Chapter 16
Nay, ’tis too dangerous for ye!” Annabella cried. “Ye’re still a lad!”
“I can do it,” Callum insisted. “Ye need a pair of sharp ears inside of Lord Fleming’s fortress. There are couriers as young as I am, my lady. I can do it!”
“He could,” the earl said; then he looked at the boy, who was now almost six feet in height. “But it is indeed dangerous, lad. Ye dinna hae to do it.”
“Lady Annabella hae educated me. I can beg a place of the castle steward, and when he learns I can read and write and do numbers, he’ll consider himself lucky. He’ll gie me a place in the household, and I’ll learn much.”
“Aye!” Angus said enthusiastically. “He could do it, sweetheart!”
“But what if they discover he is a spy?” Annabella fretted.
“I think if Callum is careful, and takes nae chances, there will be nae reason to suspect him of anything,” the earl said.
“But should he overhear something that will be of value to us, how will he be able to leave Dumbarton wi’out causing suspicion so he may tell us?” Annabella wanted to know. She was not about to send this intelligent young lad into needless danger. She had not educated him to face death, but rather life.
“I will place someone in the town below the castle,” the earl said. “Callum will determine an excuse to go into the town, meet up with our agent, and pass the information on to him. Then he will return to the castle to tell the steward that while he was in the town he met up with someone sent from his village, come to tell him his mother was dying. He will ask permission to return home. They will gie it to him and he will be back at Duin before we know it, safe and sound.”
“Ye make it sound simpler than I suspect it really is,” Annabella said.
“I can do this, my lady,” Callum repeated. “I can!”
The Countess of Duin looked to her husband. “Angus?”
“He’s a braw lad wi’ a good head on his shoulders, sweetheart. All he needs do is listen, remember anything of import should he hear it, and return home to Duin wi’ whatever small knowledge he hae gained,” the earl said.
“How long must he remain at Dumbarton?” Annabella wanted to know.
“No more than two months, laddie,” Angus Ferguson said, “and ye’re to come home earlier if ye learn what we need to know sooner. The Queen’s Men plan to assassinate several important lords. I need to know when this wickedness begins. The three men who are likely to be targeted are James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, the regent; Matthew Stewart, the Earl of Lennox, the wee king’s grandsire; and John Erskine, His Majesty’s royal governor. The targets I am certain of, but I know not when these murders are planned. If I am to warn Moray, I must learn that if I can.
“Do ye understand, Callum? Ye are nae to put yerself in any danger. Ye’ll tell them at Dumbarton the messenger took ill upon arrival at Matthew Ferguson’s house. That because he believed the message to be urgent he asked Matthew to send one of his serving people to Dumbarton with the packet he carried. When ye hae delivered the message, linger about for a day or two before ye ask the household steward for a place. Remember to tell the steward ye read, write, and can do numbers.”
“Aye, my lord!” Callum Ferguson was very enthusiastic and excited to be entrusted with this mission.
“And when ye return,” Angus Ferguson told him, “I’ll want ye to help me wi’ my correspondence, if it would please ye to remain at Duin. I find I am in need of a secretary, Callum Ferguson. If ye’re old enough now to take on such a mission as ye’re about to take on, then ye’re old enough to serve me.”
“Thank ye, my lord!” The young man’s eyes were shining.
“Ye’ll leave Duin early on the morrow,” the earl said. “Tell the stable master I said ye are to hae a swift and sturdy horse.”
“Aye, my lord!” Callum hurried off.
“Are ye certain he will be safe?” Annabella asked her husband.
“If he follows my directions, he will be,” her husband answered her. But later in the evening, when Annabella was seated with her sister and their children, he sought out the lad, reminding him once again not to take any chances.
The following morning Callum Ferguson rode forth from Duin and took the road to Dumbarton. The horse he rode was young and quick. Callum carried no coin, only the packet for Lord Fleming. There was a dirk in his belt but nothing more. He reached Dumbarton after almost two days of riding. He could see it long before he reached it. The great fortress of a castle had been there in one form or another for so long that no one could quite remember when it had first come into existence. Massive and built of dark rock, it sat high on a great black cliff above the River Clyde, a town at its feet.
Callum urged his horse up the narrow path leading to the castle’s entry. “Urgent message for Lord Fleming from the Hamiltons,” he called out, and he was admitted through the portcullis gate. He dismounted in the courtyard. His animal was taken from him and led away. A man-at-arms came up to him.
“I’ll take yer packet,” he said.
“Nay,” Callum replied. “I have been told to put it into Lord Fleming’s hand, and nae one else’s.”
The soldier shrugged. “This way,” he said, leading the boy into the castle.
Callum carefully memorized the way so that, should he need to retreat in a hurry, he would know it. They went upstairs and through ill-lit corridors, finally stopping before a door. The soldier knocked, waited, and the door was finally opened by a small man who looked rather harassed.
“Messenger for His Lordship,” he said. Then he went off.
“Well, give me the message, lad,” the rumpled man said.
“Are ye Lord Fleming?” Callum asked, suspecting he wasn’t.
“I am my lord’s secretary,” the man said, peering closely at the boy.
“I was told to only place this message in His Lordship’s hands,” Callum replied.
“His Lordship is a busy man,” the secretary said.
“I’ve ridden two days wi’ little rest for me or my horse,” Callum said politely. “My master told me to place this packet in His Lordship’s hands, and His Lordship’s hands only. I would be a poor servant if I disobeyed him because I am hungry and tired.”
“Let the lad in, Allan,” an amused voice called from the depths of the chamber.
“Very well, come in then,” the secretary said irritably. “There is His Lordship.” He pointed across the chamber, where a man sat in a high-backed chair before a rectangular table spread with parchments.
Lord Fleming beckoned Callum. “What is it ye hae for me, lad?” he asked.
“I carry a message from the Hamiltons, my lord,” Callum answered politely, holding out the leather packet.
“Ye look young to be a messenger,” Lord Fleming said as he took it from the boy. “From where do ye come?”
“I am nae the Hamiltons’ original courier,” Callum said. “Their messenger was verra ill when he reached my master’s house. ’Twas my master who sent me to ye, my lord. The Hamiltons’ man seemed to think the message was of some importance.”
Lord Fleming had opened the packet and taken out the parchment within, which he spread open before him. He scanned it quickly, then refolded it. “ ’Twas nae really that urgent,” he said to Callum with a smile, “but I thank yer master for his diligence in seeing it was brought to me. Who is yer master?”
“The steward of Duin, my lord,” Callum answered him. “His dwelling is a way station for the Queen’s Men coming from the borders.”
“Ahh,” Lord Fleming said with a nod. “I hae heard that, though I am told yer earl does nae support the queen.”
Callum said nothing.
“Well, then, lad, go to the hall. Tell my steward I said ye were to be fed and sheltered for yer service,” Lord Fleming told the young man. He turned to his secretary. “Allan, direct our young messenger to the great hall. Then come back. We have much work to do, and the day is almost gone.”
“Thank ye, my lord,” Callum said with a small bow.
Grumbling beneath his breath, the old secretary led the boy to the wide corridor leading to the great hall. “It’s at the end of this hallway,” he said. Then he turned about and hurried off.
Callum found the great hall easily. He inquired of a servant for the castle’s steward, who granted him a place at one of the lower trestles and said he might sleep in the hall itself. The boy lingered for the next few days, speaking little but listening a great deal as he moved discreetly about the hall itself. He learned that while, discouraged, she had fled into England, where she was now more prisoner than honored guest, Mary Stuart was still beloved by those within the castle. He heard whispers of a plot to restore the queen to her throne, but he learned nothing that was not really common gossip in all of Scotland. Finally, after two days, he sought out the castle steward once again.
“Would ye consider gieing me a place here?” he asked the man.
“Who are ye?” the steward said.
“I’m the courier who brought a message to Lord Fleming several days ago,” Callum reminded him. “I can read. I can write. And I can do numbers. There is opportunity here for me. If I return home I must toil in my father’s smithy.”
“I dinna know,” the steward said slowly. He looked the boy before him over. His hair was a bit shaggy, and his clothing was hardly elegant, but if he told the truth about reading and writing, he might very well be of use. Allan, His Lordship’s secretary, had been complaining about having to write letters for Lady Fleming when he was so busy with more important things to do for His Lordship. His hair trimmed, the rough clothing replaced, the boy might serve as Lady Fleming’s scribe. “Perhaps I have a place for ye,” the steward said. “But first I must hae yer hair trimmed, and find more respectable garments for ye.” He then went on to explain to Callum that Her Ladyship could use him to write her letters. She was a great letter writer.
“Thank ye, sir!” Callum bowed to the steward, who was further pleased by this show of manners.
The boy was sent to the kitchens, where his hair was trimmed and he was bathed so that the stink of horse would not offend Lady Fleming and her woman, and then he was given fresh garments of a more suitable sort for a lady’s scribe. Callum made certain, however, to retain the breeks and shirt he had formerly worn. The old laundress told him she would wash his garments and return them to him. He had to admit he was surprised by all this fuss just so he could serve Lady Fleming.
He returned to the hall, presenting himself to the steward once more.
The steward nodded, pleased. The lad had cleaned up nicely. “Follow me,” he said, and led Callum to Her Ladyship’s apartments, where Lady Fleming and her women were now gathered. He bowed, and Callum followed his lead. “Here is the lad I’ve found to be yer scribe, my lady,” he told her. “His name is Callum and he will serve ye well.”
“I must see an example of the boy’s writing,” Lady Fleming said. “Ye say he can write, but how he writes is more important than the fact that he can.” She spoke directly to Callum. “Go to the table there. There is parchment and ink. I would see an example of yer skills, Callum.”
“Aye, my lady,” the boy said, going immediately to the desk, seating himself, and taking up the quill. He spread a piece of parchment out carefully, thought a moment, and then wrote quickly. They could see the words forming upon the vellum. When he had finished he silently handed it to Lady Fleming. She read it and laughed.
“What did he write? What did he write?” demanded her women.
Their mistress read from the parchment: “‘Madam, I will consider it an honor to be in yer service. Yer most humble servant, Callum Ferguson.’ ”
“Ye write very well,” Lady Fleming said. “Who taught ye?”
“The Countess of Duin,” Callum answered truthfully.
Lady Fleming nodded. The name was vaguely familiar but of no importance to her. “He will do very nicely,” she told the steward.
Callum was pleased that so far the plan formed by the earl and his wife was working so smoothly. Now a part of the family’s household, he was apt to hear things he might not otherwise hear. He made certain not to be absent from Lady Fleming’s presence. He was always available when she needed someone to fetch something for her. He was young enough that she felt no shyness in speaking before him. Soon Lady Fleming found Callum, her scribe, indispensable. He was allowed a place at the far end of her table, even as Lord Fleming’s secretary was given a place at the opposite end. He ate quietly, and he listened.
And then one day his listening was rewarded. When Lord Fleming spoke at his high board, those seated with him did not speak over or around him, so Callum heard him quite clearly as he spoke with his wife.
“It hae been decided,” he said.
“Must more blood be shed?” Lady Fleming said.
“Do ye truly believe that Moray will ask his sister back to take up her throne again now that he hae all the power in his own hands?” Lord Fleming said. “It will nae happen, madam. They want a Protestant king, and the only way to gain one is to raise one.”
Lady Fleming sighed. “How soon will it be?” she inquired. “And how soon before we may welcome our dear queen home?”
“Moray will be the first,” Lord Fleming said. “As soon after Twelfth Night as we can. Then the others as quickly as we can run them to ground. Once Moray is dead the others will know the hunt is on and make provision to defend themselves. And remember too that they hold the wee king. The queen cannot return until we have destroyed her enemies. And after that we will have to go down into England to rescue her. It will be several months, but hopefully by summer Scotland’s queen will be restored.”
“She is fond of James Stewart, despite everything that has happened between them,” Lady Fleming noted. “She is sentimental when she recalls her childhood before France at Stirling. He was the oldest of the bairns. She looked up to him.”
“Which is why it is better to dispose of him quickly, and first,” Lord Fleming said. “She detests Lennox and will weep no tears over him. As for Erskine, it is a necessary evil we face, for he also is kin, but it must be done.”
Lady Fleming nodded. Then she crossed herself and continued eating.
At the far end of the table Callum listened while he ate, and stored away the small nugget of information. In the days that followed he heard nothing more. When Lady Fleming asked him to go into the town to fetch her a supply of a particular sweet she loved, he knew he must use this opportunity to execute his escape. He visited the sweetshop and was pleased to learn he would not have to come back.
“She always orders these sweets near the holiday,” the sweetshop owner told Callum. “We have them in readiness for her,” he said, handing the lad a large square box. He thanked the man and then continued on his way, walking through the town until he heard a familiar voice at his elbow. Turning, he saw one of his kinsmen and stopped. “Rafe, ’tis time for me to return to Duin, isn’t it?”
“Aye, lad, it is,” Rafe said.
“I’ll tell them, and meet ye on the morrow just after dawn on the road to the borders,” Callum said.
Rafe nodded, and then disappeared into the crowded marketplace near where they had met. Callum rode back up to the castle. He brought his mistress her sweets, saying, “May I speak wi’ ye, my lady?”
Lady Fleming popped a sweet into her mouth, and a look of delight passed over her features. She waved a hand at him. “Aye, Callum.”
“I must beg yer permission to leave ye. When I was in the town I was approached by a kinsman who had come to find me. My mam is very ill, Rafe said. They think my mam may be dying. He was sent by our priest to fetch me home to Duin,” Callum said.
A look of distress passed over the good woman’s face. “Then ye must go if the priest calls ye,” she said. “Will ye return?” She took another sweet from the box.
“If I can, my lady, for it has been a pleasure to serve ye,” Callum said with a bow.
“Inform the steward of yer departure,” Lady Fleming told him. “Tell him I have said he is to hold yer position for ye until Twelfth Night.”
“Thank ye, my lady.” Callum hurried off.
The castle steward was not happy to see him go. “She likes ye, and ye’ve served her well, but still, we only hae one mam, and if the priest sent for ye, then it is serious.”
Callum ate a larger than usual supper. In the very early morning he arose from the pallet that had been his in a corner of Lady Fleming’s apartments. He had dressed the night before in his own clothing, carefully folding the garb he had been given and laying it on the pallet. The false dawn was lighting the skies as he came out into the courtyard and made his way across it to the stables. There he sought out his horse, saddled and bridled the beast, and led it outside.
To his surprise Lord Fleming’s secretary, Allan, approached him in the half-light. He thrust a small packet at Callum. “His Lordship wants this delivered to the Hamiltons. If their messenger hasn’t died and is still at yer master’s house, have him take it. Otherwise tell the steward of Duin he is to arrange for its delivery himself.”
“Aye, sir, gladly,” Callum replied, taking the leather packet and tucking it in his shirt. The Earl of Duin was going to be very interested to see what this message contained.
He mounted his horse, Allan walking him to the barred gate.
“Let the lad through,” Lord Fleming’s secretary said.
The portcullis was raised, and Callum Ferguson departed Dumbarton. He met his kinsman eventually on the road to the borders. Together they rode home to Duin, riding in as the late-November sun was setting over the sea. Callum went immediately to find the earl and tell him what small information he had discovered, and to deliver the packet meant for the Hamiltons. He found both his master and his mistress in the hall.
Annabella jumped up from the high board when she saw him. “Oh, lad, thank God ye’re back safely!” she said. “I hae been so worried.” She collapsed back into her seat.
Callum bowed to the earl. “I bring some small news, but more important, I bring a message meant for the Hamiltons,” he said, laying the leather packet on the table before Angus Ferguson. “They plan to assassinate Moray as soon after Twelfth Night as they can, Lennox next, and then Erskine. They dinna believe they can bring the queen back until this is done. And they said they will hae to rescue the queen from the English.”
“Did ye learn where they will accost Moray?” Angus asked the boy.
Callum shook his head. “I heard Lord Fleming complain to his wife that Moray never remains in one place long enough to catch.”
“Moray knows the dangers he faces,” the earl said grimly. “Ye’ve done well, lad, and I thank ye. Go and get something to eat. After the old year turns ye’ll come into my personal service.”
“What did ye do at Dumbarton?” Annabella asked him, curious.
“I was assigned the task of scribe to Lady Fleming,” Callum said. “She writes letters each day to her family and her friends. I learned nothing, however, from her dictation. Mostly gossip and her thoughts on being cooped up in Dumbarton. She dinna like it, and fears the castle will eventually be taken.”
“Dumbarton’s impregnable,” the earl said.
“Everything hae its weak spot,” Annabella said.
Callum went off, and Angus Ferguson reached to open the packet. Taking his knife, he carefully slipped it beneath the seal, easing it from the parchment enough to open. If he decided to send the message on, he could reseal it in such a manner that no one would realize that the letter had been opened.
The inside revealed little new but for one important thing: Lord Fleming had learned that Moray would be spending the twelve days of Christmas at Stirling, where the little king was now housed, as his mother before him had been. Sometime in mid to late January he would go to Edinburgh. An assassination at Stirling with the king in residence was unthinkable. But a watch would be kept to learn of the departure of Moray for the capital. And when that date was learned, a messenger would be dispatched to the Hamiltons. It was up to them when and how the deed was to be done.
Angus read the message aloud to his wife. “They are being cautious,” he noted.
“Will ye send the message on?” Annabella wanted to know. “And where will ye send it, as we never asked our guest from where he came?”
“Remember he said the Hamiltons move around quite a bit to avoid the King’s Men. But he must know some way of getting in touch with them,” Angus answered her.
“Shall I ask him?” Annabella teased. “He seems to be willing to speak wi’ me.”
The earl laughed. “Let me try first.”
The dungeons were colder now with the onset of cooler weather. Angus Ferguson was not a cruel man, however. His prisoner had both a brazier heating his small cell, and blankets. He was seated on his bed, finishing a bowl of what appeared to be lamb stew.
“Good evening,” the earl said.
The courier jumped to his feet as his spoon clattered to the floor. “My lord!”
“Sit down,” the earl said. “Finish yer food. Lamb stew is nae good cold. I hae a few questions for ye.”
The prisoner picked up his spoon and sat back down. “I will answer whatever I can, my lord,” he said.
“Are ye a kinsman in any degree to the Hamiltons?” Angus asked him.
“Nay, I am just a messenger,” came the answer.
“Hae ye any loyalty to the Hamiltons?”
“My loyalty, my lord, is to he who pays my fee,” came the candid reply.
“Yer message was delivered safely to Dumbarton,” the earl told the man. “It was said you fell ill and could nae continue on, so my brother sent one of his own people in yer place. He hae now returned wi’ a message for the Hamiltons, but we dinna know how to reach those who dispatched ye.” Angus Ferguson paused to see how this news was affecting the face of his prisoner. He saw curiosity, nothing more.
“I was told that if I received a return message for them that yer brother would know how to direct me,” the courier replied.
The earl was both astounded and furious. Matthew had shown a proclivity for taking Mary Stuart’s side in this, but Angus had assumed from his brother that he had only offered Duin as a way stop. Now it would appear his brother was involved more deeply than he had admitted, and by being so Matthew had endangered them all. He focused his gaze upon his prisoner. “I may require yer services. I will pay ye far more than the Hamiltons will, for I need your complete loyalty. I think ye have learned in these last few months that I am a man of my word.”
“Aye, my lord, I have,” the messenger said quietly.
“I will pay ye in gold for yer services, and should ye choose ye may make yer home here at Duin. A man should hae a safe place, and yer accent tells me ye’re an Edinburgh man,” the earl said with a small smile.
“I am,” the courier replied, “and yer offer is generous. I will serve ye loyally, my lord, but Edinburgh is a better place for a man of my profession. However, I will gladly accept yer gold in payment for my services,” he finished with a grin.
“’Tis fair,” the earl agreed, smiling. He instinctively knew he might trust this man he had held prisoner for these last months. “I will bid ye good night then,” he said. Then he stopped. “Ye hae never told me yer name.”
“My name is Ian Elliot,” came the answer.
“Good night, Ian Elliot,” Angus Ferguson said a second time. Then he returned to the hall from the dungeon. Arriving there, he called to Jean’s husband. “Fetch Matthew to me immediately,” he said.
“What is it?” Annabella asked anxiously, for she had heard the severe tone in her husband’s deep voice.
“Matthew is deeper into this treason than he has admitted,” Angus said.
“Oh, sweet Lord!” Agnes half whispered. “What hae he done, my lord?”
“He is in contact wi’ the Hamiltons. He can get in touch wi’ them. This goes deeper than just assassinations, and I mean to learn everything he knows. I think it best that ye take the children and leave the hall, Agnes,” the earl told her.
“I hae a right to know!” Agnes cried out.
“Aye, ye do. And ye will, but not until after I hae spoken wi’ my brother. Please obey me. Take the bairns and leave the hall.”
“I’ll go wi’ her,” Annabella said quietly. She could see the panic and fear in Aggie’s beautiful blue eyes.
“Nay,” Angus told her. “I want ye and Jeannie here. Agnes! Go now!”
Very frightened now, Agnes gathered the twins and her own infant, and hurried them all from the hall.
“What do ye mean to do?” Jean asked her brother. “Remember our mam, my lord. Remember Matthew’s devotion to ye, to Duin all these years,” she pleaded for her brother. “He would nae be disloyal to ye, to us, to Duin.”
“He hae been disloyal, Jeannie,” the earl responded. “I dinna know why, but he hae betrayed us. I must know why if I am to even consider forgieing him.”
Jean’s lips pressed together as she fought to control her emotions. She said nothing more as they waited for Matthew to make an appearance in the hall.
He came, and his stance was one full of defiance. “Am I to finally be recalled to my position as Duin’s steward?” he asked bluntly.
“Nay, ye will nae serve me ever again,” the earl told his young brother, and derived satisfaction from the look of complete surprise upon Matthew’s handsome face. “Ye’ve committed treason, and put Duin and all of its inhabitants at risk, including my wife, my bairns, and yer own wife and bairn. Why, Matthew? Why hae ye involved yerself wi’ the Queen’s Men? They fight a losing battle. Can ye nae see it? The King’s Men hold the wee king. They hold Stirling. The power is wi’ them. I care nae a whit for who rules Scotland as long as Duin and its folk are safe. Yer actions hae put us all in danger.”
“She’s the queen!” Matthew burst out.
“Mary Stuart is dethroned. Finished! It is my opinion that she will never again sit on Scotland’s throne. The people loved her for her beauty, her kindness, her daring, her love for Scotland. But it was nae enough when she disappointed them wi’ one bad marriage after another. I believe her innocent of Darnley’s murder, but her association wi’ James Hepburn tainted her purity, for Bothwell hae many detractors only too glad to defame them both. I believe that even if she hae converted from the old Church to this new Protestant faith, Knox and his ilk would hae hated her. Mary Stuart is an intelligent and educated woman. Those who advised her had a difficult time wi’ that.”
“England’s queen rules supreme,” Matthew said. “Why is Mary Stuart so different?”
“England’s queen hae nae husband,” the earl said.
“There is the Dudley scandal,” Matthew countered.
“Suspected, but nae proven,” Angus retorted. “Mary Stuart, on the other hand, hae publicly paraded her marriages and love affair. They will nae take her back. And for this ye hae endangered us all. Worse, however, ye lied to me, Matthew.”
“I dinna!” he exclaimed.
“Ye dinna tell me the entire truth of yer involvement wi’ these misguided men,” Angus said. “My whole life I hae loved ye. I hae done my best by ye because of that love, and because of the love our father held for ye, but ye hae betrayed Duin. Ye show nae remorse for this. I dinna know what hae happened to ye, Matthew, but ye are nae the brother that I knew.”
“How stiff-necked ye’ve become,” Matthew said bitterly. “All ye can see is Duin, nothing more. They hae driven our queen away. Our beautiful queen wi’ her good heart, who generously gave freedom of faith to us all, old kirk or new kirk. They imprisoned her and stole her bairn. Why can ye nae see the wrong in it, Angus? Why?”
“I see the wrong. But ’tis a wrong that canna be righted. Much of Mary Stuart’s fate was of her own making. She was advised strongly not to wed Darnley, but she did. She was advised even more strongly nae to wed Bothwell. She did. Now she must live wi’ her decisions as ye must live wi’ yers. Ye will leave Duin on the morrow. I am banishing ye from my lands. Where ye go or what ye do is yer own choice. But ye will nae longer make decisions for Duin that ye hae nae right to make and put at risk all here.”
“No!” Agnes cried out, and then she flung herself at Angus’s feet. “Please, my lord, I beg ye. Dinna send Matthew away! Hae mercy!”
“Get up, Aggie!” Matthew Ferguson took his wife by the arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. “I need nae mercy of him. We’ll go to the Hamiltons. They are yer mam’s kin, and will surely take us in for our faithful service to the queen.”
Annabella had listened to it all, never speaking once. This was a tragedy. Now she spoke. “Angus, my lord and my love,” she began, putting a restraining hand on his arm, “surely if Matthew will repent of his errors in judgment, ye can forgie him.”
“I dinna need yer intercession, madam,” Matthew said angrily.
“Aye, ye do,” Annabella replied sharply.
“I dinna want it, then! Ever since ye came to Duin my brother hae changed. That is yer doing. He might hae wed a woman whose beauty matched his own. A fair lass wi’ a large dower. Instead he wed ye for a bit of land he could hae eventually bought. Ye hae turned him from Ferguson ways and now he takes sides wi’ murderers and usurpers instead of our true anointed queen. I hae committed nae sins from which I must repent, madam, but yer husband hae. When the queen is restored I will be given a title that I may pass on to my son, and he to his son one day.”
“Oh, Matthew, I dinna know what I hae done to gain yer enmity, but however I hae offended ye, I beg yer pardon for it. I want things to be as they were when I first came to Duin. I want ye and Angus once again to be loving brothers. I hae nae changed Angus. He hae done what he had to in order that we all might survive these changing times.”
“My God!” Angus Ferguson exclaimed, shocked by his younger brother’s words. “Is that how they turned ye? Is that the bauble they dangled before ye? A title? Jesu, Matthew! Mary Stuart will ne’er again sit on Scotland’s throne, and ye’re more likely to end up at the end of rope than gain a title. But I will nae allow ye to bring the rest of us down wi’ ye! Nor will ye blame my sweet good wife for imagined faults. I love this woman, Matthew. She hae no beauty that is visible. Her beauty is a different kind. It is one of the heart and of the soul. She is the best, the most perfect wife any man could hae, and she is mine. I am sorry ye canna understand that, brother.” He turned his gaze on Agnes, whose shocked face told him she had known nothing of the depth of her husband’s betrayals. “Aggie, ye may remain at Duin wi’ yer bairn. I’ll nae send ye into danger with this fool to whom ye’re wed.”
“I thank ye, my lord,” Agnes said with as much dignity as she could muster, “but I must go wi’ my husband. I will, however, ask sanctuary for our bairn until it is possible for us to establish another home.” When Matthew made to protest, Agnes said in soft but firm tones, “Nay, Matthew. I will follow ye into danger and the unknown, but I will nae expose our son to yer folly; nor should ye. Come now. We must pack if we are to leave on the morrow.”
“Wait!” the earl said. “I want to know how to get in touch wi’ the Hamiltons.”
“Why would I tell ye that? So ye can tell the King’s Men?”
“So I can release to them the messenger I have held imprisoned these past months. Lord Fleming sent a message that needs to go on. Since I hae already read it and found it harmless, I would let it pass on, for this is the last time Duin shall be used as a way stop.”
“Do whatever ye choose wi’ the courier,” Matthew said coldly. “I will carry the message myself to John Hamilton. It will help to ingratiate me wi’ him.”
“If the Queen’s Men should catch ye, brother, there will be nae doubt of yer treason. They will hang ye at the side of the road, and heaven help yer wife then,” the earl said quietly. “The messenger is paid to take the risk.”
“I’ll tell ye nothing,” Matthew said stubbornly. “Either ye gie me the message from Dumbarton, or it will nae be delivered, for ye’ll nae find the Hamiltons.”
“Angus, nay,” Annabella murmured low. “For my sister’s sake I beg ye to find another way. The countryside is so dangerous right now. Ye hae said it yerself.”
The Earl of Duin thought for a long moment. He was not of a mind to argue, and he wanted Matthew Ferguson gone. Though it broke his heart, he could no longer bear the sight of his younger brother. “Go to Brittany,” he said. “Yer mam still hae kinsmen in Mont de Devereaux. I will write a letter to Monsieur Claude. He could use a man of yer many skills. Go to Brittany, and avoid the Hamiltons for yer own sake, and that of yer family,” the earl advised.
“Go to hell!” Matthew said. “I will help to restore Scotland to the glory it lost when our beautiful queen was driven from this land.” Then he turned on his heel and left the hall, Agnes hurrying after him.
“Aggie!” Annabella cried.
Agnes turned to see her eldest sister with her arms outstretched. Unable to resist, she flew into Annabella’s embrace. “There is time for farewells, sister,” she said, and she kissed her sibling several times upon the cheeks. “Take good care of my wee Robbie.” Then she pressed her lips together to attempt to stave off the tears she felt near.
“Dinna go!” Annabella said. “It is too dangerous.” Her eyes were welling up.
“I am his wife,” Agnes said simply. “I go where he goes, no matter the danger.”
“Dinna stay wi’ the Hamiltons. They are at war, and their living will be rough. Their own women will be housed in hidden places to keep them and the bairns safe. The women in the encampment are whores and camp followers. They are nae fit company for ye. Go to our parents at Rath for shelter. Ye will be safe from the King’s Men there, Aggie.” She hugged her sister a final time, then released her.
“I’ll remember yer advice,” Agnes said, and then she was gone from the hall.
Annabella burst into tears when she had gone. The earl took his wife into his arms. He said nothing, allowing her to weep against his shirt. His eyes met those of his sister Jean, whose own eyes were filled with tears that now silently slipped down her pretty face.
“How hae this happened?” he asked her.
“His jealousy got the better of him, I fear,” Jean said, wiping her face with her apron. “It started when ye wed.”
Annabella, hearing this, stopped crying and said, “But I did nothing to make him dislike me so verra much.”
“Ye didn’t hae to do anything,” Jean explained. “When Angus took a wife everything began to change, and it would hae changed even if ye were the most beautiful woman on earth. That is what Matthew never realized. But he expected that since ye were plain of face there would be nothing between yer husband and ye but enough coupling to produce bairns for Duin. Instead ye and Angus fell in love. Ye forged a strong bond. Matthew felt cut out. The incident of his birth, being bastard-born, suddenly began to affect him. And then he wed Agnes.
“His position rankled him even more, especially after she bore him a son. Matthew wanted more for his son than just the stone house he built on the bit of land our father deeded to him. The Hamiltons were clever. They knew just how to turn him, and especially after he hae seen Mary Stuart as she fled Moray. I doubt the woman said more than a word or two to Matthew, and yet he was enchanted wi’ her, as so many men before him have been. None of us hae done anything to Matthew. He hae done it himself.”
“Ye must tell yer mam,” the earl said.
“In the morning,” Jean told him. “’Tis night, and I’ll nae bring her bad news now that will keep her awake till dawn.”
“Go to yer man, then,” Annabella said. “I can undress myself.”
“Thank ye,” Jean replied, and, turning, departed the hall.
Annabella sighed, putting her head against her husband’s shoulder. “How will ye get the message from Dumbarton to the Hamiltons?” she asked him.
“The courier will find a way. I suspect he knows more than he is willing to admit. We’ll send him on his way on the morrow. Actually, he can follow along after Matthew. I’ll warn him to be careful of being caught by my brother.”
“Angus, I am so sorry,” Annabella said.
“As am I, my love,” he responded. “But Duin will be safe, and I must find a way to warn Moray that he is being stalked and marked for murder. I may go to Stirling myself before the weather gets too wintry.”
“I’ll ride wi’ ye!” she answered enthusiastically.
“Nay,” he said. “I need ye to remain at Duin. Wi’ no steward now, ye must manage it all for me while I am gone. The beasties need to come from one pasturage to another nearer the castle before being brought into the shelter of the courtyard should a storm come. There should be one more boat from the New World due before winter sets in, my love. I need ye here. Promise ye will not attempt to follow after me this time. I should nae be gone long.”
Annabella sighed again, but this time from the knowledge that he was right. With no Matthew to shepherd everything, she must become the shepherd. Callum wasn’t old enough yet, although he would come into his new position sooner than he ever anticipated. “Verra well,” she said. “I promise I will remain at Duin, my lord.”
