Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (9 page)

“I need t’ piss, laird,” he muttered hoarsely when Simon raised his eyebrows. “But I’m afeard I’ll wake her if I move.”

Setting down his candlestick, Simon scooped Kit up. “She ought not to sleep here with you in any event,” he said. “I think you’ve caught cold, and she may catch it from you. Can you get up by yourself? The night jar’s in yon corner.”

Dand hastily assured him that he could manage, but his progress to the jar was unsteady. Simon said nothing, waiting patiently until the boy was back in bed.

Kit wakened as he carried her down to the kitchen, but he thought she would fall asleep again quickly in the chimney corner.

She eyed the shadowy space dourly, muttering, “It be dark there.”

“Not as dark as Dand’s room,” he said. “The glow from those coals and from yon bakehouse archway will let you see well enough.” As he spoke, he noted a change in the glow and saw Tetsy appear in the archway.

She bobbed a jerky curtsy. “I’ll look after her, laird,” she said. “I-I came down to fix another poultice for her ladyship.”

“In the bakehouse?”

“Nay, sir.” She gestured to the kitchen fire. “ ’Tis on the hob by yon kettle. I’d stepped into the bakehouse, looking for Jack, when I heard your voice.”

“Is her ladyship not settling in comfortably for the night?”

“Her head be troubling her,” she said. “But yon poultice will set her right.”

He nodded. “Then, whilst you wait for it, you may bear Kit company. I warrant she’ll fall asleep before that poultice finishes steeping, won’t you, lassie?”

“Aye, sir,” Kit said with a mournful sigh.

“Get you into the chimney corner now. I’ll straighten the quilt for you.”

He did so, bade them both goodnight, and adjourned upstairs to the room where he customarily dealt with the castle accounts as his father had before him.

He sat for a time staring at the accounts by the light of several candles, and wondered if the lady Sibylla had found an effective way yet to tidy herself.

Although Tetsy would do all she could to help, he knew he had doubtless annoyed his guest considerably by not allowing her to do as she pleased. The thought drew a rare smile from him.

Sibylla heard Tetsy tell Kit firmly that she had things to see to in the bakehouse. “So you shut your eyes like a good bairn, and go to sleep.”

Rejoining Sibylla, Tetsy clutched a hand to her throat as she muttered close to Sibylla’s ear, “I tell ye, me heart won’t bang right again till morning, m’lady. I doubt the lassie will hear us pouring water, but we’d best not talk.”

“What lies the other side of that alcove?” Sibylla asked her just as quietly, pointing to where the water had disappeared.

Tetsy stiffened and seemed to lose color.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Sibylla whispered, “I thought there might be a door in there, but I cannot find any latch.”

“A door?”

Tetsy whispered so quietly that Sibylla could barely hear her, but she did not need to. She could see that Tetsy was prevaricating.

“Do you know of such a door?” she asked.

Tetsy shook her head hard and pressed her lips together.

“I expect I was a fool then to think there might be one there,” Sibylla said with a smile. “Help me finish this now.”

Looking relieved, Tetsy obeyed. They were silent then until she had piled Sibylla’s hair atop her head, wrapped a towel round it, and Sibylla straightened.

“Prithee, move that stool to the—” Breaking off, she stared in dismay at a lad of about ten summers, who had appeared silently in the archway.

Following her gaze, Tetsy murmured, “That be our Jack, m’lady. This be the laird’s guest, Jack. She got mud in her hair, and we’ve been getting it out, but ye’re to say nowt. Ye’ve been watching the men dicing in the hall again, have ye no?”

The boy nodded and moved to the wood basket. Glancing at Sibylla, who smiled at him, he put more fuel on the fire, pulled a narrow pallet to the floor from where it leaned against the wall, and lay down upon it, shutting his eyes.

Tetsy and Sibylla exchanged looks of amusement, but Tetsy said, “I dinna think we should use the scullery wi’ these bairns here, so shall I fetch more water?”

Sibylla wanted to rinse every grain of dirt away, but she realized that Tetsy was more nervous than ever about her part in the business and felt increasingly guilty at having put her at risk.

“Do you worry that he will come back?” she asked, knowing Tetsy would understand that she meant Simon and that they would be giving nothing away to Jack or to Kit if the latter were still wakeful in the other chamber.

Tetsy nodded fervently.

“Then you tidy up whilst I rub the dirt off this table and do what I can to dry my hair. We’ll go up as soon as you’ve put everything away,” Sibylla said.

The fire was hot, but her hair was by no means dry when Tetsy returned.

“Ye’ll catch your death,” she said.

“I can plait it and sleep perfectly safely with it still damp,” Sibylla assured her as they passed through the kitchen toward the service stairs. “I have often done it, although I know some people do think—”

“Be ye going to leave me here, then?” a small, quavering voice inquired from the chimney corner.

Turning to find Kit sitting with her knees tucked up to her chin and her quilt clutched around her, Sibylla said, “
You
are supposed to be asleep.”

“Nay, I dinna like all them shadows in here. Nor I dinna ken the lad yonder. I’m no afeard,” she added firmly. “I just dinna like it here.”

Tetsy said, “I can take her up with me, m’lady.” Sibylla began to nod, but Kit scrambled upright and said eagerly, “Or I could sleep on the floor in
your
chamber, mistress.”

Looking into the pinched little face, Sibylla could not refuse. So although Tetsy moved to protest, she forestalled her, saying cheerfully, “Then that’s what we’ll do, Kit. But we must be gey quiet going upstairs.”

Chapter 5

S
aturday morning arrived with gloomy, overcast skies. Simon arose early, broke his fast, and plunged into his duties. First, he sent messengers to Sweethope Hill and to Sir Malcolm Cavers with the news that Sibylla was safe at Elishaw. He also sent one to Dour Hill, England, with Lady Murray’s message to Cecil Percy.

As he crossed the pebbled bailey, he felt the sense of pride that usually struck him, after he had been away, when familiar Elishaw landmarks came into sight through the forest surrounding the castle. Concern for his rescued charges the day before had delayed the reaction.

Beyond Elishaw’s southeast wall, two peaks known as Hartshorn Pike and Carlin Tooth rose as tall, silent sentinels. They were landmarks Simon had trusted since childhood to lead him home if he ever lost his way in the forest.

He had climbed them and explored them, learning the value of knowing his environs as he gazed on the vast panorama of Border landscape. From the Pike and the Tooth, one could see into England and know how near the enemy lay. Now, living again at Elishaw, truce or no truce, he kept watchmen posted on both peaks.

While he had served the Earl of Fife, England’s nearness to Elishaw had meant little to him. He had spent most of his time then in Stirling or Edinburgh. Moreover, Sir Iagan had remained strictly neutral in Border affairs, aided by Lady Murray’s resolve that he follow the same course his father had.

Her ladyship was English and kin to the great Northumberland Percys. So the Murrays possessed strong connections on both sides of the line. Despite such allies, though, Elishaw had suffered occupation more than once.

Simon did not mean to let that happen while he was master. But he was beginning to learn how difficult it was to remain neutral.

The Governor of the Realm had little patience with neutrality and had had his eye on the castle for some time. He had made it plain even before Sir Iagan’s death that he expected Elishaw to declare for Scotland.

The Earl of Douglas, more powerful than the Governor but thought by many to be his ally, agreed with him.

Simon had been Fife’s man absolutely until Fife had tried to seize Hermitage Castle, a Douglas stronghold. Acting on the Governor’s behalf, Simon had found his sisters Meg and Amalie at Hermitage, guests of the princess Isabel Stewart, then married to the second earl.

That discovery had shaken Simon but not as much as the later discovery that Fife expected him to force his sister Amalie to marry a man she detested, and to dower her with a sizable piece of Elishaw land.

Simon’s belief in honor and loyalty had kept him faithful even then. But Fife, failing to force Amalie to marry his henchman, then set his sights on Rosalie as the wife his man should have. Simon had flatly refused to permit the marriage.

He had scarcely seen Fife since then, or the Douglas. Either one of them—or both, if they chanced to be of one mind—would make a formidable enemy. And now, with one of the mighty English Percys soon to visit, he suspected that their leader, the Earl of Northumberland, would likewise want to know where he stood.

Therefore, he had little time left to decide what Elishaw’s future position would be. The cold, miserable winter had given him a respite. But it had been warming for weeks.

Abruptly pushing these thoughts aside, he wondered how his reluctant guest was enjoying her confinement.

As he thought about her, it occurred to him that at her first near-wedding, to the aged Lord Galston, Sibylla had not been much older than his little sister was now. She had been barely a year older than that when he had expected her to marry him.

“My dearest, whatever are you doing, staring at the wall like that?”

Startled, Simon turned to find his mother with her thinly plucked eyebrows arched even higher than usual. “Forgive me, madam,” he said. “I was woolgathering. But I have sent your messenger on his way to Dour Hill.”

“I have something to say to you.”

Stifling a sigh, he set himself to listen patiently to whatever it might be.

Sibylla had broken her fast in her bedchamber, sharing with Kit the fresh-baked rolls and beef that Tetsy brought them. Noting how carefully the child tried to imitate the way she broke her bread, Sibylla hid a smile.

Tetsy, straightening the bed, looked over her shoulder to say, “I’ll take the lassie to the kitchen with me when I go, m’lady. And I’ll keep her with me tonight. Will ye be wanting to get back into bed after I’ve made it?”

“Nay, I will not,” Sibylla said. “And I want more suitable garments to wear than this robe.”

“Och, aye, and I’m a fool for no telling ye afore now! Her ladyship did say she’ll be sending some things along as soon as she attends to some other matters.”

“I’ll be very grateful to her,” Sibylla said, wondering how far down Lady Murray’s list the clothing would be.

She did not wonder long, because shortly after Tetsy had taken the protesting Kit to the kitchens, the door opened with no more ceremony than a rap to reveal a grinning, dark-haired girl. She looked so much like Amalie that even had Sibylla not met the lady Rosalie before, she’d have known her at once.

As they exchanged greetings, Rosalie said, “I’ve brought you some clothes.”

“Bless you, shut that door then and help me dress,” Sibylla said eagerly. “If I have to wait until Tetsy finishes her other chores, I’ll go mad.”

“Will you, in troth?” Rosalie said, her dark hazel eyes sparkling.

“I am sometimes prone to exaggerate,” Sibylla admitted. “But your odious brother has kept me shut up here with naught to wear since I arrived. I yearn for fresh air and a brisk walk.”

“Simon said you had hurt yourself, and you have a dreadful lump on your head. Does it not still ache?”

“Aye, if I heed it. But I am stout enough to get up, and although he insists I should stay in bed, I have also been aching for sensible conversation. So tell me about yourself and about Elishaw. Sithee, I came here once before, but it was whilst you were at Scott’s Hall awaiting the birth of Meg’s wee daughter.”

“I remember, aye,” Rosalie said as she laid a gray silk kirtle and another the blue-green color of a forest pond on the bed.

“I like those colors,” Sibylla said.

“My lady mother said they would suit you.”

“Do you mind helping me dress?”

“Not if you want to talk,” Rosalie said. “I almost never have anyone but my lady mother to talk to. Oh, servants, of course. But she does not approve of my talking much with them.”

“Does she not? Faith, I learn more from servants than from anyone else,” Sibylla said. “They always know what is going on.”

Rosalie giggled. “ ’Tis true, and I own, I do converse often with many of them. We ought not to gossip, of course.”

“Pish tush,” Sibylla said, doffing the borrowed robe and reaching for the lacy shift Rosalie held out. “Without gossip, Rosalie, the world would be a tedious place, especially for women. So, tell me about Elishaw and its people. Tetsy has told me a little, and your mother, too. But I think she does not like my being here.”

“I doubt she dislikes you,” Rosalie said, handing her the blue-green kirtle. “She is just determined that Simon shall marry an Englishwoman.”

“Mercy, does she fear that I want him?”

“She does not like surprises, and you are beautiful. You’ve a lovely figure!”

“Well, I’ve no intention of marrying your brother,” Sibylla said. “I’d not have him if he wanted me, which I promise you, he does not.”

“I doubt he’s given it a thought,” Rosalie said. “But your being here is a distraction, especially now. Sithee, Mother is hoping that when her English cousin comes to visit soon, he will bring his daughters. For my part,” she added with a mischievous smile, “I hope he brings his sons.”

After that, conversation marched as informatively as Sibylla had hoped. She encouraged Rosalie to bear her company for the rest of the morning. And when Rosalie went downstairs for the midday meal, Sibylla went with her.

Having listened to his mother’s comments on his management of everything from his guest to matters he had learned to leave to his steward, Simon entered the hall, hoping she would not begin again. Much as he respected her years of experience in seeing to things his father had overlooked, his patience was wearing thin.