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

by Alanna Knight

  'Where did your other maid go?'

  Marie stared at him. ‘Abigail, you mean? I have not the slightest idea. I knew nothing about her and I was not very interested, Tam.' She hesitated. 'Why do you ask? Is Aunt Beaton in need of another maid?'

  Tam smiled. 'No, I was just curious.'

  Marie's glance suggested she found his curiosity about a servant odd.

  The Queen's laughter drifted back to them once more. Bothwell was close at her side and she seemed happy.

  'Her Grace makes an excellent boy, do you not think so?' And when Tam agreed Marie went on, 'Sometimes I think she regrets that she was not born a prince instead of a princess. Scotland, she feels, would have been a safer place with a king. Her Grace has always enjoyed dressing as a boy and taking us along with her.' She laughed. 'One gets used to it. In happier times, with Lord Darnley,' she added sadly, 'she often roamed the streets and taverns of Edinburgh disguised as a boy. Once when he was awarded the Order of St Michael, Her Grace dressed in men's clothing to present the French ambassador with a dagger.'

  Now that Tam was getting used to the intense cold, grateful for the warm heat rising from Ajax, he was enjoying this new experience. The sunrise was magnificent and it was good to have Marie at his side in such a romantic setting, sharing as she did the Queen's happy childhood memories of the priory.

  'It was founded for a community of Augustinian canons by Walter Comyn, Earl of Menteith, in the thirteenth century, hoping to ensure by their perpetual prayers the salvation of his soul and the preservation of his dynasty. Such a religious endowment close by one of his principal residences at Inchtalla also provided a family burial place.'

  They had reached the lochside, the frozen water a wide stretch of amethyst in the early light.

  'See, over there. Inchmahome and the island to the right.' She pointed to a dark tower visible amid a tracery of winter trees. 'That is Inchtalla.'

  As the party gathered on the lochside, Bothwell instructed Tam to lead with the pages, followed by the Queen and her Maries, with himself bringing up the rear. Viewing with trepidation the wide expanse of ice before them, Tam had very mixed feelings about the crossing. Presumably Bothwell's choice was wise, if not tactful, since he and the pages would be considered the most expendable members of the group should disaster strike.

  For safety they rode gently, single file and well spaced. Even so, the ice seemed to vibrate with the weight of their horses and sometimes they stood still while it crackled alarmingly.

  Assured by Bothwell that such sounds meant nothing, at last Tam felt Ajax's feet touch the solid mass of the island. Turning, he breathed a sigh of relief, counting the riders as they came safely ashore.

  The six pages, the Queen, her Maries and Bothwell.

  Twelve. With himself that made - thirteen riders.

  Thirteen! He hoped and prayed that the Queen had not been counting. What would her reaction have been had she noticed this unlucky number at the outset of their journey as they gathered in the courtyard to leave the castle?

  From all accounts, she would certainly have considered it an ill omen and decided that they should postpone this particular journey until later. Which would not have been a bad thing, in Tam's opinion. And he suspected that others besides himself would have preferred their warm beds to facing the Queen's whim of a long ride in the icy dawn.

  There was no going back now, though, and the deadly number of riders was not commented upon. Perhaps he was the only person who had bothered to count, he thought, as they rode into the shadows of a rose-tinted morning, the silence broken by birds’ gentle twittering and a cow lowing.

  It was a scene of enchantment, a serene world where what remained of the priory after the Reformed Church’s orgy of destruction took on the semblance of an enchanted cathedral rising from the slowly lifting mists.

  The Augustinians, now depleted in numbers to six canons who strove gallantly to hold on to their lost world, came forward to greet the royal party. They were somewhat taken aback to discover the real identities of the ‘gentlemen from court’ at Stirling Castle they had been told to expect.

  The Queen, taking Bothwell’s hand, jumped down lightly from her horse and swept off her bonnet.

  Recognizing his royal visitor, Canon Malcolm bowed low and made to kneel before her: ‘God bless your Grace.’

  She put a hand on his arm. ‘Do not kneel to me, reverend sir.’ She laughed. ‘Do you not remember how kind you were to your Queen when she was a little girl, long ago?’

  He took her hand, kissed it. ‘You blessed us with your presence, Your Grace. There never was a lovelier little princess.’

  ‘Walk with me, if you please,’ said the Queen, and she took the old man’s arm. The pages were directed towards the stables with the horses, while the Queen and her Maries followed Canon Malcolm into the church, where a Mass was said to them.

  As Bothwell and Tam prepared to remain outside, they were tactfully ushered into a vaulted room off the cloisters, made welcome by a great fire with food and ale on the table.

  At Tam’s side one of the younger canons said, ‘Ours was once a silent order, our hermitic lives similar to those of monks. But of late we are less strictly enclosed and thus able to serve as parish priests on the mainland.’ Smiling, he added, ‘This is the warming room, so called because it has the only fireplace in the priory. In stricter times it was the one place where fires were allowed, even in winter. Here conversation was permitted and we were allowed to welcome guests.’

  Tam felt reassured that others besides himself were grateful on such a morning for bodily comforts and for that huge log fire, crackling in the hearth. When the royal party returned from Mass they too eagerly warmed their icy hands before it.

  Canon Malcolm said grace and with his juniors joined them in a plain but wholesome breakfast of freshly baked bread and cheese and ale.

  Appetites satisfied, they were beckoned to follow the Queen and the old man through the cloisters to where the day stair curved upwards into the west range. There the Queen indicated that she wished to go on alone.

  Marie whispered to Tam and led him outside. She looked up at the latticed windows above them.

  ‘That is the Prior’s lodging, where Her Grace stayed when she was a child and her mother feared for the future of Scotland and for her daughter,’ she said as the Queen leaned out, and smiling, waved to them.

  Moments later she emerged and walked over to where Marie and Tam were waiting. 'I wished to see it once more. Unlike the rest of us, it has remained unchanged.' She sighed wistfully. 'As for my lovely lodging, time has stood still. The same books, the same bed I slept in. Even after twenty years and a few more trees, I can still see the bower where we used to play as small children. Do you remember, Seton?'

  'I do indeed, Your Grace.'

  She beckoned to the three Maries. 'Come with me.' She smiled and glanced over her shoulder toward Bothwell, deep in conversation with Canon Malcolm. She made a small gesture indicating that this sentimental pilgrimage would be of scant interest to him.

  'You come too, Tam,' whispered Marie softly as they made their way across the ice-bound grass to a round hillock which thorn trees, interlaced overhead, had turned into a tiny bower.

  'Long ago, before the blessed saints came to Scotland and brought their message of Jesus Christ and our salvation,' said the Queen, 'legend had it that this was an enchanted island and our little bower here a fairy ring.' Clasping her hands, she smiled. 'This was a place where spells could be made and wishes granted.'

  'How we loved to play and pretend, Your Grace,' said Beaton.

  'And tell each other stories,' said Seton.

  'And try to guess what the future held,' said Livingstone, smiling contentedly from happy marriage and the fulfilment of motherhood.

  'We went further than that sometimes, when we told each other's fortunes from the playing cards,' said Fleming, soon to wed.

  The Queen sighed. 'God was good to us, for we knew little of what
lay ahead. The bounds of our lives were on this island. Beyond the lake, on the other side of the water, the world seemed very big, very scaring, but in our magic bower we were always safe.'

  'Protected by good fairies, some said,' Livingstone put in.

  The Queen sighed. 'Protected by angels too.'

  'Here we were safe with our dreams, Your Grace,' said Seton.

  'Safe from our nightmares,' said the Queen sadly, and put an arm around her. Then with one last look and a deep sigh, she kissed her fingers to the little bower and, followed by the Maries, started back to the priory.

  'A moment! I have dropped my glove,' said Seton at Tam's side. 'Come with me.'

  Her look was an invitation and he guessed the loss was no accident, for she knew exactly where she had left her glove as she said, 'Thank you,' and on impulse stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. 'That will be my memory of Inchmahome,' she said softly, and he took her into his arms, held her tightly and kissed her deeply. 'And that will be mine.'

  She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes. 'I am glad, Tam. For I do not imagine I shall ever return here. I wish to remember it as a time in my life when I loved.'

  'And when you were loved,' said Tam as he pulled her into his arms again.

  The kiss with Marie clinging close to him lasted longer than he intended and when at last he released her she touched his cheek.

  'Dear Tam, time is running out for us too, is it not?' She shivered. 'I can feel that even without Aunt Beaton's magic powers,' she said sadly. 'Soon we go our separate ways to our homes and families for Christmas. We all meet again in Stirling for Fleming's wedding on Twelfth Night. After that Aunt Beaton will take you back to Branxholm and who knows when we will meet again?'

  Tam had no answer to that and asked instead, 'When do you leave for Seton? You will spend Christmas there?'

  She looked at him and shook her head. 'That would have been so this year had my brother also been at home.' She hesitated. 'Her Grace goes to Drummond Castle, at Crieff. She wishes me to accompany her'

  'Is that your wish too?' he asked gently.

  She avoided his eyes. 'Adam Drummond has specially invited me. I will enjoy being at Drummond again. We went often when I was a child.' Another hesitation. 'I like Adam very much, Tam,' she added frankly.

  'Like?' Tam's eyebrows raised. 'Are you sure that is all, Marie?' He paused. 'I think he expects more of you than liking.'

  She smiled. Tam's observation had pleased her. 'Yes, I believe you are right. I was always fond of him and it was the intention of our families that we should marry when we were old enough. But then I went to France with the other Maries and as I grew older and was ready for marriage with Adam, I changed my mind. I knew I never wished to leave the Queen's service and that I would stay with her as long as she needed me.'

  Tam was silent and she took his hands. 'But my mind is changing yet again. And had I never met you, Tam, I think I would gladly marry Adam Drummond.'

  'You have answered my question, Marie. Escape to Drummond. Have a new and fulfilled life. You were made to be a wife and mother. Be like Fleming and Livingstone. Follow their example. You need not leave the Queen once you are wed.' He put a hand on her shoulder and said earnestly, 'Dear Marie, you deserve a bright and happy future. Take the opportunity that is being offered you.'

  Even as Tam advised her, he was aware that he had not read that future in her hand. There was a long lifeline, many lovers, but no marriage. But palmistry could lie, he told himself. He wanted her happiness and security above all things, the happiness and security he could never give her.

  Her face was sad and she sighed deeply as he continued, 'Our ways will part, Marie. As you said, I am for Branxholm with your Aunt Beaton. I am her servant, my life is hers to command. I have no other life.'

  He felt that Marie was unconvinced. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his lips gently.

  'Whatever happens, Tam, we can keep this, our one moment of magic. Nothing will ever spoil it.'

  'Nothing,' Tam promised, and picking up the bonnet which had slipped off during their embrace, he stroked her hair and said, 'But you must move on, Marie. Marry this young man who loves you.'

  ‘Tam—' she began to protest, and he cut her short.

  'Listen to me, dear one. Whatever lies ahead, I can never make you my wife, we both know that. There are many reasons. Firstly, I have nothing to offer you, even if by some miracle your family would permit our marriage.'

  And Marie bit her lip, knowing it was true, remembering the harsh lecture from her uncle, Sir Anthony Pieris, who had seen them not so innocently intentioned at the Queen's birthday.

  'I do not know what my life was before - before the night Lady Buccleuch rescued me from her grounds. Do you not see that when my memory returns, I might even have a wife - God knows, even a family of young children.'

  Marie raised tear-filled eyes. 'And I do not care a fig about that, or about being your wife. At this moment all I know is that I love you. That I seem to have loved you always, there was no beginning to it.' Her eyes explored his face and she shook her head sadly. 'For you are like no man I have ever known in my whole life.'

  Tam could think of no reply to that as she put her arms around him, laid her head on his chest. 'There are other ways of being together besides marriage, as you well know, Tam,' she whispered.

  'Not for you, Marie Seton,' he said firmly. 'You know you must wed according to the wishes of your family, some suitable man of noble birth equal to your own. A man like Adam Drummond.'

  Her tears overflowed then and he kissed them away gently. 'If you love me, Marie, promise you will make a good happy marriage. Promise.'

  She put her arms around him once more. 'My head knows you are right, Tam, but my heart - and my body - ache for you. Whatever the future holds for us both, you will always have a place in my heart.' Again she shivered, staring intently up into his face. 'Who are you, Tam? If I think too much about that, it scares me, and I do not know why. I only know I was carefree before I met you as I shall never now be carefree again.' Tearfully, she broke away from him, then said, 'It was so unfair of God or destiny, whatever we might call it, to let you come into our lives like this and change them. And then go away again.'

  Silently he held her. There were no words for either of them.

  At last Marie regained control over her tears. Blinking them away, she said, 'Before we join the others, there is something I want to show you.'

  Taking his hand, she ran lightly across the grass, through the cloisters and opened the door into the chapter house. She pointed to the grave slab of a knight carrying a spear and shield. 'That is Sir John Drummond, Adam's ancestor. The family were important benefactors of the priory. His father, Sir Malcolm, gave it his estate of Cardross in thanks for his release from English captivity.'

  Among the stone coffins of long-dead crusaders and priors lay a double effigy of a knight and a lady, their arms entwined, feet resting on a lion and a dog.

  'He is Walter, the first Earl of Menteith,' said Marie, 'and Mary, his Countess. They died three hundred years ago. As small girls, we all loved to come here, fascinated by them lying there still so much in love, in that last embrace for all eternity.'

  As they turned to leave the chapter house, Marie paused before Sir John Drummond's grave slab and looked up at Tam. 'I am glad we saw this together - that love can last for all eternity. A good omen, for the Drummonds are good people. They have always had close royal connections. Margaret Drummond was the favourite mistress of Her Grace's grandfather King James the Fourth. Rumour had it that they were secretly married and she bore him a daughter. Alas, she and her two sisters, Euphemia and Sibilla, were poisoned, probably by those who saw her as an obstacle in the way of the King's more expedient political marriage to Margaret Tudor.'

  'Where did all this happen?'

  ‘At Drummond Castle one Christmas, I believe.'

  Drummond Castle didn't sound a happy or safe place for Mary Stuart either, Tam thought,
asking cautiously, 'Is Lord Darnley to be there?

  'No one knows. He has not accepted the invitation.'

  ‘And Lord Bothwell?'

  'He goes to Liddesdale, I believe.'

  A sudden crash from the outside, the sound of heavy stone falling against heavy stone, as if masonry had collapsed. A shout.

  'Dear God.' said Tam. 'What was that?'

  Taking Marie's hand, he ran lightly back over the grass to join the others standing outside the chapterhouse wall.

  Bothwell staggered over towards them, stared upwards, white-faced. The Queen rushed forward and cried out his name.

  Bothwell looked dazed. ‘A stone fell. There –' He touched it with his foot. 'It missed me by inches.'

  Eyes turned to the piece of masonry, which had cracked in two. No one could have survived its impact.

  'An accident, my Lord. Most unfortunate,' said one of the canons. 'The building is sadly in need of repair. The winter weather, the freezing and thawing, affects the old cloisters. But repairs of such magnitude cost money and our coffers are empty.'

  From the direction of the ferry landing, the sound of a horn indicated that the pages were waiting with their horses.

  Bothwell said, 'That is the signal. Madam, we must leave now. Soon it will be dark.'

  At Tam's side, Marie whispered, 'I fear Her Grace has forgotten she has to give final audience to the ambassadors before they leave tomorrow.'

  The short winter day was drawing to a close, the sun sinking towards the horizon. As they walked towards the waiting horses, Bothwell took Tam aside.

  ‘A word with you. I have just seen Will Fellows.'

  ‘Will Fellows, my Lord?'

  'Aye. The same, or his double.'

  At Tam's incredulous look, he said impatiently, 'There is naught wrong with my eyes, Eildor. I ken what I saw. I tried to follow him and that was when the stone fell. Someone tried to kill me, let us make no bones about that. It was no accident.'

  'A moment, my Lord.' Tam was bewildered. 'Did you say Will Fellows - here?'