The Border Vixen (37 page)

“Lucky old sot,” Sybil said that evening as she and Fin recovered from a bout of eros. “Katie is a widow, and her farmer husband left her rich. The land was his, no overlord’s. She owes allegiance to no one. I wonder if he can get a bairn on her?”

“Ye and yer sister will be fine without him,” Fin assured her as he played with one of her large breasts. He kissed the nipple lightly.

“Stay with us,” Sybil said.

“Nay,” he told her. “I have to get to Edinburgh.”

“Why? What’s there? A wife? A pretty woman?” Sybil queried him. She was curious, for Fin had not spoken of himself at all.

“My house. My servant who may think I’m dead,” Fin answered her. “I need to get home and pick up my life again.”

“As what?” she pressed him.

“I’m a soldier, lass. I hire myself out to anyone with the coin to pay,” Fin said.

“With a baby for a queen, I can promise ye there will be a war. Whether it is between England and Scotland, or just between the powerful men seeking to control the little queen, I know not. And France will be involved too, for the widowed queen is French, and a member of the royal family. The French will seek to protect both King James’s widow and his surviving child. I know there will be a conflict, may God help us all. And that’s how I earn my living—fighting other men’s wars.”

These were things he knew about himself, and about the world in which he lived. Some of them he had never forgotten in those months since he had awakened in Old Mother’s cottage. Other things had come back slowly over the months since the battle at Solway Moss. He sensed there was more, but he could not remember what. He hoped that reaching his house in Edinburgh, and finding Archie, his servant, as well as Iver, the man-at-arms, would help him to recall what it was that he was forgetting. It had to be important or it would not be tugging at the edges of his memory and niggling him so.

He spent his last night in Parlan Fife’s cottage with Lily to amuse him. It seemed fitting that since she was the first of the sisters he had enjoyed, he should also end his visit with her. As Sybil had, she begged him to stay with them; yet when the morning came, he rose, dressed himself, and reached beneath the big bed to lift the loose floorboard to retrieve his little purse. He checked and was relieved to find all the coins there. Fin had no doubt that had his cache been found, they would have stolen it. He tucked it in his jerkin.

When he came out of the bedchamber, the sisters fed him a good breakfast of hot porridge, fresh bread, butter and jam. Sobbing, they kissed him good-bye, but they saw he had a two-day supply of food wrapped in a napkin they tucked into the sack he carried.

He waved farewell to the three bairns. They were quiet little things, and he had barely seen them in the time he had been with their mothers. The thought suddenly struck him. Did he have bairns? If he did, could he have forgotten them so easily?

“Follow the path,” Parlan Fife said, pointing out a barely discernible track to Fin. After a few miles ye’ll come to a road. Turn right, and ye’ll find yer way to Edinburgh if ye follow it. Beware of raiders. There seem to be more out this year than in the past, and while ye haven’t a horse, they’ll steal anything they can lay their hands upon.”

“Thank ye,” Fin told the man.

Parlan Fife laughed. “Thank ye! I was able to finally get away from those two long enough to settle things with my Katie. Jesu and his Blessed Mother keep ye safe, Fingal Stewart, and get ye home to Edinburgh. Ye should reach it in a week or less.”

Fin nodded, and turning, set off down the narrow path. He had no idea what awaited him, but he sensed with growing urgency that he needed to get to Edinburgh.

Or was it Edinburgh where he was needed? Was there someplace else he needed to be?

Chapter 13

L
ord Hay was quite surprised upon reading Edmund Kerr’s directive. “How the hell did ye manage this, Ewan?” he asked the younger of his two brothers.

“Lord Kerr dreams of controlling the entire Aisir nam Breug,” Ewan Hay answered his elder. “He thinks by using me to assert his authority he can have it all. I told him I only wanted Mad Maggie.”

“Ye do,” his elder sibling said knowledgeably.

“Aye, I’ll make the bitch my mistress,” he said, “but I want the power that comes with controlling the Aisir nam Breug.”

“And ye think Fingal Stewart is dead? That old Dugald Kerr will let you just march into his keep and take over?” Lord Hay said. “If ye do, yer a fool.”

“If Maggie’s husband hasn’t returned by now, he’s dead,” Ewan responded.

“He could be a prisoner,” Lord Hay reminded his brother. “Maggie has two sons who will take over the Aisir nam Breug one day. And she’s breeding once again.”

“Children sicken and die,” Ewan said. “Even kings lose their infant children. If I put a male bairn in her belly, I’ll want him to be the heir.”

Lord Hay sighed, but then he considered that if Fingal Stewart didn’t return, Maggie Kerr had to have another husband. If that happened, he would see Ewan married the woman. As long as his brother understood living with her put his very life in danger, then let him try to mount her, to get her with child. But to inherit, that child had to be legitimate. It was worth the gamble, and if Ewan succeeded, Lord Hay would have him off his hands, which was all to the good.

“I’ll give ye thirty men. ’Tis more than enough to hold the keep against all comers. Try to befriend the Kerr men-at-arms, Ewan. Dinna throw yer weight around, and irritate their clan folk. At least pretend yer there at Edmund Kerr’s insistance.”

“I can handle the folk at Brae Aisir,” Ewan said. “They’ll have a strong master in me, Brother, and so will their bitch.”

Lord Hay gave his brother thirty men-at-arms, telling his captain to part with new, half-trained lads. This way he felt his brother could not cause too much difficulty. The Hay captain did as his master requested, but he also took the opportunity to rid himself of one man among his own men who was a constant troublemaker, and a vicious bully. He appealed to the man’s pride by making him captain of Ewan Hay’s men-at-arms.

It was snowing the day before Christ’s Mass when Ewan Hay came to Brae Aisir with his men-at-arms. The drawbridge was up, and it was almost dark when Ewan Hay begged shelter for himself and his brother’s men returning from seeking survivors of Solway Moss on the border, as he claimed. The laird of Brae Aisir could hardly refuse. The lie gained him entry with his men into the keep. He strutted into the great hall with the air of a conqueror, his own captain, Bhaltair, by his side.

“I won’t say yer welcome,” Dugald Kerr told him, “but the laws of hospitality demand I shelter ye and yer men. Did ye find any survivors in yer travels?”

“Nay, but I did have an interesting visit with yer kinsman, Edmund Kerr,” Ewan replied. “He sends ye his regards. He is concerned that with Lord Stewart dead, ye and yer asset are without suitable protection at this end of the Aisir nam Breug.”

Maggie came slowly into the hall, and seeing Ewan Hay, spit a soft curse. “What are ye doing here?” she demanded of him.

“Edmund is worried about us,” Dugald Kerr said dryly.

“He needn’t be,” Maggie said. “And even if he actually was, what the hell do ye have to do with it, Ewan Hay?”

“I am appointed by yer kinsman to oversee this portion of the Aisir nam Breug and maintain its safety,” Ewan Hay replied with a smirk.

“Edmund Kerr has no authority over us,” the laird said in a hard voice. “He is English. We are Scots, and my lands are in Scotland.”

“The battle at Solway Moss has changed everything. Lord Stewart is among the dead. Ye have no one to champion ye, and yer kinsman knows that wars between kings have never before affected the Aisir nam Breug. He also knows yer without proper male authority. Rather than send one of his own sons, an Englishman, he sent me, a good Scot, that yer clan folk not be offended,” Ewan said.

“We have no need of ye,” Maggie told the man in a hard, cold voice. “And my husband is not dead. We are waiting for a ransom demand from England. But before Fingal Stewart came to Brae Aisir, my grandfather and I managed very well. We do not need an overseer now, and we certainly do not need ye! I dinna care if it’s snowing. I want ye gone on the morrow!”

“Madam, ye are not being given a choice in this matter,” Ewan Hay answered her. “Yer grandfather is a feeble old man. Yer a woman with a big belly, and two lads to care for, and whether ye like it or nae, this is best for ye all. Edmund Kerr’s interest in the pass may not be as large as yers, but it is still considerable. The king is dead. The queen struggles to maintain her daughter’s best interests. King Henry senses a weakness in Scotland. The Aisir nam Breug must be kept safe.”

“And we will keep it so,” Maggie told him.

“Ye, madam, will do as yer bid,” Ewan said. “And ye will remember yer place, which is not to tell the men what they should and shouldn’t do. Perhaps ye managed to get around yer grandfather, and yer husband, but ye will nae get around me. Now leave the hall. I have business to discuss with yer grandsire that does not concern ye.”

To everyone’s surprise Maggie turned about and walked from the chamber.

“Ye see, Dugald,” Ewan Hay said, “ye just need to be firm with her.”

“Ye pompous fool,” the laird said. “Ye cannot even begin to imagine the enemy ye have just made. Before she simply disliked ye. Ye’ve turned that dislike into hatred.”

“She’s just a woman,” Ewan Hay responded.

“She’s Mad Maggie Kerr, and ye’ll live to regret angering her,” Dugald Kerr told the young man. “And in future ye will address me as
my lord
, and not by my Christian name. I am yer elder, and ye will respect that I, not ye, am the master of Brae Aisir. I want ye gone on the morrow.”

“Aye, yer the laird of this place.
For now
,” Ewan Hay said boldly.

Dugald Kerr smiled grimly. “Jesu help us all! Ye really are a fool, aren’t ye?” Then he called out. “Busby! See Master Hay and his people are suitably housed, and bring me a whiskey.” He did not offer Ewan Hay refreshment of any sort but turned his back on him, not speaking again that evening.

Upstairs, Maggie began to marshall her forces. “Keep the children from the hall unless I instruct ye otherwise,” she told their nursemaids. “Grizel, keep the maids from the hall. Tell Busby to use only the men for service. I don’t like the looks of the Hay captain, and as the captain goes, so go his men. Find Clennon Kerr and Iver Leslie and bring them to me. And let me know when my grandfather comes up from the hall.”

“At once, my lady,” Grizel replied, and she ran off to do Maggie’s bidding. When she returned, however, she brought disturbing news. “I’ve spoken with the nursemaids, and gave Busby yer orders, my lady, but Clennon Kerr, Iver, and our men have been locked in their barracks on the orders of the Hay captain.”

“How many men are in their quarters?” Maggie wondered aloud. “I know some of the lads went into the village to celebrate with their families. Find Busby, and tell him I need to see him,” Maggie said to her serving woman.

Grizel nodded grimly, and hurried off. It was almost an hour before she returned with the keep’s majordomo, Busby.

“Bar the door,” Maggie said as they entered her chamber.

Grizel did as she was bid, and then said, “I’ll see his lordship’s door is both locked and barred too.”

When all had been done, Maggie spoke. “It is apparent to me that Edmund Kerr has made an arrangement with Ewan Hay to attempt to steal Brae Aisir for himself. Of course, Master Hay will believe he can outfox my wily uncle, and keep the prize for himself. Lord Hay has obviously decided to gamble on his younger brother’s success, for how else would he gain thirty men-at-arms? How many of our men have been trapped in their quarters, Busby? Do ye know?”

“No more than fifteen, my lady. The others are in the village,” Busby said.

“Get word to them to remain hidden there, and say I charge them to keep the village safe from Hay and his men,” Maggie instructed. “Can the men trapped be freed?”

“Indeed they can, my lady. Their quarters are built against the keep wall where the wall is steepest on the hillside. There is a narrow window in that wall. A man could ease himself through that opening and climb down.”

“Tell Clennon and Iver to take the men remaining, and do so,” Maggie said. “I want them hidden and ready to fight. Not boxed up, and vulnerable to being killed. And best they go tonight while it’s snowing so the remaining storm will cover their tracks. Is there any way to hide their means of escape?”

“I’ll ask them to attempt to do so, my lady,” Busby said. “They’ve raised the drawbridge, and now man the gates themselves.”

“What happened to our lads there?” Maggie asked, concerned there be no death.

“Hay’s men threw them outside and bid them begone,” Busby said, a small smile upon his face. “It was not very wise, for they will have gone to the village and warned the others of what is happening.”

“I want no premature assaults,” Maggie said. “Hay has successfully taken the keep by means of a foul lie, but he will not hold it. However, I need time to consider what must be done and how to do it. Tell Clennon Kerr our men are to remain hidden until I call for them to come to my aid.”