Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (13 page)

“Awful is one way to describe it,” he said.

“Your nightmare, was it about his death?”

He nodded. “It is nearly always the same, and yet each time it differs somehow from the reality.”

“Do the differences disturb you?” She looked as if the answer to that question mattered to her more than one might expect.

“Aye, they do,” he admitted. He was watching her more closely now than he had been. He noticed the little nod she gave before she spoke again.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because they are things that did not happen. I probably should not describe such a grisly scene to a gently bred lady, but perhaps I can—”

“You can tell me just what you saw if you like,” she said. “I promise I shall not faint or otherwise embarrass you.”

That made him chuckle. “Lass, I don’t think you could embarrass me if you tried, but I hope you’re right about not fainting. I’d as lief you not fall off that pony.”

She smiled. “Border women do not fall off their ponies, sir.”

“Never?”

“Does Isabel’s sister, the princess Gelis, know you were with Sir William when he died?” she asked, forcing him back to the subject at hand.

“Nay,” he admitted.

“She would want to hear it, I think,” she said. “Mayhap I am only expressing how I would feel in a like circumstance, though. Gelis may not feel the same way.”

“I heard that she has barely spoken since she learned of Will’s death.”

“His death devastated her, and she is in an advanced state of pregnancy. Isabel says Gelis fears for the baby, does not want to lose it, too. So she does not speak of Sir William and refuses to let Isabel rant to her about how his murder is just like James’s death and was likely ordered by the same person.”

“Isabel said that to her?”

“Aye, so Gelis said that if she could not keep such evil thoughts from her mind, she should at least not spill them from her tongue. She reminded her that his own men had said it was the result of a dispute he’d had with Lord Clifford.”

“His men did say that,” Garth agreed. “Over some land, they said.”

“Were you not one of his men?”

“I was his friend and fellow knight,” Garth said. “Shortly after the wedding at Dunfermline, I followed him to Königsberg, in Prussia, to seek adventure. Will had heard that an order called the Teutonic Knights was to lead an army into Lithuania. Such expeditions still count as crusades, although the Lithuanians became Christian years ago. But when we arrived, we learned that the King of England also meant to join the Knights. He had promised to bring them a fleet of ships but not until July.”

“But you went to Prussia in January?”

“Early February, and not a good season for sailing. Even so, at Will’s urging, the Knights agreed to hire ships from the nearby port of Danzig and to let Will command them. Outfitting them would take a month, and as I’d no reason to linger, I spent three weeks exploring the Prussian countryside and parts of France, instead.”

“Was that countryside as beautiful as it is here?”

“It was different from Scotland but just as wintry. Will was daft to go so early. He knew it, too, but said he wanted something to do that would keep his mind off . . .”

Realizing that he had no business repeating Will’s reasons to anyone else, he paused to collect his wits.

She cocked her head, gave him a measuring look, and said, “Sir William was very close to James and hoped to be chosen third Earl of Douglas, did he not?”

“He knew that many had talked of it, and he would have made a good leader,” he admitted. “But he was born a bastard, so . . .”

“Archie the Grim was, too,” she said when he paused.

“Aye, sure, but his father was the Good Sir James Douglas of great repute.”

“The one who died trying to carry the Bruce’s heart to the Holy Land.”

He nodded. “Also, Archie was the elder and Will’s father as well.”

“Principally, though, Fife wanted Archie and not Sir William,” she said. “And Fife persuaded enough Douglases to support Archie to make it happen.”

“Sakes, lass, you know as much about it as I do,” he said.

“That comes of living with Isabel,” she said. “She takes great interest in everything of Douglas that connects to Fife.”

“Because she believes Fife ordered James’s murder.”

“Aye,” she said, and nibbled her lower lip again.

They rode in silence for some minutes, until he realized that she was apparently as lost in thought as he had been.

“What are you thinking about, lass?”

She shrugged. “Naught that matters. What happened when you returned to meet Sir William and the others?”

“Will had been entrusted with some sort of diplomatic mission to the English emissary to the Teutonic Knights, and had taken rooms in Danzig. He had gone out earlier, taking four lads with him, and had not yet returned. My men were tired, and the town was quiet, so I went by myself to look for him.”

“Could you ask questions in the town? Do you speak . . . German, is it not?”

“It is, aye, and although I’m not fluent, I managed well enough, thanks to my travels. That’s one of the odd things about my dream, though. I spoke German as fluently as I speak broad Scot or English. I could understand it as easily, too.”

She nodded. “That happens in my dreams, too. Not languages, but things do happen differently, as you described. Have you had this dream more than once?”

“Aye, although once was enough, I can tell you.” He described it for her.

When he’d finished, she said, “What else was different? Did you really see a woman come out of the tavern?”

“Aye, and the chap that shouted the warning, too. I also found two dead, but I’ve no idea how many ran off. It was black dark until someone fetched a torch. I did see Will’s wounds then, and he was
not
wearing heavy armor.”

“Did the people you saw say the same things as in your dream?”

“I think the words may have been different, but the meaning was similar. The one who shouted said robbers were attacking men and trying to kill them. I ran to help, and the shouter dashed across the road before we met, then vanished.”

“Was he German?”

He hesitated. “Do you know, I had assumed he must be. But in my dream, he always shouts first in English or even Scot, then in German.”

“You said Sir William named his killer. I’d venture to guess the name was not Clifford, or you’d have said so.”

“It was not Clifford,” he agreed.

“I won’t ask you to tell me what it was,” she said, surprising him.

“You are tactful, lass.”

“Not at all,” she said. “I just know you won’t tell me.”

“I will tell you that the words Will speaks in the dreams are always the same ones he spoke to me at the time. I will also tell you that he spoke only the one name and then asked that I send the villain bearing it to perdition.”

“So you think it is possible that he asked you to do so for some other reason.”

He had noted that she tended to make leaps of thought without establishing grounds for the leap. But as he was about to point out the error in her thinking, he realized she might not be wrong at all.

“I suppose I did fear that possibility,” he admitted, thinking again of what Will had actually said. “He never actually finished his last sentence. He just said, ‘and send him to . . .’ I filled in the word at the end with what I was certain he meant.”

“How could you be certain?”

“Sithee, we’d fought together and trained together with Jamie Douglas under the first earl, so we could almost read each other’s thoughts. I’d have sworn that night he was naming his killer. But his lads said the man he named had left Danzig a sennight before—that, in fact, he had taken ship back to Scotland.”

“Did Sir William
send
him back?”

“They’d had a disagreement, the lads said, but no one knew exactly whose idea it was for the fellow to leave.”

“I know the reason some of the Douglases wanted Sir Will to become third earl was that he was an extraordinary soldier,” she said.

“He was exceptional,” Garth agreed. “Did you ever meet him?”

She shook her head.

“He
was as tall as I am and as dark as Archie. He had amazing strength and carried himself like a king. Yet he was courteous and affable. In troth, he was one of the heartiest and merriest men I’ve known, and nearly as fine a warrior as James.”

“Having admired him so, you must miss him sorely.”

“Aye.” Just admitting it brought an ache to his throat.

“With his skill, how could anyone have killed him so swiftly and easily?”

“The attackers took him and his lads by surprise. The two who survived said it happened so quickly they never saw their attackers’ faces. It was dark as pitch, to be sure, but both sides were carrying torches to see their way, they said. During the battle, their torches rolled into the drainage ditch.”

He looked to gauge the position of the rising sun, which had climbed some distance above the horizon.

She said, “I expect we ought to turn back, sir. Isabel won’t mind that I’ve come out, but I do have duties to attend.”

He nodded, and they turned their mounts, passing the grooms, who fell in behind them, keeping the same tactful distance.

They rode in silence until she said, “Why did you come to Sweethope Hill?”

“To serve the princess Isabel,” he said. With a smile, he added, “I had other reasons, too, but I am not yet ready to share them.”

“You seek information, I expect,” she said. “Doubtless about James’s death, since no one here can know aught of Sir William’s.”

“I suspect you think you are being clever, but I won’t tell you any more. I do seek answers in another matter, though,” he reminded her with a straight look.

She faced forward again, her chin rising a full inch. Since she was looking into the sun, she squinted, making her thick eyelashes flutter. Then she met his gaze again and said unexpectedly, “I have been thinking about that.”

“Are you going to tell me what you have decided to do?”

“I have not decided anything except to tell you I’ve been giving it some thought. But do not press me further, sir. I grow gey stubborn if pressed.”

“Then we’ll change the subject,” he said cheerfully. “What can you tell me about this fellow Harald Boyd?”

“Just that I think he may be the man my family wants me to marry.”

Chapter 7

A
malie saw that she had surprised him again, which was pleasant, because this time she had meant to surprise him. She had not told anyone else what she suspected about Sir Harald Boyd. Even Garth would think she was mad.

He was frowning thoughtfully, and she waited, watching him. She knew he would have questions and was interested to learn what they would be.

When he looked at her, a twinkle appeared in his startlingly blue eyes.

That not being at all the reaction she’d expected, she cocked her head and waited for him to explain.

“You look like a bird dog eager to flush the first flight of the morning,” he said. “I thought you said Simon did not tell you the man’s name.”

“That is true; he did not,” she said. “But after the King’s coronation, my father said I might already know the man. He also said that if I did not, I soon would. Father said he was handsome— I beg your pardon. Did you speak?”

“Nay, I snorted. Surely, you don’t think that popinjay’s a handsome fellow.”

“I never said I did. My father said Simon had told him that, and I hope you do not think I align my judgment of men with Simon’s.”

He chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“Just so.”

“Then why do you think this Harald Boyd is your man?”

“If you would please me,
don’t
refer to him as my man,” she said. “I do wish you would listen to what I say and not just fix on certain things and ignore the rest. The part about my meeting him soon if I had not already done so was the critical bit, of course. My father also said the man would be coming into Lothian and hinted strongly that I’d meet him when he did. Now, do you see?”

“Sweethope Hill is in Lothian, so I suppose it is somewhat possible that this chap is the one. Still, Lothian is very large.”

“Father said east Lothian,” she said, remembering. “He talked of Lauder, too, which is only ten miles away, as you said yourself. He was not trying to be cryptic.”

“Then why did he not just say the man would come to Sweethope?”

“Mercy, I don’t know. Mayhap he did not know that.” She paused, thinking.

“What?” he asked.

Meeting his gaze, she said, “In troth, I don’t always know how I get from one thought to the next. Usually, if I stop to think about how a conversation went, I can see the path my thoughts took, but in this instance, I cannot. My reasoning does seem weak when I see that I put those two facts together as I did. They seem gey small.”

“So they are,” he agreed. “Perhaps you know other things that helped you form your deduction. If you consider what else has occurred . . .”

He looked at her as if he would watch her do just that.

“But I don’t . . . Wait . . . My mother approves of the connection, so Simon must have told her things other than that the man enjoys Fife’s favor. I cannot know what they might be, but my father does remain neutral in all border disputes. For years, he and my mother have done all they could to form alliances on both sides of the line. I also know the Boyds are kin to the Stewarts, but that is just Fife again.”

“I expect Isabel told you they are kin.”

“Aye, and Simon himself enjoys Fife’s favor, because he admires Fife and believes that anyone of sense must also admire him. So, I don’t see how that . . .”

“Do
you
admire Fife?” he asked. “Or has the princess persuaded you that he is evil enough to command murder?”

She grimaced. “I do believe he is capable of commanding murder. But I am still not persuaded that I can safely speak all my thoughts of him to you.”

When his jaw tightened, she added, “I will admit that I do not admire him, but neither has anyone yet persuaded me that he ordered James Douglas’s murder. You were at Otterburn. What is your opinion of that business?”

“I have none, lass. I was there, to be sure, but so were two thousand other Scots and eight thousand English. I was with Buccleuch—the old laird, not Wat.”