by Amanda Scott
“It wasna so much seeing, mistress,” Peg said. “ ’Twas hearing his voice first and seeing his face after.”
“Ah,” Jenny said. “I, too, heard a familiar voice but did not believe my ears.”
“Nay, for what would one o’ them be a-doing here?”
“Who?” Hugh demanded.
Peg looked at Jenny. “Did ye tell him about them, mistress?”
“Aye,” Jenny said. “So tell us who you saw today.”
“ ’Twas one o’ them English from Lochmaben, me lord. The ones…” Again she looked to Jenny for reassurance.
Hugh said, “The men who accosted the two of you by the garderobe?”
“Aye,” Peg said, looking relieved that he did know. “The one who grabbed me today were one o’ them for sure.”
“And the man calling himself Bowyer is the other one,” Jenny said. “His face has been teasing me since I first saw him with Reid. But at Lochmaben he was just another man-at-arms, one who did not talk much. And although I fear you will say I am still dreaming, I think his may be one of the voices in my dream.”
Hugh said, “Have you heard his voice since, to compare?”
“I don’t know, but just before the man who grabbed Peg spoke to her, I heard a similar voice yell, ‘Beware ahead, lads, let be!’ Reid said he saw Bowyer rush away from there, so he may be the one who shouted. You did suggest that the voices in my dream may have been English, sir, like Cuddy’s. What’s more, Cath said Cuddy’s cousin Drogo is here somewhere, and he is also English.”
Peg said, “But why would that Bowyer warn anyone that Sir Hugh were coming? Them English canna ken that ye be married to him.”
“You forget, Peg, that Lochmaben is where Hugo and I first sang together,” Jenny said. “The way we sang the love song was one of the reasons you and the others thought we’d make a good match. Moreover, I am wearing the same kirtle I wore then, and Sir Hugh is wearing breeks and a jack-o’-plate that any Borderer might, with no sign of his rank. He needed only look as if he took interest in us to scare them away, particularly if they harbored ill intent toward us.”
Peg raised her eyebrows at that. “He did look right fierce, mistress.”
“Bowyer also knows Reid, and he was with me,” Hugh reminded them, knowing how fierce he must have looked even before he had seen Jenny. “If they are up to mischief here, they doubtless recognized you two from Lochmaben and tried to grab you to keep you from identifying them as English men-at-arms.”
Jenny explained her suspicion to Peg that someone was plotting mischief or worse against Archie the Grim. “I did not tell you before, because I could not explain why I felt as I did, and I could not chance spreading such a rumor.”
“And ye ken fine I’d likely ha’ told Bryan,” Peg said. “If that Drogo be involved in summat that’s wrong, Cath willna be surprised. But Cuddy?”
“That is another odd thing,” Jenny said to Hugh. “Although the two men who escorted us to the minstrels’ camp said the one who had sent them away told them he was my brother, Cuddy told us that another guardsman had come to say they were needed on the field because the men at practice would be stopping soon for dinner and were all armed. They did stop to eat, sir. So who lied?”
“Cuddy,” he said without hesitation. “The two guards-men had no cause to lie and reason to think the truth might help them avoid their captain’s wrath, and mine. I’d guess Cuddy heard what Bowyer said—if it was Bowyer—and doubting you had any brothers here, altered his description and tale to something you would believe.”
That statement reminded him that he still wanted to know why the devil she had not asked a couple of stout lads from the camp to see them back safely.
“Nah then, if ye want any supper, sir, ye’ll ’ave to stop maulin’ this about till later,” Lucas said with a shrewd look as he moved to one of the kists containing Hugh’s things. “And ye’ll ’ave to bestir yourself, Peg-lass, or our mistress will look a proper sloven at t’ table. Ye’ll find a screen ye can drag out for ’er by t’ window.”
Jenny looked at Hugh and saw his chiseled features form an expression of uncharacteristic indecision. She knew he itched to scold her, but she doubted he would do so while Peg and Lucas were there unless he meant to scold Peg, too.
It occurred to her only then that he might have words for Lucas, too, for leaving the landing after Hugh had told him to stay there. But although he had told Reid he had much to say to her and to Peg, she could not imagine what Peg might have done to incur his displeasure.
Therefore, she was not surprised when he murmured agreement with Lucas and told him to bestir himself as well. After that, they all hurried.
While Peg got the screen and set it up, Jenny slipped her dirk and its belt and sheath from one of her kists and concealed it by wrapping it in a fresh shift. Behind the screen, she grinned when Peg’s eyes widened as she uncovered the weapon.
Peg only shook her head and helped Jenny dress. But when Jenny told her she would wear only a lacy veil and pin up her plaits beneath it, at her nape, Hugh said firmly from the other side of the screen, “Wear a proper caul as well, lass. I’ll not tell you to pluck out your eyebrows or shave your forehead, because I like your own look better. But recall that the minstrels will perform tonight. I’d liefer none recognize you at the high table.”
Jenny opened her mouth to protest, but Peg spoke first. “How can they not, sir?” she asked. “They’ll see Hugo on the dais, and ye’ll no be wearing breeks and a jack there. Ye’ll look much as ye do in your troubadour’s garb, and ye canna pretend to be any man save yourself at high table. Also, for all that she’ll be on the ladies’ side, them in the company will be amazed to see ye there, and they’ll ha’ only to look to guess who ye be with. A caul doesna change her that much.”
Jenny had given thought to the Englishmen again. “I’ll wear the caul, Peg,” she said calmly. “It will not fool the minstrels, but it might keep Bowyer and his men from recognizing me if they are also in the hall.”
“It may at that,” Lucas said wisely with a look at Hugh. “Men see what they expect to see, aye, laird?”
“They do,” Hugh said. “Do you mean to stand holding my doublet all evening or may I put it on?”
“Nah then, hold your whist. I’m movin’ as quick as a man can. How many d’ye think yon English be? Could they seize this great castle from within?”
“Their number is something we’d be wise to discover,” Hugh said. “But I doubt they can seize the castle. Most of those banners outside are as familiar to me as the people flying them are. And most of them are strong Douglas allies.”
“They clearly are not all Scots,” Jenny said. “And if his grace is coming—”
“Nay, then, he is not,” Lucas said. “I did ask, sithee, and they say his grace the King sent his thanks for the honor but excused hisself from the occasion.”
“ ’Tis just as well,” Hugh said. “I doubt Archie expected him to attend, for he has not mentioned it. He was bound to invite him to celebrate the anniversary of his own coronation, but the Kirk will offer masses in his honor all over Scotland.”
Emerging from behind the screen, Jenny said thoughtfully, “If his grace is not coming and the English cannot seize this castle, why are they here?”
“I suspect the commander at Lochmaben has simply sent a few of his lads to take a close look at Threave’s defenses,” he said.
“But someone told me, when we were there, that the Annandale men kept the English pent up in Lochmaben,” Jenny countered.
“Aye, sure,” he said. “They keep them from sending out parties to harass the surrounding countryside. But it can be no great feat for a few determined men to slip out now and again. ’Tis dangerous business, to be sure, but danger is rarely a deterrent when a commander demands information.”
She knew he spoke from experience, but she did not see how an English plan to have a look at Threave—even to send spies there—explained the feelings she had had while she t
raveled with the minstrels. Nor did it explain the attack on the knacker or the missing jewelry.
That last thought reminded her that Bowyer had been at Annan House, and Cuddy’s cousin had been there, too, for Cath had told her so. She turned to tell Hugh. But they had no more time for talk, because he was opening the door and murmuring last-minute orders to Lucas. She’d just have to keep her eyes open.
Having decided to watch Cuddy and to keep an eye out for Bowyer and his henchmen, Hugh had asked Lucas to do likewise. Believing the Englishmen could hardly present themselves as close friends of Archie’s, Hugh expected them to take their meals outside the castle gates. He said so when Jenny asked him as they left their chamber if he would tell Archie the English were so near at hand.
“I’ll tell him,” Hugh said. “But I warrant it won’t trouble him. I expect he’ll say their presence just proves that his tournament is serving its purpose, which is to show off the strength of Threave. But that’s enough about all that for now, lass. We’ll talk more later, when we’re alone.”
He saw her nibble her lip and knew she had taken his last words as a warning and not just a promise. So be it, he thought.
She wore a gown of soft, rose-colored, branched velvet with elaborate—and enticing—gold front lacing. Over it, she wore a long particolored and embroidered mantle of lavender and pale green silk, held at her shoulders by clasps at each end of a narrow jeweled band. Her caul and the long veil at its back were lavender.
The din of conversation in the hall made Hugh’s head begin to ache again. The noise was so loud he could barely hear the musicians in the minstrel gallery.
He and Jenny no sooner reached the dais than blaring horns announced the entry of carvers and their carts of beef and venison. Hastily escorting Jenny to her place near the end of the ladies’ side, he found his next to the last one of the men’s.
He had known he would not sit near Archie, because the gathering at Threave included many nobles of higher rank than himself, not least of whom was the gray-haired Bishop of Glasgow, sitting at Archie’s right. Casting a glance in that direction, Hugh looked next for Dunwythie, then for his family and Reid, wondering as he did if Phaeline might yet manage to secure an annulment.
He let himself hope that the distance between him and Jenny would prevent anyone from linking them, but it also made it nearly impossible for him to keep an eye on her. Having given Lucas orders to keep his eyes open and to get Peg to help him, Hugh hoped he had done enough.
He knew he was not thinking as clearly or as quickly as usual. He knew, too, that he had been glib in answering Jenny’s question about the English presence at Threave. He tried now to imagine why that should seem important.
Jenny, sitting between two much older ladies who apparently knew each other, offered to change her seat with the one who sat at the end of the table as soon as the bishop had spoken the grace before meat. Responding politely to the woman’s gratitude, she turned her attention to the minstrels and to the pompous ritual accompanying meals served to the Lord of Galloway and his guests.
Service was quick on the dais. And once the carvers had finished and the meat platters at the high table were full, other carts moved toward the long trestle tables standing perpendicular to the dais, and serving continued. As it did, jugglers ran into the U-shaped space formed by the dais and the four tables flanking it, two to a side.
As Jenny ate, she watched the entertainment idly until she realized that Cuddy was not with the musicians in the gallery. He strolled along the aisles between the trestle tables with Cath, Gerda, and Gib the gittern player instead, all smiling and chatting with folks as the jugglers performed nearby.
When the jugglers ran off, Gawkus and Gilly ran in. Smiling at their antics, Jenny looked for Cuddy and saw him palm a brooch or pin from a lady’s coif. His victim, laughing at the fools, started when he touched her shoulder. As she turned, Cuddy seemed to pull her jewel from the ear of the gentleman sitting next to her.
People nearby smiled, then returned their attention to the fools.
When Cath produced a scarf from thin air and handed it to another gentleman, Jenny watched more closely. They had not engaged in sleight of hand during the fools’ turn at Castle Moss, Lochmaben, or in Dumfries market square. Could those be the skills, she wondered, to which Gib had referred when, thinking she was Cath, he’d shouted to know if they should try them on the crowd that night or wait for a larger audience? She wished she could discuss that question with Hugh.
A gillie whisked by close behind her, startling her. As she turned to watch, he vanished through the archway to a service stair near her end of the dais. Her gaze collided with Peg’s when the latter peeped in from the landing.
Glancing around to make sure the two ladies to her right were still engaged in their conversation, Jenny got up and slipped out through the archway.
“What are you doing here, Peg?” she demanded. “Is aught amiss?”
“Ay de mi, but that Lucas will snatch me baldheaded,” Peg said. “He said I weren’t to let ye see me. But how I’m to keep me eyes on ye without looking, I canna say, and nor can he, I’ll wager. Be Bryan and them out there now?”
“Nay, Gilly and Gawkus are. But Cath, Cuddy, Gib, and Gerda are performing sleight of hand, too, strolling behind people at the tables.”
“May I look?”
“We’d be wiser to find another archway to look through,” Jenny said. “I do think Cuddy’s up to something though, and mayhap Cath and the others are, too.”
“I dinna like to think they’d be doing aught that’s bad,” Peg said.
Jenny agreed, but her concern for them only strengthened her curiosity. “Do you know how to get to the main stairway from here?”
“Aye, sure,” Peg said. “But ought we—”
“We’ll say we’re visiting the garderobe if anyone asks,” Jenny said. “I just want to see what they are doing, and you said they were teaching you, so mayhap you’ll see more than I will. They always fool me.”
Peg led the way upstairs to the next landing, through an antechamber there, and onto a gallery that led to the main stairway. Hurrying down, they reached the great-hall entrance. A number of people stood watching the fools just inside the entry arch, and Jenny and Peg were able to slip in among them unchallenged.
Peg watched for only a few moments before she grabbed Jenny’s arm and urged her toward the exit. On the landing, she murmured, “They be taking two items for every one they return. What d’ye think they’ll be doing wi’ the rest?”
“I don’t know,” Jenny said. “But we must tell Sir Hugh. If we return to the dais, I can ask one of the gillies there to take a message to him.” She could also, she hoped, return to her own seat before Hugh realized she had been gone.
Reversing their route, they hurried upstairs and along the gallery to the anteroom. As Jenny entered, she heard a muffled squeak from Peg.
Turning, she found Bowyer right behind her. “So we were right,” he said. “Now, what was a fine lady like you doing at Lochmaben with common minstrels?”
The man who had tried to grab Peg earlier—and had been with Bowyer when the two accosted them at Lochmaben—stood behind him with a hand clapped over Peg’s mouth and his other arm tight around her waist. “Up or down?” he muttered.
“Up,” Bowyer said, grabbing Jenny. “Fewer servants are likely to be on these stairs. We’ll stow them in one of those wee rooms we found below the ramparts.”
Peg struggled to free herself and managed to cry out before the man clapped his hand over her mouth again. But she fought so hard that they ended up with him holding her face down across a knee as he tried to right himself. Slapping her hard, he managed then to gag her before he picked her up again to carry her.
Bowyer was still holding Jenny tightly by an arm, and when she tried to jerk loose, he showed her a dagger. “I’d not want to mar that lovely face or put an end to ye, lass, but I’ll not hesitate if I must. We want only to put ye somewhere safe w
here ye’ll not interfere with our plans tonight. Mayhap ye can even help us see our plans through. Go quietly up the stairs, and we’ll stay friendly-like.”
She obeyed, hoping to find a better chance for escape. Peg was quiet, so all Jenny heard was the sound of the men’s footsteps until a familiar voice said, “Nah then, where d’ye think ye be a-takin’ them lasses, ye gallous knaves?”
Bowyer’s henchman turned without hesitation and, hitching Peg higher in his arms, kicked Lucas down the stairs. Then, hurrying upstairs without meeting anyone else, the two men deposited Jenny and Peg in a dark, cell-like room under the ramparts—gagged, sitting on a hard timber floor, and bound to wooden posts.
Chapter 20
Hugh had finished eating and was wondering how much more entertainment his aching head could stand when it came to him that the reason he had suggested for the English presence at Threave did not explain enough.
Thanks to his years of mimicry, he had an excellent memory for dialogue and, particularly now, for things that Jenny had said to him.
Despite his pounding head, he summoned up her description of her meeting in the woods their first day in Dumfries, with the lads who had mistaken her for Cath. One had said somebody wanted nothing to get in the way of their performance at Threave. So perhaps this performance was important in itself. Jenny had, he decided, been right to suggest to Archie as she had that there had been too much talk of Threave. If the minstrels had helped mischief-makers get inside the castle, perhaps they had helped the same mischief-makers get into Annan House and other places.
Believing that Cuddy’s lying to Jenny about the man who had dismissed her escort that afternoon proved that Cuddy was involved, Hugh looked for him now.
The dancers were performing, but he soon saw Cuddy, Cath, and some others strolling about, engaging in acts of legerdemain to the amusement of watchers and victims alike. He had seen several of minstrels perform magic tricks, especially the Joculator. But he had never seen them do so while others performed.
