Chapter 15
He wanted to believe himself neutral in this war that swept the borders. But the truth was, he could no longer remain neutral. He soothed himself by saying that as the king represented Scotland, and he stood with Scotland, he must therefore stand by little James VI, a lad but slightly older than his own wee son. In his heart Angus Ferguson knew it to be the right thing to do. Mary Stuart had left them.
Of course, she had had no real choice in the matter. Beaten in her last battle at Langside, Mary did not wait this time to be incarcerated in some moldering heap of stones once again watched over by pious folk hostile to her and everything for which she had stood. She had trusted to the nobility of her lords once before. A miscarriage and her imprisonment for a year at Inchmahome had been the reward for her faith in them.
After Langside she had fled south into England. Angus often thought that if she had just holed up in Dumbarton and negotiated with Moray and his ilk, she would still be queen. But her half brother, anticipating that she would make a run for Dumbarton, had blocked her way. She hadn’t so much fled, Angus thought in retrospect, as she had been driven from Scotland, and by the very men who were her own kin and had colluded in the murders of both David Riccio and Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley.
And these men had gained exactly what they wanted: An infant king who would need their protection. A lad who could be educated and molded to suit them. A king who would not rebel against them but would be like them, think like them, act like them, and defend the new Reformed kirk of Scotland. And his mother would not be there to interfere with them as they produced this creation of theirs. Nay. They would not want Mary Stuart back in Scotland to thwart all their plans.
Matthew Ferguson didn’t understand this, however. All he could see was a beautiful and tragic woman forced from her throne. He did not approve of her marriage to his brother’s friend James Hepburn, but that was an error that could have been remedied. Mary Stuart was a devoted and devout daughter of Holy Mother Church.
She had allowed these men who called themselves the Reformed Church to practice their faith. But Knox and his ilk were yet suspicious of her, and could not refrain from taking the slightest thing they did not understand about the queen and declaring it ungodly or unchaste. They had stolen her bairn from her—driven her from Scotland. It was unjust!
How could his elder brother not understand the truth of all that had happened? William Hamilton had explained it quite clearly to Matthew Ferguson. The queen, their good Catholic queen, had had her throne usurped by her Protestant bastard half brother. They had imprisoned her. Caused her to miscarry. Fought against her and then driven her from their land. It was certainly God’s will that she be restored to her throne.
Her misalliance with Lord Bothwell would be annulled by the pope in Rome. England’s Duke of Norfolk, a good Catholic, would wed the queen. The queen would give to him what she had not given to either Lord Darnley or Lord Bothwell: the crown matrimonial. Scotland would have a good king and queen. Norfolk would be a good father to little James, and with luck there would be more children. The queen was still young enough. But first Mary Stuart must be restored to her rightful place.
“Duin is isolated,” William Hamilton said. “All we ask is a safe resting place for our messengers. Moray’s people will look to the east for our messengers. Perhaps they will even look to the center region of the border, but the west is the least likely place they will look. They will be no danger to the Fergusons, and the queen is certain to show her gratitude, Matthew, my friend. Would ye nae like a title of yer own to pass down to that fine laddie yer fair lady bore ye? Why should an accident of yer birth prevent ye from such a prize?”
And Matthew Ferguson listened, and was tempted. He had seen the queen when she had stopped briefly at Duin in her flight south. She was beautiful and royal, but she had looked so frail and tired. She was Scotland’s rightful queen. If his brother could take sides, then so could he. He would shelter the messengers needing rest and nourishment at his own new stone house. There was no need for Angus to know anything.
“I’ll help the queen,” he said.
Afterward he told his wife, Agnes, expecting to be praised for his chivalry. To his great surprise Agnes was horrified, and chastised him sharply.
“Are ye mad, Matthew Ferguson? What hae ye done? Ye’ve put me and our bairn in danger, not to mention yer brother!”
“Angus would nae help the poor queen,” he answered her.
“Of course he wouldn’t, ye dolt! The queen is finished. Do ye truly believe those cold, hard men clutching the royal bairn in their paws will gie way and allow her back?”
Matthew Ferguson was astounded. She had berated him, called him a dolt. His beautiful and sweet wife had suddenly become a harsh scold. “Madam,” he said, “am I nae the master in my own home? Dinna remonstrate wi’ me, for I hae made my decision. Offering shelter and food to a passing messenger, if indeed one should pass through Duin, can hardly be countenanced as a crime. I am involved in nae plots. I simply offer border hospitality, as any man would to a stranger.”
“Matthew, do ye nae realize that messengers coming over the border will always stop here, knowing that ye hae offered to shelter them? They will all be headed for Dumbarton Castle, for the Queen’s Men still cling to that pile of rocks. The plot comes from there, nae from England, ye great fool!”
“Madam,” he shouted at her, “I will nae be spoken to as ye hae been speaking to me. Hush yer mouth, and say nae another word.”
Agnes looked at her husband, outraged. “I’m taking our wee Robbie and going to the castle,” she told him. “I’ll nae abide another night beneath the roof of this dwelling that is to be used to house traitors to the little king. I’ll nae hae my bairn put in danger of ending up on the end of a soldier’s pike because his puddingheaded da canna see the truth. I’m nae coming back until ye repair this disaster.”
“Jesu! Mary!” Matthew swore. “Ye’re just like yer plain-faced sister!”
“Dinna criticize my sister,” Agnes snapped back. “Annabella is wonderful, and yer own brother hae seen it. The bond between them is so strong nothing could break it. Would that our marriage could be as strong.”
“Yer damned sister hae turned my brother away from his duty to our queen,” Matthew said. “She hae bewitched him, for no man could love such a simple face.”
“Is that why ye wed wi’ me, Matthew? Because I am beautiful? Did ye see nothing else in me but my face?” Agnes was near crying. “If I were as my sister, would ye hae loved me? It seems ye would nae.” Then she ran from the little hall of their stone house.
He watched her go, puzzled. What was the matter wi’ his beautiful Aggie? And then a thought struck him. She was breeding again. Certainly that was it! Breeding women were always given to odd fancies. But then the next day Agnes and his son were gone missing from their house. He found her servant woman packing Agnes’s possessions. “Where hae she gone?” he demanded.
“To the castle,” the woman replied.
Matthew Ferguson mounted his horse and rode the distance between Duin and his stone house. He found his wife in the castle hall with her sister. “Where’s my son?” he demanded to know. “Ye may remain here if ye choose, but Robbie is coming home wi’ me,” he told her in a hard voice.
“Robbie will remain wi’ me,” Agnes said obdurately.
“Matthew,” Annabella said, “I dinna know what hae precipitated this rift between ye and Aggie, but perhaps ye both need a few days to cool yer fiery heads.”
“Dinna tell me how to manage my wife, madam,” Matthew snarled.
“Manage?” Agnes’s voice had become a screech. “Am I a horse or a dog to be managed? How dare ye, Matthew Ferguson!”
“I want ye and my son home,” he replied.
“Then ye know what ye must do, sir, for I’ll nae be home until ye do it,” Agnes said in firm tones.
He realized then that she had not revealed his secret, and for that he was grateful.
“I’ll nae besmirch my honor, Agnes,” he informed her.
“I hope yer honor will keep ye warm this winter,” she snapped.
With a snarl of impatience Matthew left the castle hall.
“What hae happened to put ye and Matthew at odds?” Annabella asked. “I realize that he can be a difficult man, but he loves ye.”
“He is nae difficult!” Agnes defended her husband. “But sometimes he is foolish.”
“How hae he been foolish?” Annabella probed gently. It had to be something very foolish to have sent her sister racing with her bairn from the fine stone house Matthew had built for her to the security of Duin Castle. But Annabella knew her sister would say nothing—indeed, if she said anything at all—until she had resolved the conflict, at least in her own mind.
Angus took his wife aside when he saw his sister-in-law and her bairn had moved into his home. “What hae happened between them? They’re mad in love.”
“I dinna know,” Annabella admitted. “She is nae ready to tell me, but she will. We hae but to be patient. She is verra angry and hurt by something he hae done or said.”
Several weeks passed. The days were growing noticeably shorter as the autumn arrived and began to deepen. Then one day Jean’s husband, who was captain of the castle men-at-arms, came to the earl.
“The men on the heights hae noticed something, my lord, that I believe should be brought to yer attention. There is traffic coming across the border, single riders, but more in the last two weeks than we usually see in a twelvemonth’s time.”
“Do they seem headed in a singular direction?” Angus asked his captain.
“Aye, toward yer steward’s house. They make an effort to bypass the castle, my lord, but those headed both north and south seem intent on that direction and possible destination. I knew ye would want to know.”
“Thank ye. I should like to be notified the next time one of these riders is spotted so I may see for myself,” Angus told his captain.
“Aye, my lord, I’ll see to it at once,” the captain responded.
Several hours later a man-at-arms came to report that a rider had been spotted on the horizon coming north. The Earl of Duin followed the man up the stairs and finally up a ladder to the roof of his castle. There on the heights, in a driving wind coming off the sea, he stood for the next hour watching the horseman come, and he did indeed make an obvious effort to avoid the castle, instead turning toward Matthew Ferguson’s house.
Angus finally came down from the heights and called for his horse. With two men-at-arms accompanying him, he rode to Matthew’s house. “Check his stables for a weary and lathered mount,” he instructed the men-at-arms. Then, without another word, he went into his brother’s home. He stood silently in the entrance to the little hall for several long moments. At a trestle a stranger was seated in earnest conversation with Matthew as he ate.
The Earl of Duin stepped into the hall, making his presence known as he greeted his younger sibling. “Good afternoon, Matthew,” he said.
Matthew Ferguson jumped up from the bench where he had been seated. There was guilt written all over his face. “Angus!” he exclaimed. “What brings ye here?”
“The stream of riders heading to yer house these last few weeks,” the earl replied dryly. “What mischief hae ye gotten yerself into, brother? Is it the mischief that I expressly forbade ye to involve yerself in? Is that why yer wife left ye, taking yer bairn wi’ her? Who is this man who eats at yer board, Matthew? Do ye even know his name?”
“I had to help!” Matthew exclaimed.
The Earl of Duin’s face grew dark with his anger. “Nay!” he thundered. “Ye dinna hae to help. Yer disobedience hae endangered us all. Dinna ye understand, Matthew? Ye are consorting wi’ rebels. Engaging in treasonous conduct.”
“How can helping Scotland’s rightful queen be treasonous?” Matthew demanded.
“Scotland hae no queen, ye thick dolt! Scotland hae a king. His Majesty James, the sixth of that name,” the earl said angrily. Then he turned to the man still eating at the trestle. “Finish yer meal and then be gone back from whence ye came. I’ll take the packet ye carry first, however.”
The messenger stood up. He was almost as tall as Angus Ferguson, and looked him directly in the eye. “’Tis nae for ye, my lord, but bound for Dumbarton Castle.”
“I know where it goes, but ’twill nae get there through my lands. I’m nae above throwing ye in my dungeons, man. Now hand me yer packet so I may destroy it and rid my foolish brother’s house of treason. Tell yer masters in England that neither Duin Castle nor the house of its steward will be open to them, ever. My brother hae defied my direct orders to nae consort wi’ the Queen’s Men. I told William Hamilton nay, and I meant it. Whether the Hamiltons and my brother wish to accept it, these actions are treasonous. The Fergusons of Duin will nae involve themselves in this treason.”
The messenger looked the Earl of Duin over. He noted the dirk in his belt, and he could see the earl was a man used to handling a weapon. Though he considered himself one of the Queen’s Men, his first loyalty was to himself. It wasn’t worth getting killed or maimed over a single message. He had no idea what was in it, but the Hamiltons would have to get it to its destination another way. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled the packet containing the message out, handing it to Angus Ferguson.
The earl took it, then, turning to his brother, said, “I’ll deal wi’ ye later. Ye’re forbidden the castle until I call for ye to come, Matthew.”
“Angus . . .”
The earl gave his younger brother a hard look, and left the little hall.
Angus and the two men-at-arms rode back to the castle. He ordered the drawbridge up as soon as they crossed it. His anger with his younger sibling was burning white-hot. Never had Matthew questioned his judgment before, or disobeyed him. His brother had grown restless and reckless of late, and he didn’t understand why that was. Even Annabella’s little sister had disapproved of his actions, and wisely removed herself and her bairn from the stone house Matthew had built for her. And that was another thing: Why had Agnes not told them what was going on instead of simply coming to Duin for safety’s sake?
Annabella greeted him as he came into his own hall. “What has happened?”
He told her, asking when he finished, “Where is yer sister? This is why she left him, and she was wise to do so, but she might hae told us the mischief he was up to, yet she did not.” He called to a servant, “Fetch the lady Agnes to me.”
“I believe she was torn between her loyalties,” Annabella said, seeing his anger was high, and attempting to spare her sister the scolding she was about to get.
“She is the wife of a Ferguson of Duin,” the earl replied in a hard voice. “Her first loyalty must be to Duin itself, and then to Matthew, nae to my brother alone. She came to us for protection while allowing the danger to continue.”
Agnes came into the hall. She was pale and looked frightened. “My lord?” she said in a soft voice. “Ye wished to see me?”
“Why hae ye left my brother?” Angus demanded of her. “The truth now, madam! I’ll hae no shilly-shallying about it.”
“He’s allowed our house to become a stopping point for the Queen’s Men,” Agnes answered. Then she burst into tears. “I told him it was wrong. I told him he endangered us all wi’ his actions, but he would nae listen to me.”
“Aye,” the earl roared, causing the poor lass to tremble where she stood. “Ye told him, but ye dinna tell me! Damn it, Agnes, I am Duin! Everyone on these lands defers to me first. Nae to Matthew. To me!”
“Angus.” Annabella spoke, putting a restraining hand on her husband’s arm.
He looked into her soft gray eyes. For all her plainness she did bewitch him.
She smiled softly at him. “Angus,” she repeated.
“Oh, verra well,” he said low. Then, turning to his weeping sister-in-law, he told her, “Ye will remain in the castle until I can make certain yer disobedient husband hae nae brought the wrath of the King’s Men upon us. Wi’ luck no one hae noticed yet.”
“Th-thank ye,” Agnes quavered, and without permission or another word she picked up her skirts and fled the hall, sobbing.
The earl took his wife’s hand and led her to the chairs they favored by the blazing hearth. They had eaten earlier, and the hall was quiet now. The twins had been put to bed before their father’s encounter with their pretty aunt. The dogs were sprawled near the two fireplaces. The cat who had occupied Annabella’s chair now jumped into her lap and settled itself comfortably amid her dark green velvet skirts. She stroked it absently.
“I brought back the packet the messenger carried. Let us see what treason it contains before I burn it,” Angus said as he opened the square leather container and drew out a folded and sealed parchment. Undoing the letter, he spread it out on his knees to smooth any creases; then, picking it up, he silently read the contents.
“What does it say?” Annabella asked him.
He looked up at her, his face deadly serious. “They are planning several assassinations,” he told her. “Those who hold or are likely to hold the reins of power for the wee king: Lennox, his grandfather; Moray; the king’s guardians, Erskine and his wife. They believe if they can rid themselves of these few they can bring the queen back into power once again.”
“Erskine and his wife are good folk,” Annabella said. “Perhaps they dinna gie the little king the warmth and love a parent might gie him, but they do their duty by him admirably. Moray is ruthless, but all he hae done to date hae been in the king’s best interest. They hae taken to calling him the good regent. As for Lennox, I hae never liked Darnley’s father. He betrayed Marie de Guise, and took the English queen’s gold, remaining in England for many years. His own wife, though Scots born, was the daughter of the English princess Margaret Tudor and her second husband. His interests are not, I believe, Scotland’s interests. He simply wants the power that would come with being a royal regent. Still, I dinna think they should be murdered. If they are, who knows who will grab the power?” Annabella said. “Who do they say is to be killed first? And when? Ye canna destroy this evidence, but must warn Moray and his counsel.”
“They dinna say,” Angus replied, looking carefully through the message again.
“Would the messenger know?” Annabella wondered aloud.
“Nay, ’tis unlikely he even knows what he carries. He is just a courier for the Hamiltons,” Angus said.
“We must learn the truth,” Annabella replied.
“We?” He looked directly at her.
She gave him a saucy grin. “Remember that I make a good lad,” she said.
“I will nae hae ye in danger,” he responded.
“I hae a plan,” she countered calmly.
“Annabella!”
“Angus!”
He laughed. Matthew was right: She was bold, but he couldn’t resist asking her, “What plan, madam? And if I refuse ye, will ye run off as ye did when I went to France?”
“Probably,” she admitted, “but hear my plan first, husband. We must incarcerate the Hamiltons’ messenger for our safety’s sake, after learning from where he came. Then we will ride together to the Hamilton lair, but while ye remain hidden outside of their walls, I will ride in to tell them that their messenger was injured by the time he reached Matthew’s house. I will say he was set upon by bandits, and destroyed the contents of the packet rather than allow it to fall into the wrong hands. I will bring the empty packet wi’ me to prove my veracity. I will say that if they want me to, I will take another message to Dumbarton. That Matthew sent me to them. Riding boldly into their stronghold and having the leather case wi’ me will prove the truth of my tale.”
“If they send the same message we will still nae learn the time and place or the first of their victims,” Angus said. “That is what we must discover.”
“I dinna believe they would be informing Dumbarton unless the time was near to begin implementing their wicked scheme,” Annabella noted. “Take the courier now, and then let us wait a few days before questioning him. Or better, I could simply bring the message that ye hold to Dumbarton myself. Perhaps I could learn something there.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Angus Ferguson told his wife. “What if ye were caught?”
“Someone is going to die, my lord. And Scotland is going to be thrown into chaos again. We hae the ability to prevent that, and we must.”
“We could send Matthew to Dumbarton,” the earl suggested. “He needs to repent of his disobedience.”
“Forgie me, my dear lord, but yer brother can no longer be trusted,” Annabella said bluntly. “His heart is good, I am sure, and he would go wi’ the best of intentions, but then he would be swept up in the patriotic fever of those who wish to restore the queen. He would betray ye, betray us, and then he would repent, but it would be too late.”
“I could go,” the earl said.
“Nay,” Annabella replied, shaking her head. “The Hamiltons may have informed those at Dumbarton of yer refusal to help. They would nae believe yer change of heart. There is nothing for it but that the lad I can be must go.”
“Nay! I canna allow it, sweetheart,” he told her.
“Dumbarton is easier than having to find the Hamiltons’ hidey-hole,” Annabella said, as if he had not spoken at all. “Come, my lord; the hour grows late. It is past time we were abed, Angus.” She stood up, and the cat on her lap hissed at being displaced once more. It stalked off, its ears turned back.
“Jesu, woman, are ye attempting to seduce me?” he demanded of her.
“Oh, may I?” she teased him, and, laughing, took his hand to lead him upstairs.
“I will not be ensorcelled by yer charms, Annabella, many as they may be,” he said sternly, but he did not pull away. Indeed, he was smiling. How he loved his lass!
“Nay, nay, my lord, of course not.” She whirled about, standing upon her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth a quick kiss.
“I will take a hazel switch and beat ye,” he threatened.
“And if I am deserving, ye should, my lord, ye should,” Annabella agreed.
They were on the stairs now. He stopped and pushed her against the wall, his hand sliding beneath her velvet skirts along her silken thigh. He pressed his big body against hers as his fingers tangled in the dark curls covering her mons. “Oh, ye are deserving, my love, of a great deal,” he told her. “And I intend on seeing ye get all ye deserve.” A finger slipped through her nether lips to touch her love button, to rub it teasingly.
Annabella drew a sharp breath. She loved it when he touched her there. She wiggled against the ball of his finger. She was already moist, and growing wetter with the teasing pressure and friction of that finger. “Angus,” she moaned against his lips.
The finger was withdrawn from the sensitive nub, leaving it tingling but not at all satisfied.
“Oh, nay, madam,” he said softly into her ear. “Ye will nae hae yer way wi’ me so easily before I hae had a full measure of my own back.” He took his hand from beneath her skirts and continued up the stairs, this time leading her through her apartments and into her bedchamber. Turning her back to him, he unlaced her gown, pushing it down to her waist. His hands reached around to undo the ribbons of her chemise, which he peeled away over her shoulders and down to meet the fabric of the gown. Then, holding her by her shoulders, he bent to slowly trace a line of kisses down her backbone.
Annabella sighed, feeling his warm lips moving across her flesh.
His hands dropped from her shoulders to cup her breasts, which he fondled at his leisure. Now his hands were moving to clasp her waist so he might lift her from her slippers and the pile of fabric that had covered her glorious body. She was naked but for her stockings with their silk ribbon garters.
Free of entanglement, Annabella turned about and began to undo the sleeveless leather jerkin that he wore. She unlaced his shirt, pulling it from him, and then, bending to press kisses all over his chest and torso, she slipped to her knees before him. She could feel his various pulse points jumping beneath her lips as she moved lower and lower. Her hands worked to undo his breeks, beneath which he wore naught. Her breath caught briefly in her throat at the sight of his wonderful manhood. She gave his taut buttocks a quick fondle as, now fully kneeling, she reached for him.
His cock was yet a wonder to her. Annabella could not know for certain, but she assumed its size was of a larger variety. Whether it was or not made little difference to her, as it gave the greatest of pleasures, for he wielded it skillfully. Taking a gentle hold on it, she licked its length several times while her other hand played with his sac. Angus made a small murmur as the message of her tongue was conveyed to him. Annabella next licked the tip of his cock with several seductive sweeps of her tongue before taking that tip between her lips, pressing down on it, rolling it between those lips.
His hand slipped to her dark head. He had taught her months before how to suck his cock, but something instinctual had taken over and she had refined the task into the sweetest of tortures. He felt her mouth opening now to absorb as much of him as she could. She began to tug upon the peg of flesh within her mouth with delicate pulls that grew stronger and stronger. Then, sensing his excitement, she would pull back, her tongue caressing his length and his thickness as it lay imprisoned between her lips. The wicked bit of flesh stroked him, encircled him, but never allowed him release. Finally he could bear no more of this deliciousness. “Enough!” he growled in a hoarse voice, and as she released him he pulled her up to kiss her hungrily.
She loved teasing him. She had discovered almost immediately that she had an instinct for pleasuring him without bringing him to completion. Now it was her turn, and Angus Ferguson did not fail his wife. He kissed her until her lips were bruised. His tongue ravaged hers until she was weak. Then he stopped and, seating her upon the edge of the big bed, he pushed her gently back, pulled her shapely legs up over his shoulders, and buried his dark head between her thighs. The tip of his tongue found her love button, touching it lightly at first, then with delicate, quick touches, until Annabella could not refrain from making small noises as his tongue began to stroke her strongly. Then his lips closed over that sensitive little nub of flesh and sucked hard, releasing the first flow of her juices. Annabella shuddered with the tiny burst of pleasure.
Now he raised himself up. Holding his swollen cock in his hand, he guided it into her welcoming sheath with a single hard and deep thrust. “God, ye feel good!” he groaned as he filled her full. Then he began to piston her.
Annabella couldn’t speak at first. His cock moved slowly but steadily, its speed increasing slightly with each strong stroke until it flashed in and out of her with incredible rapidity. Then he would slow his pace again, and when he did Annabella squeezed him, the walls of her sheath closing about him so tightly that he cried out at one point. Then the movement began once again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth until they were both drenched in utter pleasure.
“Dinna wait,” she whispered hotly in his ear.
“I canna,” he admitted, increasing the tempo that shortly sent them both over the edge and into paradise as his juices flooded her secret garden and she cried out with her need fulfilled. He fell on the bed next to her then.
For some minutes they lay motionless: Annabella with her legs now fallen over the edge of the bed, Angus on his belly near her. Finally she managed to crawl up and beneath the coverlet, tugging at him to do the same, for the night air was becoming chill.
He pulled her into his arms with a groan into her long loose hair, and whispered that he adored her.
“I love ye too, Angus,” she responded. “But send someone to catch the Hamiltons’ messenger before he escapes us.”
He laughed softly. “I hae just loved ye verra well, wife, and ye canna enjoy the afterglow?” he teased her. He released his hold on her, climbing from their bed to yank upon the bellpull. To his relief his serving man, Tormod, appeared immediately, entering through the small door that connected the earl’s bedchamber to his wife’s. “Send several men-at-arms to catch the Hamilton messenger who came to my brother’s house. Treat him well, but put him in the castle dungeon. He may still be at Matthew’s or he may have departed either back south or toward Dumbarton.”
“At once, my lord,” Tormod replied with a quick bow, and was gone again. He was not in the least disconcerted by his master’s naked state.
Angus Ferguson climbed back into bed to pull his wife close. She murmured sleepily, for she was already slipping into rest. In a few hours she would want to play again, he knew. Annabella had gained a healthy appetite for bed sport, he considered with a grin. He chuckled, and concentrated on sleep. The demanding wench would be awake soon enough.
But to his surprise they both slept until Jean awakened them just as dawn was breaking. “They caught the messenger,” she said by way of greeting. “Get up now, for the day is beginning, and yer breakfast will soon be in the hall.”
The earl got up and, walking to the little door separating the bedchambers, passed through it so that he might have the services of his serving man.
“He still has a fine ass,” Jean remarked pithily. “I remember when we swam together as children. What will ye wear today?”
“Something that doesna make me look all female and fragile,” Annabella said.
“Ahh, ye’re planning some naughtiness,” Jean remarked, “aren’t ye?”
“The lad I once was must be resurrected,” Annabella said. Then she explained everything that had happened yesterday.
“Aye, Ned told me of Matthew’s lapse in judgment,” Jean said. “Did Angus really forbid him the castle?”
“Aye, until his anger cools. I think that once we can correct this situation, Jean, Angus will nae be quite so angry, but questioning the earl’s judgment was not a wise thing for Matthew to do. It is his antipathy toward me that seems to direct this. Why does he persist in disliking me so, Jeannie?”
“Because he’s a fool,” her tiring woman said. “Matthew has always almost worshiped Angus. He felt Angus should hae a woman as beautiful as Angus was handsome, and wi’ a large dower to match his brother’s wealth. Instead Angus took ye, a plain-faced lass, to wife for a piece of land he coveted. I think my brother thinks ye are nae worthy of his idol.”
“He told Angus I was too bold,” Annabella said as Jean laced up her gown.
Jean laughed. “Matthew is an old-fashioned man. He thinks women should be silent, yet neither our mother nor Angus’s mother was meek and mild. Is Aggie?”
“Aggie is like our mother: quiet to a point, but she will speak up when she hae had enough, and believes a situation needs correcting,” Annabella explained. “I think she may hae given poor Matthew quite a piece of her mind when she learned what he had done. Angus scolded her severely for nae telling him what she knew until it was almost too late. She is nae used to a woman’s first loyalty being to her overlord, nae her husband. I think Angus hae made that quite clear to her now, however.”
“Aye, I expect that he did,” Jean agreed. “He hae had the responsibility of Duin ever since he was a young lad. He is a good lord.”
“Aye, he is,” Annabella said.
Jean dressed her mistress’s hair. “Ye’re ready,” she said.
“Thank ye.” Annabella got up and hurried from her apartments down into the hall. Angus was not yet there, but Agnes was already seated at the high board. Annabella joined her younger sister. “Feel better this morning?” she asked Agnes.
Agnes nodded, but then she said, “I think I should take Robbie and go home today, Annabella. Angus is certain to be angry until he can straighten out Matthew’s foolishness, I fear.”
“Angus hae told ye ye’re to remain in the castle until he gives ye permission to leave,” Annabella reminded her sibling. “He is the earl, the laird here, sister. It is his word that prevails, nae mine nor yers nor Matthew’s. Ye are nae stupid, Aggie, and this is nae Rath, where our da is laird, husband, and father. This is Duin. We owe our very existence to its earl. Why can ye nae understand this?”
“I do, and yet Matthew is my husband. It seems odd that yer husband must approve his every move.” She sighed. “I know ’tis nae different than the household of any other lord, and yet I chafe, as I know does Matthew,” Agnes replied.
“When this crisis is over,” Annabella said, “I will ask Angus if we may do something that could change all that, but for now ye must obey him.”
“I will,” Agnes promised.
The earl came into the hall. He did not look pleased as he joined them. He gave Agnes a quelling look as she concentrated upon her oat stirabout.
“Eat before ye interrogate the messenger,” Annabella said to her husband.
“I hae already spoken wi’ him,” Angus said. “Now that he believes he faces nae real danger from us, he will nae cooperate and tell me from whence he came. When I hae eaten I will see he is disabused of the notion that we are weak.”
“Angus, ye canna torture the man,” she said.
“Of course I can, and I intend to,” he told her. “Going to Dumbarton is a better idea than going into the Hamiltons’ lair, wherever it may be, but I need to know if this man came from Dumbarton originally. We dinna need any surprises.”
“What will ye do to him?” she asked, fascinated in spite of herself.
“A wee beating will loosen his tongue,” the earl said, helping himself to a large portion of eggs and several rashers of bacon. He pulled a piece off of the cottage loaf, buttering it generously with his thumb.
“Nae too hard,” Annabella pleaded for the man.
The Earl of Duin laughed. “Ye’re too softhearted, sweetheart. We need to know what he knows, and we need to know it in relatively short order.” He began eating with a good appetite, his good nature restored by just being with Annabella.
“Gie the man a day or two to consider his position,” Annabella suggested. “Surely we hae a little time, particularly if this messenger does not arrive as promptly as those waiting at Dumbarton expect. And unless he originally came from there, went to the Hamiltons, and is returning to Dumbarton, it’s likely he isn’t on a fixed schedule. A messenger comes when a messenger comes, Angus.”
“I’ll gie him a day to reconsider his fate,” the earl said.
But by the next day the courier still remained obdurate. Annabella, however, could not bear to know the man would be beaten. She insisted upon going down into the dungeons to speak with the fellow herself. He was surprised to see this plain-faced woman standing looking through the cell door grate.
“I am the Countess of Duin,” she introduced herself.
Her husband’s prisoner jumped up and bowed politely.
“I dinna want to see ye beaten, sir,” she began.
“I can take a beating,” he answered her.
“I’m certain ye can, for ye appear to me to be a strong man,” Annabella agreed. “But what we seek to learn is hardly vital.”
“It seems to be for ye,” he said with a cheeky grin.
Annabella laughed. “If you answer a question for me,” she said, “I’ll answer one for ye, sir. And ye may go first.”
He was surprised, and curious to see whether she would actually keep her word. Offering to allow him to query her first was certainly reassuring. “Verra well,” he said. “Tell me how such an attractive man like yer husband came to wed such a plain lass? Ye must be verra rich to hae gained the wedding band on yer finger.” It was a bold question, and even a bit insulting. Of course she wouldn’t answer it, and then he did not have to answer any query she put forth.
Annabella was startled by the inquiry, but she knew if she did not answer their prisoner she had no chance at all of learning what she needed to know. Looking the man directly in the eye, she said mischievously, “I’m nae rich, sir, but my da had a wee bit o’ land Angus wanted for his cows. The cows gained the pasturage; and I got a husband.”
The prisoner chuckled at her explanation. She had, to his great surprise, answered him honestly, he knew. And the truth was, the questions they wanted him to answer were really of no importance to him. “The Hamiltons hae an encampment in the hills along the border. They move it every few days in order to avoid being discovered by the King’s Men. I am a paid courier and was nae expected to return there, but to make myself of use to Lord Fleming at Dumbarton. I hae never been there before. I dinna care which side in this war prevails, as long as I earn my coin. The Hamiltons dinna pay me. Lord Fleming was to do that.” His tone was slightly aggrieved when he said it.
“The earl will see ye are paid when we release ye,” Annabella told the prisoner.
“And when is that to be?” he asked her.
“When we hae completed yer commission, sir,” she said with a twinkle. “Ye’ll be comfortable until that day. Hopefully ’twill nae be long.”
He nodded understanding, and smiled a small smile. “I thank ye for visiting wi’ me, madam. To hae the lady of the castle concerned wi’ my welfare is comforting.”
“I hae always attempted to be a good chatelaine, although my purview hae nae before extended so deep into my husband’s castle,” Annabella said, smiling back.
“He knows ye’re here?” the prisoner inquired.
“Aye, he does,” she replied.
“He must trust ye a great deal, madam.”
“I hope he does,” Annabella answered him. Then she turned and hurried away.
The courier felt a sudden loss at her departure. She was nae a pretty woman, but by God she had such great charm a man could forget that her face was plain. He wondered just what the Earl of Duin would do with that small scrap of information he had given the countess. And what had been in the message that the earl needed to know from where he had ridden, and whether he had ever been to Dumbarton before. Turning from the cell door, he lay down on his cot. It wasn’t likely he would ever get the answer to his questions, but he had enjoyed his brief conversation with the Countess of Duin.
Annabella had returned to the hall to find Angus waiting. “The Hamiltons move their encampment every few days,” she told him. “And our courier is for hire. He had never been to Dumbarton before. It’s perfect, my lord! I can dress as the young man I was in France and carry this message to Lord Fleming. The castle will afford me its hospitality until they need me to carry a message for them. I will be able to overhear all sorts of gossip, for no one pays particular attention to servants or men who carry messages. And then I will return to ye wi’ the answers we seek!” Her voice was excited, and her eyes alight with her enthusiasm.
“Nay,” he said. “’Tis too dangerous for ye. Listen to me, Annabella. When ye followed me to France ye had little contact wi’ others. Aboard ship ye were careful to avoid the company of the other passengers or the crew. Ye kept well to yerself. It was easy for ye to pass yerself off as a young serving man under those circumstances. But Dumbarton is a large fortress, and ’tis filled wi’ many soldiers. Fleming’s family will be there, but they are few. Mostly ’tis a male population. It will be difficult to keep yer identity hidden, and if ye are found out, God help ye. If ye can even reach Lord Fleming to beg his mercy, he is nae apt to give it. Instead he’ll gie ye to his soldiers. Ye’ll nae survive in their tender care.”
Annabella gasped as the implication of her husband’s words struck her. Then she said, “But we need to know when these assassinations are to take place so we may gie Moray warning. We canna just let them happen, Angus.”
“We may hae no choice in the matter, sweetheart,” he told her.
“I’ll go,” a young voice piped up.
They turned to see Annabella’s protégé, Callum Ferguson, who was now fifteen, standing there. “I overheard,” he said apologetically, blushing slightly. In the years since Callum had come to live in the castle, he had grown tall, and become very clever with his mathematical skills, helping out in the household steward’s office now.
