. "Langton came that night, looking for Isabel. He searched the inn.. .and..." He looked into the distance. "We were here, under guard when we'd heard the news that Langton had been stabbed. As soon as the guards left us, we left Berwick. We came back a year ago, and all has been quiet since then."

"Langton is still looking for her. If you see her, if you have any way to get word to her, tell her that he has many men searching for her. If they have not already come here, they will. Please be on guard, for her sake and for your own."

He held out his hand to Rachel's father. "I thank you for your hospitality, and for protecting Isabel. I hope you will pay no further penalty for your charity."

Papa rose. "Isabel was a good friend to my daughter."

Henry nodded. "Farewell, sir. Rachel." At the door he turned. "If there is war, and I suspect there will be, we will be on opposite sides, you and I. You should know that there is no chance of Scotland winning against Edward's army. The Scots will be annihilated. If you have any means by which to get word through to the Scottish leadership, tell them to reconsider their defiance."

"I have no means to do so," Papa said.

"Then tell everyone who comes here to this inn. Spread the word. The Scots need to know the odds they face. Edward is invincible. He will wreak a terrible vengeance upon those who defy him."

Papa nodded. "I will tell those who listen."

"Tell Kieran MacDonald. Tell him his cousin and I will be enemies as well as rivals. Tell him to tell MacGannon that I will look for him on the field of battle. And God help us both, for one of us is sure to die. And if you see Isabel.. .tell her I was here. And that I wish her well."

Rachel listened to her father say the Sabbath prayers and read from the Book of Prophets, today from the Book of Micah, with its promise of hope, its message that a new king would be born of the line of David and replace the weak king now on the throne. Fitting, she thought, for the current situation in Scotland, for both Balliol and Bruce claimed to be from the line of David of Scotland. But it seemed that the wrong man had been chosen. Few were happy with Balliol thus far. Hardly a day went by without someone in the tavern room complaining about King John, and others defending him. Often it led to violence.

Rachel looked at the bruise on her wrist, where last night a man had held her against her will, trying to get her to agree that someone should kill John Balliol. She'd twisted away from him, but she had been shaken by the experience. It was not unusual these days, for feelings against the king ran high. Two years ago

Berwick had been waiting to host King Edward, hoping that the search for a Scottish king was over. Now Berwick chafed under English laws while King John of Scotland did nothing to change that. The mood was once again sour.

She'd tried to keep her spirits up through it all, through the months when she'd thought Kieran would return, when she'd gently refused to marry the butcher's son. Mosheh had listened, his head down, as she'd talked. He'd nodded once and left. She'd felt dreadful about hurting him, but she'd been sure Kieran would return, at least to argue with her. She'd told Kieran she could never marry outside her faith, that she could not do to him what her sister had done.

They saw Sarah less often these days. She had accompanied Edgar in the early days of their marriage, when Edgar had come on business, but she was with child now and travel was not wise. Mama would go to stay with her when she was near her term, they'd decided, although Rachel was not sure how they would manage the inn without her. She could serve, but neither she nor her father could cook. A baby, though, her own niece or nephew to hold, a new life in their family—it was
marvellous
beyond words and almost made her forget what had happened the night before.

Yesterday had been Martinmas, the day the Christians celebrated the life of St. Martin with a feast, usually with a goose. Mama had learned to make all the side dishes the Christians expected, and the tavern had been filled with patrons. Advent would begin soon, and the festivities had reflected the upcoming days of reflection and penance. The last of the harvests had been brought in, and the autumn slaughters had been finished. Mosheh, days of hard work behind him, had been in a festive mood and joined the others in the tavern.