Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (39 page)

Fife pursed his lips.

Neither Amalie nor Sibylla spoke, although Amalie flicked a glance at Simon.

He was watching Fife, so she could not see his expression.

She did discern his tension.

Fife stood. “Mayhap the Douglas
is
coming tonight, although I doubt it. I should think he’d be wise enough to stay the night in Langholm or Hawick, or even at Hermitage, and not try to lead his men through this forest in pitch darkness.”

“He’ll carry torches if he enters the forest, sir,” Boyd said. “Our men on the ramparts will see his party and give warning long before he arrives.”

The tension in Simon’s manner increased, but Amalie doubted if anyone else noted it. She could even sympathize with him, for he was Murray of Elishaw now. He would not look forward with anything but dismay to a conflict that might arise between entities as powerful as the Governor of the Realm and the Earl of Douglas.

She shifted her gaze back to Fife, now nodding at Boyd.

“Whether or not Douglas comes tonight, I shall ride to meet him,” Fife said. “He will appreciate such a signal courtesy whether it occurs in the forest or at Hawick. I do think the latter the more likely destination, though, for doubtless he desires to accompany our progress through the Borders. I shall welcome him if that is so. It will do the nobles hereabouts much good to see us together.”

“I’ll ride with you then, my lord,” Boyd said, also standing.

“Nay, for you must stay here to greet Lady Murray and her daughter when they arrive,” Fife said. “There is business for you to attend with them and quickly. To that end, I shall leave the priest with you.”

“Do you mean to go at once, sir?” Simon asked.

“I do, aye,” Fife said. “Send your people to warn mine in your bailey and also those camped outside your gates that I want to be away as fast as we can. Your men can help mine prepare. Boyd, I want a word with you, so walk downstairs with me. Good evening to you both,” he added with a curt nod to Amalie and Sibylla.

Watching them go, Amalie drew a breath, met Sibylla’s gaze, and then turned to Simon and started to speak, only to stop at a slight shake of his head.

Realizing that the priest still sat at the table, although all the other men in the hall had hurried after Fife, she kept silent and reached for a roll.

Boyd hurried back into the chamber just then, telling her that whatever Fife had said to him had not taken long.

“His lordship would have the wedding take place as soon as your mother and sister arrive, Simon. You must tell them at once so the priest can attend to it.”

“You don’t think such a course overly zealous, Boyd? My mother is most unlikely to agree to it whilst my father lies unburied.”

“Then you must command her,” Boyd said. “You are master here, after all.”

Raising one eyebrow, Simon said, “Have you met my mother?”

Boyd shrugged. “I saw her at Sweethope Hill, of course, but no one thought to present me. It cannot matter, though. She is just a woman.”

“Even if I were to agree with that assessment, your priest has said he will not perform a ceremony with an unwilling bride. You might, therefore, want to consider whether my youngest sister will
agree
to marry you.”

“Sakes, man, she is thirteen. If she balks, you will command her, too.”

“I could, of course, but I don’t think I will.”

“Damnation, but I suspected as much, although my lord Fife assured me that you would obey his wishes,” Boyd said. “Fortunately, I suggested precautions, and my lord agreed to them.” Drawing his sword, he shouted, “Lads, to me!”

A dozen men-at-arms rushed into the hall, weapons drawn.

“Here now, open them gates,” Sym shouted imperiously to Elishaw’s guards. “D’ye no see this banner, what the lady Meg made me herself? We’ve come to see the laird, and sithee, we be appetized and fair pinched wi’ hunger, so dinna delay!”

It was as well that no one challenged them, because Garth had no idea what he might have said after that. The gates swung open, and following Sym, he and his men rode into the cobbled bailey.

As they dismounted, he quietly ordered his men to see to the horses and await events. Then to his young guide, he said dryly, “Do you call that string of blethers you were spinning out there ‘telling them nobbut the truth’?”

“Aye, sure,
I’m
famished. Are ye no?”

“And the lady Meg stitched that banner with her own hands?”

“D’ye think she canna do such things?”

“That is
not
what I said.”

“Aye, well, she had it made or made it herself,” Sym said. “I demanded nae details from her, and nor will them mugs on the gate. Mayhap
ye
will, and then ye can say if I lied or no.”

“You stay here with the men,” Garth said curtly. “I’m going inside.”

“Ye might think on that again,” Sym said. “Look yonder.”

Glancing in the direction of the lad’s nod, he saw a score or more of men emerging from the main entrance. Fife was with them, and looking their way.

Simon had leapt to his feet when the men-at-arms rushed in, but Amalie saw that he had armed himself with only his dirk, and was not surprised when he stayed where he was as he exclaimed, “Are you daft, Boyd?”

“Don’t act too hastily, Simon,” Boyd retorted. “Fife told me to treat you well, but he left me these men and he has given me his promise. You know he will keep it whether you live or die, and I think your little sister will quickly agree to marry me when she learns that your death will be the price of her defiance. As for your lady mother, I’ll deal with her just as easily.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Simon retorted, his temper clearly rising. “My brother, Tom, and likely Buccleuch and a large retinue will escort her. Moreover, Fife has gone, leaving you with just these dozen men against all here at Elishaw.”

“I doubt you will see either your brother or Buccleuch with your lady mother,” Boyd said softly. “But in that unlikely event, I shall still hold you, your ungrateful sister, and her intrusive friend as hostages. Will your mother risk all those lives to resist the will of the Governor? I doubt it. I doubt, too, that Fife’s friend Archie Douglas will sacrifice his goddaughter to defy Fife’s will.”

“Ah, but your priest will refuse to perform a forced marriage,” Simon said.

“No, he won’t. Tell him, Father.”

“Looks as if Fife’s leaving,” Sym said as Garth turned quickly away and bent to examine his horse’s near hind hoof, praying that Fife had not seen him.

“We’ll wait for him to go,” he said.

“Better if we can slip by them in the tumble and get inside,” Sym advised.

The lad’s instincts were good, Garth realized. As large as he was himself, he rarely thought of sneaking past anyone. Still, his men could walk about without stirring alarm, and so could Sym. And, in the teeming throng, he himself might pass unnoticed as long as Fife did not look right at him. Also, if they waited for Fife and his men to mount their horses, anyone
not
mounted would draw notice at once.

Garth nodded. “I’ll go,” he said. “But you should stay here.”

“Ye’ll be more remarkable alone than with me, sir. Moreover, ye want to find the lady Amalie. Sithee, even if she’s inside, she mayn’t be in the hall.”

“And you think you can find her more easily than I can?”

“I can, aye. And, if she’s in the hall, I can find that out afore we enter it.”

Garth realized that he had not seen Simon or Boyd with Fife.

“How will you do it?”

“I’ll show ye, aye, but come on. They’re fetching out their horses.”

Accordingly, the two of them skirted the crowd of men shouting for horses, slipped in through the entrance, and hurried up the steps.

“Sir Harald is right, sir,” the priest told Simon. “The Governor ordered my assistance and made it clear that further defiance will cost me my life.”

Amalie said bluntly, “Simon, they will kill
you
whatever you do. That is why I came here, to warn you. Sithee, sir, Fife wants Elishaw more than any marriage.”

“Be silent, Amalie; don’t stir the pot,” Simon said. But his voice lacked the note of curt irritation it usually held when he spoke to her.

“Aye, keep silent, lass,” Boyd said. “You don’t know what you are prattling about. Fife values both of us equally, Simon, and counts on our aid. I’ve no wish to make an enemy of you, but neither will I let you stop what he has promised me.”

“You hold me prisoner in my own hall, yet don’t want me as your enemy?”

“Aye, although it
is
a pity you don’t have your sword or we could decide this easily. You have not won your spurs, but I’m told you’re a competent swordsman.”

“I’ll send someone to fetch my sword, and we’ll find out,” Simon suggested.

“I think not,” Boyd said, approaching the dais. “Not yet, at all events. Lady Amalie, pray step down here to me, and do
not
defy me again. I need only one of you for my purpose. And since I doubt that the lady Sibylla bears any real kinship to Archie the Grim, she is of small use to me. However, if you defy me, I’ll have two of my men seize her and see what use they can find for her upstairs.”

“By heaven, sir,” Simon exclaimed, “you go too far!”

“Do I? Seize the red-haired one, lads, and—”

“Leave her, you villain; I’m coming,” Amalie snapped, getting hastily to her feet and hurrying round the near end of the table.

“Seize the other lass anyway,” Boyd commanded when Amalie reached his side. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her hard enough against him to reveal the chain mail under his tunic and warn her that she would bear bruises from it later.

Just then a piercing whistle shrieked from the stairway. Recognizing it, she quickly thrust two fingers into her mouth and whistled back as loudly as she could.

Releasing her, Boyd whirled toward the stairs.

Amalie glanced back to see Simon draw his dirk, put his free hand on the table, and leap across it to land between Sibylla and the men approaching her.

“Stand away from her ladyship, you lot,” Simon snapped just as Amalie heard Boyd exclaim, “Westruther!”

Her attention instantly diverted, she saw Garth cross the threshold with his sword drawn. In his wake, Sym Elliot followed, dirk in hand.

“Seize the lad,” Boyd bellowed to his men. “The swordsman is mine!”

“Nay, he is mine!” Amalie snapped. As Boyd shifted his sword to attack Garth, she struck fast and as hard as she could.

Recalling the chain mail, she aimed high for his throat, and then, when his head snapped back, she jabbed his abdomen with her elbow for good measure.

A strong arm swept her aside then as a gleaming blade slashed upward and clanged against Boyd’s, sending his sword to clatter against the nearby stone wall and fall with a vibrating crash to the floor.

“Down, sir!” Garth snapped at Boyd, setting his sword point at the man’s chest. Both weapons were thrusting swords with points meant to pierce mail.

“I yield, aye,” Boyd said, dropping to a knee.

As Garth put the point of his sword to Boyd’s throat and told Sym to call his men, Amalie heard a horn in the distance. Then two familiar notes sounded from a second horn. She glanced at Sym, who had hesitated near the archway.

Looking back, he grinned at her and shouted, “ ’Tis Himself!” Then he darted away and vanished down the stairs.

The point of his sword still at Boyd’s neck, Garth roared without looking away from it, “You men, if you did not recognize those horns, learn to do so! The first was the Douglas, the second Buccleuch. Put up your weapons at once.”

“Sheathe your weapons, lads, and lay them on the dais table,” Simon said. “There will be no more swordplay here tonight.”

“There may be more trouble for them, though,” Garth said grimly. “They’ll face Douglas justice for invading a Border stronghold, threatening its master, and imperiling noblewomen under his protection. Moreover, Lady Amalie is Buccleuch’s good-sister, and Buccleuch has sworn an oath to defend the Murrays of Elishaw.”

“Westruther,
you’d
be wise to recall that if the Douglas is here, Fife has also returned,” Boyd snapped. “Also, Simon is Fife’s man, sworn to obey him. But you and I can settle this properly if you let me retrieve my sword.”

“Properly?”

“Aye, we’ll decide as knights should, in fair battle,” Boyd said.

“To do that, we’d both have to be knights worthy of the name and have the same notion of ‘fair,’ ” Garth retorted. “By your actions here and before, you have proven yourself
un
worthy.”

Hearing the sound of booted feet hurrying up the stairway, Amalie bit her lip, wondering if Fife or Douglas would appear first.

To her relief, Douglas and Buccleuch entered together, accompanied by Tammy and a man she did not know, all four ushered in by a beaming Sym.

By then, Boyd’s men-at-arms had yielded their weapons to Simon.

Douglas paused inside the archway and scanned the chamber, frowning darkly. “By all the saints, what happened here?” he demanded.

Beside him, the unknown man took a step forward and peered at Boyd. “That’s him, my lord,” he said, nodding. “That man is Ben Haldane.”

Hearing the name, Garth flicked a glance at Douglas and his companion.

As he did, Boyd struck his sword aside and dove toward his own, snatching it up and leaping lithely to his feet to lunge hard at Garth.

Garth parried the stroke, but Boyd pressed harder at him, ignoring their stunned audience.

Knowing that Amalie was behind him, Garth feared making any moves in that direction until she cried from some distance to his left, “I’m away, sir!”

Immediately, he leapt backward to his right, then forward, slashing quick and hard, using both hands for his weapon and knocking Boyd’s sword high again. This time, though, it did not leave the man’s grasp.

“Hold! Enough!” Douglas bellowed.

Garth stepped back at once and Buccleuch moved quickly to stand by him with his own sword drawn.

“Drop that weapon,” Douglas snapped to Boyd. “You will hang soon enough, but if you don’t do as I say
now
, I have them spit you where you stand.”