The Gowrie Conspiracy (4 page)

‘How horrible – how wicked,’ said Tansy.

Wicked indeed, thought Tam grimly. And knowledgeable too, trying not to recognise that the midwife’s killing
suggested
premeditation, since the assassin was quick-witted and knew exactly where to lay his hands on Tansy’s shears.

‘Tam, there is worse to come, I am afraid,’ said Tansy
hesitantly
.

‘What could be worse,’ said Tam lightly for her sake.

‘She was wearing my cloak,’ was the faint reply.

‘Your cloak?’

‘Yes, I had left it in the royal apartments and the queen gave it to her – out of the kindness of her heart – to come across in the rain. To protect the silks she was carrying, more
than her own person,’ she added glumly.

It was Tam’s turn to look shocked. ‘This indeed is even worse. If you are thinking the same as I am…’

Tansy nodded miserably. She shivered. ‘What if he thought it was me rushing in from the rain with the hood down over my face?’

And suddenly she hugged his arm, her face pale. ‘Oh Tam, I am so glad that you were here.’

Tam nodded grimly. ‘Had you gone down alone and had it not been raining, then he might have realised too late his
mistake
.’

‘And there might have been two corpses to explain away,’ was Tansy’s horrified whisper.

Instead of one fatal accident to be explained away so smoothly and dealt with so efficiently, thought Tam grimly.

‘But why should anyone want to kill me, Tam?’ Tansy demanded. ‘I have no enemies. I have never quarrelled with anyone and Her Grace is devoted to me – ’ She shrugged. ‘As devoted as she can be to anyone.’

Tansy’s innocent reasoning did nothing to console Tam. A devoted confidante of the queen was reason enough for some jealous member of the household to wish to get rid of Mistress Tansy Scott.

The speed with which the murder weapon had been replaced by Tansy’s shears and the body swiftly removed by the Captain’s guards suggested careful planning. Thrusting aside the enormity of his thoughts, Tam said, ‘Let us leave Mistress Agnew aside for the moment and concentrate on you.’

Pouring out a goblet of wine for Tansy who was visibly shaken by the dreadful implications of the borrowed cloak, he asked,

‘How many persons have access to your lodging?’

‘I have no idea how many. There are messengers from the queen, pages, other servants. All sorts of people call upon my services for repairs and alterations to costumes for the
Masque on Saturday. My door is always open.’

Taking a sip of wine, she said slowly, ‘What you are
suggesting
is … is monstrous.’

The rearrangement of Agnew’s body to pass it off as an accident suggested to Tam that several people had been involved. When the mistake of the victim’s identity was
discovered
, they had had to work fast.

Not mere guards under the Captain’s orders but a keener brain issued by a higher authority. Tam would have sworn that Fotheringham, unless he was a very good actor, was innocent of the deception.

‘I even told Her Grace that it was an accident,’ Tansy said miserably. ‘I did not care to upset her with a violent crime to one of her servants, especially Agnew who she relies on. Her Grace is in a particularly delicate condition just now. And although it is unlikely that the death of her midwife would cause her to miscarry, we all are doing our best to keep her as calm as possible – and that is far from easy, I can assure you. At the best of times, she is of a volatile humour.’

Tam asked. ‘You say you have no enemies. Are you absolutely certain that there is no one in the court who
wishes
you ill? Think carefully.’

Tansy looked preoccupied and then shook her head. When she spoke it was with reluctance. ‘The only person is His Grace himself. I have long been aware that he is not
enamoured
of my presence in the court.’

‘For what reason, pray?’

Tansy shrugged. ‘He cares not for me, but he has no authority in the queen’s household to have me removed.’

Except on a permanent basis, thought Tam grimly.

‘Only once did he storm out in a fury,’ she said
thoughtfully
. ‘Agnew and I were with the queen who happened to remark upon the odd coincidence that we were both orphans, brought up by our granddams who were midwives at his birth. His Grace’s sensitivity on that subject is well-known but I assure you I can think of nothing I have done personally
to upset him.’

Tansy thought for a moment, then spoke again. ‘The offence, I am afraid, goes further back than that. As I told you I was fostered by the Gowries after Janet Beaton died. And His Grace hates the Gowries. Their grandfather, Lord Ruthven, was the first to dagger Davy Riccio in the Queen Mary’s presence, three months before James was born. His son, the Earl of Gowrie, led the Lords Enterprisers in the Raid of Ruthven. His Grace was sixteen when they kidnapped him and held him hostage for ten months in Ruthven Castle. Freed the following year, he had the Earl tried and executed for treason.’

Pausing she sighed. ‘His Grace never refers to my adopted family. Alexander Ruthven, my young foster-brother, was Gentleman of the Bedchamber but something happened – I can only guess. He was a favourite with the queen too. Ever since, I am well aware of His Grace’s black looks whenever he meets me in her company.’

This information was a new slant on an old grievance. Court relationships were transient and fragile in nature. The king’s displeasure was enough excuse – perhaps a grim remark about Mistress Scott when the king had taken a little too much wine – for any who wished for royal favour to take it into their own hands and despatch her.

As though interpreting his thoughts, Tansy said, ‘His Grace is well-known to have cultivated a neat habit of disposing of people against whom he bears a grudge. I dare say he would like to have me out of his sight permanently.’

She sighed. ‘’Tis only because of the queen’s high regard that I have survived so long and not been packed off in
disgrace
back to Ruthven on some trumped-up excuse.’

‘Regarding grudges and absent kin,’ said Tam. ‘Has Mistress Agnew any kin here in Falkland? They would need to be informed.’

Tansy shook her head. ‘There was a man in the village I suspect that she visited as often as the queen allowed her
leisure. I once met her leaving a house with a pretty
garden
…’

‘Where was this exactly?’ asked Tam, his mind racing ahead.

‘Across the road from the smithy. She was not exactly pleased to see me and said she had been visiting her brother. But she seemed very embarrassed at our meeting.’

Tam’s immediate reaction was that the man was not a brother but a lover.

‘We know so little about her,’ said Tansy, bringing to mind a kind and gentle manner always eager to please, but the smiling face remained that of a stranger. ‘I imagined
somehow
that she had been married briefly and widowed. There may be documents in her room,’ she added hopefully.

‘Did she ever talk about what brought her into the realm of midwifery?’ Tam asked.

‘Usually it is a skill handed down from mother to
daughter
. She never talked about herself, all she ever boasted about was that our granddams had been close friends in their Edinburgh days. Since she arrived in the queen’s household that was the only real conversation we ever had. A bond – an interesting coincidence.’

Tam’s thoughts on any significance that interesting fact might have had were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stair.

Footsteps that Tansy recognized, it seemed. All else
forgotten
, her face suddenly glowed with delight.

‘Why, it is Will,’ she said with a gurgling laugh and
rushing
to the door she threw it open to welcome him.

In the king’s apartments, Lord Fotheringham was making his routine report on the royal guards’ tour of duty which was to be delivered by him in person twice each day. As befitted a king by nature devious and suspicious, James listened
carefully
to every detail, occasionally interrupting with a
question
or the flourish of a Latin quotation.

Lord Fotheringham seldom found his royal master alone. Most frequently he was in his bedchamber indulging in a bout of heavy wine imbibing with one or more of his favourite pages, sitting up in bed and wearing his monstrous ostrich-feathered tall hat from which, it seemed, he was rarely parted.

On this occasion, as luck would have it, his sole companion was the Duke of Lennox listening to a tale of woe about Annie’s misdoings. Vicky listened dutifully, stifling a yawn with some difficulty. He found this regular tirade against the queen exceedingly boring and had long since run short of the sympathetic exclamations required of him.

Now he was preparing for another stern exercise on his patience from the pompous Captain of the Guard’s narrative. A simple report that all was well, drawn out into several
minutes
of probing question and long-winded answer.

Not today, however. Today’s account promised to be refreshingly different.

‘I have to report, Your Grace, that there has been an
accident
– to one of Her Grace’s servants.’

A royal frown. His Grace did not care to be bothered with matters relating to his wife’s household and accidents to
servants
could be very tedious.

‘Aye, man. Get on wi’ it,’ he said impatiently.

‘Her Grace’s midwife, sire.’

The king nodded, took another gulp of wine. Tales of
accidents
were not unfamiliar or, in certain cases, unexpected. The deed done, the details did not interest him.

Lennox was even more bored.

‘Mistress Agnew was found dead. At Mistress Scott’s.’

Ah, that was better. Now this item of news was of extreme interest to Vicky. Tansy Scott was distant kin to Tam Eildor who shared her lodging. Here the face of opportunity
beckoned
. Perhaps an excellent way of ridding himself of the king’s latest infatuation.

Lennox had not wasted any time since the king’s
remarkable
rescue by Master Eildor. Enquiries were already well under way and had yielded a means by which this interloper might be despatched. In his own employ, he was fortunate to have Sandy Kay, one-time body servant to Walt Murray, Tansy’s legal husband, who was paying Kay to keep him informed of any matters concerning his estranged wife.

Divorces were tricky, difficult and costly even when a wife was barren, and Kay hinted that something more urgent and permanent engaged Murray’s thoughts. How to rid himself of his unwanted spouse so that he could marry his present mistress and declare their son his legitimate heir?

That any connection between the dead woman Agnew and Tansy Scott might lead to destroying Tam Eildor loomed large in Lennox’s mind. With the interesting possibility that
several
scores might be satisfactorily settled with Tansy Scott and Eildor both obliterated with one well-aimed stone.

In Tansy’s apartment and awaiting a supper of soup, roast meat, bread and ale that was being prepared by Tansy’s
servant
, Will Hepburn informed them that this was but a
fleeting
visit. Before escorting Tansy to Perth he had business to attend to and was heading to Edinburgh to visit his lawyer, an elderly cousin.

Tam observed the newcomer closely. Tall, good-looking, Will’s forty years sat lightly upon him. From his father James,
Earl of Bothwell, he had inherited dark auburn hair and
fox-brown
eyes, but other than colouring he had none of the tough aggression that characterised the Border warrior breed.

His fine features were the inheritance from his Norwegian mother, Anna Throndsen, who had returned to her own
country
when she realised that the bastard son she had borne the Earl of Bothwell did not guarantee her marriage as his betrothed, or the right to be received in royal society as his Countess.

With no place in court circles, Will had eventually assumed the role of a county gentleman of good estate, enjoying the leisurely pursuits of hunting, riding and the cultured social attributes of a peaceful country life.

Tam had watched Will and Tansy embrace. This was no lovers’ meeting but the continuation of a long-standing
relationship
for a couple who should have been settled down with a family had Fate not decreed otherwise.

In his growing affection and attraction to Tansy, Tam
recognised
there was need for Will Hepburn, whose love would endure long after his own transient appearance in their lives. Introduced, Will turned to him, smiling. His handshake firm and warm, his friendly expression indicated that he was prepared to be well-disposed towards the mysterious Master Eildor.

As Tansy led the way to the little parlour where they were to sup, Will said, ‘Tansy has written of you. That she had a visitor from the Borders – distant kin,’ he added with a
curious
look that invited explanation.

There was none forthcoming from either.

Will smiled. ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you.’

Truth to tell he had been apprehensive. Although Tansy had told him nothing that should give rise to alarm,
conscious
of his good fortune, Will’s fears were always that his adored and vulnerable mistress might be snatched from him by some handsome rival. And the extremely comely young man before him who now shared her lodging, however distant
kin, suggested ample grounds for anxiety and suspicion.

Except for one remarkable factor.

Releasing Tam’s hand, Will looked across at Tansy and smiled, his relief evident. ‘Master Eildor is no stranger to me.’ And turning back to Tam he bowed. ‘We have met before, sir.’

Tam shook his head, bewildered. ‘That cannot be, Master Hepburn.’

‘I assure you it is,’ said Will, who continued to regard him intently. Nodding vigorously, he continued, ‘Do you not remember? It was at Lady Morham’s – my granddam’s – home in East Lothian. I was four years old and you were on your way to Branxton Castle. I recall that you were steward there – to the household of Tansy’s granddam, Lady Janet Beaton.’

And at Tam’s confused expression, ‘Marie Seton was with you. Surely you remember? Marie Fleming was visiting kin and about to be married.’ He waited for Tam to say
something
. There was no response.

Will sighed, disappointed. ‘I remember it perfectly in every detail. We had so few visitors at Morham,’ he added with a touch of melancholy.

And something stirred in Tam’s mind, a sudden flash like a scene he had witnessed as an onlooker.

Will as a small child sitting on an old lady’s knee. There was a woman in the background, a young woman. Fleeting pain and heartbreak. The agony of loss.

A half-forgotten dream.

Except that when Tam slept out of his own time, there were no dreams. He merely opened his eyes again on another day in one continuous pattern.

In that instant the vision of the small child was lost.

Although Tam was allowed neither dreams nor the
indulgence
of memory, Will Hepburn had somehow slipped through the eradication procedure of a mind wiped clean of previous encounters before the next quest began. Not so Janet Beaton, despite Tansy’s intriguing suggestion that they
had met before. If only he could recall something of that
occasion
.

Now Will was regarding him curiously. ‘You do not remember?’ he insisted. ‘It is quite extraordinary.’ Pausing he regarded Tam with a puzzled frown. ‘Obviously I have made a mistake.’

And to Tansy, who was listening intently, her gentle smile offering no attempt at explanation. ‘That must be so.’

Then again to Tam. ‘You look exactly as I remember you, sir, thirty-six years ago, when I was four years old and you were a grown man.’ And shaking his head, bewildered, ‘May I ask how old you are now, sir?’

‘I am thirty-six.’

Another pause. ‘Are you then some kind of a wizard, sir?’

Although his voice was gentle and mocking, his glance at the silent Tam held anxiety and demanded explanation. There was none forthcoming. Will’s sharp look at Tansy held an
element
of warning, for such creatures were dangerous
associates
for his beloved.

Aware of his bewildered concern, Tansy touched his arm and said lightly, ‘Perhaps you were mistaken, Will. That was a very long time ago and maybe it was someone who looked like Master Eildor. After all, doubles are not impossible,
especially
when one lives in the Borders where gentlemen as well as the steel bonnets spread themselves somewhat freely.’

Will eagerly seized upon this possibility. ‘Your father, sir. Could it have been he that I met that day?’

Tam shook his head, thought fast and said, ‘I think not, my father did not come from England.’

Aware of the tangled web Tam was getting into, Tansy said, ‘We are very glad to see you, Will. You have come at a most opportune time. We need your help. Something terrible has happened –’

‘How terrible?’ Will demanded anxiously.

‘Mistress Agnew, the queen’s midwife has been killed.’

‘Killed – how so?’

‘Murdered, Will. Murdered. We found her just hours ago –’

Tansy had changed the subject so swiftly Tam realised that, for her own reasons, she had not told Will about Janet Beaton’s prediction that one day Tam Eildor would return. Lovers did not always tell one another everything and
presumably
Will was to be excluded from that information.

Listening to Tansy relating the details of the tragedy they had witnessed, Tam knew that the fewer who shared the secret of his identity, the better. Such knowledge was indeed dangerous in the court of a king who had an obsession about witches and warlocks. He did not want to burn should James’s infatuation for him be distorted by jealous enemies into suspicions of witchcraft and sorcery.

‘So they removed the body,’ said Will at the end of Tansy’s dramatic disclosure. ‘They would presumably take her to the guardroom and will keep her body until they find kin to bury her.’

‘That will be no easy matter, Will,’ said Tansy. ‘Very little is known about Margaret Agnew or her kin.’ And in a horrified whisper, ‘What think you of the fact that the dagger was replaced and dismissed as a tragic accident? When Lord Fotheringham found her it was not a dagger but shears in her breast. My shears,’ she added grimly.

Will put a consoling arm around her shoulders. ‘Tansy, my dear Tansy,’ he said soberly. ‘There is certainly a mystery here, but it is my most earnest desire – indeed I implore you – that you do not involve yourself in this matter, even
knowing
the unfortunate woman as you did.’

Shaking his head, he glanced over at Tam. ‘I feel that there is much more in this unhappy story than we will ever be allowed to know about. If you have any ideas about what goes on here in Falkland, then you must realise that the king’s authority is final – and dangerous to those who unwittingly offend him.’

Again he gave a sad shake of his head. ‘I cannot explain why but I suspect a sinister reason behind it all. A reason
which goes deeper than the poor woman’s death. In these
circumstances
, it would be well for all of us to look the other way.’

‘Look the other way!’ Tansy exclaimed. ‘That I will never do, Will Hepburn. Agnew never harmed anyone. She was a good kind soul – a friend to many in this court and to me – ’

‘A friend, dear Tansy. Could you really claim her as a friend, this woman about whom you know nothing?’ Will interrupted shrewdly and, including Tam in his sharp glance he added desperately, ‘I beg you, sir, if you know any means of dissuading Mistress Scott from interfering in this matter – ’

‘Interfering!’ Tansy was furious. ‘I will not be told what to do, Will Hepburn, not even by you.’

Will’s arm about her tightened. ‘Indeed you will, my dear,’ he said his voice soft but stern. ‘Listen to me, both of you. Realise there are dangerous forces at work. Someone wanted Margaret Agnew dead and it would be better for all of us if we did not know why and did not try to find out. If we remained silent,’ he added emphasising the words.

Turning again to Tansy, he said sternly ‘I have warned you. I like it not your being close to the queen and I want you kept clear of court intrigues, so step aside and do not become involved.’

To Tam, he said earnestly, ‘I do not care for Mistress Scott’s relationship with the Gowrie family either. The king hates them. He bears a long grudge – ’

‘Master Eildor knows all about that,’ Tansy put in shortly.

‘Very well,’ said Will. ‘But do not imagine that King James has forgotten – or forgiven – the Gowries or anyone related to them.’

‘This is old history,’ said Tansy impatiently.

‘Old history perhaps, but by no means forgotten or
forgiven
. If there is one thing certain sure, the king has a remarkable memory for those who abuse him. He is prepared to wait patiently, years if necessary, to have his revenge. And I do not
doubt that his day will come.’

Tansy darted a frightened glance at Tam as Will continued solemnly, ‘As a close neighbour to Ruthven, I have heard much that disturbs me and one day, sooner or later, James will strike at them. When he does so, Master Eildor, I do not want my Tansy to be involved. Because he will not spare her. Or any who have associations with the Gowries.’

Will’s words had a sombre echo for Tam. He knew
instinctively
that there was a grain of truth, of deadly foreboding, that Mistress Agnew’s death and the careful efforts to mark it as an accident were only the prologue to a greater tragedy. Yet even if he knew the nature of the imminent danger to Tansy Scott, he was helpless to avert it, with no power to change the course of recorded history.