Dagger in the Crown (Tam Eildor mystery no.1)

by Alanna Knight

  Chapter Eleven

  Morham. Friday 13 December 1566. Noon

  Dawn had settled into the promise of a bright cold day as Tam started off on his thirty-mile ride from Branxholm back to Craigmillar hoping to join the last of the baggage train leaving for Stirling Castle. He felt it imperative to visit Morham again and make the acquaintance of Mistress Sinclair, on the off chance that she would have knowledge of her sister's whereabouts. Or at least confirm that she was still in Norway, taking care of her widowed mother.

  He had not intended spending so long at Branxholm, but his plans had been frustrated by bad weather that, though it might have been expected at this time of year, had not been foreseen by Janet Beaton, despite her legendary powers in other matters concerning the future.

  Worsening conditions had put paid to activities both in and out of the castle. Being slowed down by places and tenants made inaccessible after a heavy fall of snow was one thing, but considerable effort was also needed to re-establish order within a household rapidly descending into chaos in the continued absence of Lady Buccleuch or an active steward on the premises.

  Tam spent his time overseeing repairs to the roof - buckets and pans were in constant demand to keep the rooms dry - having larders replenished from dovecotes, shooting wild game and hares on the estate. He was fortunate in the knowledge that the icehouse could be relied upon.

  Because of the transience of his visit, in desperation Tam sought the advice and assistance of the old steward, Mark Scott, concerning tenancy life-rents, documents relating to a contested legacy from one of Lady Buccleuch's uncles and further complications offered by the opposed dowry from the second marriage of her eldest daughter.

  At Mark Scott's bedside sat his grandson Jacob, working as a carpenter on the estate. An intelligent young man, last of a family who had served Branxholm for generations, Jacob had benefited from his grandfather's teaching and had inherited his way with words and figures.

  His eagerness to be helpful brought Tam to a decision to appoint the twenty-year-old as temporary steward. Jacob was delighted, proud to take on the responsibility. Any passing doubts Tam might have had, were assuaged by the knowledge that his grandfather could advise from his sick-bed and, in an emergency, supply the requisite knowledge.

  Also in his favour, as far as Tam was concerned, was the fact that Jacob was on amiable terms with other members of the household, most of whom had known him since childhood and, newly married, his young wife held a position of authority in the kitchens.

  It was the best Tam could do in the circumstances until Lady Buccleuch's return from Stirling, and he hoped she would approve of his decision. Jacob Scott was such an obvious choice and while wondering why it had not occurred to his grandfather to put forward his name as his successor, Tam also recognized this as a matter of some urgency, similar to the preparation of a last will and testament.

  Of one thing he was certain: his time here was limited and he would not remain the Branxholm steward indefinitely. One day memory of his past existence must return, to unleash its disruptive elements on his present life.

  Involved with his thoughts he almost missed the road down to Morham, but it was almost as if his horse knew the way. No horseman, Tam was learning respect for Janet's fine bay, Ajax. With time at his disposal, he might even come to regard riding as a pleasure, rather than a gruelling and uncomfortable necessity, since horses were the swiftest means of travel available.

  Even the Queen and her Maries rode everywhere, whenever possible. Litters and unwieldy carriages were only for sick women and the elderly.

  As he approached the courtyard at Morham, he saw that the iron gates were firmly closed. Waiting for a servant to answer the clanging bell's noisy summons, he remembered fondly that other arrival just a few days earlier with the two Maries, familiar visitors who arrived informally by way of the walled garden and who would now be comfortably installed at Stirling with their royal mistress.

  He tried not to dwell on the long weary ride ahead of him and concentrate instead on the pleasant prospect at the end of it. The joy of seeing Marie Seton again.

  Meanwhile, he was growing impatient, as no servant had appeared. The courtyard beyond the gate looked ominously deserted and, with an unhappy feeling that his journey was in vain, he rang the bell vigorously once again - this time with more success. A liveried footman appeared and peered at him resentfully through the iron bars.

  Without any attempt at opening the gate, the man demanded his business. On being told that Master Tam Eildor wished to see Lady Morham, he answered, 'Lady Morham is away from home.'

  'When do you expect her to return?'

  The man shrugged and gave Tam a superior look. 'I have no instructions regarding Her Ladyship's return.'

  'Have you no idea? Today - tomorrow?' said Tam desperately.

  'I believe we might expect her in a few days.'

  Turning to leave, Tam remembered the real reason for his visit. 'Mistress Sinclair? Perhaps she will see me.'

  'No,' was the firm reply.

  'She is not at home?'

  The man shrugged. ‘I believe she is at present with Lady Morham.'

  'Would you know their destination?' Tam asked. ‘I am a friend of Lord Bothwell, I visited Lady Morham last week with Lady Seton and Lady Fleming.'

  Where all else had failed, mention of his illustrious friends worked wonders. The man's grim expression softened. 'Ah, sir, yes of course, I do recall your visit. I understand there is a birthday party at Traquair. Master William has been invited and it is a rare thing for the lad to have the chance of the company of other bairns.'

  Perhaps aware he was saying too much of what was common gossip in the kitchens, he paused, cleared his throat and added, 'However, sir, if your business is urgent. . .'

  Tam thanked him and left. Wishing he could think up some valid excuse to appear, uninvited, at Traquair, deep in thought he headed back towards the Edinburgh road.

  An hour later, when he should have been within sight of Craigmillar, Tam wondered seriously if he had lost the way. The sun was slipping towards the horizon and the sky had darkened ominously. Often now as he paused and looked over his shoulder, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck told him that he was being followed.

  Urging Ajax on, he realized he had completely ignored the perils of travelling alone in this wild area. He had not given it much consideration leaving Branxholm, as the area was very much under Bothwell's surveillance and jurisdiction. His safety had been assured with the mosstroopers, who departed at Branxholm without any questions relating to his return to Craigmillar. Presumably it had been expected of him to arrange such matters, instead of setting off without a thought to the dangers that might beset a lone traveller.

  Too late now.

  Even as he panicked, the bushes around him erupted into several men who rushed forward and seized his bridle. Using his whip, he fought them off, determined to leave his mark if this was to be his fate. He kicked out with his feet too, but only succeeded in unseating himself. As he fell to the ground, they were on him, punching and kicking.

  'The horse, get it,' someone yelled, but Ajax was away, racing through the wood.

  'Come along, you,' another cried.

  They dragged him to his feet.

  So they weren't about to rob and kill him on the spot, that was a relief. They led him through the trees and into a small encampment, with a very smoky fire and the smell of unappetizing cooking.

  His eyes smarted and, when the mists cleared, he saw he was surrounded by a group of rough-looking customers, distinguished by heads of varying shades of red hair.

  He groaned inwardly. He had fallen foul of the Red Crozers. Struggling in vain as they bound him hand and foot to the nearest tree, his mind worked rapidly, only to reach the conclusion that whatever their purpose in taking him prisoner, he need entertain little hope of escape. Especially when one of the men came forward and pressed a murderous-looking knife point against his throat.
<
br />   'Where's Archie?' he demanded.

  'Archie,' gasped Tam. 'I don't know any Archie.'

  There was a growl of disbelief as the man turned to others who had moved closer.

  An exceedingly pretty, very young, very pregnant girl with long red hair pushed her way to the front. 'Let me have that knife, father. I'll soon make him talk.'

  Tam gulped. He had no doubt that she would. She looked even fiercer than her father, at that moment having the knife wrested from his grasp.

  'Hold on,’ said Tam desperately. 'Hold on. Who is this Archie? I don't think I've had the pleasure—'

  Angry derision greeted this denial and shouts of 'Kill him, kill him!' The girl stepped forward in an unmistakably menacing fashion, urged on - if she needed urging - by the more bloodthirsty members of her family.

  'You are making a terrible mistake,' said Tam frantically as she stood on tiptoe and the knife point, inexpertly held, drew blood. He felt it trickle down his neck.

  'It's yersel makin' the mistake, takin' Archie.'

  Tam moved his head back as far as possible, but the tree was in the way. The knife hovered. The girl was enjoying herself.

  'Is Archie your husband?' he demanded.

  She stared up into his face and her lip quivered. 'Tell him, father, tell him afore I slit his throat.'

  'There, there, lass.' The violent man showed some tenderness, putting his arm around her.

  The action suggested there might be sense here at last, and Tam appealed to him, in what could be his last chance. 'For God's sake, man. Who is Archie - is he your son?'

  'Nay. His father's gone long sine. We've had the caring for Jenny since she was a wee lass and they were to have been wed twa' days sine. We had all prepared, the minister brought - and Archie never came.'

  'He never came!' screamed the jilted bride. 'Bastard!'

  Tam had a moment's fleeting hope. 'The minister - Mr Cauldwell - can explain. It is him?'

  'Aye, who else?'

  'He can tell you what happened.'

  'Can he now?' A mirthless grin. 'He's ower there. He's been here a wee while now, persuaded to wait for Archie.'

  And Tam's relief was short-lived as the group stood aside and he beheld an unhappy-looking Mr Cauldwell seated uncomfortably on the edge of a large boulder. His hands behind his back, doubtless firmly tied, he himself, was as much a prisoner as Tam.

  'Jenny wanted it all proper, ye ken, wi' the bairn an' all. There's money in it,' said her father, his eyes gleaming. 'Frae an' auld granny. Born on the wrong side o' the blanket was Jenny and she has tae be married afore her eighteenth birthday. That's today.'

  'Haud yer whisht, father!' This from Jenny, pushing him aside and flourishing the knife in Tam's face. 'We're wastin' time, let me get at him.'

  Light was beginning to glimmer through the darkness for Tam. He glanced across the clearing towards the minister, who shook his head sadly. His heavenward glance indicated that prayers were in order and that there was no other help to be expected from their captors.

  'Wait, I tell you!' Tam shouted. His voice still had enough authority to halt the girl's hand. 'Did Mr Cauldwell tell you that Archie had been last seen taking a cart carrying a corpse towards Edinburgh?'

  ‘Aye, he did that.' And Archie's father took Jenny's arm, held it fast. 'Ben Fellows' corpse. He telt us that a scholar-like man from the castle had been interested in Archie. The woodcutters had the same tale, so that's why you're here.'

  Further incensed by this dramatic story, the girl shook off the restraining hand and lunged towards Tam.

  'Tell me, tell me what have you done wi' Archie -and what's to become o' me wi' a fatherless bairn.'

  'Give over, Jenny,' said her father, trying without success to remove the knife from her grasp. 'Yell no be the first lass left wi' a bairn. We'll tak care o' ye, like we always have.'

  By standing on tiptoe, Jenny brought her face close to Tam's. In happier circumstances, he would not have found such a pretty face unappealing. However, as she tickled his throat with the knife, he decided Archie's disappearance had been occasioned by second thoughts. If that was the case, then Archie had done well to escape while he could from what promised to be a trying married life.

  Jenny was still staring up into his face. ‘A handsome well-set-up cheil, ye are, mister,' she said, her voice suddenly soft and feminine. ‘An' I have a fancy for a husband.' Turning to her father, she said sharply, 'He'll do. I'll marry him.'

  'What about Archie?' her father asked. Hardly surprising, he sounded scandalized at this sudden decision.

  'What about ma legacy? Tae hell wi' Archie, father. He's let me down, again. Promised marriage months sine.' Again she regarded Tam, narrowly looking him over as Her Grace the Queen might have considered an enticing addition to her riding stables. ‘I need a man - this day. This fine cheil will do just grand.' And pointing to the minister, 'Have him to do the necessary, make the document for me to put my mark, so I can claim ma legacy,' she added imperiously.

  'Wait a moment!' Tam began to protest and the knife drew blood.

  'Ye wanted to say something, fine mannie? De ye no fancy me as wife to ye? I'm grand in the bed, so I'm told,' she purred.

  With the proof of such activity clear before him, Tam had little doubt about that.

  'She can skin a hare too. And bake fine bread,' put in the anxious father, eager to be helpful. And fine pleased with such a peaceful solution, he rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘Aye, young sir, and I give my consent. What d'ye say?'

  With a knife held at his throat by his now promised bride Tam was speechless.

  'Ye have the look of an honest man,' his prospective father-in-law continued in a wheedling tone. 'We dinna see a deal o' them aboot, so if we give you yer life back, will ye take Jenny?'

  Getting his life back was an attractive prospect, but the price of a marriage alliance with the Crozers was a little more than he was prepared to pay. The matter needed careful consideration and an escape clause. He decided to play for time.

  He smiled down at Jenny. 'First of all, if you'll please stay calm and put that knife away, I'll tell you all I know about Archie.'

  He wondered if this was a wise move, that telling them about Ben Fellows' devoted niece and the reappearing corpse in the waters of Duddingston Loch might spell his own doom, for it hardly sounded believable even to himself. And by the way Jenny was looking him over, in anticipation of forthcoming ownership, he had a suspicion she was rapidly going off the idea of waiting for Archie.

  But not quite. Mention of the cart and the fine Edinburgh lady brought forth a shrill scream of anger. 'I telt ye, father. Archie was always one to be led away by a sniff o' the gentry. He'll be in her bed right now,' she added with a stifled sob. 'The bastard!'

  'Hush, Jenny lass. Hear the, er, gentleman out.'

  But by the time he had reached the end of the story, the Crozers, and particularly Jenny, had lost interest. There were roars of, 'Get on wi' the weddin', Jenny lass!'

  They don't even know my name, thought Tam, but that was soon to be remedied. A young man who might well be Jenny's brother had led Mr Cauldwell from the boulder. The minister's hands, now untied, were clutching a prayer book, which trembled a lot as he was pushed forward.

  Tam realized this was also his last chance. Once released from his bonds, he would put up a brave but useless fight that would no doubt end with his death.

  But he was to be denied even that privilege. A reluctant bridegroom, as a matter of caution he was to remain where he was, tied to a tree. And once the ceremony was ended, he decided grimly, Jenny would probably kill him anyway if he attempted to desert her.

  Now she stood at his side. The Crozers gathered. Mr Cauldwell, urged on by a knife at his back, opened the prayer book.

  'Dearly beloved brethren,' he spluttered inappropriately, for fewer men in his parish had ever been less dearly beloved, or less brethren. 'We are gathered here together. . .'

  This couldn't be happening, thought Ta
m. For dear God's sake, and he began to struggle again. He was ignored.

  ' ... to witness the joining in marriage of this man and this woman.' He paused. 'I do not recall your name, sir.' He looked towards Tam.

  As Tam considered giving a false name that would at least make the marriage invalid, the air was suddenly split by a piercing whistle. To his astonishment, and that of Mr Cauldwell, his congregation melted away. Where there had been a bride and two dozen hopeful wedding guests, there were now only a smoky lire, an unhappy minister and a reluctant bridegroom tied to a tree.

  'Wait,' Tam shouted, and to Mr Cauldwell, 'For God's sake, untie me.' With trembling hands, the minister fumbled with the stout ropes in a way that suggested he had never untied even a piece of string in his entire existence.

  'Make haste!' pleaded Tam.

  Whoever had caused the instant flight of the Crozers must be an even fiercer foe. He didn't think he could face another such ordeal. Then the silence around them was broken by the distant drumbeat of horses' hooves growing steadily nearer. Still trussed up like a chicken, Tam struggled to free himself, but managed only to make Mr Cauldwell's efforts more ineffectual.

  It was no use. 'Go, man - run,' he said. 'Save yourself.’

  Mr Cauldwell moved indecisively from one foot to the other.

  'Go, I tell you. Save yourself while there's time.'

  As the minister obstinately shook his head and squared his shoulders bravely, Tam tried not to think of the fresh horrors that were rapidly heading their way.

  A rival surname, stronger, better-armed than the Crozers. He groaned. That was it. No chance of dying bravely now.

  But only four horsemen rode into the clearing. Steel-helmeted, jacked, armed. Bothwell's mosstroopers. And Ajax on a leading rein.

  'Thank God,' was the minister's answer to his prayer.

  'Would you please release me?' said Tam, weak with relief as one of the men approached and, with a sharp knife, proceeded to loosen the ropes. Another sauntered over, chatting amiably to Mr Cauldwell, who was only too eager to give a graphic account of what had happened.