The Fire in the Flint (38 page)

He said that last coldly, and Malcolm cursed him.

*

Christiana followed the novice to the prioress’s parlour. The English captain had returned.

‘
Benedicite
, Prioress Agnes,’ she said.

‘
Benedicite
, Dame Christiana,’ Agnes said in a dulcet tone, though her smile was strained.

Christiana sensed that something had gone wrong.

‘You have my deepest admiration and gratitude, Dame Christiana,’ the English captain said with a bow.

‘What?’ she said in surprise.

‘Your warning allowed the capture of five of William Wallace’s men. In thanks you have my word that this priory will be left in peace.’

‘Captured?’ Christiana whispered. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for them.’ As she began to understand what she had done by telling the English captain of the watchers she crossed herself and sank on to a chair that a maid set behind her.

‘God blessed you with a profound gift,’ said the prioress. ‘I am newly amazed.’

‘Do the men yet live?’ Christiana asked.

‘Four do,’ said the captain. ‘The fifth fell from the cliff rather than be captured. They’d murdered all four of my men.’

The maid bent to ask, ‘Are you unwell, Dame Christiana?’

Christiana lifted her eyes to Thomas, on whose face she saw pain and blame.

‘I must leave you now,’ she said quietly. ‘I am not well.’

‘Wine!’ cried the prioress.

A cup was placed in Christiana’s cold hands. She stared down into it and saw in the blood-red liquid a symbol of what she had done. ‘I cannot drink this.’ She thrust it aside as she willed herself to rise. This is what came of collaboration. She had known it was wrong, to produce a vision for the prioress. She had known it. ‘I pray you, send Dame Bethag to me,’ she said, and pushing past the prioress’s agitated concern she fled into the yard. She would be cursed for this, and all her family with her. She must pray, pray for the dead man’s soul and the rescue of the others. She must pray.

Roger returned too quickly.

Malcolm rose from the table as Aylmer handed him something tied in one of Christiana’s forgotten veils. ‘You did not find Maggie?’ He placed the heavy bundle on the table.

Roger looked haggard and shook with an energy that would explode in violence if it found no other outlet. ‘She was not at Ada’s. Her friend had not seen her. So we went to your house. Someone had been there. Stools grouped in a circle. And that –’ he nodded at the bundle – ‘was on the floor near the door.’

Malcolm looked down at it, then back to Roger. ‘What do you fear?’ he asked softly, doubting his
son-in-law’s ability to contain himself. ‘Why would she go to my house?’

‘That is booty from your house, if I’m not mistaken,’ said Roger. ‘Did Maggie surprise thieves?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Tell me about the sterlings men have been demanding of you.’

The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children
. ‘Why would she go to my house?’ Malcolm cried. ‘She must have known there might be trouble.’

‘When I told Ada about Jonet’s friends, she suggested that Maggie would go after her, and that your house might be tempting, empty, unguarded. Jonet might be collecting items of value, hiding them.’

Malcolm looked down at the cloth. ‘So Maggie and Celia might have frightened Jonet.’

‘And then what? Where are they?’ Roger asked angrily, as if he suspected that Malcolm knew.

Pressing his hands to his temples, Malcolm tried to think but his heart was racing and visions of men desperate for their money falling upon his daughter struck him dumb. He dropped back on to the bench and buried his head in his hands.

‘You and your brother are two of a kind,’ Roger said, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘If she’s suffering because of your scheming I’ll kill you.’

It was small comfort to Malcolm to realise that Roger’s desperation was that of a devoted husband.

*

Having reassembled in the Ruthven hall and convinced Gilbert’s wife that they needed no refreshment, the meeting was called to order by James.

‘Shall we begin with Jonet?’ he suggested.

Margaret had taken a seat beside the maid, and James stole glances at her throughout Jonet’s narration. Her colour high, her jaw set, he found Margaret lovely and formidable, far more so than he’d considered her in Edinburgh.

‘Dame Christiana chose that spineless Marion over me to be lady’s maid,’ Jonet was saying, her face livid with recalled anger. ‘After all I’d done for her, all the times I made excuses for her. She was one mistress who never put her hand to any task about the house. Never. But you won’t believe it, then they had the gall to leave me to see to both their house and Dame Margaret’s. But John Smyth showed me how ill-used I was. He knew, for he’d been used by the family as well. He said Master Malcolm had done nothing to deserve my loyalty.’

James watched Margaret register a range of emotions from sympathy to anger to amusement.

But Jonet had left out what was most important.

‘What did they hope to find?’ Margaret asked.

Hugh leaned forward, only now becoming interested.

Jonet’s eyes flicked round the circle. ‘I could be hanged for saying.’

‘I’m sure Smyth told you that,’ said James, ‘but he’s dead, and the other spies will see you limping and understand that we beat the truth out of you.’

‘They’re stronger than you are,’ she said, but her face was flushed and for the first time she looked frightened.

James shook his head. ‘They are intruders, they are on foreign soil, surrounded by us.’ He smiled to show her his confidence. By Celia’s movement, he could see that she understood his purpose and found it discomfiting, but Jonet seemed to find comfort in it.

‘You think that Master Malcolm was on your side,’ she said, ‘but I know that King Edward of England is using Kerr ships.’ Her smile was little more than a sneer.

‘Then why were the English searching his things?’ James asked.

‘They searched Master Roger’s house, too,’ she reminded them.

‘Yes,’ said Margaret, ‘we know how thoroughly you have betrayed our trust, Jonet. There is no need to tell us.’

But if Margaret had thought her words would cow the maid, they seemed to have the opposite effect.

Jonet turned to James. ‘You’re a Comyn. It’s your family and the Bruces who are killing us, not the English. You’re fighting over the crown and we’ll never have peace while either of your
families have it. That’s what King Edward knows.’

James was momentarily speechless. Gilbert muttered something under his breath.

Margaret shook her head at the maid. ‘Clever words from John Smyth,’ she said. ‘He was not so clever while working for my father. Still, what he apparently did not understand is that we have nothing to fear from a struggle between the two great houses of Comyn and Bruce, for they are interested in killing only one another. But King Edward is slaughtering our people. He murdered so many of the merchants of Berwick that the streets ran with their blood. No Comyn or Bruce would ever condone such a deed.’

Jonet dropped her eyes to her hands.

Everyone was looking at Margaret, but she did not notice, bent as she seemed on enlightening the maid.

‘What else did he tell you?’ she asked Jonet.

‘That William Wallace fought beside King Edward in Wales.’

Margaret glanced up at James.

‘Many of our countrymen did, to our shame,’ he said, ‘but not William Wallace.’

Hugh shifted on his seat. ‘Some say it is for that deed God is punishing us.’

Jonet shrugged.

‘So what did Smyth and the others hope to find?’ James asked, wishing to end this interrogation soon.

‘Proof that Master Malcolm was not as he
seemed. That he was cheating the English at the same time as they were sailing his ships.’

‘And did they find anything?’

Jonet looked at Gilbert and Hugh. ‘Ask them.’

But it was Margaret who explained the silver/ sterling exchange in which the two men had invested.

Having had much experience with Malcolm’s brother Murdoch, James asked in confusion, ‘Why
had
you entrusted Malcolm with your funds?’

‘He’s one of the most trusted merchants in Perth,’ said Gilbert with indignation. ‘We’d no cause to doubt he would be fair with us.’

‘I would have trusted him with my life,’ said Hugh.

‘I believe my father miscalculated his risks,’ Margaret interposed. ‘He thought Longshanks had taken all the soldiers from this area with him to Flanders. He was taken by surprise when his ship was boarded on the Tay by the English and he thought only of his freedom. It was not the honourable thing to do, I grant you, and I am not defending him.’ She glanced at Jonet, perhaps expecting to see a sneer, but the maid’s spleen seemed to have been spent.

There was much more James wished to know, particularly what Jonet knew of the spies, but that could wait until they reached Wallace, who would still be at the camp outside town. He took Margaret aside.

‘Wallace will want to talk to her, and it’s time you met him. Are you willing?’

She did not hesitate. ‘What of Celia? If she remains behind her silence will anger Roger – you know how stubborn she can be, and I know the extent of my husband’s temper.’

‘Have you a friend with whom she might stay the night?’

Margaret looked aside. ‘A night,’ she said, as if to herself. ‘The men will be without a cook. What of Fergus?’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘He’ll sleep through the night.’

James watched with interest.

Margaret met his gaze again. ‘Ada,’ she said. ‘Celia can go to my friend Ada.’

‘So you’ll come?’

‘Roger will be furious,’ Margaret said.

‘I should think he’d be worried.’

‘Of course.’ Margaret took a deep breath and nodded. ‘But how will we get past the English?’

‘They are not yet organised, but they will be soon. Jonet shall be your maid, and you heading for the lying in of a friend in the country, with an old friar escorting you.’

She surprised him with a mischievous smile.

His conscience bothering him, he warned her, ‘We might have difficulty returning.’

‘I am tired of holding my breath,’ she said.

‘And what of Fergus?’

‘His wounds are not severe. His father can attend him. Lead on, Friar James.’

He would have kissed her if the others had not been there.

Celia still regarded James Comyn with suspicion. In her opinion, a person who so enjoyed playing someone else was too unpredictable to trust. So even though she could see that Margaret and Comyn were decided, she protested her separation from her mistress, and when ordered to Ada’s she departed with a heart full of apprehension. She took care to avoid Watergate, where Roger might see her, because Margaret had seemed so worried about his taking out his anger on her. She recalled the marks on Margaret’s shoulders one morning, small bruises, like the impressions of fingertips. Celia was a tiny woman and knew she would not survive a beating as well as her tall, strong-boned mistress. Nor did she want the lying, scheming traitor to lay a hand on her. She could not understand how she had believed her former mistress’s constant litany of her son’s virtues and wondered whether Dame Katherine had actually been deceived by him. Perhaps she had offered Celia’s services to Margaret because she knew she needed protection.

Celia thought of the look of devilish enjoyment on Margaret’s face as she told her of her plan to go to the camp of the Wallace and decided that the
machinations of Roger and the Kerr family had driven her wits from her. Now it would be up to Celia to protect her mistress’s reputation. But she must avoid a confrontation with Roger because he was too devious for her.

She arrived at Ada’s safely and was immediately engulfed in the rose-scented silks of her mistress’s best friend, only gradually managing to disentangle herself from Ada’s strong embrace.

‘Where is Maggie?’ Ada asked, adjusting Celia’s cap and tidying her own veil. She was a beautiful older woman, and apparently vain. ‘Sinclair was here searching for her, and there is a tragic tale spreading through the town about her mother. I’ve been so worried.’ Vain she might be, but her expression and voice bespoke honest concern.

Celia dreaded hearing of more involving the family she served, but she must know the worst. ‘We’d heard no word of Dame Christiana.’

‘Where is Maggie?’ Ada repeated.

Celia reminded herself as she took a seat as far from Ada’s niece and baby as she could find that Margaret trusted her friend more than she did her parents, so it might be safe to trust Ada with the truth. ‘My mistress has taken the traitorous maid Jonet to William Wallace somewhere outwith the town.’

‘God watch over her,’ Ada said, pressing her hands to her heart. ‘Does she have a worthy escort?’

Celia nodded.

‘Then that is good news indeed. It is best she is away until the gossips have tired of the tale. But the Wallace.’ She shook her head, then tilted it and studied Celia. ‘I’ll brew something to calm you.’