The Raven's Moon (39 page)

"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.

Chapter 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."

"Your honor is not worth much wi' me." Simon turned to address the others inside the tent. "We will hear the rest of the complaints after our midday meal," he announced. "Those summoned are expected to be present then. Tell your rascal comrades." He spun away and began to leave the tent.

"Simon—" Mairi said. He ignored her and she walked after him, but Archie Pringle stepped into her path.

"I'll see that the English keep their word, so that Iain can walk the truce field wi' you," he said. "Come back in a bit."

"Thank you," Rowan said, putting his arm firmly about Mairi to lead her away. She jerked back, seething and upset. He took her arm again.

"Let go," she muttered.

"Play the good wife for a bit, if you please, and listen to me," he murmured as he guided her outside. "You cannot dispute this further without bringing suspicion back on yourself. The Border code allows wardens to hand prisoners to the other side. Scots can be tried and sentenced according to English laws that way. You could risk Iain's life further."

"They could try him here. I offered to avow for him."

"Do you think Simon would listen?" he asked brusquely as they walked across the muddy, crowded field. The rain had ended, leaving the air damp. "Iain is accused of a crime that is outside the jurisdiction of a truce day meeting. And Simon has a warrant from the king's council—"

"Because you brought it." She glared up at him. "I wish I had found it—and taken it from you that night."

"Your wild scheme would not have prevented this," he said sharply. "Iain would have been brought here anyway. Worse, if Simon had rendered warden's justice, Iain would be hanged already. Have some patience."

"I cannot—"

"Do it," he said curtly. "The day is not yet done. I will find a way to help your brother whether you believe it of me or not." He gripped her arm as they crossed the wide field.

Loud cheers from the crowds watching the football match barely caught Mairi's attention, despite the groups of men yelling and heading that way.

"Are you hungry? There's food here if you need it," Rowan said as they passed the cook shops with their savory smells.

She shook her head and walked on. After a while, she felt calmer. "What can we do for Iain?"

"Discover the truth."

Mairi sighed. "That might prove impossible."

"Come." Rowan led her to the tavern area, sat her at a table under a tree, and went to one of the cook shops. Mairi waited, glancing at the men who sat at the next table. They smiled and touched their hands to their helmets. She nodded, recognizing them from the wardens' tent.

Rowan returned with a flagon of ale, a joints of roast chicken, and a large oatcake.

"I'm not hungry," she said wearily.

"Eat something. We can share it."

She relented and picked at the hot food. Rowan sat across from her, but did not eat.