A Dangerous Love (56 page)

When Andrew Home heard what Adair wanted to accomplish he nodded in agreement. “My father tells me that there have been rumors of a plot to kidnap the king and take him to England. Then they will place his little brother, the Duke of Ross, upon the throne with a regent chosen by the English king. The plot is said to orig-inate with Ramsay of Balmain, but no one knew where he was hiding. The king is not concerned, but my father and Bothwell are. And your knowledge of his where-abouts, my lady, is the last piece of the puzzle for us.”

“Then here is another reason for us to go to Stanton,” 
Adair said.

“You would go?” Young Home was surprised.

“I must go,” Adair told him.

“There will be fighting, more than likely,” Home said.

“It will be dangerous.”

“I will stay on the hills above Stanton, observing,”

Adair responded. “When it is over and you have slain this traitor, then I will come into the village, and you will help me to do what I must do to salvage my family’s good name, and that of Stanton. Not a stone must be left to indicate any habitations were once there. Next spring the grasses will grow again in the little valley that was once Stanton, but it will be gone. And with it all traces of the Radcliffes, but for the burying ground where my mother, my father, and their ancestors lie. And one day all traces of that place will be gone as well too. But King 
Henry will never again use my lands for his treachery against Scotland, my lords.”

“Your cause is just, as is ours,” Andrew Home said.

“We should ride soon,” Hercules Hepburn remarked,

“in the next week or two, before the weather turns toward winter.”

“Agreed,” Duncan Armstrong said, and Conal Bruce nodded.

A meeting place for them to gather with their clansmen was decided upon.

“The full moon is in eight days,” Adair told them.

“Can you be ready by then? Better we ride with a bright night sky.”

Again the men agreed.

“We’ll have our clansmen at the meeting place on that day,” Hercules Hepburn said. “I can bring fifty men. How many does Ramsay have? Do we know?”

“I’ll send my youngest brother, Murdoc, to reconnoi-ter for us tomorrow,” the laird replied.

“You must consider that Ramsay and his men may also be planning to ride out on the full moon,” Adair said. “It is better to trap them in the village than to have to face them in the open. We will lose more men that way.”

“Madam, your strategy is worthy of a general,” Andrew Home told her.

“If you attack in late morning,” she continued, “you will succeed, and no one would expect any attack then.

But I will wager that Ramsay of Balmain has become very lax, and believes himself safe, as no one has ever followed him to his viper’s nest.”

Conal Bruce listened, very surprised that the rough border lords would listen to his beautiful wife in regard to strategy, but they were heeding her. And she was right.

“Is it possible some other Scots are involved with Ramsay?” Adair wondered aloud. “Men whom no one would suspect?”

“We’ve considered it,” Andrew Home said, “and my father believes it so.”

“Then we need to learn who these men are,” Adair said. “Ramsay and everyone connected with his treason should be expunged.”

“One of those men may be your cousin Alpin,” Hercules Hepburn said, embarrassed that he had to say it.

“The earl dismissed him from his service some months back. He could not keep his hands off the women in the keep. He did no serious damage, but there were so many complaints that even Patrick finally had to pay them heed.”

Conal Bruce’s face grew dark with his anger. “If he is with Ramsay then I will kill him myself,” the laird said.

“I will not permit him to bring shame upon our clan.”

His companions nodded in agreement.

Murdoc Bruce left before the dawn the following day on his mission of reconnaissance. He was very pleased to have been given such a responsibility. It was a two-day trip to Stanton from Cleit, Adair later learned. Riding the second night by the light of the waxing moon, Murdoc reached a spot overlooking the little valley of Stanton early on the third day. The entrance into the valley was very narrow, which should have made it easy to defend, but Murdoc saw no men at arms posted. Nor were there any men watching upon the hillsides. Ramsay of Balmain obviously felt quite secure. Murdoc had hidden his horse in a copse of trees. He watched as Ramsay’s men returned from a raid shortly after he had arrived. The sun was not even yet up, although the sky was blue with expectant dawn. Murdoc lay in the grass upon the valley, observing. When the raiding party reached the village they dismounted, stabled their horses, and, in groups of several men, entered the cottages, where smoke was streaming from the chimneys.

After a time Murdoc saw women exiting and reentering the cottages. They were probably captives captured in the raids and brought to Stanton to cook and otherwise 
service Ramsay and his men. No men were visible, however, until quite late in the day, when they began appearing again from the cottages, where they had obviously been sleeping.

Adair had been correct, Murdoc thought with a small smile. His sister-in-law was a clever woman. Had she not been, he considered, Cleit wouldn’t be the comfortable home it now was; nor would his brother have such a fine wife. And even from a distance Murdoc spotted their cousin Alpin. The bastard had turned traitor! And then, to his surprise, William Douglas rode into the village on a large wagon. He was greeted by Ramsay of Balmain himself. Together the men entered one of the cottages.

Murdoc wished he could go closer, but his brothers had warned him that if he were caught all would be lost. He was just to observe.

After a time Douglas exited the cottage, and Ramsay’s men began loading their recent booty onto the wagon. It was then covered to conceal its contents, and Douglas went back into the cottage. Murdoc did not need to be closer to understand that William Douglas was obviously selling the goods that Ramsay’s men stole in return for a share of the profits. This permitted the traitorous lord to finance his treason without involving the English king. And it gave Douglas the income he needed without any risk to himself, or the need to share those monies with men in his employ. It was cleverly done, Murdoc had to admit. He watched that night as the raiders rode out again. They would go a-roving most nights until the snows and cold prevented them unless they were stopped. Murdoc saw them return in the predawn just as William Douglas was climbing up on his wagon seat to depart.

Having seen enough, the young Bruce retrieved his horse and rode for Cleit to tell his brothers and the others what he had learned.

Conal was furious to find that Alpin Bruce was indeed one of Ramsay’s men. It would bring shame upon
 
his clan should the information become public knowledge, and the Bruces of Cleit had always been considered honorable men. But they were all surprised to find that William Douglas was involved. Without his help in disposing of the ill-gotten gains, it was agreed, Ramsay of Balmain would have had a more difficult time of it.

“I always thought Willie Douglas deserved hanging,”

Hercules Hepburn said. “I suppose we shall have to do it. He was never a particularly trustworthy man, but he’s involved himself in treason. We’ll hunt him down when the business is completed, and render some border justice.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“We’ll leave tomorrow before dawn,” the laird said.

“We’re all ready,” young Andrew Home replied.

“Your hall is fuller with our men, I will wager, than it has ever been. How your cook has managed to feed us all for two days I will never know.”

“I actually think Elsbeth and the others have enjoyed it,” Adair said with a smile.

And as if to prove her words a great supper was produced that night, with beef and lamb and trout. There was venison, and rabbit pies, and roast fowl of several varieties. There was bread and butter and cheese, all washed down with the laird’s October ale. And at least two hours before the dawn, as the men stirred sleepily in Cleit’s hall, Elsbeth, Margery, Grizel, and even Flora were placing trenchers of hot oats on the trestles, along with bread and cheese. As the men prepared to depart, the four women moved among them, passing out freshly baked oatcakes and small wedges of hard cheese to be stored in their purses. Cleit’s hospitality would never be faulted.

Adair had dressed herself that morning as her husband had never seen. She wore a pair of dark brown woolen breeks that had obviously been made just for her. Her linen shirt was a natural color, and with it she wore a short jerkin of leather that had been lined in rab
bit’s fur and was closed with small buttons carved from ash wood. About her waist she wore a leather belt, from which hung a thin leather scabbard containing a bone-handled dirk. She had a sash of red Bruce plaid that was pinned to her shoulder with a silver clan badge. The round insignia showed a lion with his tail extended, and above the beast was the clan’s motto,
Fuimus
, which translated to
We Have Been
. Her black hair, braided as always in a single plait, was topped with a small flat cap that sported an eagle’s feather. She was every inch the clan chief’s wife, as the admiring glances of the men in the courtyard told her. Without help Adair mounted her own black gelding.

They rode out even before the sun came over the hills. Anyone seeing them would simply assume another border raid was in the offing. But when night came and they stopped to rest their animals for a few hours, no fires were lit. The horses were slowly watered, and then allowed to graze along the hillsides. The riders sat on the ground eating oatcakes and cheese, drinking sparingly from their flasks. While some slept, others kept watch for any danger that might approach.

Late the second night they reached Stanton and, concealing themselves in the grass and thickets of trees, they waited. Ramsay and his men returned with the dawn, and as Murdoc had told them they entered the cottages of the village. Eventually, as the morning deepened, the women began coming forth to go to the well for water and to gossip. The Scots raiding party prepared to attack.

“I want to go with you,” Adair said to her husband.

“You promised you would remain upon the hillside,” 
he reminded her.

“Surely you don’t intend to kill the women, do you?” 
she asked almost fearfully. “The women have done no deliberate treason. Most, if not all, are captives. You need someone to take them to safety so you may do what you must.”

“She is right,” Andrew Home said. “We want Ramsay and his men. Not the lasses. I would not deliberately kill a woman without cause.”

“But how?” Conal Bruce asked. “I will not have my wife endangered.”

“If you are in position, and prepared to sweep into the village from the hillsides themselves, you will have more than enough time, even if one of the women sounds the alarm. Let me ride into the village and just ask the women to follow me.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Conal exploded angrily. “One or even more of the damned wenches is certain to have fallen in love with her captor. She will run screaming, and the others will follow for certain.”

“I think you are wrong,” Adair replied. “These men will have raped the women now with them. They will have shared them amongst one another, and beaten them. The men will have expected them to cook and clean, and no matter how hard they have tried to please—and some will have in hopes of escaping the brutality—they will have still been mistreated. If someone had ridden into Willie Douglas’s camp when I was a captive, and said, ‘Follow me,’ I more than likely would have, and I was in his charge only a few days.

Many of these women have been here for several months. Let me try, my lords. If I fail I will ride up the hills as you are all riding down. The women will scatter when they see you if they do not follow me.”

“Jesu, madam, you have courage,” Hercules Hepburn said admiringly, “but I am not certain whether you are totally mad.”

Adair laughed. “I am not mad, Hercules, I swear it.

But this is Stanton. My lands. I must avenge my family’s honor. And while, if you all insist I remain upon the hillside while you attack, I will, I should far prefer to have a more active role in these doings.” She turned to her husband, as did all the other lords with them. “Please, Conal.”

“She should be safe,” Duncan Armstrong said. “The men are sleeping, and the women are believed so cowed that Ramsay hasn’t even set a watch.”

Adair threw her brother-in-law a grateful look.

“I agree,” Hercules Hepburn said. “And it would certainly be a huge help to us if we could get the women out of the way. It will be a lot easier to go about our task if they are not there to howl and shriek.”

“And one rider whom they will quickly see is another woman will quell any fears the little darlings may have,”

Andrew Home remarked with a grin.

“Go,” Conal Bruce said to Adair. “But if you get yourself killed I shall not forgive you, woman. I’m expecting more fine sons from you.”

She laughed. “I think I’m supposed to say something like that,” she told him. “It will take me a few minutes from here to ride around to the valley’s entry. Watch for me.” Then, gently nudging the gelding forward, she moved off.

They watched her go, losing sight of her briefly until she came out upon the narrow track leading into Stanton village.

It was all so familiar, and for just the briefest moment Adair was assailed by her memories. The orchards were still there, although some trees had fallen over the last few years, and they remained where they fell, for there was no one to clear them away. Eventually all trace of the orchard would be gone. She wondered what had happened to the bodies of the men slain there that day.

There was the burying ground where her parents, FitzTudor, and so many others of her acquaintance were interred. But not Andrew Lynbridge. She sighed. Would it have all been simpler if Andrew had not died that day at Bosworth? She didn’t know. Would never know.