The man came back, joined his companions and grinned at Tam's discomfort. 'Uncle Davy sez ye nearly got your gizzard cut that time, Master Eildor. And got yourself a wife and bairn into the bargain.'
All four chortled, seemed to think this a splendid jest, as Tam stepped out of the last of the ropes that had bound him with as much dignity as was left to him. There seemed little point in outraged indignation. He was, at that moment, getting used to the bliss of still being alive.
He dabbed at the trickle of blood from his throat. 'You were just in time. Thank you.'
The man laughed. 'Dinna thank us, Master Eildor. Twas yon horse of yours, riding about the countryside. A valuable beast, and riderless, telt us that ye were in trouble. We were on the road to Craigmillar, so we backtracked wi' him and - here we are.'
Mr Cauldwell left them at the crossroads, escorted home by his nephew, after bidding farewell to Jock Hepburn, as he addressed the leader of the mosstroopers. His leavetaking of Tam was dignified, just a trifle stiff and reproachful, as if Tam were responsible for the indignities that had befallen them. As for Tam, he whispered words of gratitude to Ajax, who snorted down his neck.
'Ye should have telt us when you meant to leave Branxholm and we would have collected ye,' said Jock Hepburn sternly. 'Onyways, we'll see ye delivered safe hack to Craigmillar. If ye're no too hurt to ride. We have orders to head for Stirling at daybreak.'
'I don't wish to put you to any inconvenience,' said Tam, rather put out by being treated like a helpless infant. 'If you set me on the right road, I will manage the rest of the way back.'
Jock shook his head. 'Ye canna ride this territory single-handed and unarmed, man. That's begging for double - trouble like the Crozers.'
'Ye're a stranger here,' put in his second companion. 'Ye need protection.'
'Or a sword,' said the third.
The mosstroopers had never been so voluble.
So Tam remounted Ajax, conscious of his usual lack of skill, to some shaking of heads and restrained mirth from his escort. But the horse was patient and understanding, having obviously sized him up and made due allowance for this poor specimen of humankind.
As they made their way back to the castle, Bothwell's men once more relapsed into their customary silence. Occasionally they reined in and looked back to see that Tam was following them, making him feel like a child out on its first pony. Had he not been grateful to them for his survival, such behaviour would have raised his indignation, but today he was too weary to care a fig for their damned opinions. He would have been a lesser man indeed had he not been aware of a very narrow escape from oblivion. Mr Cauldwell would have approved of him counting his blessings. Alive and breathing, unharmed, and without a wife and an imminent babe to add to his problems.
As Craigmillar Castle came in sight, he was already looking forward to a peaceful interlude at last. The much vaunted intuition that he had relied on failed completely to warn him otherwise.
Part Two
Stirling Castle
‘I know for certain that this Queen repenteth her marriage, that she hateth Darnley and all his kin. I know there are practices in hand contrived between father and son to come by the crown against her will. Many things grievouser and worse [than the murder of Rizzio] are brought to my ears, yea, of things intended against her person.’
- Thomas Randolph, English spy, to the Earl of Leicester
Chapter Twelve
Saturday 14 December 1566. Evening
As Tam with Bothwell and his mosstroopers crossed the bogland and approached Stirling, the light of many torches on the castle's high rock heralded their approach. A sight to gladden the hearts of the travellers, not least the last of the royal baggage train, with the few remaining servants from Craigmillar, all exhausted by the rigours of the journey.
As they rode wearily up the steep twisting hill to the castle, through a babel of shrill voices, they could scarcely negotiate the narrow streets blocked by whole retinues of important foreign personages. Invited for the Prince's christening, all were desperately and vociferously demanding lodgings.
Latecomers were included in the throng, of many strange hues and in many exotic liveries, adding to the turmoil by seizing local passers-by despairingly in one last hope for a bed anywhere. But heads were shaken dolefully, since none understood them and they understood none.
For this particular christening, there was no room at any inn.
Tam groaned. His head ached and his backside was raw, as if the bones were coming through the skin after two days' hard riding through every kind of weather God invented over drove roads that had ceased to exist, washed away by rain or vanished under seas of mud.
Such conditions were not for the inexpert horseman. He had to admit that, although he had no love of horses, he was changing his mind, grateful as an understanding grew between the exhausted rider who often fell asleep in the saddle and the patient, long-suffering Ajax.
When at last they reached the castle forecourt, Tam's irritation at being stopped and challenged fell narrowly short of abuse. To that particular officious sentry, he felt their destination and reason for arriving must have been painfully obvious. Finally allowed access, they dismounted and were led to where the royal apartments formed three sides of a quadrangle.
The central courtyard was known as the Lion's Den, in honour of its ancient occupant, a king of the jungle of uncertain years and unreliable disposition. The pet of Mary's grandfather King James IV, it had been presented to him as a playful and engaging cub, the gift of some long-forgotten foreign potentate or ambassador. The King refused to part with this lovable creature, ignoring ferocious maturity when it demolished, and subsequently relished, the occasional servant unfortunate enough to wander into its domain.
Thus the lion earned itself territorial rights of the central courtyard. The King, beseeched to provide a secure iron cage, refused to listen, not from sentiment but because, as he pointed out, in such anxious times a king might sleep peacefully at night guarded by such a fierce deterrent beneath his windows whose occasional roars of frustration rocked the entire building.
As Tam and the riders trooped round the high walls of the enclosure, the jungle smell from within persuaded Tam that even in its declining years, the King's lion was not an adversary he would have cared to meet in a rapid descent from the royal apartments above them.
Now from those regal windows came noises of a different and less threatening nature. Snatches of lute music (being practised somewhat inexpertly) and raised voices in speeches (being prepared somewhat frantically) drifted down to them, as well as assorted shrill screams and curses accompanying the moving of furniture in preparation for Tuesday's great event.
Tam's head ached. He longed to rest it on a soft pillow, to close his eyes, he didn't much care where. Any place, he decided, would be better than the abominable lodgings en route, the cold wet tavern floor, with a single blanket against the freezing draughts that had been his last inhospitable sojourn.
All of Scotland was, it seemed, on the move, heading in the direction of Stirling. The high price extracted by the innkeeper had been the final insult, told that sir was luckier than some persons of influence who had to sleep in the barn with their horses.
At the door of the royal apartments he was again challenged. Assuring the guard that he was Lady Buccleuch's steward, he saw Ajax led to the stables and was pointed in the direction of a turnpike stair, at the top of which were the servants' quarters, he was told.
'How far is it?' Tam asked wearily.
The cheerful response was just to keep going, he'd get there eventually and be thankful, when he remembered the crowds outside who would envy him.
Such a warning didn't seem promising and, fearing the worst, he had climbed about forty steps when a door opened and Janet Beaton poked her head out.
'God's name, Tam, where have you been?' She ushered him inside. 'What kept you? You should have been here days ago. Is all well at Branxholm? What about the roof
?' she demanded anxiously.
He leaned against the wall for support, trying to answer coherently her barrage of questions one at a time.
She stopped speaking. He looked dreadful and she put a warm hand on his arm. 'Poor Tam, I see ye're weary. Never mind the details, come and sit by the fire.'
Tam was delighted, past words of gratitude, to see a roaring fire once more and he stood by it, letting its heat flow over his aching bones.
'Drink this.' Janet thrust a posset of some fiery herbal liquid of her own invention into his hands.
It burned his throat on the way down, but by some magic made him feel considerably better. Remarkable, he thought, as she indicated a chair.
‘Take off those boots, Tam.'
Thanking her, he did so gladly, as she said, 'Now, tell me all.'
Disposing of domestic matters concerning Branxholm, he was pleased that she offered no objections to his appointing Jacob Scott as temporary steward without her consent.
'I had him in mind before you arrived,' she said to Tam's relief. 'He will do fine till we return.' And refilling his goblet with more of the fiery liquid, she asked, 'When did you leave?'
He told her and when he reached his ambush by the Crozers, she listened sympathetically, with occasional exclamations of horror.
'My Lord Bothwell will be interested. I expect his lads will pass on the news.' She paused and shook her head sadly. 'I have seen little of him of late. He is much involved in preparations for the christening, as ye ken, and hardly ever leaves the Queen's side. Much to Lord Darnley's disgust, I am told, since he was hoping to have his conjugal rights restored - and with some enthusiasm. It has been several weeks since they went their separate ways - the Queen to Craigmillar and himself to his father's house in Glasgow. He laments that his wife now refuses to grace his bed.'
Tam said nothing and she took his hand, held it tight. 'I like not this situation between them. I fear for the future, Tam.' And with a shake of her head, 'It is in my bones, something I cannot shake off, something I dread. I wish we were back safe in Branxholm. I am so sick of living at court, sick of intrigue, of plot and counterplot.' She threw her arms wide. 'I long for good clean air to breathe, for simple fare - and a simple life as it was before all this.' Then, regarding him through narrowed eyes, she whispered, 'I am lonely, Tam, that's the truth of it.'
How could anyone be lonely in the midst of such activity? Tam thought. After the discomforts, the miseries of never being alone day or night, during the last hectic days of travel, loneliness, a solitary state, was infinitely to be desired. One he would have welcomed, as she went on.
'I feel deserted, abandoned, as I have never done in my life before.' She paused and looked at him. 'Where do you sleep tonight?'
When he told her she raised her eyebrows in horror. 'God's name, not in that draughty hellhole, full of fleas and stinking humanity. They're crowding twenty or thirty servants to a room. Nay, Tam, I willna have that for ye. I wouldna put a dog o' mine up there.' She smiled and said softly, 'You shall sleep here tonight.'
Tam bowed. 'As you wish, madam.'
She grinned. 'Not madam, Tam, just Janet. We are friends - and more, remember?' she whispered with an arch glance, and Tam knew there was no mistaking her meaning.
The fiery liquid had restored him quite amazingly, but he was doubtful whether his performance as a lover would be equal to the occasion. In all honesty, given a choice, he would have opted for a less exhausting role and a good night's sleep.
But the offer of sharing that warm, inviting bed at the far side of the room, with fine linen sheets and soft feather pillows, was irresistible. His only prayer was that Lord Bothwell would not be feeling lonely too and have a sudden amorous urge to surprise his mistress. He would not be the only one surprised, thought Tam grimly, deciding he had no wish to pay for his comfortable night's lodging and pleasuring of Janet Beaton with an irate lover's dagger in his ribs.
He awoke in darkness. He had been dreaming that he was in bed with Marie Seton at his side. He had been making love to her. The sound of gentle breathing stirred him, but it was Janet's head on the pillow beside him. Her arms were tight around him and he could not move without disturbing her.
He closed his eyes and drifted back into sleep again.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday 15 December 1566. Morning
Janet awoke him with a posset of ale and some bread. 'Break your fast, Tam, quick as you like. The Queen has summoned you.'
'The Queen?' asked Tam dazedly.
'Aye. News of your arrival has reached her. That is all I know. You are to attend her at noon.' She paused a moment before adding, 'Her Grace is very upset. One of her pet dogs died last night. I think it was poisoned,’ she added grimly.
'Poisoned? Who would do that? Are you certain?'
'Aye.' Janet nodded. 'This is just between us, Tam, and I am at pains to keep it from Her Grace, but I believe the poison was meant for my Lord Bothwell. They were having supper together - alone - and a dish of sweetmeats had been brought in after the main dishes had been cleared.' She shook her head grimly. 'Some of them were undoubtedly poisoned.'
Tam took another gulp of ale. He didn't feel so hungry any more. Poison in the royal apartment opened up a number of alarming and sinister possibilities.
'The Queen?'
'Her Grace knows nothing of this. You were unconscious - you sleep like the dead, Tam - when I was sent for. Her fat little spaniel Ado - short for Adonis - had been very sick.'
'Odd that she should send for you in the middle of the night.'
'Not at all. I frequently take care of her sick pets. She has great faith in my herbs for animals as well as humans. My powers, as a worker of miraculous cures, are at her disposal any hour of the day or night. That is why I am invited to accompany her, Tam.' She sighed. 'By the time I got there, the poor beast was beyond my help. He was dead.'
'My Lord Bothwell was present?' Tam asked.
She shook her head and smiled. 'Nay. He had left earlier, discreetly and before any of this happened - fortunately. Her Grace was in floods of tears, inconsolable, the Maries comforting her. I examined the dog, and by the smell of the vomit I knew it had been poisoned. I took my niece Beaton aside asked what had happened.
'"Poor little Ado was greedy," she told me. "He can smell sweetmeats and no one can stop him stealing them. He gobbled down that whole dish of marchpane while our backs were turned, in less than the time it has taken me to tell you."’ Janet sighed. 'I guessed the poisoning had been deliberate but I wanted to spare Her Grace, so I said it looked as if he had eaten too much and choked on his vomit. I pointed out tactfully that he was an old dog. I didna mention that he was overfed and too fat.' She looked at Tam intently. 'Ye get the drift of this, nae doubt, Tam?'
He nodded and she went on. 'I didna care to confide my true thoughts. This is a very serious matter, one that goes far beyond poisoning her pet dog.'
'You're telling me someone tried to poison the Queen, is that it?' Tam demanded sharply.
'Nay, Tam. Not the Queen. All who are responsible for her food ken that she rarely eats sweetmeats and she hates marchpane. But marchpane just happens to be Lord Bothwell's favourite.' She sighed. 'Everyone who has eaten at a banquet with him knows that.'
'So it was meant for him.'
'Aye.'
'He must have had a lucky escape - to say nothing of the Maries,' he added as the appalling thought struck him. Did Seton have a taste for marchpane sweetmeats?
Janet nodded. 'Whoever put poison in them was clever, kenned fine that Her Grace wouldna touch them and kens that none of the Maries are greedy. They have their tight bodices and their whalebones to contend with. One or two wouldna hurt them or any grown person, beyond feeling a mite sick. But that would be more than enough to poison a small dog.' Her voice trembled. And a whole dish would have been fatal for Lord Bothwell.'
While making good use of Janet's portable bathtub and a razor, which he presumed to be the prop
erty of Lord Bothwell, Tam considered Janet's words. It was evident that Bothwell had been the target and from someone who was well acquainted with his habits and the Queen's. Someone very close who hated them both.
But who? A body servant, bribed by the Queen's half-brother Lord James? A jealous angry wife, Lady Jean Gordon, who was present for the christening but occupied her own apartments? Lord Darnley, the estranged husband? Tam weighed up the possibilities as he presented himself at the Queen's apartments.
Marie Seton was awaiting him in the anteroom with Jean Gordon, at that moment leaving the royal presence. And smiling for once, she said, 'I have now settled the question of gowns with Her Grace, Seton. The decision was hers and fortunately it is my own favourite, the one she gave me for my own wedding last year.'
As a bowing Tam held open the door for her, she acknowledged his action with an icy glance and turned again to Marie. 'And how is my maid? Is she serving you well?'
'She is, my lady. I am grateful to you.' Watching the door close on Lady Jean, Tam considered that the introduction of a new maid into the royal apartments, allegedly to serve Marie Seton, might be a matter worth investigating. Who had better opportunity to be the purveyor of poisoned sweetmeats? And who knew better the weakness of Lady Jean's husband for marchpane than her maid?
Kissing Marie's hand, he tried to push aside his anxiety and not feel guilty that he had been unfaithful to his dream. For such was Marie's role in his life. A dream, where Janet Beaton was the only solid part of his existence. Loving Janet could not destroy her, as it could Marie.
She was saying, 'Her Grace will be so glad to learn that you have arrived safely. She is most taken with your singing and has asked for you constantly,' she added proudly. 'She wishes you to practise some ballads with her. Perhaps you will be invited to take part in the entertainment after the christening.'
Dagger in the Crown (Tam Eildor mystery no.1) Page 11
