by Amanda Scott
Seeing that now stirred a new train of thought.
Archie’s guests included not only the Bishop of Glasgow but also many of the wealthiest, most powerful lords in southwest Scotland and the Borders. If thievery was taking place right under Archie’s nose, it would be more than an embarrassment.
How powerful would folks think the Lord of Galloway, after all, if he could not keep his guests’ belongings safe in his strongest—supposedly impregnable—fortress? And who in the area could gain most by undermining Archie’s power and influence?
Deciding the sooner he talked to Jenny again the better, Hugh stood and turned toward the ladies’ end to fetch her, only to see that her place was empty.
Muttering a curse, he strode to Archie instead, waited impatiently for a pause in his discussion with the bishop, and then said, “If I may interrupt you, my lord, I would ask leave to look into a certain matter.”
Archie raised his eyebrows as he met Hugh’s gaze, then glanced out at the minstrels before he said, “I’ve lads watching them, Hugh. Two stand right behind us.”
“Aye, sir, but you should know that men from Lochmaben are here to view your tournament or even to take part. At least one of them previously gained access to other noble houses, so I’d like to see if I can spot him inside the castle.”
“If he has got in,” Archie said, “I hope he takes a good look and goes back to tell his comrades-in-arms that Threave will defy their strongest attempt to seize it.”
“Doubtless he will,” Hugh said. “But I’m thinking he may make mischief here first. I must also seek my lady wife. She has been away overlong.”
“Sakes, don’t tell me the lass has run off again!”
Hugh smiled. “Nay, my lord, I’ll find her easily enough.”
“Before you go, I must make you known to his eminence, the Bishop of Glasgow,” Archie said with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “My lord, this is Douglas of Thorn-hill. I believe you recently provided him with a special license to marry.”
“Aye, sure, I approved it,” the gray-haired bishop said in a gravelly voice. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Hugh, although I own to some distress at learning that your lady’s family seeks an annulment.”
“Mayhap they do, but we do not,” Hugh replied bluntly.
“Ah, but if a prior betrothal does exist—”
“Forgive me, my lord, but that betrothal was improper—unlawful, too. My lady is a baroness in her own right, capable of reading, understanding, and signing any marriage settlement. Yet they said nowt to her about her own and insisted she betroth herself to my brother without telling her they had granted him title to her barony, although she had steadfastly said she did not want him. If the Kirk requires evidence, I will supply it. In the meantime, if you will forgive me, I must find her.”
With a nod to the bishop and one to Archie, and his concern mounting with every minute that Jenny failed to return, Hugh went without further ado to find her, only to meet a battered-looking and angry Lucas first.
“Laird, t’ blighted English ’ave took your lady—aye, and that Peg lass, too,” Lucas said. “They kicked me down t’ stairs, and though I’m no dead yet, I’d me doots whether I could best ’em on me own. So I came to fetch ye to do it.”
“Show me where this happened,” Hugh ordered, trying to ignore the chill that shot up his spine at the thought of Jenny in any man’s hands but his own.
Gagged and alone with Peg in the small, dark chamber, Jenny struggled to loosen her bonds until Peg said quietly, “I’ll be wi’ ye in a trice, mistress.”
Astonished, Jenny was more so when she felt Peg feeling for her gag and tugging its knot. “How did you get free?” she demanded when she could speak.
“Aye, well, ye ken how Cath and them ha’ been teaching me their magic tricks,” Peg said, as she touched the rope binding Jenny to the post. “ ’Tis how I could see what Cuddy were doing below, and how I slipped this dirk out o’ yon English ill-doer’s boot when he dropped me over his knee.”
“But how did he not feel you take it or see the blade in your hand?”
“I pinched him with one hand as I slipped his dirk into a fold o’ me skirt wi’ the other. Then, after they brought us here, I slid m’self low on me post as he wrapped the rope round me, wi’ me arms at me sides, so I could get at the hilt when they left us. This blade be gey sharp, mistress,” she added. “So keep still now.”
“You did well,” Jenny said. “I just hope they did not lock the door.”
When she was free of the post—one of several supporting shelves along the wall—she stood and lifted her skirt to take her own dirk from its sheath. Recalling that Hugh and Gilly had warned her against using it to defend herself, she clutched it tightly anyway, telling herself that as she and Peg were now both armed, they should manage to make it safely back to the hall.
Feeling her way to the door, she put a hand on the latch and held her breath as she silently lifted it. Then, slowly, gently, she pushed the door ajar and sent up a prayer of thanks when it met no resistance. Inching the opening wider, she peeked out. Moonlight from a high window revealed that the chamber beyond was empty.
Moving as silently as before, she led the way toward the stairway until shadowy movement on the landing stopped her in her tracks. Gesturing to Peg, she eased close to the wall, hoping that whoever had moved would not look back.
Nearly certain from the shape that the man ahead of them was Bowyer, she reminded herself that his chief henchman might be just a short distance away.
As she crept closer, she saw the figure move furtively off the landing, down the stairway. Motioning again to Peg, Jenny followed.
Hugh led the way swiftly to the service stairs and up them. When they reached the next level, he glanced back to mutter, “Art armed, Lucas?”
“I’ve me dirk, ’aven’t I? And nae one inside has a sword, I’m thinkin’, save the guardsmen. They went higher nor this, laird,” he added. “I did ’ear that much.”
Hugh hurried onward as silently as was commensurate with speed. He heard nothing above him but rounded a curve to meet a booted foot thrusting hard at his head. Ducking to his right, he avoided the direct kick but took the brunt of it on his left shoulder. It knocked him off balance and back against the wall.
The advantage lay, as it nearly always did in a confrontation on the wedge-shaped steps of a spiral stairway, with the man coming down. The one going up had to hug his right-hand wall to maintain his footing. Unless he was left-handed, that necessity impeded his weapon hand, while the man coming down enjoyed the better footing near the wall to his left with his weapon in his free hand.
Hugh’s attacker did not wait for him to regain his balance but flung himself at him with dagger in hand. Hugh deftly parried the blade with his left forearm, but with his right arm pinned between his body and the wall, his own dirk was useless.
Below him on the stairs, Lucas could not aid him and was in imminent danger of being knocked downstairs a second time. As Hugh’s assailant moved to strike again, a second dirk flew from above and struck hilt-first against the man’s right temple, hard enough to knock his head into the wall with an audible crack.
His weapon fell from his grasp, and he lurched heavily against Hugh.
Hugh grabbed him and made sure Lucas had snatched up the attacker’s dirk before looking up to see Jenny a few steps above, watching them.
“That’s the one who calls himself Bowyer,” she said calmly. “Did I kill him?”
“Nay, lass, you just clouted him a good one. The wall did the rest. I think the best thing for us to do now is to make a gift of him to Archie. You come along, too, Peg,” he added, seeing her anxious face appear around the curve above Jenny.
“His chief henchman is here somewhere, too,” Jenny said. “It was he who kicked Lucas down the stairs when he tried to prevent them from taking us.”
“Tell me what else they did,” Hugh said grimly.
Hastily Jenny explained, assurin
g Hugh that neither she nor Peg had suffered any more than a loss of dignity from their capture and brief confinement.
“We will discuss your part in all this later,” he said, still grim. “Have you any idea where the other chap may have gone?”
“When they caught us, we were coming to tell you that we’d seen Cuddy and Cath lifting more items with their sleight of hand than they returned to their victims,” Jenny said. “Bowyer and his man caught us minutes afterward, so they must have seen us and realized what we had seen. That can only mean they knew what Cuddy and Cath were doing, sir, but I don’t know how they could know.”
“Cuddy will tell us,” Hugh said in such a way that she did not question it. “This chap seems to be awake now,” he added. “So mayhap he will talk, too.”
Bowyer glowered at him but said nothing.
Meekly, Jenny said, “I expect I should return to my place at the high table.”
“You and Peg will stay with me,” Hugh said. “I don’t want you out of my sight again until we have solved this puzzle.”
“D’ye really mean to give that ill-doin’ lout to his lordship now?” Peg asked.
“Archie’s men are watching the minstrels,” Hugh said. “Two stand just at the rear of the dais, so we can give him to them to hold until we find his friend.”
“You’d do better to let us go,” Bowyer muttered as Hugh pulled him upright. “I doubt Archie Douglas wants to stir trouble now with England by holding us.”
“That is not my decision to make,” Hugh told him. “Make sure he does not have more weapons on him, Lucas. And you two,” he added with a stern look at Jenny and Peg, “had better keep well behind us and out of his reach.”
He fixed that stern look on Jenny alone then, as if to add that she had better stay out of his reach, too. But as he turned to push Bowyer into Lucas’s waiting grasp, she stepped down close behind him and put a hand gently to his cheek.
The jolt through Hugh’s body from her touch nearly undid him. Turning to face her, he drew her closer and looked into her beautiful face.
“Ah, Jenny-love, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Her eyes twinkled. “You’ll think of something, sir.”
Smiling then, he said, “Aye, sweetheart, I will.”
Then, giving her a quick hug, he turned to follow Lucas and their captive downstairs to the dais landing. As they neared it, Lucas stopped and put up a hand.
Hugh had realized at nearly the same moment that the hall was unnaturally silent. Slipping past Lucas and Bowyer, he saw that the Joculator stood just below the dais in his long red-and-black surcoat, juggling scythes. He turned this way and that, silently inviting every man and woman in his audience to watch closely.
“Do you see Cuddy and Cath?” Jenny whispered from above Hugh.
He caught sight of them just as Cuddy, taking advantage of the audience’s rapt attention on the Joculator, slipped something into his baggy doublet. Then, turning away from Cath, he strolled toward the back of the hall.
For once, the man carried no instrument, but Hugh saw him nod to someone ahead of him in a group crowded near the hall entrance.
A man wearing breeks and a leather jack emerged from that little crowd.
The Joculator produced a lighted torch just then, tossed it to join the scythes, and then turned to look straight at Hugh.
Bowyer drew in a breath, but Hugh clapped a hand hard across the man’s mouth, stifling any outcry before he could make it.
Without missing toss or catch, the Joculator gave a slight nod.
Just then, behind him, Gawkus and Gilly flitted across the open space and others of the company, including Cath and Gerda, moved toward Cuddy and the other man, surrounding them as Cuddy clapped the leather-clad man on the back.
The Joculator whirled, and his long cloak swirled. Scythes and torch, the latter still alight, dropped neatly into the agile hands.
Dropping the scythes at his feet, the Joculator passed a hand over the torch.
The flame went out, but as he silently faced the dais, a scuffle erupted at the back of the hall, drawing everyone else’s attention.
Archie roared, “What the devil is the row back there?”
A man-at-arms shouted back, “We’ve got a sack o’ jewels here, m’lord!”
“Bring it here to me, one of you.”
“Sakes, m’lord, this chap’s got several sacks on ’im! In troth, these two—”
“Bring those men forward, too,” Archie bellowed.
Men-at-arms escorted Cuddy and his friend to the foot of the dais.
“That’s Bowyer’s henchman,” Jenny hissed from behind Hugh.
“With respect, my lord,” Hugh said, motioning to the armed men behind Archie and taking Bowyer onto the dais. “I have one more who belongs with them.”
At a nod from Archie, the men-at-arms took Bowyer in charge.
“Put him with the others,” Archie ordered. “Which of you would speak?”
“An it please ye, my lord, I will,” Cuddy said, stepping forward a pace.
Archie nodded.
“Though I think o’ m’self now as a Scot, my lord, this man here be me gallous cousin Drogo from England,” Cuddy said, gesturing toward Bowyer’s henchman. “He serves at Lochmaben wi’ that ’un what our Hugo caught, who likes to pose as a nobleman. The two o’ them said they’d kill me, me wife and daughter, and anyone else wha’ got in their way, did we no collect jewels for them tonight. They did capture our Bonnie Jenny, too, and said they’d kill her, as well,” he added.
“If I ask them who they are and what they are doing here, will they tell me the same?” Archie said, “Or will they say you are lying and are as guilty as they are?”
“By your leave, my lord,” the Joculator said in a quiet but nonetheless carrying voice, “I would speak for this man.”
“Aye, sure,” Archie said. “I expect you will tell me that no member of your company or any other minstrel would ever even consider stealing from my guests.”
“By my troth, my lord—”
“By the Rood,” Archie snapped back. “Your word means little more than the word of your man there or those chappies beside him. Why should I believe you?”
“Because I am more at fault than my man is,” the Joculator said. “The original idea was mine own.”
Jenny clapped a hand over her mouth and moved onto the dais to stand by Hugh, so she could watch the Joculator more closely.
The silence that had greeted his statement began to fill with restless whispers and movement until Archie said curtly, “Explain yourself, sirrah.”
“Aye, sure, my lord, for I did begin it all,” the Joculator said, meeting Archie’s stern gaze. “I believe that a man must take responsibility for his actions—any man, commoner or lord o’ the land.”
“I expect you mean something by that statement,” Archie said.
“Only that I am much to blame for what happened here tonight—as ye are, my lord. Actions have consequences, and an action of yours some years ago led me and my company here tonight—aye, and these English villains, too.”
“Do you dare tell me that I am responsible?”
“Ye are, my lord, but only in part. Seven years ago, soon after ye’d imposed your rule on Galloway, ye held a feast at Castle Mains and hired minstrels to amuse your guests. One of those minstrels was a young fool whose comments on the harshness of your rule offended ye. For that offense, ye sentenced him to death.” He paused. “That lad, sir, was my son.”
A collective gasp greeted the declaration.
“Now, see here,” Archie began. “I never—”
The Joculator interrupted, saying, “These may be my last words, my lord, so I would finish if ye’ll permit me.” Without awaiting that permission, he said, “Unlike more experienced fools, the lad had failed to learn that the trick is not to lie or to overstate a powerful man’s faults for humor’s sake but always to speak truth to such men. The greater trick is to make them
laugh when one does it. My son thought it enough to make others laugh or merely to stun them to silence. Because he was not clever enough to speak as a fool, my lord, he was much a fool to speak so to ye.”
“He was, aye,” Archie agreed, although Jenny noted that his voice was less harsh than usual. “But he did not deserve to die, nor did I order his death,” he added. “I recall that lad, sithee, and I did order him out of the castle for his insults, because although I knew it snowed, I did not know how heavily. Castle Mains lies less than a mile from Kirkcudbright, where I knew he’d find shelter. You won’t care that I was horrified to learn of his death, but by my troth, sir, that is true.”
“I do care, my lord,” the Joculator said quietly.
“ ’Twas dreadful, and tragic,” Archie said, speaking directly to him as if no one else were there. “My men found him on the sands the next morning when the tide was out. We did give him a Christian burial, but that is not enough, I know.”
“Not enough to bring him back, certainly,” the Joculator agreed. “But that is something I did not know, my lord, and it is something of a comfort to learn. I had feared wolves might have got him, or that the sea had swept him away.”
“My lord, may I speak?” Tam Inglis said from the back of the hall.
When Archie nodded, Tam stepped forward and said to the Joculator, “I were newly captain o’ the guard at Castle Mains then, sir, and I sent me own lads out when I saw how the snow had thickened, to see if they could find him. When they found nae sign o’ him, we decided he’d made it safe to the town. It appalled us all to find the poor lad on the sand next morning. He must ha’ missed his step and fallen into the water from the wharf or walkway. It be sma’ comfort, sir, but cold as that water were, he’d no ha’ suffered long.”
The Joculator nodded. “I thank ye for telling me that.” Turning back to Archie, he said, “Doubtless, ye wonder how my friend Cuddy here comes into it.”
