Amanda Scott (15 page)

The merry look de Gredin threw Adela’s way as he obeyed made her want to laugh, and since it was the first time in a fortnight that she had experienced such a feeling, it surprised her. That she had dared to challenge Hugo had also surprised her, but she had been so worried. Perhaps she was just learning to feel things again.

Rob had not ridden anywhere near the Earl of Douglas, nor did he intend to. Not only had Hugo’s suggestion about Ellen’s possible new interest in him shaken him more than he’d realized, but having arranged with Michael for his own message to reach Douglas, he intended to fix his attention firmly on what lay ahead of him.

Hugo had also suggested that he make whatever use he thought best of Hawthornden, but he had no intention of doing so until Hugo and his lady had gone. To go there now meant either taking Lady Sorcha into his confidence or suffering her anger later if he did not. Since he could not in good conscience ask her to keep secrets from her sister, he thought it best to go straight on to Edinburgh, to Henry.

Having managed large estates almost from puberty, Henry was an expert in matters that Rob knew little about. He would tell him all that he had told Hugo and Michael and would welcome his advice on nearly everything that affected Lestalric.

Perhaps Henry would even know what the devil to do about Ellen. It seemed unlikely that Douglas would expect him to support her at Lestalric, but she did have a right to such support if she demanded it. That thought was no comfort to him.

More importantly, though, Henry’s knowledge of old maps might prove invaluable. Rob had thought often over the years of where his grandfather might have hidden the map, if it was a map, and he was fairly certain he knew.

But he had not been next or nigh Lestalric Castle in nine years, so it was possible that the hiding place he had known no longer existed.

Chapter 8

W
ith donations from Isobel’s wardrobe and even from Isabella’s, it seemed to Adela that she would have clothing enough for a decade at court. Even so, it took nearly a fortnight before the countess and Lady Clendenen declared her ready to go.

Sorcha and Hugo had left for Glasgow days before, taking Macleod with them, so he and Hugo could help supervise preparations for the return of Donald, Lord of the Isles, to his own territory. Donald would meet them at Dumbarton at the end of the week, after he had taken formal leave of the King and the royal court.

To Adela’s surprise, and a little to her dismay, the formidable countess had insisted on accompanying her to Edinburgh.

“I must bid Donald farewell,” she said. “But I’ll be staying at Sinclair House, of course, with Henry. He is always pleased to welcome me, or any other visitors.”

Sir Michael had ordered a large contingent of men-at-arms to escort them. Lady Clendenen had multiple boxes and bags, and the countess traveled with her own servants, piles of personal baggage, and some of her favorite furniture. So they created a cavalcade that Adela thought might easily be mistaken for a royal procession.

The journey from Roslin was not long. As they topped the last rise, a broad plain spread before them with a large hill to the northeast, its craggy face making it resemble a sleeping lion.

“That is Arthur’s Seat,” Lady Clendenen told her. “That one to the west is Castle Hill. The royal burgh of Edinburgh lies right between them.”

She went on to identify other hills, the blue waters of the Firth of Forth, and the distant coast of Fife beyond. But Adela’s gaze had come to rest on Edinburgh Castle, gleaming in late afternoon sunlight. It sprawled across its own craggy hilltop, its curtain wall extending to the easternmost crags and down the hillside.

It looked, she thought, as a royal castle ought to look, forbidding and impregnable. That anyone could conquer it seemed impossible, but she knew the English had taken it on several occasions, King Edward I more than once. When he and his army had invaded the country the first time, they’d held the area from Edinburgh south for the better part of eighteen years and had taken the crown records, crown treasury, and Scotland’s coronation stone back to England with them.

In 1335, her father had told her, the English had recaptured the Castle. They had not only occupied it but also refortified it. They had held it for nearly six years that time before the Scots reclaimed it. And now, they threatened to do it again.

As their cavalcade approached, the royal burgh looked enormous. Its roads were broader than any Adela had seen, even in Stirling. Houses lined each side. Their gardens, according to the countess, lay tucked away behind them.

Lady Clendenen said proudly, “If one counts the Canongate, the burgh boasts nearly four hundred houses now.”

“Mercy,” Adela exclaimed. “How many people are there?”

“Oh, nearly two thousand, I expect, if one counts the Castle folk and the abbey. Those spires straight ahead are St. Giles’s Cathedral, which lies halfway betwixt the Castle and the abbey. That tall, single tower to the east is the abbey’s.”

“Holyrood Abbey?”

“Aye, of course, and you should know that inside the burgh, all the roads are called gates in the old Norse fashion. We’ll enter along the Cowgate. My house and Sinclair House lie near each other on the Canongate, just west of the abbey.”

Drawing a long breath, Adela said, “It is so good to smell the sea again.”

“Aye, it is,” Isabella said, smiling at her. “Edinburgh’s harbor lies nearby at Leith, yonder to the northeast,” she added with a gesture.

Lady Clendenen said with a sigh, “Your mentioning Leith makes me think of poor Baron Lestalric and his heir, killed so tragically. A dreadful thing, that was. I wonder who—or for that matter, how many—will claim that vast estate now.”

With an edge to her voice, Isabella said, “I’d not be surprised to find a royal prince amongst them. These days, his grace is easily persuaded to accept even weak arguments to claim lands for the Stewarts or for the Crown. If those arguments fail, it is only because they require the support of the Scottish Parliament. But the most ambitious of his sons seeks to control Parliament as well as the King.”

“You mean Fife, of course,” Lady Clendenen said. To Adela, she said, “No one likes him, because everyone knows he resents being a younger son and will do almost anything to gain enough power to win the throne. But surely, Isabella, there must be more legitimate claimants to Lestalric than any of that upstart Stewart lot.”

Adela, inhaling deeply again of the refreshing sea air as the discussion continued without her, paid them scant heed. But as they moved toward the center of the burgh, she soon had so much to look at that she just stared. Horsedrawn and handdrawn carts moved everywhere. Many carried handsomely garbed passengers.

The Canongate, an extension of the royal burgh’s high street, proved to be broader than the Cowgate, with large houses of stone and timber on either side.

“So many large houses!” Adela exclaimed as they turned east onto the Canongate. “Where do all the people who own them come from?”

“Merchants who use the harbor for shipping have to reside in Edinburgh,” Isabella explained. “Because of that law, many such men have built houses here.”

They parted with her at a big, south-facing stone house and, minutes later, Lady Clendenen pointed out her own house, as spacious as any, facing north.

A short time later, Adela found herself in a pleasant chamber overlooking a large garden, with a cheerful maidservant to attend her. As she gazed out on a green lawn with budding flower borders, the door opened.

“Don’t stand dreaming, my dear,” her hostess said. “We must dress at once if we are not to be late.”

“Late?”

“Aye, sure. Did you not hear us speaking earlier? We are to collect Isabella immediately after Vespers. We’ll join the court for supper.”

Dismayed, Adela struggled to smile and nod. She had not heard them. And having assumed they would need an invitation first, she had expected to have time to adjust to her new surroundings before plunging into life at the royal court.

The countess’s arrival at Sinclair House caused a stir. Maidservants and gillies rushed to welcome her and then scurried to carry in all she had brought with her. But the initial tumult quickly eased.

Henry waited with Rob in the solar at the north end of the main hall, which occupied most of the second floor. When they heard her coming upstairs from the ground floor entryway, Henry stepped out to greet her. Waiting in the doorway, dressed more finely than ever before in his life, Rob watched their meeting warily.

“Madam, welcome,” Henry said, moving to embrace the countess. Releasing her, he said, “I believe you are acquainted with Sir Robert of Lestalric.”

Rob had been aware that her gaze had fixed on him as she hugged Henry, but he could not tell from her expression what she was thinking.

She smiled then and said, “I would scarcely have recognized you, sir. I am glad that you mean to claim your rightful place at last.”

“Thank you, madam,” he said with heartfelt relief.

“You will excuse me, I know,” she said. “I want to tidy myself and dress for court. Ealga and I mean to take supper at the Castle tonight. Adela, too,” she added.

A moment later, she had disappeared up the stairs.

Rob looked at Henry, aware of a sudden, unsettling flutter of nerves.

“The time has come,” Henry said. “I think you are ready.”

“Aye,” Rob said. “I hope so.”

“Once we’ve established your identity, you can proceed with the next step.”

“I just hope I’m right in thinking the key lies at Lestalric,” Rob said. “The hiding place my grandfather showed me is the only place I know to look.”

“So the next step is to ride to Lestalric and have a look,” Henry said practically. “At least Lady Logan is not there. She is with her father.”

“I’m glad of that,” Rob said, realizing that Ellen had slipped from his mind again. Grimacing, he added, “But first I must make my bow at court, Henry.”

“I warrant you’ll make a grand impression there,” Henry said, grinning.

“Aye, sure,” Rob said, his thoughts shifting instantly back to Lady Adela. “I might if I don’t find my head in my lap before midnight.”

Lady Clendenen possessed an enclosed wagon, drawn by two horses, which she called a coach. Having lived her life in the Highlands with no roads, Adela had never seen one before but thought it must be a most convenient vehicle.

Her hostess insisted, however, that it was not just convenient but a necessity in Edinburgh, where inclement weather was the rule rather than the exception.

“It is too far to walk to the Castle, and too steep,” she declared. “And on horseback, most days, one would be soaked through before one arrived.”

So Adela and her ladyship climbed into the coach but without the chevalier de Gredin. He, apparently, had removed to other quarters. Adela had seen no sign of him at Clendenen House and did not think it fitting to ask about him.

The short ride to Sinclair House proved interesting, even amusing. But after Isabella and Prince Henry joined them in the rattling, jolting vehicle, its interior became too crowded for comfort. To make matters worse, the latter part of the journey, up the narrow, precipitous road to the Castle gate tower, proved more terrifying for Adela than any wild boat trip on heaving winter seas.

Fearing at any minute that coach, horses, and all might plunge off the road and down the steep embankment, she held her breath and sat as still as she could.

They arrived safely in the pebbled courtyard and walked to the Castle’s noisy hall in an enormous four-story tower at the west end of the yard.

“This is David’s Tower,” Isabella said. “They finished building it thirteen years ago. It contains the royal apartments as well as others for noble visitors.”

“I’ve rooms here, myself,” Henry said as they waited for the lord chamberlain to announce them. “You ladies must make use of them whenever you like. The weather is sadly unreliable at this time of year.”

“Just what I said about it myself,” Lady Clendenen told him. “And although they maintain that track well, I do not trust any wheeled vehicle on it in a storm.”

“Nor should you,” Henry said, grinning at her as he pushed a strand of fair hair back from his forehead and adjusted his plumed hat. He was clearly eager to join the merrymakers.

Adela listened to them talk but made no comment. Not only could she think of nothing suitable to say about her ride in the bone-jarring coach, but she was also trying to take in all she saw and heard as they waited.

The air inside the hall was hazy with smoke from two great fireplaces. Minstrels’ music competed with the roar of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter, barking dogs, and once, a woman’s scream. The din was appalling to one unused to such gatherings. Players occupied the central area, but acrobats were doing flips and hand-springs through their midst. Their antics and a nearby dog fight, apparently over scraps, spoiled whatever the players were attempting to portray.

Not that any of the uproar seemed to matter to anyone else.

As far as Adela could tell, no one watched the players or listened to the music. Some strolled about the perimeter. Others supped at two linen-draped boards extending at right angles from the high table. Still others, mostly men, sprawled near a fireplace. They seemed to be dicing, with mugs or goblets in their free hands.

The sound of a too-near trumpet blast startled her into a sharp cry. Although she doubted that anyone else had heard her, she looked nervously about as the noise diminished a degree or two, and the lord chamberlain roared, “Your grace, I beg leave to present the Earl of Orkney, the Countess of Strathearn and Caithness, Lady Clendenen of Kintail, and Lady Ardelve of Loch Alsh and Glenelg.”

As the women went forward with Henry to make their curtsies, Adela peered through the haze, trying to decide which man at the high table was King of Scots.

Beside her, in an undertone that barely carried to her ears, Isabella said, “His grace is in the center, the elderly man. Beside him on his right is MacDonald, second Lord of the Isles. The next man is the Earl of Carrick, the King’s eldest son and heir to the throne of Scotland. He is the kindest of his numerous family, but you would be wise to keep your distance from all the King’s sons. They are ambitious, often dangerous men, most of whom eat innocents like you.”