Darling Jasmine

by Bertrice Small

  And what of the Leslies of Glenkirk? And the old and powerful countess of Lundy? Would they allow their children to be put into the hands of a man like Piers St. Denis? It was madness even to consider it, and yet his brother had not only considered it, he assumed it would be because he wanted it to be. But it wouldn’t. Suddenly Kipp St. Denis realized that if he did not act now to save himself, he would be as doomed as his brother, and he didn’t want to be. Why should he share Piers’s fate? How many beatings had he taken for Piers when they were children, and Piers had found it so amusing, but it had not been amusing. Sometimes Piers even did bad things just so he could see his brother punished.

  “I have no coin of my own, nor powerful friends to intercede for me,” he told Adali, and then waited to see what Adali would say to him.

  “I will give you the silver you need,” Adali replied softly. “And as for allies, sir, go to the king and tell him the truth of this matter, and you will have friends a-plenty, not only at court, for your brother has made many enemies there who will befriend you, but among my mistress’s family. A word in the king’s ear, and you could have a reward greater than any you could possibly anticipate, Kipp St. Denis.”

  “How can I be certain of what you say?” Kipp asked.

  Adali drew himself up, and said sternly, “I am Adali, confidant and friend of the royal Mughal princess you know as Jasmine Leslie. I do not lie, nor do I offer my favor or aid lightly. If I tell you it will be so, then it will be so! Make your decision before it is too late, Kipp St. Denis, or suffer your brother’s eventual bad end.” Then, turning on his heel, he began to walk from the hall.

  “Wait!”

  Adali turned.

  “If I go, I must have coin,” Kipp reiterated.

  Adali reached into a hidden pocket within his white coat and drew out a small leather bag. “There is both gold and silver in it,” he said quietly, handing it to Kipp. “More than enough to get you to England and then some.”

  Kipp slowly took the bag from Adali. “If I change my mind,” he promised, “I will return the bag to you, Adali. What of my horse?”

  “When you desire your mount it will be available to you,” Adali told him. “I will see you are not followed, but ride swiftly.”

  The two men parted. It was interesting, Adali mused to himself, that Kipp St. Denis had offered to return the bag of coins if he did not leave his brother. He does indeed have a conscience, the steward thought, but is his loyalty to the marquis greater than his sense of self-preservation, I wonder? We shall see. We shall see.

  Adali hurried down to the kitchens to make certain that the dinner would be of the finest quality. The marquis of Hartsfield must be well fed and filled with rich wine, the last few cups of which would be spiked with a sleeping draught that would have him sleeping through into the following afternoon. Next Adali moved on to the stables, and instructed the head groom to make certain that Kipp St. Denis’s horse was rested and fed and available to his master on request.

  “He’s got a loose shoe, Master Adali,” the head groom told the steward. “Wouldn’t take much to fix it. Blacksmith be working today.”

  “Have him replace all four of the horses’s shoes,” Adali said, “and Dugald, this will be our wee secret, eh?”

  “Aye, Master Adali,” Dugald said, winking broadly.

  “The horses belonging to the marquis and his other men,” Adali continued, “I think they might be taken to the high pasture to graze until they are needed.”

  “Aye, Master Adali,” the head groom said with a grin. The earl’s new steward might not be a Scot, but he thought like one, Dugald decided. At least where the English were concerned.

  Piers St. Denis enjoyed sitting at the head of the highboard in the Great Hall that night. He let his eye wander to the banners hanging from the rafters, banners which indicated the many battles in which the Leslies had fought, and to the beautiful tapestries hanging upon the walls that their women had created. He admired the heavy and copious amount of silver upon the sideboard, the two magnificent portraits hanging over the fireplaces, and noted that the lamps burned only the purest scented oil and that the candles were of beeswax, not tallow.

  The meal served him was exquisite. There was a fat duck in plum sauce, a small trout poached in white wine and set upon a bed of fresh cress on its silver platter, another silver platter of lamb-chops, artichokes steamed in wine and served with drawn butter, bread still warm from the ovens, and an excellent cheese. For afters an apple tart with thick, clotted cream was offered. Adali had inquired solicitously if his lordship would have wine, ale, or cider. The marquis had, of course, chosen the fine wine that Jasmine had always served. He had eaten alone, but for his brother, Kipp, who was oddly silent.

  Now, however, as the evening drew in, he began to feel sleepy. It was not surprising, considering the long journey up from Edinburgh. Yawning, he pulled himself to his feet, but fell back again into his chair, his legs weak beneath him. Piers St. Denis laughed drunkenly.

  “Let me help you,” Kipp said, coming to his aid.

  “Les take a serving wench with us, Kipp, and have some fun,” the marquis muttered. “I like the one over there with the big titties and the big bottom. Looks like a squealer, eh? We can fill ’er at both ends, brother.” He laughed again, collapsing against his sibling.

  “Perhaps later, Piers, when you have rested,” Kipp said.

  “Wanna whip ’er hard,” the marquis said, “just like I’m going to do to Jasmine. Whip ’em and fuck ’em, eh, Kipp? Thas how to treat a woman. How old’s ’er daughter, Kipp? We’ll whip ’er, too, and teach ’er how to suck. She’s too little to fuck right now, but we can teach ’er other things.”

  Kipp helped his brother to his bedchamber and, pulling his doublet and boots off as he had so often done, put him to bed. He had been drugged. Of that Kipp had no doubt. Now it was up to him to decide. Piers was out of control, he knew. The talk of debauching little India Lindley had disgusted him. They had never harmed a child, but he knew if his brother said he would do it, he would. I cannot countenance it, Kipp thought, and if I remain, I cannot prevent it. Only by going can I save myself, and mayhap in the end, my brother. He once again sought out Adali.

  “You drugged Piers’s wine,” he said.

  “He will sleep until tomorrow afternoon,” Adali said matter-of-factly, not denying it. “You have decided then.”

  “Will you see that I am awakened so that I may leave at first light?” Kipp said. “I have such a long journey ahead.”

  Adali nodded. “What made you decide?” he asked curious.

  “He speaks of seducing and debasing Lady Jasmine’s eldest daughter,” Kipp said. “The very idea revolts me. I can no longer be of help to a brother who considers such perversions as brutalizing a child.”

  “He will not harm her,” Adali said tightly, “or my mistress, or any of her family. I would kill him myself this night, but that the earl has insisted we resolve this matter within the tenets of the king’s law. Best the marquis of Hartsfield be exposed for all to see as the corrupt creature he is, Kipp St. Denis. You are wise to escape him now while you have the opportunity.”

  In the hour before dawn Adali himself awakened Kipp, took him to the kitchens, fed him, and gave him a supply of oat cakes, cheese, salted meat, and wine to aid him in his travels. He also instructed him in a shortcut over the mountains known only to the local folk. It would cut two days off his journey south. Then, leading him to the stable, he helped him to saddle his horse.

  “I have seen to his shoeing,” he told the surprised Kipp. “You will travel better for it. Do not fear that any of your brother’s men will see you leave. Like their master, they will sleep well this day.” He laughed softly as he led the horse from the stables.

  Beneath the portcullis Kipp St. Denis mounted his animal. Looking down at Adali, he said, “I am sad, Adali, but I know I have made the right decision, hard as it was. My brother is lost to me.”

  “One door clo
ses, another is opened wide,” Adali said wisely. “God watch over you in your travels, Kipp St. Denis.” Then, reaching into his coat, he drew forth a small sealed parchment. “Deliver this to Viscount Villiers, if you will, and your safety is assured.” Then Adali slapped the rump of the horse and watched as Kipp rode forth from Glenkirk Castle. “You have seen nothing,” he said quietly to the man-at-arms on watch.

  “Aye, Master Adali,” the soldier replied.

  The night faded away, and the day began at Glenkirk as it always did. A messenger was dispatched to the earl informing him of St. Denis’s arrival and Adali’s success at subverting Kipp, who had obviously, according to Adali, been considering a departure from his brother’s service for some time. In midafternoon the marquis of Hartsfield stumbled into the Great Hall, shouting for his brother, for Adali, for someone.

  “Ahhh, my lord, you are awake at last,” Adali said coming forth. “Are you hungry? How may I serve you?”

  “Where the hell is my brother?” St. Denis demanded.

  “Your brother?” Adali looked puzzled. “Is he not with you, my lord? I thought he was always with you.”

  “No! He isn’t with me, or I wouldn’t be asking,” snapped the marquis. “Bring me some wine! My mouth tastes like a whore’s cunt!”

  “The last I saw of your brother was last night when he put your lordship to bed. This traveling is hard on you, I can see as you are not used to it. Life at court ill prepares one for such travel as yours, my lord.” He poured St. Denis a large goblet of wine and handed it to him. “Your wine, my lord.”

  The marquis drained the goblet swiftly. “What time is it?”

  “Almost four o’clock of the afternoon,” Adali said cheerfully.

  “Where are my men?”

  “Like you, my lord, they slept like the dead,” Adali replied.

  “Find my brother!” the marquis ordered Adali, who bowed in a servile manner and left the hall. He returned within the half hour to inform Pier St. Denis, “Your brother seems to have left the castle, my lord, for his horse is gone from its place in the stables. It must have been early, for the stablelad did not see him go. I suspect he left during the time when the nightwatch and the daywatch were exchanging places. The nightwatch thinks he saw a rider leave, but he is not certain, and the daywatch saw nothing. I regret I can tell you no more.” Adali bowed.

  “If you have harmed him . . .” Piers St. Denis began, but Adali cut him short.

  “My lord,” he said angrily, “you are under the protection of the earl of Glenkirk. No one would harm you or yours while you are here. If we wished you harm, you, your brother, and your men would have all been slain in your beds last night, and already buried in a pit upon the ben, even as I speak. No one here has harmed or injured your brother in any way. I do not know where he has gone, or why. Now, my lord, would you like something to eat?”

  “He’ll be back,” the marquis muttered almost to himself. He felt headachy and out of sorts. He ate alone, served by men servants. There were no women in sight at all. Finally he called to Adali, and said, “I want a woman, dammit! Fetch me that serving wench who was in the hall last night. The red-haired wench with the big tits!”

  “I regret, my lord, that we have no whores at Glenkirk for our guests,” Adali replied quietly, his tone firm.

  St. Denis stamped from the hall and found his bedchamber. While he did not feel sleepy, he did sleep, awakening again just at dawn. Dressing himself, he returned to the hall. “I will be leaving this morning,” he told Adali. “Have you written down the names of the places the earl and Jasmine might be? And the directions to these places?”

  “I have, my lord,” Adali reassured him, serving the marquis himself. There were no other servants in the hall to be seen at all this morning. Adali placed a bowl of oat stirabout before the marquis with a chunk of bread and cheese and a goblet of cider.

  When Piers St. Denis had eaten, he took the parchment with the listings and the map from Adali and strode out into the courtyard, where his men stood milling about. “Have any of you seen my brother?” he demanded of them, but they all shook their heads no. His horse was brought, and the marquis mounted it, looking about him. “Where are my men’s horses, Adali?”

  “We could not stable so many, my lord, and so we sent them up to the high pasture to graze,” was the helpful reply. “It is on your way to Sithean, my lord. If your men carry their saddles and packs up to the meadows on the ben, they can round up their horses, and you will be quickly on your way. To send up for them ourselves would mean the loss of another day for you, and I know that you do not want to lose another day in your search for my master and my mistress.” He smiled.

  Piers St. Denis cursed under his breath. He suspected that Adali’s polite manner masked a successful effort to thwart him in his pursuit of the earl and countess of Glenkirk. Yet Adali had been very cooperative. There was nothing the marquis of Hartsfield could put his finger on to justify his suspicions even if his instinct told him otherwise. “If my brother should return,” he began, “you will tell him where we have gone, Adali, will you not?”

  “Of course, my lord. If you follow my list as I have written it for you—Sithean to Greyhaven to Hay House, to Leslie Brae to Briarmere Moor and thus on the Huntley, the stronghold of the Gordons—I will know exactly where you are at all times. I shall be able to send Master St. Denis directly to you when he returns.”

  “But what of those places where the games are held?” the marquis asked Adali.

  “My lord, you should catch up to my master and mistress long before then. If you do not, I can only say, Inverness, Loch Lomond, or Nairn. I do not know which they shall attend, nor when. You will have to find that out for yourself.”

  Piers St. Denis yanked at his horse’s head and, without even a simple farewell or thanks, motioned to his men to follow him and rode out of Glenkirk Castle.

  “Good riddance!” Will Todd murmured to Adali, coming from the shadows.

  “A fool, ’tis true,” Adali said, “but a dangerous fool, Will. What report do you have of Kipp St. Denis? Is he long gone?”

  “He is riding like the devil himself is after him,” the old man said. “The watch upon the heights have all reported back. He was off Leslie lands by late yesterday. I believe he will be in Edinburgh wi’in a few days. Master Adam’s pigeon will inform us when he reaches the city, and he will see that young St. Denis gets safely over the border into England. Where is the earl now?”

  “At Dun Broc visiting his in-laws for a brief time,” Adali replied. “Where he goes next will depend upon our marquis and his patience. If he is clever, he will send parties of men out to check at all the places I have said the earl might be. It would save him time. By denying him his brother, we have removed his only real ally. Those alley rats of his look neither loyal nor resourceful, just greedy.”

  “Our clansmen will be watching them every step of the way, Adali. We’ll be ahead of them, I promise ye. When do you think we will hear from Jamie Stuart himself?”

  “Our messenger must have surely reached the king by now,” Adali said. “And when Kipp St. Denis arrives, the king, who is prone to indecision, will finally, it is hoped, have to do something, Will. Then his decision must be made known in Scotland, and St. Denis caught and held for king’s justice.”

  “So ’tis cat and mouse until then,” Will noted.

  “Aye,” Adali agreed.

  “Ahh, ’tis guid to have the earl home again,” Will replied. “ ’Twas verra boring at Glenkirk while he was gone.”

  “ ’Tis nae boring now,” Adali chuckled.

  “Aye,” Will said, his weathered face wreathed in smiles. “ ’Tis just like the old days.”

  “The old days?” Adali looked puzzled.

  “Aye,” Will replied. “When the current earl was but a bairn, and his mother, Mistress Catriona, was loved by her husband, and the earl of Bothwell, and lusted after by the same Jamie Stuart now on the throne. Ahh, what a time we have then, al
though we clansmen folk weren’t meant to know it, but we did. There was comings and goings, and the king wanted the current earl’s mother for his mistress, and her husband was lost at sea, and she, so in love wi the earl of Bothwell, who was the king’s cousin. They called him the Uncrowned King of Scotland, and Jamie Stuart was so afraid of him that he had him put to the horn and accused of witchcraft; but it dinna get him Mistress Cat. She did her duty by the clan, matching her children up, and then she fled to her true love. Those were the days, Adali! These would seem to be verra much like them. The Leslies of Glenkirk are nae a quiet clan.”

  Adali laughed. “So it would seem, Will Todd, but then my mistress has never been what one would call a biddable lass. I would say the earl and his wife are more than well matched where trouble is concerned.”

  “Aye, which is all the more reason we’ll keep them safe from this Englishman. We have lost one Leslie countess to perfidy, but we will nae lose another, Adali. We’ll nae lose another!”

  Chapter 17

  Adali had not given the marquis of Hartsfield a straight routing. While Sithean lay near to Glenkirk, his next destination of Greyhaven would take him to a distant point, and then back again, and then to another distant point. Not being familiar with the countryside, however, Piers St. Denis did not realize the deception. He missed his brother’s company and felt unsafe with these Edinburgh cutthroats. Now he had to deal with them. There was no Kipp to stand between them. Where had he gone? He should be here looking after me as he promised our father, dammit, the marquis thought angrily, not considering the possibility his brother was gone for good.

  At Sithean he was again greeted with cordiality by the old earl and his wife. He was well fed and comfortably housed, and his men and horses were nicely cared for, but James Leslie and his wife were not at Sithean. Had they been?