The Baron's Bounty (23 page)

Chapter 29

Isobel felt so good to be back at Briarbeck Castle. Conlin had set up a tub with a bath for her in Rose’s chamber. She would stay with Rose until they could get things settled, and so would Muriel and the babies while they were in Sandwich.

She sat on the bed dressed in a dry gown, watching as Rose played with the babies crawling around atop the stuffed pallet.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Rose told her. “I missed you.”

“We all did,” said Muriel catching baby Nicholas before he hit the floor.

“You’re not going to marry that old Scotsman, are you?” asked Rose.

“Nay, I’m no’ and neither are ye.” Isobel ran a hand over the girl’s hair to comfort her.

“Did Conlin get things straightened out then?” Muriel sat down and put baby Nicholas on her lap. Rose picked up baby Nelda and did the same.

“No’ yet, but he will,” she said, hoping it wasn’t just an empty wish.

There was a banging on the door and Isobel jumped up and rushed over to open it. Toft stood there, out of breath.

“What is it?” asked Isobel seeing the anguish on his face.

“Lord Conlin has caught Shadwell with the baron’s shoes and cloak in his hands and has had him thrown into the dungeon.”

“Really? So did he confess te bein’ the killer?” Isobel hoped this would be the end of all this.

“Nay, he said he was only returning the things to the lord’s solar since he found them stuffed inside a barrel on the docks. Isobel, he’s going to be killed for something he didn’t do.”

“How do you know he isn’t the one?” asked Isobel.

He shrugged his shoulders and just shook his head. “I’ve known Shadwell for a long time and he’s always been loyal to the baron. I’m sure if he said he’s innocent, he is.”

“What’s all the noise about?” Laird MacEwen stuck his head out of his chamber door.

“The baron has caught the killer,” said Isobel.

“He has?” The laird looked upset. “Who is it?”

“It’s Shadwell,” said Toft. “But I know he didn’t do it.” He turned back to Isobel. “Isobel, you’ve got to talk to the baron, please.”

“All right. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall. Let me put on some shoes on first.”

“Go fast, Isobel. Shadwell needs your help.” Toft took off down the corridor at a run.

Isobel noticed Laird MacEwen going into Lady Catherine’s chamber. She left the door open and walked over to her trunk which had been moved into Rose’s chamber for her convenience. She opened it up, staring at all the shoes.

She was deciding which ones to wear when her uncle came to her open door. “Have you seen Catherine?” he asked anxiously.

“Nay,” said Isobel looking over to Rose and Muriel. “Have either o’ ye seen me cousin?”

They both shook their heads.

“I’ve got to find her.” He then hurried off without saying goodbye.

“Do you think Shadwell is the murderer?” asked Rose.

“I’m no’ sure,” said Isobel, finally deciding on a pair of ankle strap shoes with fancy buttons instead of toggles or buckles. “But I’m going to go find out.”

“I’ll come with you.” Rose was already at the door.

“Nay, ye stay here, Rose. It’s late and I’m no’ sure yer faither would want ye out and aboot.”

“I could use help putting the babies to bed,” said Muriel from behind them.

“I’ll help you,” said the girl, momentarily forgetting that she wanted to go with.

“I’ll be back soon.” Isobel left the room and closed the door. She headed down the corridor and then towards the back stairway where Rose liked to hide. It was shorter this way than using the main stairway, and was more or less a shortcut to the Great Hall.

She hurried down the stairs, but when she got to the bottom, the button on her shoe popped off, and the strap that held it on her foot came loose.

“Och,” she said, bending down to inspect it. She’d have to go back to the room to get another pair of shoes now before she could go anywhere.

As she started to climb the stairs, she stopped in her tracks. She heard someone walking in the corridor above her head, and it was not a walk she wanted to hear at this moment.

Step, Drag, Swish - Step, Drag, Swish. She froze, hearing the walk of the murderer coming toward the stairway. So Shadwell wasn’t the killer after all, and the baron had arrested the wrong man. She had to tell him. But she also needed to find out once and for all who the killer was.

She hurriedly made her way down the stairs and hid underneath in the shadows. Looking up through the openings, she listened to the person walk downward. When they got near the bottom, she saw the shoes of the baron and knew she had to do something before someone else died. She reached upward and grabbed onto the ankles of the man. She’d hoped to make him fall, but he only stumbled and caught himself on the wall. There was no railing and the stairway was steep and very dangerous indeed.

“Isobel, I ken it’s ye. Come on out,” came an odd low voice she didn’t recognize at all.

Curiosity got the better of her as always. She scurried out of the shadows and came face to face – with Catherine.

“Catherine, why are ye dressed like thet?” She surveyed her cousin dressed in the baron’s cloak and tunic. Of course they were too big for her, and the cloak dragged on the ground behind her. The swish, she realized. Then she looked down to her feet and saw that the baron’s shoes were too large and tied onto her feet with the laces. Now she knew what the sound of the step and drag was. It was Catherine dragging her feet so the shoes wouldn’t fall off.

“Why are ye callin’ me Catherine?” her cousin asked, using that low, male sounding voice. “My name is Sir Thomas.”

“Nay, it’s no’. Ye’re Catherine. Lady Catherine.”

This seemed to upset her and Isobel saw anger rising to her eyes. “Ye dinna ken what ye’re talkin’ aboot.”

“I ken exactly what I’m talkin’ aboot. Ye are the one who killed Elliot and also the one who killed King Alexander thet night too.”

“I did no such thing, but I will kill ye. Ye are irritatin’ and dinna deserve to live.” She pulled a dagger from beneath her cloak and hurried down the stairs toward Isobel. It was a very sharp dagger, and Isobel reached out and tried to take it from Catherine, and they struggled. Catherine seemed very strong for some reason, and Isobel could not best her. She was thrown to the ground, and Isobel might have been stabbed if it wasn’t for the sound of running feet in the corridor above their heads.

Catherine looked over her shoulder and then headed away out the side door that led to the stables. Isobel jumped to her feet to see her uncle heading down the stairs.

“Was thet Catherine?” he asked.

“Uncle, she tried te kill me!”

“She doesna ken who she is when this happens to her. She also will have no memory o’ it in the mornin’.”

“Ye kent aboot this?”

“Aye, o’ course I did. She’s me daughter.”

“Ye also kent she killed the king and yet ye didna say a word aboot it?” Isobel couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“She didna kill the king, Isobel. I was there thet night, followin’ her and protectin’ her secret as I usually do. She and the king were friends, and possibly lovers. They both liked to dress up as other people – neither o’ them was normal so te speak. Thet’s why they got along. I’ll tell ye more later, but we’ve got te stop her.”

“I’ll go te the stables and ye head out te the courtyard and we’ll meet in the Great Hall,” instructed Isobel.

“All right. He handed Isobel his dagger. “Take this, and be careful, Isobel. She is verra strong when she is actin’ like a man.”

“Thank ye, Uncle.”

With one shoe off and one shoe on, Isobel headed out the door and ran to the stable, hoping she could stop her cousin from hurting or killing anyone else.

* * *

Conlin brushed down his horse, having slipped away to the stables to be alone and think since he was so upset. He couldn’t believe his right hand man, Shadwell, had betrayed him. He’d been with Conlin for a long time, and this was the last thing he expected. None of it made any sense. And although Shadwell claimed he was innocent, the evidence was there. He had the missing shoes and cloak in his possession for the second time since the killer struck. It was too much to be a coincidence, but still something in his gut told him he was not the man.

“I need to talk to him,” he said, putting down the brush and dousing the torch in the water trough. He was about to leave when he heard an odd sound. It was like someone was walking, yet there was an odd swish – and it sounded like they were dragging their feet.

He froze. Hadn’t Isobel told him, this was the gait of the killer? His hand went to the hilt of his sword and he slowly pulled it from the sheath.

“Who goes there?” he asked, taking a step forward in the dark. The footsteps stopped. He wished now he hadn’t doused the light. He moved toward the open stable door, and when he did, he felt the brush of cloth hit his arm as someone passed him by. He spun on his heel and listened. He heard the squeak of the stall door, and then some muffled cursing. He moved forward in the dark, and headed for the killer.

Just as he approached the stall where his horse was stabled, his destrier neighed and stomped back and forth.

“Hold still so I can mount ye, ye doitit horse,” came an odd low voice he didn’t recognize at first. Then he did. He’d heard this same voice the night in the Great Hall when Catherine started acting oddly.

He hurried to the stall, and when he did, the horse reared up and he heard a gasp and then the sound of a body hitting the ground. It was dark and he couldn’t see anything, and backed up quickly, glad that he had. Not a second later, his horse kicked, and he heard the sickening thud of the hooves hitting flesh, and then once again, a body falling to the ground. Then silence.

“My lord, are you in here?” Toft stood in the doorway, the light of his torch lighting up the stable as he walked in with Isobel right behind him.

“Catherine!” Isobel cried out as they came closer. She ran to her cousin, and threw herself down on the straw, grabbing her cousin’s hands.

“Isobel, is that you?” asked Catherine, sounding like herself this time. Blood trickled from her mouth, and Conlin realized the side of her head was caved in from the horse’s kick. He knew she hadn’t long to live.

“Isobel, move away,” he told her, but instead she started crying.

“Daughter!” Laird MacEwen ran into the stable and threw himself on the ground next to Isobel. “Catherine, I’m so sorry I wasna able te help ye.”

“What’s going on here?” John hurried into the stable with his sword drawn and Nicholas followed doing the same.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” answered Conlin. “Laird MacEwen, it seems to me you have some explaining to do.”

“Aye,” he answered sadly, reaching out to close the eyes of his dead daughter. “I owe ye all an explanation, and I think it is time te tell me daughter’s secret.”

Chapter 30

“Everybody have a seat and let’s get things started.” Conlin closed the door to the solar and looked around the room. Isobel was seated on the bed holding Rose in her arms. Muriel was at the other side of the solar, having left the children with the nursemaid.

Toft was near the window, and Shadwell was sitting on a chair near the fire. Laird MacEwen was pacing the floor, dragging a hand through his hair.

The door opened and John and Nicholas walked in, closing the door behind them.

“Have you taken care of the body?” asked Conlin.

“Aye,” said John with a nod. “You’re wife’s body has been put in a box and taken back to Laird MacEwen’s ship for a proper burial back in Scotland.”

“We tried to be as discreet as possible about it, just like you told us,” said Nicholas.

“She’s not my wife,” he growled. Then he just shook his head, realizing she was. “Laird MacEwen, what was Catherine doing wearing my boots and cloak?”

“She couldna help herself,” said the man. “She had problems e’er since she was a child.”

“Problems?” asked Nicholas. “What kind of problems?”

“She liked to sometimes - ” He looked down at the ground and stopped pacing.

“Continue,” said Nicholas crossing his arms over his chest.

“She liked to dress up and act like a man.”

“What is that you say?” Nicholas almost sounded as if he were amused.

“My uncle said she doesna remember when this change comes aboot or anythin’ she did while she was Sir Thomas.” Isobel added to the conversation.

“Sir Thomas?” Toft moved closer to hear more.

“Aye. Thet was who she said she was,” added the laird. “She and the king often got together, dressin’ up and actin’ like other people.”

“He did it too?” Toft blurted out in surprise.

“So did she kill the king or not?” asked Conlin. “After all, we know how strong and violent she was when she thought she was Sir Thomas.”

“Aye,” answered Isobel, rubbing her wrist. “I can attest te thet.”

“She did not kill the king,” the laird answered. “I ken fer a fact becooz I followed her outta the castle thet night in the storm.”

“So she wasna afeared o’ storms after all,” said Isobel softly.

“Aye and nay,” answered the laird. “She was afeard o’ storms as Lady Catherine, but no’ as Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas loved storms and walkin’ around in the rain. Thet night she’d heard the king was travelin’ in the storm te meet with his wife who was bairned. It was also the queen’s birthday. Catherine kent he would stop atop the cliff above the beach, becooz he always stopped there te look at the sea whenever they were together. She met him there dressed in the baron’s clothes. I’m guessin’ she stole them since she often liked te walk the docks at night. I heard them talkin’, and she wanted him te stay, but he said he had te go te his wife.

She couldn’t walk well in those damned big boots, and the rocks were slippery from the rain thet night. I saw her slip, and the king reached out and managed te right her, but they were near the edge o’ the cliff. His horse became spooked, and I watched in horror as the animal reared up and knocked our king te the ground far below.”

“So it was an accident,” came Shadwell’s reply.

“Aye, it was.” Laird MacEwen sank down onto a chair as if he hadn’t strength left in his body to stand. “I got Catherine home thet night, leaving the clothes elsewhere, since I didna want me daughter te question them later. I put her te bed and she didna remember anythin’ at all the next mornin’. But then Isobel came te her and said she’d witnessed someone killin’ the king. Catherine told me this, and I kent I had to silence Isobel. Thet’s why I sent her in Catherine’s place te be her proxy. I thought if she were far from Scotland, she wouldna mention it again.”

“Did ye want te get rid o’ me by sending the ship out when there was a storm brewin’?” Isobel stood up and put her hands on her hips, waiting for her answer.

“Nay.” He shook his head sadly. “I was in a hurry and didna realize until it was too late how much danger ye were in. I am ashamed te say it is me fault the ship went down and those men lost their lives.”

“Does me aunt ken aboot Catherine’s secret?” Isobel crossed her arms over her chest now.

“She does,” he answered. “And so did Catherine’s real mathair afore she died. Catherine was always runnin’ off, and both me wives warned me something like this would happen.”

“I canna believe I kent nothin’ of all this,” spat Isobel.

“It’s becooz we always took Catherine away when she acted up,” the laird explained. “Plus ye were always hidin’ under the stairway.”

“Ye kent?”

“O’ course I did. But I let ye alone becooz I kent how much ye missed yer mathair and faither.”

“That’s a horrible reason, Uncle, and I dinna ken why ye jest didna do somethin’ with Catherine instead.”

“Both o’ me wives wanted me te put Catherine in a nunnery, but she was me only daughter and I didna want te do it.”

“Ye had me as yer daughter after me parents passed away,” Isobel reminded him.

“Aye, true. But in order te protect Catherine’s secret, I am sorry te say I had te push ye away, Isobel. I am so sorry aboot it, but I had no choice.”

“Yet you had a choice when it came to betrothing your daughter to me,” Conlin said, feeling very angry right now. “You deceived me, Laird MacEwen. You knew more than anyone that no one would ever want to marry your daughter if they knew her secret. That’s why you ordered me to consummate the marriage with Isobel – so I couldn’t back out of our alliance once I met Catherine and found out her secret for myself.”

“This could mean trouble between the English and the Scots.” John just shook his head.

“Nay, please!” Laird MacEwen jumped to his feet. “I dinna want any trouble.”

“Well, mayhap you should have thought of that before you agreed to the betrothal,” added Nicholas.

“Give me a minute with the other barons,” said Conlin, pulling John and Nicholas to the other side of the room. They spoke in hushed tones, discussing the matter at hand.

Isobel watched as Conlin spoke with the other barons. She had no idea what they were saying, and felt eager to have this whole situation cleared up. She didn’t want to see her uncle go to his death for trying to protect his daughter. But on the other hand, he had deceived them all. She should be angry with him, but still, she forgave him in her heart, now that she’d heard the whole story. She was sure if she ever had a daughter, she’d do whatever it took to protect her as well. Her uncle was the only true family she had left, so she really didn’t want to lose him too.

“Laird MacEwen,” said Conlin as the three men came back to join the group. “As barons of the Cinque Ports, we have been granted by our king the privilege to hold our own court. Since King Alexander’s death seems to be an accident after all, we are willing to make an agreement with you to settle all this and let Catherine’s secret go to her grave with her.”

“Really?” He looked up with hope in his eyes.

“But first there is the issue of your daughter killing Elliot,” said Conlin.

“I had nothin’ te do with thet, me lords. I swear, I didna even realize it was more than an accident at first.”

“We understand that,” said Nicholas. “That’s why it’ll go down in the ledgers as the guard tripping and going to his death because of his own carelessness.”

“Thank you, my lords.” Laird MacEwen looked to the ground.

“Oh, you’re not getting off that easy,” said Conlin. “You will pay a steep fine, and the money will be given to Elliot’s family back in Scotland. His body will also be brought back home on your ship and you will see to all the funeral arrangements and expenses.”

“Aye, milord, I can do thet.”

“As for the matter of you betrothing Isobel to Laird MacDonald – I don’t like it in the least.” Conlin’s voice was gruff.

“I only did it becooz I could see how unhappy Isobel was once Catherine arrived,” he explained. “I thought if she had a man te marry just like Catherine did, she could be happy again.”

“Uncle, I was unhappy becooz I am in love with Conlin, and I wanted te be his wife,” Isobel explained.

“And I am in love with her and would like Isobel as my wife as well.” Conlin walked up and put his arm around Isobel and they exchanged glances.

“Really?” The laird furrowed his brow. “Well, I suppose I could have a talk with Laird MacDonald and break the betrothal. My wife has a young niece thet I can betroth te him instead.”

“Would ye do thet Uncle? Really?” Isobel felt the weight of the world being removed from her shoulders.

“Then you could keep your alliance with MacDonald, and I could keep my alliance with you and nobody’s word will be broken,” added Conlin.

“Laird MacDonald has always had his eye on me wife’s niece, so I dinna think he’d object,” added MacEwen.

“What aboot Shadwell?” Isobel noticed the baron’s First Mate and right hand man sitting quietly in the corner.

“Shadwell, my friend, I can only hope you’ll accept my apologies.” Conlin walked over and the man jumped to his feet.

“I have never been anything but loyal to you, my lord.”

“I know. And because of it, I am promoting you to captain of the Lady Bellicose, and will double your pay as well.”

Shadwell’s eyes opened wide and he smiled. “Are you sure, my lord? Captain of the Lady Bellicose is your title.”

“I’ll keep the title when I am aboard my ship, but I have a feeling I’ll not be spending so much time with that lady anymore.” He looked over to Isobel and winked. “I have another lady who has taken my eye instead.”

“Then I accept,” said the man, pumping Conlin’s hand to seal the deal.

“What about me?” asked Toft, smiling his crooked smile.

“What about you?” asked Conlin. “You’re my squire, and if you step it up, I might make you a knight by next year.”

“A knight? Really? Well, aye, I’ll accept as well.” He rushed over and shook Conlin’s hand too.

“And me, Father? Will I be betrothed to Toft now that I’m of marrying age?” Rose stepped up and tugged on her father’s tunic to get his attention.

John and Nicholas burst out laughing, and Isobel knew Conlin would never agree to such a thing.

“She has grown to be a lady now,” said Isobel, stepping forward and pulling the girl into her arms.

“You’re still my only child and I’ll not let you be marrying squires.” Conlin reached out and ruffled her hair and Rose just pushed his hand away.

“Father, I’m not a child,” she warned him.

“You said I’d be a knight next year,” Toft reminded him. “Then I’ll be able to take care of Rose the way I watch your back, my lord.” Toft stepped forward and placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and she smiled.

“If you make it to knighthood without any complications, I will betroth you to my daughter if that’s what she wants,” said Conlin.

“I do, Father.” Rose looked over to Toft and blushed.

“I want it, too,” added Toft.

“Then both of you better grow up quickly. I’ll not agree to the betrothal until you are knighted, Toft, and have proven you can really take care of my daughter. And even then, I will not let Rose marry for at least a few years after that.”

“But Father, I’ll be sixteen by then,” complained Rose. “Most girls that age already have several babies.”

“Take it or leave it, that is my best offer.” Conlin was not going to let anyone pull his strings and Isobel admired him for it.

“Done,” said Toft, giving Rose a squeeze on the shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Not done until I say it’s done.” Conlin walked forward and knocked Toft’s arm off his daughter’s shoulder. “Now go shine my armor and make yourself useful, Squire.”

“Aye, milord.” Toft whistled happily as he headed to the door.

“Wait!” Conlin stopped him. “I want everyone here to swear that none of this conversation about King Alexander or Catherine will ever leave this room.”

“I agree,” said Isobel. One by one they all agreed, and Isobel knew it was over. “One more issue though,” she said, looking up at Conlin. “I ken we are already married, but I’d like te do it again.”

“Anything you want, Izzy.” Conlin reached over and kissed her passionately right there in front of everyone. Toft let out a whoop, and his friends started clapping.

“I want te get married in the Canterbury Cathedral, and have everyone from Briarbeck Castle there, as well as me uncle’s friends from Scotland too.”

“What? Nay, Isobel, that is not possible.” Conlin shook his head. “We have already lain together, and the church would not allow it.”

“I see.” Her gaze dropped to the ground and she bit the inside of her cheek in order not to cry in front of everyone. It seemed that once again, her past was coming back to haunt her. “I guess I’ll always be kent as nothin’ more than a proxy.”

“Isobel, don’t say that.” Conlin put his arm around her shoulder. “You’ll be known as my wife.”

“Nobody in Scotland knows she was a proxy, do they?” It was Muriel who spoke up from the shadows, and Isobel had almost forgotten she was there she’d been so quiet.