The Forest Laird (20 page)

Will shook his head. “In Glasgow yet, I suppose. It was quite the noble gathering there. The greatest men in the realm. He was deep in conference with them, magnates and clerics both, when I left.” He checked himself. “But how … How could his men come hunting me for poaching when I was with Lord Robert himself at the time?”

“That’s what has been dealt with, Will,” Father Peter answered. “You were falsely accused of poaching and mayhem. Malcolm defended you stoutly and proved your innocence, so that danger is behind us. But that’s why we’re all here. Malcolm and Margaret summoned us to discuss what’s best to be done for you now.”

Will frowned. “What’s best to be done for me? I have no idea what you’re all talking about.”

“This fellow Graham, from Kilbarchan.” Sir Malcolm’s voice was peremptory. “Ewan told me about him, that he was there when you went to visit that young woman. You had not expected that, had you?”

Will glanced at Ewan before responding. “No, I had not. But it was of little import.”

Brother Duncan spoke for the first time. “What did you do to him, Will?”

“Do to him?” Will’s eyes were wide with incomprehension. “I did nothing to him, save ignore him. The man’s a fool. A popinjay. Jamie? What is going on here?”

Sir Malcolm intervened before I could say anything. “Then you underestimate him, Nephew. Popinjay he may be, but he’s a dangerous popinjay, and treacherous. Tell us what happened between you two when last you met.”

“Right, then.” I saw a flash of the anger that too often lurked beneath his calm exterior, but then he caught himself. “The last time we met,” he said quietly, “Graham was in Lamington, where I had gone to visit Mirren—”

“The Braidfoot girl, you mean.”

“Aye. We nodded to each other and I greeted him by name—coldly, I suppose, for he did not answer me. I was not friendly, but I had not expected to see him there, so far from home and hunting my quarry. I expect he was no more pleased to see me. But Mirren was glad to see me come, so he and I glowered at each other for a spell, and then he walked away. I have not seen him since.”

“He was angry, then, when he left?”

“Spitting, I would say, had I spared a moment to think of it. But why did you call him treacherous?”

“Think. Did you lose any arrows while you were there?”

Will’s headshake was immediate. “No, sir, I did not.”

“Are you sure?”

I saw Will’s eyes narrow. “I am always sure about my arrows, Uncle. I carry few of them, and when I travel I cannot replace them easily, and so I am aware of every one. I took twelve broadheads with me and eight bodkin target shafts. I brought them all back and have them with me now.”

“An arrow belonging to you—white fletched and painted with a central band—was found in a slaughtered deer—one of a slaughtered herd—on the Annandale lands. It was the only shaft left behind, and it was cut short, but it was one of yours beyond a doubt. Can you think of any way in which an enemy might have stolen one without your knowing?”

Will shrugged. “Aye, easily, if he broke into my hut in the woods. I keep a supply there. Anyone could steal some. But unless they had a longbow, there would be no point to such a thing. Those arrows are too big and heavy for flat bows.”

“There was a point. Do not deceive yourself. Someone used one of them to entrap you.” Sir Malcolm then retold the tale of the morning’s events, and Will sank into a chair and sat open-mouthed.

“This verderer, Tidwell,” he said when his uncle was done. “I’ve never met him. Why would he do such a thing?”

“He was suborned, clearly.”

“By whom, in God’s name?”

Ewan spoke up for the first time. “Clear your head, Will, and think. The man worked the Bruce lands next to our own. Who else do you know who works those woods?”

Recognition flashed across Will’s face. “Graham.”

“But Tidwell has been arrested,” I said, “so he will confess and name the man who suborned him.”

Sir Malcolm flicked a hand at me impatiently. “We don’t know that, Jamie. The bailiff went in search of him, but he may not have found him.”

“Why would he not, Uncle? If the fellow thought his plan had worked he would have no reason to hide and they would have found him easily.”

Sir Malcolm was shaking his head. “Not so, Jamie, not so at all. That is your priest’s mind speaking. This man Tidwell is corrupt. He was paid to lie under oath and therefore he is far more dangerous to the man who hired him than he can ever be to us. I doubt he’ll be seen again.”

“You mean he’ll run?”

“No, Jamie. I mean he’s like to die and disappear. Once he is silenced, no one can question him.” Sir Malcolm looked around the table, engaging each one of us. “This man Graham is clever. Let no one here doubt that. The sole flaw in this foul scheme of his was that he knew nothing of your plans to visit Glasgow, William. Had you remained here at home, you would now be in jail under sentence of death, and safely hanged and out of his way when next he goes wooing your young woman. This man hates hard and harbours great malice. Having met his kind before, I think it likely that he followed the bailiff and his men here to watch you be taken. And when he saw them leave without you, he might have been moved to protect himself by covering his tracks.”

“By killing Tidwell, you mean?” Will said. “But what could he gain by that? We know what he did. We know where he lives. He would be risking everything.”

“He would be risking nothing. Without Tidwell, we have no proof of his involvement in any of this. He would run free and probably return home to Kilbarchan, to dream up some other means of killing you.”

“Killing me?” Will’s laugh was a harsh bark. “That popinjay? He would never find guts enough to face me.”

“He would not
need
to face you!” Sir Malcolm’s shout startled us all. “Nor need he dirty his own hands. This
popinjay
, as you call him, is
rich
, William. He can hire others to do what he could not. Think you this Tidwell killed all those beasts alone? You’re a forester, so use your brain. Do you think for a moment that seven deer would stand calmly and let him kill them, one at a time? Besides, Ewan assured me Tidwell uses a flat bow, a short bow. He has never owned a long one. I’ll warrant he was nowhere near the place when those deer were killed. He went there later, knowing what he would find and what he had to say. Which means that others did the killing, using nets to pen and hold the beasts until they were done. It would take three men at least, possibly more.”

“So you mean—?”

“I mean that any man well enough paid to take part in a plot like this would take more money without thought to kill an ongoing threat to his paymaster. And Tidwell, through no fault of his own, has become such a threat.”

“No more than the others, surely?” My question earned me a pitying look from my uncle.

“Infinitely more, Jamie. We
know
Tidwell. That’s why he’s dangerous to Graham. The others are unknown. They could be anyone, anywhere.”

“So what must we do?” Will asked, addressing all of us.

“
We
must find a way to deal with this disgusting Graham fellow.” Lady Margaret’s contribution took everyone’s attention, and I am sure no one missed the emphasis she placed on her opening word. “
You
, on the other hand, dear nephew, must leave here until we have done so.” She whipped up a warning hand to cut off Will’s protest before it could be formed. “Do not argue, William. Your life is in danger, and we have no hint of the identity of the possible assassins, any one of whom could kill you from concealment at any time. And so you will leave here, for a time at least, and let us deal with this serpent Graham. We will put an end to him through his employer, as soon as his lordship returns. The Bruce will not tolerate such treachery among his people. Until then this Graham will no doubt think himself safe, with Tidwell gone, since he dare not ask questions that might point to his involvement and he knows nothing of what transpired while you were in Glasgow. And thinking himself safe, he will come after you again. But by then you will be far from here, in the south with Ewan, who has always wanted to visit Selkirk Forest. That was Ewan’s idea, and your uncle believes it to be a good one. I am not so sure, but I am prepared to accept my husband’s judgment.”

Will, from being unwilling to budge, was seduced instantly by the prospect of losing himself in the forest with Ewan, subsisting there on their own merits and unbeholden to anyone. Of course, it did not escape my attention—nor perhaps anyone else’s—that the route to Selkirk and the great southern forest led directly past Lanark, and Mirren’s home in Lamington was less than a good spit away from there.

Dinner that night was remarkably sombre, and although I was itching to know what Bishop Wishart had wanted to talk to Will about, I hesitated to bring the matter up when no one else did. Immediately after dinner, however, Sir Malcolm took Will away to talk to him alone, and I suspected that he, too, had the same curiosity but had not wished to air the subject openly at table. I stayed awake for a long time that night, waiting for Will to return to the room we shared, but at length I fell asleep, and he did not waken me when he sought his own bed.

3

“A
re you ever going to tell me what the Bishop wanted you for?” It was early the next morning, and I was in the stable yard, helping Will brush down his horse, brushing the right side of the sturdy animal while he worked on the other. This was not the fine animal he had ridden on his previous journey, for this time he would be travelling through the lawless territory of the Selkirk Forest, where a fine horse would have been too much of a temptation to flaunt. So his mount this time, like Ewan’s, was a stocky Scots garron, the hardy, shaggy, sure-footed breed native to the North.

Will’s face appeared over the garron’s back, gazing at me with troubled eyes. “He’s in love wi’ me, Jamie,” he said in a deep, sombre voice. “He wanted me to do terrible, unnatural things, and my immortal soul’s in peril. I’d tell you what he said, but I’m feared to scandalize your priestly ears.”

I felt horror rise up in me, but then I saw the leering grin flash out.

“Whoreson,” I spat, and threw my horse brush at him. “You could burn in Hell for saying things like that.”

“The Devil isna ready for me yet, Jamie,” he said, bobbing back up, his grin wider. But then, within a heartbeat, he sobered. “He wanted to talk. To me,” he said in the scholarly Latin he had grown to love as a student. “Don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you, any more than I could before. Not even Uncle Mal could tell me why. But that’s what he wanted.”

“To talk … Well, he’s wanted that before, for the same reasons, whatever they may be. And what did he want to talk about this time?”

“About this English business—the growing numbers of them and their reasons for being here. He’s worried that there’s more to what we’re seeing than what we’re seeing, if you know what I mean.”

“And? Did you tell him you agreed with him? That you think the same thing?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell him anything. I listened, and he talked, the way he always does.” And then his frown faded and his whole face lightened as though the sun had shone on it. “But d’you know what? I think I know now why he did it, why he’s always done it. It just came to me this minute.” He stood staring into the distance, smiling strangely.

“Well come on, then,” I said. “Or are you going to keep me standing here all day?”

“Oh … He wanted to talk because he
needed
to, Jamie. I still don’t see why he’d pick me, but I’m probably one of the few people he can speak his mind to without fear of criticism or of being influenced by how I reply. A memory of him talking just came into my mind and I saw him sitting in front of his fire, talking to me very seriously, his brow creased, and it came to me that he was talking
at
me, not
to
me.”

“Cousin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His grin flickered back. “I’m not sure
I
even know, but I think the Bishop has come to trust me over the years. He’s a powerful man, with much influence, and everyone in his world appears to want something from him. That’s why he’s so tight mouthed and selfcontained all the time. But somehow he learned that he could talk to me, test his ideas and opinions and even voice his private thoughts and suspicions straightforwardly, without fear of being used or betrayed. Does that sound sensible to you?”

“Perfectly,” I said. “So what did he talk about this time? You mentioned the English situation. Does he really see that as grounds for concern?”

“Aye, he does. He worries about Edward of England, about what’s in his mind, for though the man himself has done nothing wrong, and everything he does appears to be straightforward and to a noble end, aspects of his behaviour have Wishart worried: his attitude, above all. Why is Edward allowing his men to behave as they do on foreign soil, flouting the laws of our land in defiance of all the rules of protocol and hospitality? He is encouraging them by his silence, there’s no doubt of that. But no one dares call him to task on it, because his goodwill is deemed too important to the realm in this matter of the young Queen’s succession.”

“So what does Wishart want of you?”

“Of me? Nothing. He spoke much of Andrew Murray, though, and ventured the hope that, should anything go wrong, which God forbid, he would like me to offer my services to Murray on the realm’s behalf.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“What do you think? I told him I would, if Murray would have me.” His smile widened. “But that’s not going to happen. The Maid is still a child and the Guardians of the realm are all at their posts. One of these days, we’ll have a young, new Queen to bend our knees to, and Edward Plantagenet will be settling back to dream of a grandson who will inherit Scotland’s throne. You wait and see.”

We finished our preparations for departure, then went into the house, where we broke our fast with the family, said our farewells, and were on the road by mid-morning as planned, arriving at the Abbey shortly after noon. The brother on duty at the gate was watching for us and informed us that Father Peter, who had set out from Elderslie with Brother Duncan before dawn, was waiting for us in the common room. Surprised, because the community was at noon prayers, we left Ewan with the horses and went directly to where our priestly uncle waited for us, standing with his hand on one of two chest-high bales of fine, recently shorn wool that filled the common room with their distinctive oily smell. He barely nodded to us before slapping the one beneath his hand.