Amanda Scott (39 page)

Her anger assuaged by his remorse, she said, “I do know that once something becomes a habit, the habit is hard to break.”

“Aye,” he said. “And I’m still not persuaded that you should know all that I know, but we can discuss that more now or whenever you like. I’ve a notion I’m going to be tempted to tell you more than I should in any event.”

“Do you think so?”

“Aye, for you’ve magic in you, sweetheart. I’m as wax in your hands.”

“You weren’t when you refused to let me search with you and Henry.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Do you really want to discuss that now?”

Feeling heat flood her cheeks at the mental image of herself, flinging platter and bowl at him, she shook her head.

“I thought not.”

Seeking another subject, she said, “Do you think Fife might already be waiting at the abbey for us?”

“Nay, for if he expected us to go anywhere tonight, it would be to Roslin, where he’s less likely to lay hands on us. He won’t know we’re at the abbey until de Gredin tells him, or his spies do. In either event, I don’t want a confrontation with him in the open whilst you’re with me, so we’ll take the woods trail. By doing so, we should also have time to talk to the abbot before Fife finds us.”

“If he does,” she said.

He changed the subject then, and they continued to chat about nothing in particular. Then, abruptly, he said, “Look there.”

They had topped the ridge above the forested plain leading to Edinburgh, and beyond the flat stretch of darkness, lights of the town glimmered like jewels in the mist. The Castle looked silvery atop its dark hillside.

“It is beautiful,” she said. “The abbey end looks dark, though.”

“The kirkyard will be lighted,” he said. “And the abbot will be there.”

They skirted Arthur’s Seat and entered the abbey woods a short time later, riding silently but for the noise of trappings and the splashy thuds of the horses’ hooves on the boggy path. As they entered the rear of the kirk-yard, they saw Archie Tayt waiting. Rob raised a hand to halt the men behind him.

“Have you seen Brother Joseph?” he asked Archie.

“Aye, sir. He said to tell ye the abbot would see ye straightaway afore Nocturnes. They’ve no rung the bell yet, but he did say it wouldna be long now.”

“Where is Lord Orkney?”

“He rode right through town, m’lord, but wi’ only half his force. I talked wi’ one o’ his lads as rode through the abbey woods, and he said that his lordship and the chevalier had decided that if ye wanted a stir, they’d give ye one.”

Nodding, Rob jumped down and helped Adela dismount. But as the two of them hurried round to the abbey entrance, he muttered, “I warrant Henry’s trusting de Gredin more than he should. Sakes, though, I cannot blame him. I nearly told him myself that I wanted Fife to come after us. I hope Henry did not go that far.”

“De Gredin did help us,” Adela reminded him.

“Aye, lass, but I still don’t trust him. If he believes he’s in danger, he can go with Henry to Orkney and be safe. As it is, I’m sorry Henry will miss this meeting.”

“We did not come here just to test the chevalier or to trap Fife, did we?”

“Nay, but we may have come on a fool’s errand.”

Entering the abbey kirk, they crossed the candlelit vestibule, and Rob saw the abbot when they stepped into the nave. His bulky person was hard to miss, and he was kneeling where he had been when they’d come before.

Rob put a hand on Adela’s arm to stop her, then put his arm around her and drew her close in a warm hug. His body stirred, reminding him of his constant desire for her, making him wonder what would become of them. He did not fear Fife except insofar as the earl threatened Adela. To keep her safe, he would do what he had to do. The Isle of Orkney would provide safety, and not just for de Gredin.

“I gave it up before; I can do it again.” When she looked at him, frowning, he realized he’d spoken aloud. “Just talking to myself,” he said. “’Twas nowt.”

But it was not “nowt,” of course, because even as the words left his tongue, he knew he did not want to forfeit Lestalric either. Although he had felt no love for his father or Will, he had cared deeply for his grandfather and all that Sir Walter had represented. In his own mind, Lestalric had been Sir Walter’s, was now his own, and would one day be his son’s. He had a duty to do all he could to protect it and keep it out of Fife’s hands. But he would not risk Adela’s safety even for that.

“How may I serve you, my son?”

Rob looked away from his wife’s beautiful face to see the abbot striding toward them. Releasing her, he said, “Is there a place we can speak privately, sir?”

“Aye, briefly,” the abbot said. “The bell will toll Nocturnes in less than a quarter hour. Is aught amiss, Sir Robert?”

“I don’t know, my lord. But I must not say more until we can be sure we will not be heard.”

“I see. Then come into this chamber,” he added, pushing open a door. “The door lacks a lock, but if her ladyship will condescend to keep watch, we can leave it open. The brothers will not enter the kirk until the bell begins to toll.”

When Adela hesitated, Rob understood her as easily as if she had spoken. He said, “I want her ladyship to hear all we say. I know you may be reluctant …”

“Nay, my son. According to Holy Kirk, a man and his wife are one. If you wish it, it shall be so. She can stand just inside here to keep watch. That way, she will hear all we say and still be able to warn us if anyone enters the nave. So, now,” he said as he led Rob farther into the room. “What is it?”

“We found something of great value today near Hawthornden Castle.”

“I see.”

The abbot’s expression remained neutral, but the fact that he did not ask what they had found bolstered Rob’s confidence. The abbot might simply lack curiosity, but Rob’s feeling was that he had not asked because he already knew.

“You were here at Holyrood when the English last invaded Scotland, were you not, sir?”

“I was. I served as baillie to the abbot, just as Brother Joseph serves me.”

“And you knew my grandfather, did you not?”

“I did, very well, as had my own lord abbot before me.”

Rob hesitated. Although he had imagined several such dialogues since the discovery and his subsequent decision to approach the abbot, now that the moment had come, his long-held reluctance to reveal too much put a lock on his tongue.

He glanced at Adela, but she was keeping careful watch over the nave.

The abbot said diffidently into the silence, “This item you found, Sir Robert. If one may ask, what do you intend to do with it?”

Rob looked him in the eye. “I came here to seek your advice, my lord.”

“I see. Perhaps you might just tell me what color this item is.”

“Black or dark gray. The light was not good enough to be sure.”

“Its size?”

“A yard wide, mayhap two feet deep, and as high as my knees.”

“Has it legs?”

“Of a sort. They looked reptilian. It also has feet, like eagles’ claws.”

The abbot nodded. “We need say no more about it, then. Nor will we name this item, for I have sworn not to do so, if only to protect the abbey. It was to protect Holy-rood and everyone here that my superior and I first spoke to your grandfather.”

“So the item was here?”

“Aye, almost from the first. The Abbot of”—he hesitated—”of another abbey, believing the invaders of his time would proceed directly there, applied to the abbot here. That abbot here, you know, was from Lestalric and thus was as loyal to his country as to his abbey. We are told that he never lied, but of course, failure to tell a complete truth is near enough a lie to require both penance and absolution. Still, he saved this abbey, and he protected the item.”

“Then the English came again,” Rob said.

“Och, aye. But recall that they occupied this area from 1296 till Bannockburn, when Bruce routed them. Then they threatened to invade again fifteen years later as he lay dying. They crossed into the Borders and severely damaged Melrose Abbey and others, making it clear that they were likely to do the same thing here.”

“What did you do?”

“We spoke to the King. No one could doubt Robert the Bruce’s feelings for Scotland or his hopes for her destiny. He did all he could to preserve both. It was he who said we could not risk revealing what we knew to anyone else until the Scottish throne was secure and the English no longer a threat. He told us we could entrust what we knew to two men, however, and he named them. Both had proven their loyalty to him. Later, both sacrificed their lives in his service.”

“I know who they were,” Rob said. “Orkney was with us when we found it.”

“Aye, then you likewise know that both Sinclair and Logan passed what they knew to their sons before they left to carry the Bruce’s heart to the Holy Land.”

“What of the Douglas?” Rob asked. “Did good Sir James not also know?”

“Nay, for as much as Bruce trusted him, he knew the Douglases harbored hopes of ruling Scotland themselves. And, too, there were fierce factions in that clan then, as there are today. Bruce trusted only Sir James.”

“Still, others must have known,” Rob said. “No two men could have carried the item two feet, let alone from Holyrood to its present location.”

Glibly, the abbot said, “Aye, sure, but there was an organization of outstanding soldiers who had proven their loyalty to Bruce at Bannockburn. He recommended several of them to assist Sinclair and your grandfather, and they did.”

“An organization?” Rob said, noting that Adela had turned but keeping his gaze fixed on the abbot. “I believe I know of such an organization, sir.”

The abbot gazed steadily back. “I thought you might,” he said. “But time is fleeting. You asked for my advice, so I’ll tell you what the Bruce told us. At least three men should know the item’s whereabouts, but its very presence in Scotland should remain secret until the Scottish throne is secure. Due to the present upheaval within the royal family, and with the English again threatening our border, I’d advise you to continue as we began if the place of concealment remains safe.”

“Aye, sure, but I’m nearly certain the Earl of Fife suspects—”

A distant bang interrupted him, and Adela said, “Someone’s coming!”

Fife was the first one through the archway from the vestibule. His grim expression was enough to send shivers through Adela’s body, but warm hands on her shoulders reminded her that Rob was there, and the abbot, too.

Fife carried a sword, and when armed men followed him into the nave, Rob gently moved Adela aside and opened the door wide.

Stepping into the nave, he said, “Are you looking for me, my lord earl?”

Adela moved back into the doorway, her heart pounding, determined to see.

Fife’s anger was clear as he faced Rob. “You are under arrest, Lestalric, and your lady, too,” he said. “I’m told she is here with you.”

“Do you always attend Kirk with sword drawn?” Rob asked in a lazy tone.

Fife stiffened, clearly on the verge of losing his temper. “Draw yours, sirrah, and we’ll end our contest now,” he said.

“I don’t draw my weapon in kirk,” Rob said, sounding almost sorrowful, Adela thought. “But if you like, I’ll meet you in the kirkyard.”

“Where is Orkney?”

“What? Do you fear Henry? Doubtless, he’s aboard ship on his way home and won’t trouble you tonight.”

“Nay, I ken fine he was in town but a short while ago, with a large force.”

Overhead, the great abbey bell began to toll.

Fife whirled, snapping at one of his followers, “Tell whoever is making that din to stop it until I’m finished here!”

The henchman fled, and Adela felt hands on her shoulders again. She did not jump, knowing them to be the abbot’s.

He moved her aside as Rob had done. When he passed her, she stepped back into the doorway as before.

The bell kept tolling, and she saw the hooded monks filing into their stalls.

Sword still out, at the ready, Fife watched Rob and moved toward him, either ignoring the abbot’s appearance or not noticing him.

Rob seemed to grow more alert with each step Fife took until finally, when Adela’s terror threatened to stop her breathing, Rob reached for his sword.

The abbot put a hand on his, stopping him. Then stepping in front of him, he waited for the tolling to stop before he said sternly, “Put up your weapon, sir.”

“Get out of my way, old man,” Fife snapped.

“I’m told that, despite your many faults, you are a God-fearing man, my son. Would you, a prince of this realm, befoul His house with violence?”

“That man and his wife are under arrest for acts of violence and murder. If they continue to defy me, I will take them bodily from here and hang them.”

“You will not, my son, for this is a sanctuary. To take anyone from here against his will must result in your excommunication. Do you want to burn in Hell for all eternity? Put away your sword.”

Fife hesitated, glanced back at his men, who had followed him in, then took another step forward. As he did, noise from the choir stalls drew Adela’s attention.

Turning, she saw the monks throwing off their hooded black robes to reveal Rob’s twelve men-at-arms. Their weapons remained in their scabbards, but she had as little doubt as Fife must have had that they would draw them if need be.

If Adela was astonished, the abbot was more so, for she saw his eyebrows shoot upward. But he stood his ground, saying calmly to Fife, “Your own family will not support this criminal act, for such it must be. You know that neither Sir Robert nor his lady has committed any crime such as you have described to me.”

Without taking his eyes from Fife, Rob said, “He believes a friend of his will testify to the crime of which he accuses my lady and likewise believes that, to protect her, I attacked that friend last Tuesday as the abbey bell tolled Nocturnes.”

“Last Tuesday?” The abbot frowned. “Is that what you believe, my son?”

“Aye,” Fife snarled. “For that is the truth.”

“Nay, it is not,” the abbot said. “I married Sir Robert and his lady Tuesday last before all the brothers of this abbey. The bell began to toll Nocturnes just as they were leaving. Where did this attack take place?”