Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (37 page)

To Garth’s surprise, as they approached from below the stockade entrance at the town’s southwest end, the only direction from which one
could
enter, he saw no sign that Archie and his army of Douglases had arrived.

Riding up the hill toward the open stockade gate, they commanded a panoramic view of approaches from the south and saw no sign of the Douglas or his usual large contingent. Knowing that Tam would wait for him at the Douglases’ Black Tower just inside the gate, Garth urged his horse to a faster pace.

When he reached the tower, instead of Tam’s huge, easily recognizable form pacing back and forth in front of it, he saw the equally recognizable, redheaded, and much smaller Sym Elliot.

The boy saw him at the same time and dashed toward him as Garth reined in and said, “Any word yet from the Douglas, lad?”

“Aye, he waited for some other Douglases to catch up wi’ him in Langholm,” Sym answered. “But he’ll be here afore dark, his man said. Tam be gone, too, Sir Garth,” he added hastily. “But he left me here to
tell
ye.”

“Did he go to meet Archie?”

“Nay, he went afore the Douglas’s man came to say he’d been delayed.”

“Then—”

“Sakes, I’m a-trying to tell ye!” Sym said. “There’s been murder done!”

“Murder?”

“Aye, sir, a farmer from somewheres up near the abbey did send for the monks there, ’cause this morning he found three dead men in one o’ his fields.”

“Very grim, I’m sure, but what has it to do with us?”

Sym grimaced. “I’m no telling it the way the monk did. One o’ them was no dead yet, and he did say he came from Elishaw. Sithee, that be the lady Am—”

“I know that Elishaw is the lady Amalie’s home, lad,” Garth said. He recalled with a chill that Tom Murray had sent two of his men back to Elishaw to warn them that he would be bringing Lady Murray with him when he returned from Scott’s Hall. So he had taken just two men with him to Scott’s Hall. “What else?”

“He said four men had attacked them, and gey well armed they were, wi’ swords and dirks. They didna want nowt, he said. They just cut them down.”

“Anything more?”

“Aye,” Sym said, grimacing. “He recognized one from Sweethope Hill. He didna ken the name, sir, but he said he’d strutted about as if he owned the place.”

Garth could easily picture Boyd from the description but knew that would be useless as evidence against him. Boyd’s supposed trip to Kelso would be easy to disprove if he had not gone, and thus be more useful. However, Boyd’s following and attacking Tom Murray, if that was what he had done, made no sense to him.

“Is that all?” he asked Sym.

“Aye, sir. Only except that Tam rode to the Hall to tell Himself, ’cause we knew, if Tom Murray never went there, no one at the Hall would ken that Sir Iagan be dead as well. D’ye think mayhap someone murdered him, too?”

“Tom Murray said his father died in a fall from a horse,” Garth told him.

“Aye, sure, but Tom Murray doesna always tell the truth,” Sym said with a look so black that Garth was tempted to ask what else Tom had done.

Deciding to ask Amalie first, in case Tom’s previous untruths had also concerned her, he said instead, “How long ago did Tam leave?”

Sym glanced at the sun. “Two hours, mayhap less. He’ll be getting near the Hall by now, sir. It be nobbut eleven miles, and he’ll no ha’ wasted his time.”

“Why did the monk come here to tell you?”

“We told them when we stopped to get summat to eat at the abbey earlier that we’d be going to Hawick. Also, sithee, the dead men did say they was bound for the Hall. What be ye going to do, Sir Garth?”

Garth had been wondering that himself. That Tom Murray was dead did not stir much sympathy in him for Tom Murray, but he had a feeling the man’s death was going to be a sharp blow for Amalie. Still, she was safe enough now at Sweethope Hill, and he’d be riding back himself as soon as he reported to Archie.

He had more to tell him now, but none of it answered the questions that had begun his search. He knew nothing new about James Douglas’s death other than that Isabel’s conviction was even stronger than Archie had led him to believe. As for Will’s murder, although he knew the killer’s name, the culprit still eluded him.

To Sym, he said, “Tam should be back before nightfall then. He would not expect you to return to the Hall alone.”

Sym shrugged. “I’ve done it oft enow, sir. But he did say he’d be back as quick as he could. He didna ken if Himself would be joining the Douglas or no, sithee, on account o’ the wee bairn coming. But Himself will come now, any road.”

“Why is that?”

“ ’Cause he swore to Sir Iagan Murray when he wed our lady Meg that he’d aid the Murrays whenever they ha’ need o’ him. And if they dinna need him now, I’m thinking, they never will.”

Garth was not as certain that Wat would see Tom’s death, or even Sir Iagan’s, as cause enough to leave his wife on the point of delivering their child. But he did think Wat would ride to Hawick to see Archie. Another thought occurred to him. “Will he not escort Lady Murray home and attend her husband’s burial?”

Sym’s eyes twinkled. “Himself doesna hold wi’ plodding all day to ride only twenty-five miles. But he may tell Tam to see to it, though,” he added, frowning. “And, sithee, they may come this way, too, ’cause the Hawick road be better for her litter than the track we use to Elishaw, through the hills north o’ Hermitage.”

“Elishaw lies southeast of here, does it not?” Garth said.

“It does, aye. From here, I’m thinking it must be about ten miles. Ye’d take the Hobkirk road, then cut down through the hills into the forest.”

“Wauchope Forest?”

“Aye. Were ye thinking o’ going there yourself?”

Garth grimaced. Impulse and instinct both urged him to go, to confront Boyd and see what he could learn from the man. However, Boyd was with Fife, not to mention Fife’s large contingent of men-at-arms and Simon of Elishaw. Simon had his own men at the castle and would doubtless bar the gates to him.

In any event, he had to wait for Archie and for Wat, if Wat was coming. And Tam would expect him to be there if he did return by nightfall.

“I’ll wait for the others,” he said. “Mayhap you can show me where the Douglas will set up his encampment.”

“Aye, sure,” Sym said. “He’s been here afore, sithee.”

“You seem to know much for a lad your age.”

Sym shrugged. “I used to follow me brother and his lads sometimes when they went a-reiving. It be good, I think, for a man to ken the land around him.”

“I think so, too,” Garth said, remembering his own rambles as a lad. He had known every inch of land for miles around Westruther.

Wishing he knew the land around Hawick as well, he resigned himself to patience and settled down to wait with Sym for Archie, Wat, or Tam to arrive.

The first rider to come seeking him, however, came from Sweethope Hill.

Amalie and Sibylla reached the outskirts of Wauchope Forest while the sun was still some distance above the western horizon. Both were weary from the long ride, and Amalie suspected their horses were weary, too. But they were Border bred and strong. They would carry them all the way without difficulty.

“Is there a track through the forest?” Sibylla asked as they entered the woodland, following what appeared to be a faint deer trail.

“Not from here, but I know this area,” Amalie said. “We are about two or three miles from Elishaw. See those two craggy peaks yonder through the trees?” she asked, pointing. “If we head right between them, we’ll soon come to the castle.”

Looking toward the sun, Sibylla eyed its position skeptically. “I hope you know what you are doing. After sunset, we’ll have less than an hour of light—less than that in these woods. Faith, what if they won’t let us in?”

Amalie made a wry face. “I’m more worried that Simon
will
let us in and that then . . .” She shrugged, not wanting to put into words any of the unpleasant images that had been teasing her mind for the past few miles.

“What will you tell him?”

“I haven’t a notion,” she admitted. “Much depends on our reception. I’ll wager that Fife will be nice at first, even charming. We’ve both seen him act so.”

“Aye, we have,” Sibylla said. “But his charm is wayward, and he currently has no reason to treat us well.”

“He has no cause to treat
you
badly,” Amalie said. “Or does he?”

“Nay, I’ve not crossed him—that he knows of—unless he decides I have just by accompanying you today. But if you are right about his intent, he will find us very much in the way. And when people get in his way . . .”

“Sakes, he cannot murder a whole castleful of witnesses,” Amalie protested. “I just want to keep him from murdering Simon and taking Elishaw. He has done as much, after all, when he wanted other estates—or so people say.”

“He cannot gain Elishaw just by murdering Simon,” Sibylla said dryly. “You have two adult brothers, after all, and doubtless other close male kinsmen.”

“Aye, although I’d as lief keep Fife from murdering Tom, too,” Amalie muttered, thinking of a time when she’d happily have done that herself. “Moreover, many of our close kinsmen are English Percies, which may not count in Scotland.”

“It would likely be a Murray, aye, who would inherit Elishaw,” Sibylla said.

Conversation languished then, because Amalie fell prey to her own thoughts and Sibylla remained silent. By the time Elishaw’s walls and tower hove into view, Amalie had begun to feel utterly inadequate to the task she had set herself.

Simon might just lock her in her old bedchamber and refuse to listen to a word she said to him. But what, a disturbing demon in her mind whispered, if he treated her as Garth had after she had hit him?

Instead of increasing her depression, the image of Garth grew larger and steadied her until she decided she could deal with ten Simons.

Garth recognized the rider as one of Sweethope’s stable lads but thought idly that Isabel must have sent a message for him to relay to Douglas.

“You must have left soon after we did,” he said as the lad flung himself from the saddle and threw his reins to the waiting Sym.

“Ye’d been gone a good two hours by then, sir, but the lady Sibylla said I ought to catch ye well afore nightfall, and so I have. It be a gey good thing ye told folks which way ye’d be coming.”

Garth frowned as a prickle of unease stirred. “What was the hurry?”

“The lady Amalie, sir . . .” He hesitated, doubtless, Garth thought grimly, because his own fierce frown put the lad off whatever he’d been about to say.

Or because the lad feared the news would put him in a flaming temper.

“Tell ’im, ye dafty,” Sym said sharply, although the other lad was years older than he was. “What be amiss then?”

Garth bit his lip, both to keep from speaking even more sharply and to avoid smiling at Sym’s taking charge as naturally as one who did so all the time.

The messenger said, “Lady Sibylla said to tell ye the lady Amalie be riding to Elishaw, Sir Garth. She said ye’d want to know as soon as I could tell ye.”

Suppressing a chill of fear, he said evenly, “She was right, but surely she was mistaken about the lady Amalie, lad. She would not ride such a distance by herself. And to what purpose?”

“I dinna ken her purpose,” the lad said. “But the lady Sibylla did say to tell ye that she’d be going with her, and taking two lads from the stable, as well.”

“What the devil was she thinking to let her leave?” Garth demanded.

The lad’s eyes widened. “I dinna ken that neither, sir. She told me what to do afore she joined the lady Amalie in the yard.”

Garth pressed his lips together, unable to express his immediate thoughts either to the stable lad or to Sym Elliot.

Sym was under no such restraint. “Take yourself off now,” he said. “Ye can tell them lads yonder to give ye summat to eat if ye’re hungry. But go on to them afore ye say summat here to set the man right off.”

As Garth got to his feet, he realized that Sym sounded exactly as Wat Scott did when he was fast losing patience.

“Where be ye a-going, sir?” Sym asked as if he already knew.

“I’m going to take my men and ride to Elishaw,” Garth said. “You tell the Douglas I had pressing business and ask him to join me there as soon as he can. If Buccleuch comes, tell him the same.”

“Aye, well, he’ll follow straightaway, Himself will, being he’s promised. The lady Amalie counts as a Murray, as much as any. My lady Meg would surely say so. But ye shouldna leave me to take your words to the Douglas. He’d heed one o’ them men-at-arms o’ yours afore he’d listen to me.”

“He’ll listen to you,” Garth said firmly. “And I’ll need my men.”

“Likely, ye’re right,” Sym said, giving the men a black look. “But do any o’ them ken the forest? Sithee, sir, it be full o’ bracken, scrub, and treacherous bogs. Them lads dinna look like Wauchope lads to me.”

“They are not. Do you mean to say you know the forest well enough to guide me and my men safely through it to Elishaw?”

“Aye, sure,
and
do it even in the dark o’ night as I’ll have to by the look o’ things,” Sym said confidently. “Sakes, but I have done it in the dark! However, ye’d best be sending one o’ them others to meet the Douglas, and yet another to meet Himself and Tam, because I canna be in two places at once,” he added.

Garth eyed him sternly. “You make a good argument, my lad, but you’d do well to mind your tongue unless
you
are burning to set me right off.”

“Aye, well, I’ll mind it then. At least ye listen to a man.”

Garth summoned his men and gave them their orders. Then, noticing the lad from Sweethope, whose presence had slipped his mind, he told him to wait until the Douglas or Buccleuch arrived to give him further instructions.

“Tell them I said you should rest here in Hawick and ride back tomorrow.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “I could ride with ye, sir. I’m no so tired as that.”

“I thank you, but no,” Garth said. Having one youngster along was more than he wanted, but Sym’s argument was persuasive. It would do them no good to have to flounder their way through the forest.