The Gilded Crown

by Catherine A. Wilson

  Catherine lifted her hem and dashed back the way she had come, her growing size hampering her progress. She wanted nothing more than to hold Gabby in her arms, to feel his soft skin against hers.

  By the time she reached the oak doors, she was breathless. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would burst. The light streaming from the hall offered safety, as did the presence of several young women who looked her up and down with concern. Catherine straightened her gown before entering.

  She gathered little acknowledgement from those within and made immediately for the adjoining building, throwing open the door to the room shared by Gabby and the female staff. Girda was sleeping soundly on the floor by the cot. Catherine tiptoed around her and pulled back the blanket. Gabby’s eyelids fluttered and he snuffled gently, hardly disturbed as she placed her palm against his cheek. ‘I think the time has come for us to depart Scotland, my darling.’

  Simon returned to their quarters several hours later and discovered his wife asleep on top of the coverlet, the baby cradled beside her. Simon frowned. It was not like Catherine to remove Gabby from his cot and place him in their bed, not now that they had such excellent nursemaids. He retrieved his cloak and covering them both, sat down beside her. A dirty trail of tears snaked across her face. She had been crying for some time. He brushed a lock of hair from her brow and she opened her eyes.

  ‘What has happened? Are you unwell?’

  Catherine shook her head, wiping her cheeks with her chemise.

  Simon lifted the baby into his arms. ‘Let me get Girda or Tiphanie …’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why? What is going on?’

  Catherine threw herself into Simon’s embrace and told him of the night’s events. Simon could hardly contain his fury. The bruising on Catherine’s neck was dark and Simon could see the imprint of David’s thumb on her skin. He wanted nothing more than to find the King and repay the injury in kind but the fear David had instilled in Catherine and the threat against Gabby was real and pointed.

  ‘We have to leave, Simon. We have to get away.’

  ‘I agree, it is much too risky to remain. If we make our way back to Craigmillar …’

  ‘To Walter and Beatrix?’ Catherine exclaimed. ‘From one battlefield to another!’

  ‘But we have something that the Odistouns want. It may just be enough to secure some kind of loyalty.’

  ‘I don’t trust them, Simon.’

  ‘Neither do I, but what choice do we have? I must return the sword. The longer we are in possession of it, the more likely we are to be caught. Craigmillar is far enough from the capital to offer some protection. Walter will keep his mouth shut if the reward is sufficient.’

  ‘But what about Robert Stewart? Do you not have an understanding with him?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘I do, and I have written to Gillet on that matter.’ Simon kissed her forehead. ‘If we can establish that David did sign his heredity right over to Edward, then Robert has something he can hold over his uncle.’

  ‘And Robert will help us escape?’

  ‘That was his offer.’

  ‘Do you think I should believe Agnes, that Lady Dunbar is deliberately hiding something for me?’

  Simon hugged his wife tightly. ‘My dear sweet girl, I know how fond you are of Black Agnes Dunbar but, sadly, I wouldn’t put anything past her.’

  ‘Is there anyone we can trust?’ Catherine asked.

  Simon shrugged. ‘Only those closest to us.’ Turning her face, Simon exposed the ripening bruise and pressed his lips to the damaged skin. ‘If I had my way I would slice off David’s balls and feed them to his lion!’

  Catherine smiled. ‘You would do no such thing.’

  ‘Then you don’t know me as well as you thought,’ he replied.

  The following morning Simon discovered Walter at the door of the passage leading to the servant’s building, his doublet open and his chausses untied.

  ‘Wexford,’ Walter sneered in greeting.

  ‘Finished fornicating?’ Simon asked sarcastically.

  ‘For now, though I may return later as one young maid is as juicy as a lemon and just as bitter and I do so appreciate a struggle.’

  Simon wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that! You’ve had your share of women and I have to wet my cock somewhere. Your sister won’t even—’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth.’

  ‘The high and mighty Simon, the second son made good. Go ahead and defend your sister’s honour. No one else will. She is a drunken hag who gives me naught but screeching bairns, most of whom should have been drowned at birth.’

  Simon slammed his fist into Walter’s chin, sending the small man tumbling into several empty wine barrels, splintering one through the middle.

  Walter licked the blood from his injured lip before getting to his feet, swinging a piece of broken timber as he did so.

  Simon blocked it with his forearm and took a second swipe at his brother-by-marriage, barely missing the left side of Walter’s head.

  Walter turned to run but lost his footing and fell over one of the barrels.

  Simon dragged him to his feet and pinned him up against the wall. ‘You and I are going to have a private discussion.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Walter wheezed.

  ‘When my sister leaves here tomorrow to commence her confinement at Craigmillar, she will be escorted by several additional handmaidens.’

  ‘All right,’ Walter agreed.

  ‘Some of the women will be known to you both, but I want their identity to remain concealed. Do you understand?’

  ‘And what do I get for smuggling your wife and baby out of the city?’ Walter jeered. ‘That is what you are asking me to do, is it not?’

  ‘You will be paid.’ Simon released his grip, though the urge to strangle his sister’s husband had not dissipated.

  ‘It will have to be an extensive reward in order to entice me to take such a risk, for should my brother uncover your plan …’

  ‘You will be the subject of his wrath in that instance, for they will be remaining in your home, under your roof, with your blessing.’

  ‘Yet I am displaying injuries of a man threatened by violence,’ Walter rubbed his throbbing cheek. ‘I think David will be able to see through your thin veil of deceit.’

  ‘David sees only what he wants,’ scoffed Simon. ‘It would appear that he chooses to turn a blind eye to the small amounts you skim from the taxes you collect in his name. But he certainly knows of your mounting debts and inability to live within your means.’ Simon leaned into Walter’s ear. ‘He will wait until he no longer needs you and rather than offer assistance, will throw you to the very dogs you currently entertain.’

  Walter attempted to pull away. ‘You know nothing of what lies between us.’

  ‘You think not? What of your royal titles and property? Why has David not bestowed honours upon his loyal and devoted brother?’

  ‘And what do you offer me?’ Wrenching himself free, Walter turned on Simon. ‘Doune Castle was always meant for my wife and the income from Fife barely covers the taxes!’

  ‘What if I were to include Banff?’

  Walter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, greed fuelling the sparkle in his eyes. ‘I’d want it in writing.’

  ‘Of course.’ Simon waited, allowing the offer of such a rich prize to settle. ‘And I would need your loyalty in this matter. Not a word to your brother or anyone at court.’

  ‘I cannot be held responsible should someone else reveal your trickery.’

  ‘For a reward of this size, I think you can be expected to ensure our location is well-guarded.’

  ‘I don’t know. You are asking a great deal, Wexford.’ Straightening his doublet, Walter drew back his shoulders. ‘I need time to consider.’

  ‘No, I need your answer now.’ Simon thought he saw doubt flit across Walter’s face. If he failed to take up the offer, Simon had nothing more to bar
ter. Perhaps he had rolled the dice too quickly.

  ‘I will do as you ask with one additional request.’

  ‘Let’s hear it.’

  ‘One thousand marks.’

  Simon remained stone-faced, though the amount was shocking. ‘Five hundred.’

  ‘That’s not enough to pay off my debts.’

  ‘That is the best I can do.’

  ‘Six hundred and fifty.’

  Simon had to control his growing anger as Walter was the linchpin in his plan. ‘Six hundred and fifty it is, but I warn you, Walter, should this conversation or the location of my family be revealed to David, you will not only lose Banff, but every part of your body that is worth something to you.’ Simon glanced at Walter’s groin and smiled.

  Walter paled. ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I want my sister to be ready to depart at dawn tomorrow.’

  ‘I will make the necessary arrangements.’

  Simon turned to leave, furious with himself for allowing Walter to swindle so much from him.

  ‘One last question, Wexford. How do you intend to get through the gates now that David has doubled the guard?’

  ‘That is hardly your concern,’ Simon retorted, slamming the door on his way out.

  ‘We can’t afford to waste time on the finer details. The quicker we depart the more likely we are to hold the element of surprise!’ Roderick was haphazardly tossing cloaks, boots and several doublets into an open chest, the remainder of his clothing piled high on the floor by the bed.

  ‘I agree,’ Simon replied as he wrapped The Lady within a large oiled cloth. ‘David would not be expecting our immediate departure.’

  ‘And how are you planning to do so?’ Lady Dunbar inquired as she entered the solar and quietly closed the door.

  Simon smiled, quickly covering the sword with a plaid. ‘Thank you for joining us.’

  ‘My inclusion is appreciated, though I would prefer to receive a summons at a more reasonable hour!’

  ‘My apologises, Lady Dunbar, but this could not wait.’ Simon’s gaze travelled to Catherine’s tear-streaked face.

  ‘Good Lord, what has happened?’ Lady Dunbar hurried to Catherine, weaving her way around several half-packed chests.

  ‘Your niece and my wife were engaged in a heated discussion last night, after which David assaulted Catherine.’

  ‘No! Surely not?’

  Catherine pulled back her cloak and exposed the bruising about her neck. ‘He threatened to harm Gabby.’

  ‘How was Agnes involved in all this?’ Lady Dunbar demanded. ‘Tell me, Catherine. I must know!’

  Catherine quickly retold the events and felt a surge of pity for Lady Dunbar as she repeated what Agnes had said.

  Lady Dunbar placed her hand on the mantle and steadied herself. ‘I am leaving with you,’ she began, ‘and I want to bring Agnes with me.’

  ‘No.’ Simon’s rejection was firm. ‘We don’t have time and she will never come willingly.’

  ‘Your sudden disappearance will make it very difficult for me to remain in Edinburgh and I can’t abandon Agnes. She is a silly, wilful girl who knows not what she is doing.’

  Catherine grasped Simon hand, her gaze pleading.

  ‘Stay here with Roderick and finish packing. I will not be long.’ Simon gathered her into his arms and held her tightly.

  ‘Can we trust Walter? Or Beatrix? What if …?’

  ‘Hush, wife, all will be well.’ Simon kissed her tenderly, then snatched up his cloak and departed with Lady Dunbar.

  Catherine could not help but find amusement in Roderick’s cavalier attitude to packing. He had dismissed both English Mary and Tiphanie as they buzzed around him to prevent further items from being summarily thrown into a disorganised heap. ‘Have you ever dealt with your own wardrobe?’

  ‘How hard can it be?’ Roderick mocked.

  Girda mumbled something concerning a lack of skill as she retrieved one of Gabby’s blankets from the chair.

  ‘Oh, get away, old woman, they’re only rags.’

  ‘I see no reason to treat apparel with such disrespect,’ she retorted, brushing a pair of his boots from the coverlet to the floor.

  ‘Roderick is trying to help,’ Catherine jested, feeling the need to intervene. ‘And speed is of the essence.’

  ‘Don’t you touch Gabriel’s things,’ Girda warned.

  Roderick pulled a face. ‘Then I’ll deal with my brother’s clothing then.’

  ‘No!’ A resounding chorus beat him back.

  ‘Perhaps you could assist Lady Wexford,’ Girda suggested as she manoeuvred the burly man out of the way.

  Catherine opened the door and led Roderick into the small adjoining dining room. ‘They will be far swifter if we leave them be.’

  Embers from the previous night’s fire were scattered over the hearth and the candles had long been extinguished, but it was not completely dark as light from the approaching dawn filtered through the oriel. Collecting two goblets from the tray, Roderick poured an equal measure of mead into both and sat on the bench beside Catherine. ‘Something to settle your nerves.’

  ‘I actually feel quite calm now that we are about to depart, much more composed than I was earlier,’ she admitted. Catherine felt herself flush as Roderick peered at the bruising on her neck.

  ‘If he were an ordinary man – a solider or blacksmith – he would find himself short of several fingers.’

  Catherine was taken aback by the vehemence in Roderick’s voice and gently grasped the base of her throat. ‘It could have been much worse.’

  ‘Please do not suggest that to my brother.’

  ‘Surely he would not do anything foolish?’

  Roderick frowned. ‘I would do no less.’

  Simon followed Lady Dunbar down the stairs and along the passage that led to the royal apartments. He waited until they traversed the main courtyard before pulling her up.

  ‘If you are determined to depart Edinburgh, then gather your things and return here as quickly as you can.’

  She nodded, eager to comply.

  ‘But I must be honest.’ He paused, dreading this moment. ‘Young Agnes will not be coming with us.’

  ‘She is my ward! My niece! I cannot leave her behind.’

  ‘No, not only has she revealed her allegiance to David but it would be difficult to convince the court that we had not kidnapped her.’

  Lady Dunbar turned away from him, her hands cradling her forehead. ‘So I must choose? Stay with my niece or leave with Catherine?’

  ‘I think the choice obvious, particularly after the events of last night.’

  ‘But I fear for Agnes.’

  ‘If you remain, can you protect her?’

  ‘No, but what if we forcibly remove her to England?’

  ‘You will only make an enemy.’

  Lady Dunbar considered his reply. ‘Yes, perhaps more than one.’

  ‘I urge you to consider yourself and Lord Dunbar,’ Simon whispered. ‘I see very few redeeming qualities in young Agnes and you will be judged by her behaviour.’

  ‘Either way I will appear the villain.’

  ‘Then you have nothing to lose.’ Simon placed his hand on Lady Dunbar’s shoulder, her fragility palpable beneath the folds of her cloak. ‘I will ensure your safe return to Dunbar Castle.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord Wexford.’ Agnes smiled. ‘I will be as swift as a woman of my age can be.’

  The sun was cresting the horizon by the time they mustered in the stable. Walter had managed to secure a covered cart that was loaded down with several chests and a large number of pillows and plaids. Beatrix sat aboard and was hurriedly arranging her possessions as Roderick pushed between the maids.

  ‘For the love of God!’ he declared, ‘is that the best you could do?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Walter replied indignantly. ‘Had I more coin, I could have procured something a little better.’

  ‘That,’ said Roderick, pointing, ‘is the saddest looking
cart I have ever seen, as are the nags you have hitched to it!’

  ‘It will have to do,’ Simon quipped.

  ‘You, Walter, Catherine and Gabby, our devoted sister and every gown she owns,’ Roderick’s eyebrow’s shot skywards, ‘Lady Dunbar, Tiphanie and two maids, not to mention myself and an endless number of chests – all on one cart? Are you a magician, brother?’

  Simon considered their transport more closely. Roderick was correct. Even if they removed their personal items, they would not be able to seat all the women aboard. ‘Have you no horse, Walter?’

  ‘I sold it for the carriage,’ he replied smugly. ‘Where are your mounts, Wexford?’

  ‘They have been removed to a safe location for future use.’ Simon frowned. He could send Roderick to look for something better but that would take time. He glanced at his wife, her face pale and drawn. They had no choice. ‘Remove the Odistoun’s possessions. They can retrieve them at a later date.’

  ‘What! No, Simon.’ Beatrix grabbed for the smallest of her three chests and defiantly sat upon it.

  Roderick clambered up the rear running boards and began dragging out anything in his reach.

  ‘Walter, stop him,’ Beatrix screeched as she attempted to stomp on her half-sibling’s fingers. ‘That is my best plaid! Walter, do something.’

  Lady Dunbar took hold of Catherine’s arm and the two women moved away from the horses. Woken by the fray, Gabby added his voice to the melee, screeching his high-pitched displeasure.

  ‘Girda, see to my son before he wakes the entire castle,’ Simon directed as he rounded on his sister. ‘Your wardrobe is of little worth. I will see it replaced.’

  ‘The coin you provide my husband is not spent on my needs,’ Beatrix bemoaned as she wrestled the blanket from Roderick’s grasp. ‘I will have naught but rags!’

  ‘Keep the plaid, but for the love of God, woman, lower your voice,’ Roderick hissed.

  ‘I will set an account with your dressmaker,’ Simon pleaded, his exasperation obvious to all. ‘Catherine and Lady Dunbar must have space to sit. Girda can squeeze beside you with Gabby, and the remaining ladies will have to walk alongside.’