The Fire In The Flint (Margaret Kerr Mysteries 2)

by Candace Robb

  ‘They came for Jonet, calling her a thief and a traitor,’ Celia said. ‘I fear—’ She stopped, distracted by Jonet’s cries and curses.

  Margaret found it no pleasure to see the hysterical maid slung over the shoulder of one of the men and borne down the steps like a haunch of venison.

  As soon as she was set down in the hall, Jonet bolted for the door, but she fell with a cry as she tripped on her skirts.

  19

  CURSED

  As Jonet crumpled to the floor she became once more the family maid rather than the enemy of the past hours, and Margaret impulsively hurried forward to help her to her feet, Celia right behind her, but the man who had followed the other stayed Margaret with a firm grasp on her arm.

  ‘You’ll find some of your family’s goods in there, I’ll warrant, Dame Margaret,’ he said, placing in her free hand a cloth bundle. ‘I’m sure Hugh has done his best not to injure your maid, and when you understand how she has harmed your family you’ll be glad I held you back. She does not deserve your charity.’

  Margaret recognised Gilbert Ruthven, the one of whom Fergus had spoken. ‘Why are you after Jonet?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re after our sterlings and we think she’s taken them,’ he said.

  ‘That does not give you the right to trespass in my father’s house,’ Margaret said. ‘Gilbert, isn’t it?’ Her stomach churned and her breath was shallow but she was not going to swallow her outrage. ‘You need not have invaded my family’s home to take her. You’re behaving like the English you despise.’

  Gilbert smoothed out his brow into a placating expression. ‘Dame Margaret, you don’t ken what I’m telling you about this woman.’

  ‘I know she has betrayed my family, and I intend to return her to my father and husband, for it is them she has wronged.’

  The other man, Hugh he’d been called, stood menacingly over Jonet’s curled-up form. ‘She’s stolen our sterlings.’

  ‘I’ve stolen no siller.’ Jonet’s voice was muffled, but stronger than Margaret would have expected. ‘I’ve given our deliverers food and drink – you’d do well to do the same.’

  ‘Traitor,’ Hugh said.

  ‘You are wrong about the sterlings,’ said Margaret. ‘My father’s ship was boarded by the English and his freedom required a goodly bribe in sterlings. It’s my father with whom you must take up your cause. But you’ll not come to an agreement by invading his household.’ She moved forward, reaching out to Jonet. ‘Come, there’s no need to lie on the floor.’

  ‘Let her do as she will, Hugh,’ Gilbert said as his companion moved towards Margaret. ‘This is the home of Dame Margaret’s parents, and this woman is their maidservant.’

  Hoping Margaret was in the other place he knew to look, James made his way to Malcolm’s house on Southgate.

  Margaret opened the door, her veil askew and her gown dusty.

  James wondered whether she’d simply been cleaning, but remembering the sound of a splintering door at her house, he asked, ‘Are you all right? Why are you here?’

  ‘I might ask the same of you, Friar James, but I’m glad you’ve come.’ She stood back to let him enter.

  When James could distinguish people in the dimmer light within, he discovered Celia seated on a bench with an arm around the maid Jonet, who sat woodenly and stared ahead at nothing.

  Margaret joined two men who stood near the solar stair looking uneasy. James recognised them as members of the families Wallace was counting on.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked, half to himself, of the odd assembly.

  ‘These men forced their way into the house and treated Jonet so roughly she is unable to walk,’ Margaret said.

  ‘She tripped,’ said one of the men. ‘Who is this friar to you, Dame Margaret?’

  ‘My good friend and confessor.’

  James was glad that the men did not have Fergus’s keen eyes. ‘You were wrong to trespass, the two of you,’ he said.

  ‘We thought she’d stolen our siller,’ said Gilbert. ‘But we’ve learned from Dame Margaret that we were mistaken.’

  ‘But she’s kept company with Englishmen of late,’ said Hugh. ‘I ken a traitor when I see one. Still, we’d no cause to treat her so roughly.’

  Gauging the mood of the small party to be not so much hostile as unresolved, James thought he would accomplish more by revealing his identity. Straightening, he said, ‘Forgive Dame Margaret and me for our play-acting, but we must be cautious. I’m James Comyn, sent by the Wallace to make sure of your families’ support.’

  The men had first looked bewildered, but now they seemed more at ease.

  Knowing that Gilbert’s townhouse was near the north gate, James said, ‘I believe Roger Sinclair will soon arrive. We’ll have no peace here. But we’ve much to discuss. Gilbert, might we come together at your home?’

  Gilbert nodded, and both Hugh and Margaret agreed to the plan.

  The injured maid came alive and looked about her as if thinking to escape, but Celia took her firmly by the elbow and helped her rise. Hugh joined them and, with either elbow supported, Jonet was able to stand.

  Ignoring Aylmer’s looks of impatience, Malcolm tried to reason with Roger. ‘Maggie’s no child, and she has that flint-eyed maidservant with her. Let’s bide here calmly.’

  ‘What if she’s gone after Jonet?’

  Malcolm had told Roger of the maid’s suspected deeds. He chuckled now, imagining Maggie descending upon the unsuspecting maid. ‘The town will be gossiping about it for a long time to come.’

  ‘And the English will hear of it,’ Roger reminded him.

  Indeed. Malcolm was growing too old for intrigue. In his amusement about Maggie’s escape, he’d forgotten his own danger. ‘She’ll have gone to Ada for advice,’ he suggested.

  ‘Stay here until we return,’ Roger said as he rose and motioned to Aylmer that they were off. ‘If Maggie appears, keep her here. And check that Fergus still breathes.’

  He said that last coldly, and Malcolm cursed him.

  *

  Christiana followed the novice to the prioress’s parlour. The English captain had returned.

  ‘Benedicite, Prioress Agnes,’ she said.

  ‘Benedicite, Dame Christiana,’ Agnes said in a dulcet tone, though her smile was strained.

  Christiana sensed that something had gone wrong.

  ‘You have my deepest admiration and gratitude, Dame Christiana,’ the English captain said with a bow.

  ‘What?’ she said in surprise.

  ‘Your warning allowed the capture of five of William Wallace’s men. In thanks you have my word that this priory will be left in peace.’

  ‘Captured?’ Christiana whispered. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for them.’ As she began to understand what she had done by telling the English captain of the watchers she crossed herself and sank on to a chair that a maid set behind her.

  ‘God blessed you with a profound gift,’ said the prioress. ‘I am newly amazed.’

  ‘Do the men yet live?’ Christiana asked.

  ‘Four do,’ said the captain. ‘The fifth fell from the cliff rather than be captured. They’d murdered all four of my men.’

  The maid bent to ask, ‘Are you unwell, Dame Christiana?’

  Christiana lifted her eyes to Thomas, on whose face she saw pain and blame.

  ‘I must leave you now,’ she said quietly. ‘I am not well.’

  ‘Wine!’ cried the prioress.

  A cup was placed in Christiana’s cold hands. She stared down into it and saw in the blood-red liquid a symbol of what she had done. ‘I cannot drink this.’ She thrust it aside as she willed herself to rise. This is what came of collaboration. She had known it was wrong, to produce a vision for the prioress. She had known it. ‘I pray you, send Dame Bethag to me,’ she said, and pushing past the prioress’s agitated concern she fled into the yard. She would be cursed for this, and all her family with her. She must pray, pray for the dead man’s soul and the rescue of
the others. She must pray.

  Roger returned too quickly.

  Malcolm rose from the table as Aylmer handed him something tied in one of Christiana’s forgotten veils. ‘You did not find Maggie?’ He placed the heavy bundle on the table.

  Roger looked haggard and shook with an energy that would explode in violence if it found no other outlet. ‘She was not at Ada’s. Her friend had not seen her. So we went to your house. Someone had been there. Stools grouped in a circle. And that –’ he nodded at the bundle – ‘was on the floor near the door.’

  Malcolm looked down at it, then back to Roger. ‘What do you fear?’ he asked softly, doubting his son-in-law’s ability to contain himself. ‘Why would she go to my house?’

  ‘That is booty from your house, if I’m not mistaken,’ said Roger. ‘Did Maggie surprise thieves?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Tell me about the sterlings men have been demanding of you.’

  The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children. ‘Why would she go to my house?’ Malcolm cried. ‘She must have known there might be trouble.’

  ‘When I told Ada about Jonet’s friends, she suggested that Maggie would go after her, and that your house might be tempting, empty, unguarded. Jonet might be collecting items of value, hiding them.’

  Malcolm looked down at the cloth. ‘So Maggie and Celia might have frightened Jonet.’

  ‘And then what? Where are they?’ Roger asked angrily, as if he suspected that Malcolm knew.

  Pressing his hands to his temples, Malcolm tried to think but his heart was racing and visions of men desperate for their money falling upon his daughter struck him dumb. He dropped back on to the bench and buried his head in his hands.

  ‘You and your brother are two of a kind,’ Roger said, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘If she’s suffering because of your scheming I’ll kill you.’

  It was small comfort to Malcolm to realise that Roger’s desperation was that of a devoted husband.

  *

  Having reassembled in the Ruthven hall and convinced Gilbert’s wife that they needed no refreshment, the meeting was called to order by James.

  ‘Shall we begin with Jonet?’ he suggested.

  Margaret had taken a seat beside the maid, and James stole glances at her throughout Jonet’s narration. Her colour high, her jaw set, he found Margaret lovely and formidable, far more so than he’d considered her in Edinburgh.

  ‘Dame Christiana chose that spineless Marion over me to be lady’s maid,’ Jonet was saying, her face livid with recalled anger. ‘After all I’d done for her, all the times I made excuses for her. She was one mistress who never put her hand to any task about the house. Never. But you won’t believe it, then they had the gall to leave me to see to both their house and Dame Margaret’s. But John Smyth showed me how ill-used I was. He knew, for he’d been used by the family as well. He said Master Malcolm had done nothing to deserve my loyalty.’

  James watched Margaret register a range of emotions from sympathy to anger to amusement.

  But Jonet had left out what was most important.

  ‘What did they hope to find?’ Margaret asked.

  Hugh leaned forward, only now becoming interested.

  Jonet’s eyes flicked round the circle. ‘I could be hanged for saying.’

  ‘I’m sure Smyth told you that,’ said James, ‘but he’s dead, and the other spies will see you limping and understand that we beat the truth out of you.’

  ‘They’re stronger than you are,’ she said, but her face was flushed and for the first time she looked frightened.

  James shook his head. ‘They are intruders, they are on foreign soil, surrounded by us.’ He smiled to show her his confidence. By Celia’s movement, he could see that she understood his purpose and found it discomfiting, but Jonet seemed to find comfort in it.

  ‘You think that Master Malcolm was on your side,’ she said, ‘but I know that King Edward of England is using Kerr ships.’ Her smile was little more than a sneer.

  ‘Then why were the English searching his things?’ James asked.

  ‘They searched Master Roger’s house, too,’ she reminded them.

  ‘Yes,’ said Margaret, ‘we know how thoroughly you have betrayed our trust, Jonet. There is no need to tell us.’

  But if Margaret had thought her words would cow the maid, they seemed to have the opposite effect.

  Jonet turned to James. ‘You’re a Comyn. It’s your family and the Bruces who are killing us, not the English. You’re fighting over the crown and we’ll never have peace while either of your families have it. That’s what King Edward knows.’

  James was momentarily speechless. Gilbert muttered something under his breath.

  Margaret shook her head at the maid. ‘Clever words from John Smyth,’ she said. ‘He was not so clever while working for my father. Still, what he apparently did not understand is that we have nothing to fear from a struggle between the two great houses of Comyn and Bruce, for they are interested in killing only one another. But King Edward is slaughtering our people. He murdered so many of the merchants of Berwick that the streets ran with their blood. No Comyn or Bruce would ever condone such a deed.’

  Jonet dropped her eyes to her hands.

  Everyone was looking at Margaret, but she did not notice, bent as she seemed on enlightening the maid.

  ‘What else did he tell you?’ she asked Jonet.

  ‘That William Wallace fought beside King Edward in Wales.’

  Margaret glanced up at James.

  ‘Many of our countrymen did, to our shame,’ he said, ‘but not William Wallace.’

  Hugh shifted on his seat. ‘Some say it is for that deed God is punishing us.’

  Jonet shrugged.

  ‘So what did Smyth and the others hope to find?’ James asked, wishing to end this interrogation soon.

  ‘Proof that Master Malcolm was not as he seemed. That he was cheating the English at the same time as they were sailing his ships.’

  ‘And did they find anything?’

  Jonet looked at Gilbert and Hugh. ‘Ask them.’

  But it was Margaret who explained the silver/ sterling exchange in which the two men had invested.

  Having had much experience with Malcolm’s brother Murdoch, James asked in confusion, ‘Why had you entrusted Malcolm with your funds?’

  ‘He’s one of the most trusted merchants in Perth,’ said Gilbert with indignation. ‘We’d no cause to doubt he would be fair with us.’

  ‘I would have trusted him with my life,’ said Hugh.

  ‘I believe my father miscalculated his risks,’ Margaret interposed. ‘He thought Longshanks had taken all the soldiers from this area with him to Flanders. He was taken by surprise when his ship was boarded on the Tay by the English and he thought only of his freedom. It was not the honourable thing to do, I grant you, and I am not defending him.’ She glanced at Jonet, perhaps expecting to see a sneer, but the maid’s spleen seemed to have been spent.

  There was much more James wished to know, particularly what Jonet knew of the spies, but that could wait until they reached Wallace, who would still be at the camp outside town. He took Margaret aside.

  ‘Wallace will want to talk to her, and it’s time you met him. Are you willing?’

  She did not hesitate. ‘What of Celia? If she remains behind her silence will anger Roger – you know how stubborn she can be, and I know the extent of my husband’s temper.’

  ‘Have you a friend with whom she might stay the night?’

  Margaret looked aside. ‘A night,’ she said, as if to herself. ‘The men will be without a cook. What of Fergus?’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘He’ll sleep through the night.’

  James watched with interest.

  Margaret met his gaze again. ‘Ada,’ she said. ‘Celia can go to my friend Ada.’

  ‘So you’ll come?’

  ‘Roger will be furious,’ Margaret said.

  ‘I should think he’d be worri
ed.’

  ‘Of course.’ Margaret took a deep breath and nodded. ‘But how will we get past the English?’

  ‘They are not yet organised, but they will be soon. Jonet shall be your maid, and you heading for the lying in of a friend in the country, with an old friar escorting you.’

  She surprised him with a mischievous smile.

  His conscience bothering him, he warned her, ‘We might have difficulty returning.’

  ‘I am tired of holding my breath,’ she said.

  ‘And what of Fergus?’

  ‘His wounds are not severe. His father can attend him. Lead on, Friar James.’

  He would have kissed her if the others had not been there.

  Celia still regarded James Comyn with suspicion. In her opinion, a person who so enjoyed playing someone else was too unpredictable to trust. So even though she could see that Margaret and Comyn were decided, she protested her separation from her mistress, and when ordered to Ada’s she departed with a heart full of apprehension. She took care to avoid Watergate, where Roger might see her, because Margaret had seemed so worried about his taking out his anger on her. She recalled the marks on Margaret’s shoulders one morning, small bruises, like the impressions of fingertips. Celia was a tiny woman and knew she would not survive a beating as well as her tall, strong-boned mistress. Nor did she want the lying, scheming traitor to lay a hand on her. She could not understand how she had believed her former mistress’s constant litany of her son’s virtues and wondered whether Dame Katherine had actually been deceived by him. Perhaps she had offered Celia’s services to Margaret because she knew she needed protection.

  Celia thought of the look of devilish enjoyment on Margaret’s face as she told her of her plan to go to the camp of the Wallace and decided that the machinations of Roger and the Kerr family had driven her wits from her. Now it would be up to Celia to protect her mistress’s reputation. But she must avoid a confrontation with Roger because he was too devious for her.

  She arrived at Ada’s safely and was immediately engulfed in the rose-scented silks of her mistress’s best friend, only gradually managing to disentangle herself from Ada’s strong embrace.