Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (39 page)

“Just one?”

A hint of a smile touched his lips as he said, “Two or three, if necessary.”

“Where will you leave me?”

He looked at her then. “I see your point,” he said. “As I don’t want to reveal the tunnel’s existence, let alone its entrance, to any of the men-at-arms, I’d have to trust you to stay by the pond or wait whilst one of the others takes you back to our men.”

“So you do know about the tunnel,” she said. “Sithee, I had decided that you did not. But if you do, why do you need me?”

“Because I don’t know where the entrance at this end is, only that it must be near the pond,” he said. “You wore soft shoes that night, so I doubt you’d walked far, and from just one brief visit you could not have known about the pond to stroll to it from anywhere else in the woods. As soon as I learned about the tunnel—”

“You knew naught of it that night then.”

“Nay, it was only afterward that I discovered there’d been rumors of one. But I could scarcely quiz everyone at Elishaw. So I asked my mother if she knew a way out besides the gate. She told me where it starts, but we all left for Edinburgh the next day. As I’ve had no opportunity to explore it, I must rely on you.”

“But you cannot want to take the others with you, and you can
not
go alone.”

“I’ll take Douglas, Percy, Buccleuch, and Westruther with me.”

“Mercy, how secret will it be then?”

“Sibylla, I want peace, so our people can plant crops and expect to harvest them without watching them trampled to dust by raiders first. Douglas wants to improve the way we redress grievances across the line, and Northumberland will listen to Cecil Percy, who supports that notion. What better way to show them
we
mean to cooperate than to let them know of our siege tunnel?”

“Aye, sure, until the plan fails and the English besiege us.”

“Sakes, I mean to destroy that tunnel. It seems a daft idea anyway, providing a way in as well as out. But enough of this. We’re already within view of the Pike, and they’ll soon see us from the ramparts. I mean to leave the men with their captains just up ahead and take those I named in with me. You’ll wait for us well away from—”

“No,” she said.

“By heaven—!”

“Elishaw is your home, sir, and your plan may succeed, but there is every chance that Kit is in that tunnel now. I
won’t
let you terrify her, which you would certainly do if you all crept up on her in the dark. I’m going with you.”

His jaw tightened until she heard his teeth grating, but he reined in and motioned the other lairds to rejoin them. It was growing darker.

“You’ve answered only one of my questions,” she said as she watched the four urge their mounts toward them. “But I suspect you’re even angrier now.”

“We’ll find out when this is over,” he said curtly.

A tingling thrill shot through her, making her wonder what manner of fool she was that such a statement could make her look forward to that discussion.

Simon stopped the cavalcade in dusky shadows before anyone on Elishaw’s ramparts could catch sight of them. Leaving their men and the prisoners to wait with their captains, the five leaders and Sibylla walked with him toward the forest pond.

He led the way with Sibylla a pace behind him. As they went, he discussed his plan quietly with the other men, aware that she listened and wondering at his complaisance to her presence. When he realized he was accepting her silence as approval, he wondered even more at himself.

He knew her well enough to be sure that although she might exercise tact in such company, she would speak up at once if anything they said struck her amiss. The thought was more reassuring than annoying, which told him he had come to believe in her good sense—more often than not—and truly to respect her opinions.

The other men seemed to approve his plan.

Douglas said only, “We’re putting a lot of faith in just letting the man know that his plot to provide legal grounds for seizing Elishaw failed.”

“He’ll bow to a subtle approach, sir,” Simon said. “But if we had to force our way in or lay siege to the castle, he’d dig in his heels, because news would quickly spread that he’d no cause to seize it. Fife’s public face is that of a law-abiding ruler. Had he been able to argue that I’d broken the law, endangered the truce . . .”

“Aye, sure,” Buccleuch agreed. “Fife’s most dangerous when he’s cornered. ’Tis better to provide him a way to leave quietly with his dignity intact.”

That they accepted Simon’s reasoning and respected his knowledge of Fife stirred an unfamiliar sense of simple pride.

Into a silence, Westruther muttered, “Our light is fast fading, my friends. We must hope Fife has not got his devil’s imps lurking in shadows to waylay enemies.”

Buccleuch chuckled, but Douglas said testily, “We’re not enemies of the man. He’s done all he can to undermine
my
authority, but I don’t want all-out war with him, for although he may not be the best choice to lead Scotland, he’s the strongest one available. Even so, we can be sure he’s the one behind these raids because he’s tried similar tactics in the past, and they must stop.”

“One would think he’d learn from his errors,” Buccleuch said.

“He’s no tactician, though,” Westruther said. “We also know that.”

“Aye,
and
that he’s a coward,” Douglas said. “We’ll rely on such traits now to discourage his mischief for a time.”

Percy said, “I don’t understand what he’d hoped to gain from such raids.”

“First,” Buccleuch said, “he wanted to make it seem that Douglas authority in the Borders had weakened, because Fife has always resented the fact that the Douglas is more powerful than any Stewart. Next, to provide himself with legal cause to seize Elishaw, he wanted to make Simon appear to be behind all the raids.”

“But such raids could lead to armies gathering,” the Englishman protested.

“Aye, sure, but Fife never sees clearly past his own goals,” Westruther said. “Some go so far as to say he
hopes
the two countries will become one—with himself appointed to govern the Scottish part for the English king.”

“Sakes, does he suppose Richard of England would name any Scot to such a post?” Percy demanded. “I vow, he would not.”

“We ken that fine, but Fife tends to reckon as if his opponents will do just as he imagines they will,” Buccleuch said. “He is a shrewd politician and a ruthless one, but it never seems to occur to the man that his opponent in battle might think for himself and have another outcome in mind.”

With a chuckle, Westruther said, “Perhaps we ought not to speak so freely of Fife’s failings with Murray and Percy. Percy may be an enemy again one day, and Simon may feel obliged to submit to Fife out of nobbut habit.”

Sibylla’s hand slid warmly into Simon’s.

Giving it a squeeze, he said mildly, “I’d expected someone to suggest that long since, Garth. In troth, for years I thought Fife was leading Scotland effectively and followed him all in all. But when I came to see how freely he expected to use our Scottish noblewomen and Scottish lands for his own purposes, and how easily he can dismiss assault and murder if such crimes benefit him . . .” He paused, then said, “I am loyal to the Crown, but my first loyalty is to Elishaw, to my family, and to the cause of peace if we can strengthen this truce.”

“What if we cannot?” the Douglas said.

“In that event, my lord, I am yours to command, as is Elishaw,” Simon said. “I understand that, in most ways, my parents and grandparents wanted what I want. So I accepted their neutrality, but now . . .”

Turning, he said directly to Cecil, “I hope that you, especially, will understand what I say now, cousin. Sithee, with things as they stand, and men no longer sure of who serves which side, we who lead them—on both sides of the line—must make clear where
we
stand and do all in our power to bring peace to the Borders.”

“We’ll never stop the reiving,” Buccleuch said.

“We won’t as long as many of us are involved in it ourselves,” Simon retorted. When Buccleuch just smiled, he shook his head at him.

Archie said, “Wat’s right, though. We
won’t
stop the reiving any time soon on either side, even amongst the nobles. ’Tis why I want an arrangement to address grievances across the line. We do it in some cases now with our wardens’ meetings, but we need a better system that will serve both sides fairly and efficiently.”

They fell silent then, each with his or her thoughts, until they came to the clearing. Keeping to the trees, they skirted the pond.

When Simon saw Sibylla pause opposite the memorable granite slab from which she had waded naked into the pond, he said, “Well, lass, which way?”

Sibylla saw Garth look curiously at Buccleuch and then at Simon.

Simon ignored him.

“Beyond that boulder yonder, sir,” she said, pointing. “I’m not sure I’d have recognized it if it were not as dark as it is, but another large boulder lies beyond it, and the opening beyond that.” She still was not sure she’d find the entrance, but by lining up the boulders with the tall tree at the end of the pond, she did so easily.

“We’ll need light,” Douglas said as he peered inside.

“I have a torch and a tinder box,” Simon said.

“The torch may be an encumbrance,” Sibylla said.

“The passage is narrow, and Garth will have to duck. I left candles a bit farther inside,” she added.

“Did you, indeed?” Simon said. “How many?”

“I don’t recall; three perhaps.” “I hope someone means to tell me how her ladyship kens more of this place than its lord does,” Garth muttered.

Simon explained as he found the candles and reached for his tinder box. When he admitted that Sibylla had found the tunnel after being in the castle little more than twenty-four hours, the other men had to struggle to muffle their amusement.

“You’ll have to destroy the tunnel now, lad,” Douglas said. “It won’t do to leave it, because even Fife is bound to figure out how we must have got in.”

“I ken that fine, my lord,” Simon said.

After he lighted the candles, he handed one to Sibylla and motioned for her to lead them. “Stop well before the door at the other end, lass,” he said quietly. “We’ll open it, and you will stay in the tunnel until one of us comes to fetch you.”

That, she decided, would depend on whether they found Kit in the tunnel, but she knew better than to say so to him then. His tone had said he would brook no argument, and although he seemed willing to forgive some things now, he would find it hard to forgive a wife who defied him in front of Douglas and the other lairds.

The only sounds were their feet padding softly on the hard-packed floor until her quick ears caught scuffling sounds of a presence ahead.

Raising a hand to warn Simon behind her, she paused. Softly then, she said, “Kit, it is the lady Sibylla. I’m here, love.”

A shape unfolded from the deep shadows a few yards ahead, and with a cry, the child ran into her arms. “Och, but when I heard ye coming, I thought the deevil were after me,” she exclaimed as she buried her face against Sibylla. “There be bad men inside, me lady! I’m gey glad ye came!”

“
This
is Colville’s lady Catherine?” Buccleuch said over Simon’s shoulder.

“Nay, then, I’m not!” Kit protested, clinging harder than ever to Sibylla.

“I promise you’re safe now, Kit,” she said. “No one here will harm you, so you can tell us the truth.”

“But I did! I’m nobbut plain Kit!”

“She
is
telling the truth, lass, as I’ve said all along,” Simon murmured. “Quiet her and stay with her, whilst we go in and deal with Fife.”

Sibylla nodded. Spilling wax to hold her candle, she drew Kit close.

“Does she truly think that bairn is the lady Catherine Gordon?” Douglas whispered as they emerged from the tunnel into the empty bakehouse chamber.

“Aye,” Simon replied. “And the Colvilles apparently thought so, too.”

Gesturing for the others to wait, he moved to the arch-way and looked into the kitchen, where servants were preparing to serve supper in the hall.

As he took in the bustle, a gillie saw him and stopped in his tracks.

Simon motioned him over. “Tell Cook and the others to keep busy but to stay out of the hall until I send someone down with other instructions,” he said.

The lad nodded fervently. “I’ll tell ’em, laird. But, sithee, sir, there be dunamany men-at-arms above.”

“All will soon be well again,” he said, hoping he spoke the truth. He hoped, too, that if anything did go amiss, Sibylla would have the sense to get Kit and herself safely out of the tunnel before battle erupted.

He told himself she would simply return to the men with Kit and explain what had happened. Then, shaking his head at what he suspected was wishful thinking, he shoved all thought of her to the back of his mind and led the way up the service stairs to the hall.

The sight of Fife in his black-velvet elegance sitting in what Simon still thought of as Sir Iagan’s two-elbow chair stirred his temper. He suppressed it, warning himself that if ever he had learned to stay cool in a crisis, this was the time to prove it.

“Ready?” he asked the others.

The Douglas nodded, his dark scowl fiercer than ever. Westruther and Buccleuch smiled grimly and nodded. As a gillie approached Fife with a jug, Simon stepped through the servants’ archway and onto the dais, saying, “Welcome, my lord. Forgive me for not being at hand to greet your arrival, but I trust my people have seen to your needs.”

Fife turned sharply, nearly knocking the jug from the pop-eyed gillie’s hand.

“Murray! Where did you spring from?”

“As you see, sir, we will not be supping alone tonight,” Simon said. “I have brought distinguished guests to sup with us. Is that my best claret in that jug, lad?”

The gillie recovered himself enough to nod and say, “Aye, laird.”

“Then fetch more mugs and pour some for each of us.

Then you may set the privy screens and leave us till I shout for you. We’ve much to discuss.”

Although Simon had rarely known Fife to lose his poise, he came close now.

“Douglas! Buccleuch! What the . . . ?”