by Amanda Scott
Marsi looked around to be sure that they were not leaving anything behind and then tied up her own bundle. Hetty went into the other bedchamber and soon returned with the things that Jamie had brought with him.
“Hetty, I ken fine that you must be burning to speak to me,” Marsi said at last. “I wish you would say what you want to say.”
“I’ve nowt that I need to say, my lady. I ken fine that ye didna tell him that ye were in his bed. And, in troth, I’m thinking ye should keep that fact tae yourself.”
“Good lack, as if I’d want to tell him that! I couldn’t, Hetty. Not ever!”
“Did ye tell him that ye be a royal ward?”
“I did not, for why should I? Nor did I tell him that Albany will be after me, but I do know I must tell him that. I should have done it when he and I were alone up here. But, by my troth, Hetty, I never thought of it until I was halfway down the stairs. And, then… I could not.”
“Dinna fret, ye’ll get your chance soon enough,” Hetty said.
Hearing booted footsteps on the stairs, Marsi knew that she was right.
Hawk and Jamie were upon them by then and gathered up all the bundles. As the women and Jamie followed Hawk downstairs, the alewife emerged from her kitchen with two sacks in hand.
“I’ve put up summat for ye tae eat,” she said. “Ye’ll be glad of it by midday.”
Thanking her and giving her a few coins in exchange for the food, Hawk ushered them into the yard, where the stable lad stood with their horses.
Slipping another coin to him, Hawk helped Hetty onto her horse and took the reins of the sumpter pony from the stable lad. Without a word, he led the sumpter out onto the empty road. Following him with Jamie at her side, Marsi realized that, other than Albany’s men earlier, she had heard no riders pass by.
The air was cold and crisp, and she could hear the river Leven, just west of them, rushing southward to the Firth of Clyde. Overhead, the sky was still gray but with the kind of mist that thinned quickly after sunrise. Thanks to the hills flanking the vale, the sun had not yet appeared. Low fog still obscured much of the ground and drifted across the road in misty puffs, but her cloak and boots were warm.
Hawk strode ahead of them, leading the sumpter. He still had not spoken or looked back, clearly expecting them to keep up with his long strides easily.
With a wry grimace, Marsi exchanged a look with Jamie and slowed down.
His eyes twinkled. “What d’ye think he’d do if he turned and we’d vanished?”
Behind them, Hetty said, “I think ye’d prefer no tae find out.”
He shot a grin at her and then turned back to Marsi. “Shall we? I dare ye.”
“Dare away,” she said. “Do you think me a fool? Nay, do not answer that. Nor do I want to hear that you warned me that he’d be angry when he learned the truth.”
“Aye, well, I didna mean tae give ye away as I did,” Jamie said gruffly.
“None of it was your fault,” Marsi said. “Nor is it over yet,” she added when she saw Hawk glance back at last. He slowed until they caught up with him.
“Jamie, you walk beside Mistress Hetty for a time,” he said. “And keep your eyes open as we go. If you see aught that seems unusual, tell me straightaway.”
“Where will ye be, then?” Jamie asked.
“Right in front of you, but I want the lady Marsaili to walk with me now, so that I can talk with her. I’d like you and Mistress Hetty to stay just far enough back to avoid overhearing us and to serve as extra eyes and ears for us whilst we talk.”
“Aye, sure,” Jamie said with a sympathetic look for Marsi.
She had expected to feel as if she needed sympathy, but the truth was that she did not. For a time, while they had broken their fast, she had dreaded what she knew must lie ahead with Hawk. But now that the time had come, she felt only relief.
As he turned again to move on and she hurried to keep up with him, she told herself that she could accept anything that he might say to her. But when he looked at her, his hazel-green gaze somber beneath his thick, dark-tawny eyebrows, a disconcerting tickle of trepidation slid up her spine.
He faced forward again and remained silent. Then, glancing over a shoulder, he said. “They won’t hear us now. So, tell me if what you said to James earlier means that you came with them only because he asked you to come.”
Sorely tempted but knowing better, and not having expected him to begin in such a way, Marsi glanced up at his profile, trying to judge his mood.
“Nay, lass,” he said, shaking his head. “Just talk to me, and do not try to imagine what will go down best with me. Tell me the truth.”
“I mean to,” she said. “I was just surprised when you did not start scolding straightaway. I ken fine that I deserve to hear whatever you might say to me, not only for pretending to be what I am not, but also for what I said to you earlier.”
“Did James ask you to come?”
She thought about that, remembering the way that Jamie had stuck his head out between the bed curtains and surprised her, and Hetty, with his comment.
“Hetty and I thought he was asleep,” she said. “I was unhappy that they were leaving, and he did say that I should go, too. He even offered to command me. But I made the decision, sir.” She paused, remembering more. “Hetty said I should not.”
“Hetty was right,” he said.
Marsi fixed her gaze on the road ahead. The dangerous note was in his voice again, and she did not want to see his expression lest it banish the sense of comfort she felt, walking beside him and talking openly at last.
She knew that he must still be angry with her, but she felt no fear of him or how he might punish her. Instead, she wanted to get more of her thoughts out in the open, even if she did provoke him.
When he did not say more, she said, “Hetty said that I was daft to come.”
“You were.”
“Aye, perhaps. But she also said that, having known me all my life, she should have known better than to tell me I should not. I fear she was right about that, too.”
She expected him to react, but he kept silent. For a few steps more, she resisted looking at him, waiting, sure that he would say more. Then she could resist no longer. Glancing up, she saw that he was watching her, his lips pressed together.
When her gaze collided with his, his lips twitched.
Relaxing, she said, “Impulsiveness is a dreadful fault, I know.”
“It is more than a fault if it tempts you to take such foolhardy actions.”
“Perhaps so,” she admitted. “But, you see, I did not really know anyone at Turnberry except for Jamie and Hetty. I mean, I know his grace, of course, but not as a friend or companion. Sithee, all of her grace’s ladies either returned to their homes or went into service with one of the royal princesses.”
The moment of true reckoning had come, and she knew it. Again, the temptation was great to say no more and hope that he would somehow assume that no one at Turnberry would miss her. But she could not do that. Not only did it feel like a betrayal of her promise to him, but also he was very astute and would…
“So you were all alone there,” he murmured. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen next month, but that is not why I left Turnberry.”
“Is it not?”
She looked up at him again and saw that he was still watching her closely.
“No, sir, and prithee, do not say more until I have said what I must. I have felt guilty about this ever since you said that Albany was unlikely to pursue Jamie and much more likely to wait until he learns, as he will, where Jamie has gone.”
“You fear that he will pursue the lad straightaway, do you?”
“Not Jamie, no. I think you were right about Albany’s being more likely to wait and see where Jamie goes. But I’m afraid that he is likely to pursue me.”
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Chapter 10
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Ivor reined in and dismounted beside James just as the chap who had been thrashing another boy tossed aside the strap and reached to grab the prince. Seeing Ivor, the townsman paused, his right hand still outstretched toward James.
Keeping his own hands well clear of the dirk on his left hip, Ivor forced calm into his voice but said nonetheless sternly, “What is amiss here?”
James, clearly angry, looked from the townsman to Ivor. Then, shifting his gaze to the other boy, still clutched by his jerkin in the fellow’s left hand, he said, “That chap there knocked that lad off his horse. Then he jumped down tae beat him, as you saw. When I commanded him tae stop, he dared tae threaten me.”
The man had lowered his outstretched hand as James spoke. Now he glowered at Ivor. “What manner of bairn is this that he dares to interfere with his elders?”
Ivor raised his eyebrows in the way that usually made men back away from him. But the one he faced now stood his ground, wanting an answer.
Ivor said evenly, “You have cause to be wroth with the lad. But you will not put your hands on him unless you want to answer to me. If you would complain of his behavior, complain likewise to me.”
“I will then, aye,” the other snapped. “This lad is mine own servant, charged with tending my horse’s gear. When my rein broke, I spoke sharply to him. He answered insolently and so deserved punishment. Your lad behaved even worse.”
“He should not have done so,” Ivor said, giving the angry James a look that banished the boy’s indignation and brought a flush to his cheeks.
Ivor continued to gaze sternly at him as he added, “I will explain his error to him. Moreover, I will do it in a way to ensure that he never behaves so again, at least not until he is fully grown and it is his business to do so. Apologize to this gentleman at once, sir, and show proper humility when you do.”
For a long, tense moment, James looked mutinous. But Ivor held his gaze until the boy expelled his inhaled breath and turned to the irate townsman.
“I do apologize for angering you, sir,” James said. “Your business is none of mine. I should not have interfered in it.”
“Aye, well, that be true enough. If I were your da, though, I’d take good leather to ye, just as I were a-doing wi’ this ’un.”
Ivor saw James’s jaw tighten. Before he could speak again, Ivor put a hand on his shoulder and urged him firmly back to his horse. Then, he picked him up, and as he set him on his saddle, he said curtly, “Not another word or gesture unless you want to feel my hand on your backside here and now. Sit properly on your saddle, and ride back to Aodán. I will have more to say to you anon.”
James’s jaw remained rigid. But he gave a jerky nod, threw his leg over, and reined his horse around as Ivor had commanded.
Ivor returned to the townsman, saying, “I apologize for his behavior, sir.” Remembering Marsi’s tale of her own life, he added, “I fear that I have left him in the care of servants too often when I must be away. They have sadly spoiled him. But I will see that he swiftly mends his ways.”
“Leather,” the other muttered. “ ’Tis the best teacher.” With that, he drew the other lad away. As Ivor remounted, he heard the latter’s cries and winced, remembering more than one such painful interlude from his own childhood.
Rejoining Aodán and James, he found the latter unrepentant. “You let him beat that lad unfairly,” James said.
“He has every right to punish him,” Ivor replied.
“But—”
“You will be silent now and listen to what I say to you, or you will count the cost when we stop for the night. You and I had an agreement.”
“Aye, we did. But I never saw such a thing before. I could not just sit by and let it continue.”
Noting that Aodán was trying to catch his eye, and seeing the other man raise his eyebrows in query, Ivor said, “Stay where you are, Aodán. I want you to hear what I say to him. If a time should come when I must entrust him to your care, I want him to know that you have my permission to do what you must to see that he obeys your orders as he would mine. He promised me that he would leave his royal ways behind at Turnberry and behave like an ordinary bairn.”
“I am not a bairn,” James said. “I am—”
“For our purpose now, my lad, you are what I say you are,” Ivor interjected. “And I say that, prince or none, you had no right to interfere with that man. The lad cheeked him and deserved punishment for it. I agree with you that the penalty is gey harsh for the crime. But that is no more business of mine than it is of yours. You may talk as if you were a man of forty instead of a lad of nearly eight, but you are still a bairn and must act like one. Ordinary lads of your age do not order adults about with impunity. That man is going to talk of your behavior to all and sundry, and if you think that your uncle will not suspect that the boy who dared accost such a man and order him to desist was you, you are not as smart as I thought you were.”
James was facing forward, his chin jutting. But Ivor saw tears in his eyes and knew that he had made his point.
Nodding to Aodán then to drop back, Ivor waited until he had done so before he said quietly, “What did you think you were doing, Jamie-lad?”
Still staring ahead, James bit his lower lip. Then, visibly drawing breath, he turned to Ivor and said, “I just wanted to make him stop. You are right, sir. I didn’t think. I just acted. I meant to help, but ’tis likely that I only made it worse for him.”
“You did show courage,” Ivor said. “But you did not show wisdom. And courage without wisdom is nearly always foolhardy. You must learn when to act and when to hold your peace, lad. You are still young, though, and wise for your years.”
“Do you really think that that townsman will talk about what I did?”
“I do. I want you to ride with Aodán or with Sean Dubh now, whilst I talk with Mistress Hetty and Lady Marsi. We need to make a change in our plans.”
James continued to eye him warily. But Ivor waved him toward Aodán and reined his own horse in near Marsi and Hetty.
As Sir Ivor drew in beside her, Marsi said, “I hope you were not too harsh with Jamie, sir. He is unaccustomed to people scolding him. Come to that, he rarely does anything to deserve a scolding.”
“As beset with protectors as he usually is, I don’t doubt you, lass. But he deserved one then. He should not have drawn attention to himself as he did.”
“What did you say to that man to make him go away?”
With a guilty smile, he said, “I used your own tale, or my interpretation of it. I told him that I’d left the lad too long with servants, and they’d spoilt him.”
“You lied, in fact.”
“Aye, that is exactly what I did.”
She shook her head at him, adding, “I doubt that Jamie is spoiled, sir, but there was some truth in your words. Not only have we both had the benefit of Hetty’s care but we have also both spent our lives almost solely with adults, rarely having contact with persons of our own age. I think that is one reason that we have become such friends. Although there is a great difference in our ages, we often understand each other better than others understand either one of us.”
“Have you ever seen him leap to another child’s defense as he did today?”
“I cannot think of a time when he might have had the opportunity. Was it really so bad a thing for him to do?”
“Nay, it is good that he reacted so to mistreatment of a common lad. I fear, though, that his behavior will stir that merchant to speak of it wherever he goes.”
“I see,” she said. “Aye, a laddie confronting a grown man like that…”
“Just so,” he said. “I think we need to alter our appearance somewhat.”
“We must do something,” Hetty agreed. “Many of the duke’s men have seen James before. And riding right through town as we will…” She grimaced.
“We cannot avoid Doune,” Ivor said. “But we’ll ride straight on to Dunblane. And if my men and I change into Highland gear, we will loo
k like a different party. We’ll change in that thicket yonder and wait until any folks we pass will be new to us and we to them. I’ve noted that when we don our plaids, folks gape at the garments rather than at those wearing them.”
“You’ll fly another banner, too, will you not?” Marsi asked.
“We will, aye,” he said. “Our Mackintosh banner.”
“Not Clan Chattan?”
“Nay, my lads are all Mackintoshes, so Mackintosh will do.”
“But won’t that help people identify you? We will be the same sort of party, too, with two women and a boy. Many have seen us traveling so.”
“No one has paid us much heed,” Ivor said. “And no one kens my name.”
“With respect, sir, I think you underestimate Albany. He travels swiftly and his men are legion, so he must be back in Stirling by now and will have men on every road. He does that in any event. We have seen them daily since we made landfall.”
“Aye, perhaps, although black is a common color, so we should not assume that every man wearing it is Albany’s. Also, we’ve set a good pace. From Dunblane, we will be less than forty miles from St. Andrews, and I know the roads of Fife well. If we avoid the main ones, we’ll be safe enough.”
“But don’t you see that you are thinking only of what you agreed to do, whilst I suspect that no one has stopped and questioned us yet because the men we have seen had received no orders yet to look for us. But, prithee, do not make the mistake of thinking they paid us no heed.”
“What makes you so sure that they did?” Sir Ivor asked with a frown.
“Because Albany trains his men to be observant and trains them harshly. Doubtless, as soon as he reached Stirling, he began to collect reports from his men. Sithee, unless one sails from Turnberry round most of Scotland, one must pass through Stirlingshire or Menteith—and Fife—to reach St. Andrews. I expect Albany will assume that you want to get there as directly and quickly as you can.”
