‘God’s bones, lad! I’d be strung up and left out for the wolves and crows.’
‘Why you, Lord Cameron?’ asked Catherine. ‘Surely they would punish the culprit responsible?’
‘Dumbarton is my responsibility and though I am meant to permanently reside here, I prefer my home in the highlands, but it seems I may have been away too long.’
‘And all is in order?’ Simon enquired as he helped himself to the freshly-baked bread.
‘Aye, well, that has yet to be determined. I intend to undertake a thorough check in the morn.’
‘Perhaps Lord Wexford could assist you,’ suggested Agnes as she filled Dougal’s tankard.
Seizing the opportunity, Simon stepped forward. ‘I’d be honoured to do so, particularly as you have generously welcomed us under difficult circumstances.’
‘Well, lad, I can’t say your help would not be appreciated. As you can see, I am an old man and I am none too keen on clambering up all those steps.’ Dougal waved his feeble arm over his head. ‘And let me tell you, there are many, many stairs!’
‘This is a most surreptitious outcome,’ Agnes observed, smiling broadly at Simon as she sat down beside Dougal.
‘Aye, I cannot believe my good fortune,’ the old man added.
‘Nor I, Lord Cameron, nor I,’ Simon agreed.
Simon and Roderick broke their fast with Lord Cameron the following morning. The table was covered with manuscripts, some containing neat lines of script, whilst others provided small images with detailed descriptions.
‘In the room above the long hall you will find two painted reliquaries, one containing a finger bone from Saint Margaret and the other, a fragment of the wooden crucifix worn by Saint Peter. In the connecting hallway there be should two timber crusade chests filled with numerous garments.’
Simon listened intently as Lord Cameron read down the list of one discoloured scroll.
‘At the top of the round keep is a locked room. It contains several illuminations, a bejewelled cup and a large plain sword.’
Roderick nodded imperceptibly to his brother.
‘Perhaps we should start there and work our way down,’ Simon suggested.
‘Aye, that makes sense.’ Dougal removed a large ring of keys from his belt. ‘You will need these.’
Roderick swallowed the remainder in his goblet. ‘And a further jug of ale,’ he jested as he and Simon walked confidently from the great hall.
They crossed the inner bailey and retraced their steps to the apartments they had been offered as accommodation. Simon winked at Catherine as he entered the room they shared. She immediately drew back the coverlet on the bed to reveal the wrapped sword. He bent and kissed her as he lifted the heavy weapon then returned to Roderick, who was keeping watch in the outer corridor.
The two men quickly made their way up the three levels of the round tower and unlocked the heavy oak door. Roderick threw back the lid on the long timber box and lifted out a sword. Simon unwrapped William Wallace’s ‘Lady’ and held it up against the replacement.
The two swords, much like the brothers, shared similar characteristics but, upon close inspection, were as different as a goat to a cow.
‘How do we know if we are replacing the fake or stealing the genuine?’ Roderick asked.
‘We don’t,’ Simon replied. ‘So I suggest we leave both.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ Simon grinned as he placed the swords side-by-side in the wooden chest. ‘Problem solved,’ he added as he held out his open palms. ‘Now, best check those relics.’
‘I cannot believe our luck.’ Catherine declared as she joined Agnes in the hall. ‘God is certainly smiling upon us.’
‘We have been most fortunate,’ agreed Agnes. ‘It would have been far more difficult to complete your task without Lord Cameron’s presence.’
‘By this time tomorrow we will be back in Govan and then on our way to Cambridge.’
‘I will miss you,’ Agnes admitted as she took Catherine’s hand.
‘And I, you, but you will write to me?’ Catherine asked.
‘Of course, my dear, of course.’
‘Are we interrupting?’ Dougal, supported by Simon, entered the hall with Roderick sauntering behind.
‘Not at all, Dougal,’ Agnes reassured him as the men joined them at the table. ‘Lady Wexford and I were discussing our good fortune. Your presence has made our visit extremely pleasurable.’
‘The feeling is reciprocated. Lord Wexford’s assistance was a Godsend.’ The older man smiled as he slowly lowered himself into a high-backed chair.
‘I think we have all benefited from this situation,’ said Simon.
‘If only all my guests were as courteous.’ Dougal frowned. ‘There have many who took advantage and others whom I wished I could have drowned in the river!’
‘I have had to deal with some difficult situations at Cambridge Castle over the years, including displaced spouses and unwelcome prisoners of the crown!’ Simon drew back the chair next to Catherine and sat down.
‘This castle has been fought over by one person or another for as long as my family can remember. King David remains fond of it as he and Queen Joan sheltered here after his defeat at the battle of Halidon Hill. Even the Wallace stayed here, but only for short while, before he was dragged off to London,’ Dougal explained.
‘So that’s how his sword came to reside here?’ Roderick settled himself beside the older man, stretching out his long legs towards the fire.
‘Aye. Mentieth wanted to display it, like a trophy,’ Dougal spat. ‘Plenty more devils tried to steal it over the years, but here it remains, locked away.’
‘English devils I suppose?’ Simon asked.
‘Aye, lad, Salisbury amongst them. Satan, himself, would hide from that bastard.’ Dougal grimaced. ‘I was told whilst he was here he committed acts so vile, so brutal, that many have been unable to wash away the memory of them.’
‘You were not here?’ Agnes leaned forward; all the colour had drained from her face.
‘I received news the first Earl of Salisbury was riding, at speed, to Dumbarton. He was escorted by a well-armed group of soldiers who were able to locate and utilise a hidden passage that leads directly into the inner bailey of the castle, a tunnel known only to a very small number of people.’ Dougal shifted stiffly in his seat. ‘When the treacherous Clare Mentieth was unable to further assist Salisbury, he had her publicly raped and tortured. By the time I arrived, he and his party were well and truly gone.’
Catherine shivered as a feeling of dread washed over her. ‘Then who told you—’
‘There are always maids in residence and a steward,’ Dougal interrupted. ‘Lord Dunbar arrived a few weeks later and helped me replace some damaged rugs and a number of pieces of furniture.’
‘I knew my husband had visited you, but he did not mention any further details,’ Agnes whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.
‘I am not surprised. He believed you may have known the lady in question, so I cannot imagine he wished to share her tragic end.’
Agnes grasped the old man’s arm. ‘Salisbury killed her?’
‘No. After he and his men were finished with her, Salisbury cut out her tongue. I was told she was placed in a convent in Cambridgeshire,’ Dougal harrumphed. ‘Given her condition she was not fit for much else.’
‘God in heaven.’ Simon shot to his feet. ‘That’s it!’
Catherine slid across the seat and placed her arm around Agnes. ‘What do you mean, Simon?’
‘The mute nun, Sister Cletus! She must have been Clare Mentieth!’
‘Oh course,’ Roderick declared. ‘You said yourself, Catherine, that she was Scottish. That’s why she knew so much about the sword.’
‘We have to assume Salisbury placed her at Denny. The poor woman would have been terrified and therefore easily persuaded to spy for him,’ Simon deduced. ‘It was most fortunate then that he died only six years later.�
�
‘Not just for Clare.’ Catherine swallowed hard. ‘I have never felt more grateful for the protection I was offered at Denny Abbey.’
‘Until his son came looking for you,’ Simon added as he placed his hand of Catherine’s shoulder. ‘The apple does not fall far from the tree.’
‘My poor, sweet Clare,’ Agnes sobbed. ‘She did not deserve such treatment.’
‘She was a traitor and had she been caught, would have died a traitor’s death,’ Lord Cameron lamented. ‘Neither her nature nor her age would have been considered.’
‘She was no traitor, Dougal. She was simply trying to save the life of my brother.’ Agnes squared her shoulders in defence of her friend. ‘She was a brave woman who sacrificed herself for her betrothed.’
‘If it is any consolation, she was well-respected at Denny and lived a peaceful and productive life,’ Catherine offered.
‘I must bear part of the blame. I should have stopped her.’ Agnes brushed her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘I was not strong enough.’
‘My dear Lady Dunbar, what good would a confession do now?’ Dougal began. ‘You cannot change the past. My advice, for what it is worth, go home safe in the knowledge that Salisbury was never able to acquire the one item for which he so longed.’
Simon caught Roderick’s glance. The first Earl of Salisbury had been close on so many occasions but, in the end, had been thwarted by his own untimely death. One accident on a jousting field changed the fate of so many lives. Simon dreaded to think what might have occurred to Catherine had that not been the case.
The return journey to Govan was solemn. Catherine’s concern was for Agnes, who had withdrawn to the rear of the carriage spurning any attempt to be consoled.
‘Let her be,’ Simon advised. ‘Sometimes it does not matter what you say, you cannot ease another’s pain.’
‘I could sit with her, pray for her.’ Catherine threaded the beads of her rosary through her fingers. ‘It might provide some comfort.’
‘Perhaps it would make you feel better.’ Simon grasped the reins with one hand and drew Catherine closer. ‘Time is the greatest healer. It allows us to see things more clearly and therefore, find justification for our actions.’
‘Though there are some acts that are not justifiable, no matter which way you look upon them.’
‘I agree, Catherine, but sometime it is the only way a heart can survive.’
Catherine peered into the carriage. Lady Dunbar had wrapped herself in one of the plaids and was lying amongst the pillows. A broken spirit housed within a frail body, racked with guilt and regret. Catherine prayed she never felt the depth of sorrow consuming Agnes.
‘There’s the ferry,’ Simon announced as they rounded the bend. ‘You will be able to see the inn once we cross the river.’
The breeze was light and the tidal flow kind, allowing them to cross the Clyde with relative ease. Catherine walked the steep incline from the bank to the road, whilst Simon paid the ferry-master. Shielding her eyes, she sought the inn using the steeple of the church to find her bearings. Her gaze settled on a large group of men and horses, milling about the small wooden building. As her vision focused, she gasped with fright.
‘Soldiers!’ Catherine dashed back towards Roderick and willed herself to breathe. ‘Soldiers … soldiers … at the inn.’
Roderick grasped the pommel of his saddle and was riding away before his boots had met the stirrups.
Simon extended his arm and lifted Catherine into the moving cart. ‘How many do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ she choked. ‘Twenty. Maybe more.’
Simon slapped the reins across the backs of the horses, urging them on. As they mounted the river bank they could see Roderick quickly closing the distance between the Clyde and the small village of Govan.
‘They’re leaving.’ Simon slowed the cart. ‘They don’t look like soldiers.’
‘Then who could they be?’ Catherine could not slow the rapid beating of her heart.
‘We will soon find out.’
Catherine could see Roderick standing at the door of the inn. He was waiting for them. Everything about his stance told her something was wrong. The last two furlongs felt like an eternity as she fought back the ever-growing fear that was squeezing the air from her chest.
Simon jumped from the carriage. ‘Tell me, brother.’
‘Please, Roderick.’ she gasped.
‘The innkeeper’s been murdered.’
Simon scowled. ‘And?’
‘Tiphanie, Girda and Gabby are missing!’
The first thing Cécile saw when she rushed into her chamber was Griffith bending over the bed, wiping Odette’s face, a crimson-stained rag in his hand. From the waist down, the girl’s gown was sodden. But instead of the groans Cécile had expected to hear, a loud, vocal weeping filled the room. Griffith turned to his master with a look of desperation. ‘I cannot stop her crying long enough to find out where she hurts.’
Gillet hurried to his side. ‘Then from where does she bleed?’
Griffith’s look was one of hopelessness. ‘I cannot tell.’ He handed the cloth to Gillet and stepped back.
Cécile gasped. Odette’s face was a bloody mess. Vaguely aware of Minette whispering to Griffith, Cécile watched as Gillet inspected Odette.
‘Her bones seem fine. There are none which overly disturb her when I touch them.’ He lifted Odette’s gown to discover the bed soaked in blood. ‘Get the physician, Griffith.’ He looked at Cécile gravely. ‘There are no cuts. The bleeding is internal.’
Cécile nodded and flicked her wrist for Griffith to hurry but he was already halfway to the door.
Gillet’s adroit fingers continued their search up to Odette’s face. ‘It looks as though someone punched her. Her nose is broken. Hang on, Odette. This will hurt a bit.’ He placed his hands on either cheek and carefully probed then, with a quick crack, shifted a bone back into place. Odette screamed but returned to her manic sobbing. ‘She’ll have two shiners come morning but nothing more that I can tell.’ He put a clean cloth in her hand and directed it to her nose, stepping back with a shrug.
Cécile turned to her maid. ‘What happened?’ Minette bobbed a curtsey and Cécile noted her high colour.
‘We … I …’ Minette hung her head. ‘Griffith came to see me and we were engrossed in our own company when the door burst open and Mademoiselle Odette appeared, covered in blood. Griffith tried to staunch the flow and sent me to find you.’
Odette’s wailing was finally subsiding, the noise reducing to hiccoughs of hysteria. Cécile sat beside her friend and took her hand. ‘Odette,’ she pleaded, stroking the girl’s hair from her forehead. ‘Whatever ails you, I promise we shall fix it.’
Odette opened her swelling eyes and gulped. ‘Can you … fix a broken … heart?’ she sobbed.
‘Odette, who did this to you? Who dared to punish you in such fashion?’
‘Eustace!’ The name was flung from the girl’s throat like a snake spitting poison. ‘He’s gone. He’s left me.’ She rolled onto her side and curled up foetus-style. A large sob curdled her voice. ‘He lied!’
Cécile looked at Gillet, venom in her gaze. ‘You should have killed him when you had your chance.’
‘That was not my chance,’ stated Gillet, stony-faced. His hands curled into fists. ‘But I shall have it soon.’ He leaned over. ‘Odette, where has Bonneuil gone?’
The girl began to cough and choke, blood spattering the sheets and Gillet quickly raised her and directed the cloth in her hand back to her nose. ‘Breathe through your mouth.’ The door opened to admit the court physician and all talk was suspended.
Minette and Cécile stripped the bloodied linens and laid fresh sheets upon the bed. Odette’s nose had finally stopped bleeding. Then they washed the girl and clothed her in a clean chemise. Odette was lying quiet, propped up on pillows, sedated by the physician’s elixir. Her eyes were closed and a sucking leech sat hungrily beneath each.
/> The physician packed his instruments away and addressed Gillet. ‘A broken nose, possibly a cheekbone fracture and there’ll be some heavy bruising. And she is overwrought.’ He leaned over and wiggled one of the leeches. ‘I advise complete bedrest for a week. I will send to the apothecary for bloodwort to staunch the internal bleeding. The yarrow will also soothe the pain. She has suffered blows to her mid-section and this has caused the loss of her baby.’
‘Baby?’ echoed Cécile, looking up from the bed where she sat holding Odette’s hand.
The physician directed his gaze to her. ‘Yes, Milady. However, in her current mental condition, your woman does not seem to realise she has aborted a child. It was very early stages.’
Cécile squinted malevolently at her husband. ‘So now we add murder to the list.’
Gillet spun around angrily. ‘God’s nails, Cécile! Stop glaring at me as though I am the perpetrator! The girl is better off without any ties to Bonneuil. Put your trust in God and let us content ourselves with the knowledge that the Almighty knew what He was doing.’
The physician nodded and poked the fat leeches. Deeming them ready, he plucked them free. ‘Would you have me make an official account, Milord? She is employed by the court.’
‘No,’ snarled Gillet. ‘I will make my report to Lord Felton in due course.’ He looked repentant and managed to grimace at the physician. ‘Thank you for your time and discretion in this matter, sir. I trust if your statements from this visit are required at a later date, you will concur?’ Coins changed hands.
‘Of course, Lord d’Albret. I am completely at your service.’ He bowed, picked up his bag and Cécile let him out.
There was a tangible silence in the chamber when the physician left, broken only by a nasally whistle at regular intervals. Odette had at last fallen into slumber. Griffith had excused himself earlier and Minette pleaded leave for the laundry house with the bundle of crimson linen.
The Gilded Crown Page 31
