The Recruit (47 page)

Mary knew she had to tread carefully. But it was his life at stake; he deserved some
say in it. “You aren’t English, you know that, don’t you, Davey? You are a Scottish
earl. You belong in Scotland. Wouldn’t you like to go home? To see the lands of your
ancestors?”

He looked at her as if she’d just uttered treason, which perhaps she had. “Why are
you saying this, Mother?”

She paused, debating how much to tell him. In the end, she decided she’d said enough.
Why was she pressing her son for an answer, when she didn’t even know her own?

She smiled. “Don’t pay me any mind. I’m in a maudlin mood.”

He stared at her for a long moment and nodded.

Standing, he walked over to the window. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

“Sir John is approaching with at least two dozen men.”

Mary’s heart dropped.
It’s probably nothing
, she told herself. But every instinct told her otherwise.

Twenty-five
 

Kenneth followed Clifford’s party for hours. He’d expected them to take the road southwest
along the border to Jedburgh, but instead they took a path due west toward the town
of Biggar, skirting the dangerous Selkirk Forest, which was controlled by Bruce’s
men under the command of Sir James Douglas.

Where the hell were they going? Continuing on this road up the Clydesdale would take
them to Bothwell Castle, just south of Glasgow. He stilled. Bothwell Castle, where
the English garrison could easily be supplied by Clifford’s border castles of Carlisle
and Caerlaverock.

His senses hummed. He was on to something; he knew it. What if the reason there didn’t
seem to be enough supplies going north to Edinburgh was because that wasn’t the path
they were going to take? What if
this
was the path? What if Bothwell, Rutherglen, and Renfrew were the English-held castles
that would keep the English army supplied and protected on their Scottish campaign?

It felt right, but how was he going to prove it? All he had was his gut to go on.

But Clifford wasn’t accommodating enough to hand him conclusive proof today. When
the small party turned around near midday to return to the castle, Kenneth followed.
The ride to seemingly nowhere only served to further convince him that it had been
a scouting mission in advance of the army.

But he needed proof, damn it. Was it too much to ask for a nice, colorfully drawn
map to fall into his hands? If only spying were that easy.

It was nearing dusk by the time Clifford’s party rode through the gate of Berwick
Castle. Kenneth waited a short while before following.

He was expecting to have to do some explaining for his absence, but as he neared the
gate, he wondered if it was going to take a lot more than that.

He heard the call go up when the men who were keeping watch from the battlements above
sighted him. Was it his imagination, or had the air suddenly become more charged?
Were the men at the gate nervous? They seemed to purposefully not meet his gaze, and
more than one hand was gripping the hilt of a sword. He was beginning to get a bad
feeling—a very bad feeling—about this.

Had Mary betrayed him? For one horrible moment, he wondered. But he quickly pushed
the thought aside. She wouldn’t. No matter how angry, he refused to believe she’d
condemn him to the same fate as Atholl.

But it was clear something was wrong. The moment he rode through the gate, he could
feel the men moving into position behind him.

He swore. Catching sight of Percy coming down the stairs of the Great Hall, he knew
from the cold fury on the knight’s face that he was in trouble. Whether it was his
unexplained absence, Felton giving him up for illegal fighting, or something else,
he wasn’t going to stay and find out.

His time in the English camp was over, and he liked his chances of getting out now
with only a handful of men behind him better than he did from a pit prison.

He could be completely wrong, but if he’d learned anything in this long war, it was
that when in doubt, trust your senses. Sometimes they were the only things that kept
you alive.

He didn’t hesitate. Swinging his mount around, he plunged through the men who’d come
around to block his exit. The sudden move caught them by surprise, but one man managed
to get his sword up in time to take a good swing at him. Kenneth yanked the sword
from the scabbard at his back and managed to save his leg—and more importantly, his
horse—from the soldier’s blade.

With a fierce cry, he landed another blow at one of the men guarding the portcullis
to his right. Reacting quickly, he fended off a blow from the man at his left. He
could hear the shouts behind him to lower the gate, to not let him escape, but it
was too late. Lowering his head to the neck of his mount, he tore out the gate. He
tried not to think about the arrows that were going to start raining on him from above—

He flinched as an arrow found its mark right in his back. But he felt more the impact
than pain, and suspected it had only found the steel of his mail. A second arrow grazed
his arm as he started to weave, the quick changes of direction making it harder for
them to hold a target.

An arrow hit the flank of his horse, but it, too, found armor. The heavily armored
warhorses the English favored might not be as maneuverable and quick as the smaller
mounts used by the Scots, but at times they had their advantages.

He focused on his destination—the tree line about a hundred yards ahead—and rode as
fast as his already tired horse could carry him. He knew he should be out of arrow
range soon. The shots didn’t seem to be falling as often or as close. Gritting his
teeth he held on, praying that his fortune held out for a few more minutes …

It did. He plunged through the trees and heaved a sigh of relief. He’d made it. But
he wasn’t safe yet. They would be hunting him.

His mouth fell in a grim line. This sure as hell wasn’t the exit he had planned from
England. His mission had
just exploded in his face. He’d lost his chance to find proof for his suspicions,
and worse, extracting Mary had just become much more dangerous. Her son would have
to wait.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on his failure. All he could think of was Mary. A
cold chill permeated his blood. They would come for her, too. He had to reach her
first.

Instead of taking the road to Huntlywood, he steered his mount on the more direct
route through the treacherous terrain of the countryside. He needed all the extra
time he could make. The English might guess where he was headed, but he had no intention
of being there when they arrived.

Mary had thought there could be no worse moment than learning that her husband had
deceived her, that he was actually aligned with Bruce and intended to take her back
to Scotland.

But that wasn’t the worst moment at all. The worst moment was seeing the ill-concealed
smugness on Sir John’s face when he announced that a warrant had been issued for Kenneth’s
arrest.

She’d nearly fainted and might have fallen to the ground had Sir Adam not caught her.

“You’d better have a damned good explanation for this, Felton,” Sir Adam demanded,
after seeing her safely to a bench.

Mary listened in horror as Sir John explained. The purported charge was for illegal
fighting, but Kenneth was also suspected of treason. According to Sir John, Kenneth
had failed a test of his loyalty when he’d delivered a missive with a cracked seal.
His desertion today only made his situation worse. Where was he?

Mary smothered a sob. The thought of her husband imprisoned and possibly executed …

Her stomach knifed. Every fiber of her being recoiled in absolute horror.

But once the shock faded, Mary knew Sir John had brought a clarity of mind that she
might not have reached so quickly on her own. When faced with her husband’s arrest,
the truth in her heart could not be denied. She was furious at him for deceiving her,
but she still loved him.

“Find him,” Sir John ordered his men.

“I already told you he isn’t here,” Sir Adam said, his normally even temperament giving
way to icy fury. “Are you questioning my word?”

Sir John smiled. “I just don’t want there to be any confusion. You have known Sutherland
and his wife for many years, haven’t you?”

Sir Adam’s face turned florid. “Have care, Felton. Think carefully before you impugn
my loyalty. When you are proved wrong, it will go badly for you. I will make sure
of it.”

Felton was instantly contrite. Sir Adam was a powerful man, one of the most influential
Scots on the English side, and making an enemy of him could prove costly. “I meant
no offense. I was ordered to return the Earl of Atholl to the castle immediately,
and to search for Sutherland. I am merely following orders.”

“Then be quick about it,” Sir Adam bit out. “And then get the hell out of here.”

While Sir John oversaw the search, Sir Adam tried to comfort Mary.

“Try not to upset yourself,” he said. “I’m sure it will all be cleared up soon.”

Mary nodded unconvincingly, knowing better.

“Is there truth to the charge of illegal fighting? Felton said you were there.”

She nodded again. “I’m afraid so.”

“The king will be displeased, but if Kenneth has a good explanation, it shouldn’t
be too difficult to dismiss. It’s the
other charges that worry me. Is it possible … could there be truth to what Felton
says? Is there any chance Sutherland is deceiving us?”

Mary was torn. She wanted to protect her husband, but she couldn’t bear the thought
of lying to her old friend. She dropped her gaze. “Anything is possible.”

What Sir Adam made of her nonanswer she didn’t know. Out of the corner of her eye
she noticed Felton talking to Davey on the other side of the Hall, and something about
the way Davey’s eyes kept shifting toward her made her take notice.

Following the direction of her gaze, Sir Adam asked, “Could David know something?”

Mary thought back through their previous conversation. Could her son have pieced something
together about leaving from what she’d said? “I don’t think so.”

But her hands twisted in her lap, seeing the guilty flush spread over David’s face,
when their eyes met for an instant, before he quickly looked away.

David wouldn’t betray her. Her heart squeezed. Would he? Whatever filial devotion
he had to her was new and unproven. Could he say something to make it look bad for
Kenneth?

She should never have spoken to him of his father and Bruce. The decision whether
to return to Scotland was too complex for a boy of thirteen.

For a time, it seemed her fears might have been for nothing. Davey ran off, presumably
to gather his belongings, and Sir John returned to overseeing his men. But a short
while later, when the search had come to an end, Sir John strode toward her with a
look on his face that did not bode well.

His gaze was harder and colder than it had ever been before. “Gather your things.
We will be returning to the castle soon.”

Mary blanched.

“What are you talking about, Felton?” Sir Adam said. “Lady Mary is staying here.”

Sir John shot him a glare. “Not anymore. It seems Lady Mary has been contemplating
a return to Scotland.”

Sir Adam didn’t look to her for confirmation or denial. “And what proof do you have
of this?”

“She’s been having some interesting conversations with her son.”

Mary’s heart squeezed.
Oh Davey, what have you done?

“I said nothing about leaving for Scotland,” she said.

It was true. But Sir John appeared unmoved. “Under the circumstances, I think it is
better to exercise an abundance of caution, don’t you agree, Sir Adam? For her safety,
of course.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“Not if I don’t have to.” But his men had gathered around him. She could feel Sir
Adam’s men behind her. They would defend her if she asked them to. But what purpose
would it serve, other than to put Sir Adam in an even worse position if the truth
were discovered?

At that moment Davey burst into the room. Looking back and forth between the two groups
of soldiers, he quickly appraised the situation.

“What are you doing?” he asked Sir John, betrayal stark on every inch of his handsome
young features.

“Your mother will be coming with us, isn’t that right, Lady Mary?”

“But I didn’t mean … You aren’t supposed to …”

Mary looked at her son’s pale, horror-stricken face and knew he’d misjudged the effect
his words to Sir John would have. He hadn’t intended to harm her.

She put her hand on his arm, telling him silently that it was all right. “I will go
and gather my things.”

Sir Adam started to argue, but she stopped him. “Please. I don’t want there to be
any trouble.” She put her hand on
her stomach meaningfully. Anything could happen if violence broke out. “We will straighten
this out at Berwick.”

Kenneth would do something. She had to trust him. But the idea of entering one of
the most heavily defended castles in the Borders took every ounce of her faith.