Border Fire (31 page)

“I ran away from home,” Janet said baldly.

For the first time since Buccleuch’s arrival, the worry vanished from Margaret’s expression, and she chuckled. “Let me get my needlework and something for you to do, and you can tell me all about it.”

By the time Janet had finished relating her tale, Margaret was no longer smiling. “You were not wise to leave as you did,” she said.

“No, I can see that quite clearly now. You know Sir Quinton better than I do, madam. What will he do?”

“Godamercy, you might just well ask me if it will rain on Tuesday next, or snow tomorrow. His temper is more predictable than Buccleuch’s, to be sure, but that is true of every man in Scotland save the king. Quin will be angry. I cannot doubt it, but I do not think he will do anything horrid whilst you are here with us.”

“Then perhaps I should stay until Christmas,” Janet said with a sigh.

“Do not anticipate trouble,” Margaret recommended. “It is difficult enough to deal with it when it finds you without facing the possibility of its doing so a hundred times beforehand. You set a very fine stitch,” she added. “Did I chance to show you Queen Mary’s embroidery when last you were here?”

“No,” Janet said, recognizing and accepting the diversion.

“Then this would be an excellent time to do so. Come along, and leave your worries here for a wee bit. Likely, they’ll wear themselves out.”

It was nearly suppertime before Sir Quinton arrived at Branxholme, and if he was in a fury, Janet could not discern it. He gave her one cool, appraising look that turned her innards to jelly, but then he demanded to know what was amiss with Buccleuch, and Margaret took him upstairs.

She returned minutes later to tell Janet that Buccleuch had wakened and was insisting that they take their supper with him. “He says he is starving and will not eat pap, which is what Alys said he should eat, of course. I cannot prevent him from doing as he pleases in that respect, however, nor do I mean to try.”

“In my experience,” Janet said quietly, “men eat what and when they want to eat. I have rarely seen that it does them harm. Indeed, it would be worse for him to feel weak, I think.”

“Well, I do not know whose advice is best in such a case, but I will take yours because it will keep my husband from flinging boots or whatever else he can lay a hand to. I’ll tell them in the kitchen to serve us upstairs, and then you and I can go right up. You and Quin will stay the night, of course—longer if you like.”

Janet swallowed. Branxholme was large enough for Margaret to offer her a private bedchamber, but since she had not done so already, she most likely would not. The thought of spending the coming night alone with Quinton set her nerves dancing. Whether they danced from fear or mere anticipation, she could not tell.

He and Buccleuch were talking in low voices when she and Margaret entered the parlor. A bed had been set up against the inside wall near the fireplace at the far end, and Quinton had drawn a chair up near the bed. He stood politely when they entered, and Buccleuch said, “I have just been explaining what must be done.”

“About what, sir?” Margaret asked.

“The wardens’ meeting, of course. Thanks to this devilish leg and my damnable vision, I cannot do it all, and Quin may as well learn what duties I bear. We’ll be sending word out and about at once, of course, so we must tell everyone that any grievances against the other side that have not yet been filed with a warden should go either to Quin at Broadhaugh or come here to me.”

“Must we look into them all beforehand?” Quinton asked.

“Nay, what we think about them does not matter, though we’ll want to know their nature, of course, since such knowledge will aid us in selecting jurors. We’ll simply forward the complaints as a lot to that want-wit Scrope, and he will forward to us any complaints that he receives betwixt now and the day. Our responsibility is to see that all men the English name in their grievances attend the proceedings.”

Raising his eyebrows, Quinton said, “Have you received many from them?”

“Aye, of course.”

“Any against Rabbie Redcloak?”

“Nay, and that troubles me some. There are nearly always several, as you know, and except for the time that chap from Hawick told them Rabbie was English, someone consistently has stepped up to claim that he does not exist. Mayhap they have simply given up trying to identify him.”

“I doubt that,” Quinton said.

Buccleuch’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about last night,” he said.

Janet’s breath stopped in her throat. She dared not look at Quinton.

He said calmly, “What did you hear?”

“That you were out and about again, over Kielbeck way.”

Janet looked at her shoes, waiting for him to continue.

He remained silent.

Quinton said, “Anything else?”

“Is that not enough? Christ, Quin, you’re a married man now, and my deputy. You should know better than to go flitting around the countryside with naught but a score of men to look after you.”

“I was under the impression that I was looking after them and rightfully defending what is mine,” Quinton said.

“Aye, perhaps you were at that. How did you fare?”

“Forty head of kine, about half that in horses. Half went to Ally the Bastard.”

“He’d rather have his wife back, I expect.”

“Aye.”

Janet darted a glance at Quinton and saw that he was looking at her. She looked hastily away again.

Buccleuch said, “If you are going to serve as my deputy, you’ll have to put the raiding behind you. I thought I had made that clear before, but I do understand your reaction to the raid on Cotrigg. I’d have done the same, albeit with more than twenty men.”

“Aye, I know that,” Quinton said. “Last time you led a raid, as I recall the matter, you led two thousand.”

“I do not dabble; I control,” Buccleuch said grimly. “I want your word on this now, Quin. It would have been bad enough to have to ransom you when that blasted Hugh Graham got his hands on you. But now…Christ, I do not want to find my deputy’s name on the grievance list.”

“I’ll willingly pledge my word to take care,” Quinton said evenly. “I cannot promise, however, to do naught that might require your ransoming me. That would mean letting the thieving English burn my people out, and I won’t do that.”

Janet looked at Buccleuch and saw his face redden ominously.

The ensuing silence held menace, but the danger evaporated when he shrugged and said, “I’d say the same, I expect. Just watch well then, and know that you’ll be inviting disaster if you don’t take care.”

“Aye,” Quinton said, then added in a different tone, “Do we wait till the day to decide everything? It seems to me that on previous occasions, you managed to settle some of the disputes beforehand.”

“Aye, that’s true. They will make some offers, and we will make some. But in any case not settled beforehand, we are bound to summon the accused to the day of truce, and also to deliver any persons previously convicted to answer for their crimes. I’ve got a list, and you will see to all that. Indeed, I’m thinking that you may have to attend the meeting in my stead. I’ll be damned if I’ll let that dunderclunk Scrope see me hobbling about.”

“I’ve attended Truce Days before, of course,” Quinton said, “but I cannot say that I’ve ever paid heed to the procedures. “You’ll have to tell me how to go on.”

“You’ll not be alone,” Buccleuch said, grinning at him. “Gaudilands and Todrigg and others of their ilk will be along to keep you from putting a foot wrong. Still, I’ll tell you a bit now, and more as the time draws near. We’ve still ten days to plan, after all, and mayhap I’ll be recovered by then. You’ll attend, in any event.”

“Here’s our supper,” Margaret said, when first one servant and then several others entered and began putting food on a table. “Shall I prepare you a tray, sir?”

“Nay, lass, I’ll sit at the table like a Christian,” her husband said.

“But—” She broke off when he glared at her, then said lightly, “If you must.”

“I must. Quin, give me a hand.”

It took Quinton, a manservant, and a period of awkwardness that tried Buccleuch’s temper, but they got him seated at last at the head of the table. When the platters were in place, he sent the servants away, saying, “We’ll talk more comfortably without them. I can trust them to keep silent on most subjects, but we want no tongues repeating aught that I say about Scrope or his deputies.”

Janet said stiffly, “Perhaps I should remind you, sir, that my brother is one of Lord Scrope’s deputies.”

“I know that, mistress, but you are one of us now. A fine thing it would be an I sent you away whenever I wanted to talk about the English. I believe I can trust you not to repeat what you hear between these walls.”

“Yes, sir, you can. I thank you for honoring me with your trust.”

“Bah, there is no honor in that. I’d be a fine kinsman an I failed to do it.”

She liked him better in that moment man in all the moments she had hitherto spent in his presence. Shooting a look at her husband, she saw that his attention was firmly fixed on Buccleuch. She wished she could tell what Quinton was thinking. Her sphincter muscle twitched at the thought of facing him later, alone.

Buccleuch said, “You will have an important role to play, Quin, and you must never forget that.”

“You know,” Margaret said, “it occurs to me that Sir Hugh Graham is likely to be present at Dayholm. Will he not recognize Quin and cause a stir?”

“If he is there, he will not be at the wardens’ table, for only the wardens and their clerk sit there,” Buccleuch said. “Moreover, he knows Quin only in one guise. They have not met otherwise, as far as I know.” He shot a look at Quinton.

“I suspect that we may both have attended the same functions at Jamie’s court, but no one has ever introduced us,” Quinton said. “I certainly did not recognize him as anyone to whom I had spoken before. In any event, I should think that someone would have to look after Cumberland and Carlisle in Scrope’s absence. That would most likely be Graham, would it not?”

“Aye, perhaps,” Buccleuch agreed.

“Even if he should attend, I will look much different as Sir Quinton Scott than as Rabbie Redcloak, and he saw me only in the gloom, never in a clear light. I took good care not to get close to him, I promise you.”

“Excellent,” Buccleuch said. “You were full-bearded then, too, as I recall. If you shave off your beard altogether, we should have no cause for alarm.” Ignoring Quinton’s look of dismay, he added, “Once we settle what grievances we can settle beforehand, you will need to make certain that any one of our lads who is supposed to be at Dayholm shows up. I do not want to stand surety to anyone if we can avoid it,” he added. “That can prove damnably costly.”

“Perhaps I should round up all the felons and lock them up at Hermitage until the day,” Quinton said with a wry smile.

“Nay, do not even think such a thing,” Buccleuch said. “Keeping prisoners is a devilish expensive nuisance. Just get each man to swear on his honor that he will be there.”

“Aye, I know,” Quinton said with a chuckle, giving Janet to realize that he had been teasing his cousin in retaliation for the order to shave.

Buccleuch shot him a speaking look and said bluntly, “You’ll shave it off, my lad. You may look a bit boyish without it, but you will have Gaudilands and Todrigg to add to your consequence. Gaudilands is widely known to be my natural brother and to carry the weight of my name, just as you do. And Todrigg commands a large number of men-at-arms. That draws respect in any forum.”

They talked more about Quinton’s duties as Buccleuch’s deputy, and Janet listened carefully, wanting to understand the procedures and the reasoning that lay behind them. She had attended several wardens’ meetings and had thought them much like town fairs. Although she knew that at times in the past some such meetings had proved dangerous, she had never seen anything to warrant concern. In her experience, they were exciting and fun, and provided a rare chance to socialize.

Evidently, however, Buccleuch did not share her opinion. “I cannot warn you often enough, Quin, to guard your back. Scrope did not want this meeting. When I pressed him, he answered me with delays. Remember that, and tread warily.”

“Aye, I’ll take precautions.”

“Hold rigidly to the traditions,” Buccleuch advised. “Where strict procedure is followed, fatal misunderstandings are less likely to occur.”

“Aye,” Quinton replied solemnly. “That makes sense.”

“Weigh the whole emotional state of affairs before you approach the other side. Examine their lines for troublemakers, count their men-at-arms, and note their demeanor. Watch the English country folk, the vendors, and others who attend in hope of increasing their wealth. Such folk will not take absurd chances. If they seem genuinely merry and boisterous, they expect no trouble. You still must take care, of course, but they have ways and means of sensing danger in the wind.”

“Once we have picked the juries, is there aught else that I must do?”

“They will be sworn in by the clerk, and when grievances are presented, whether a trial is necessary or not, you will be expected to help decide penalties for those against whom a grievance is proved. If the jury decides to impose a death penalty, there is naught else to decide, but if they demand the payment of a fine, you and Scrope must decide the amount, and it must be carefully calculated.”

Quinton nodded.

“One thing more,” Buccleuch said. “Do not let yourself be drawn into declaring on your honor that any Scottish defendant is an honest, law-abiding man. The temptation may be great, but weigh carefully your knowledge of the man, because if he is caught red-handed at the same offense soon afterward, you will pay his fines, not I.”

“What of those who do not show up to respond to grievances against them?”

“They will be found guilty,” Buccleuch said flatly. “You will doubtless learn afterward that many have sought leg-bail.”

Bewildered, Janet said, “Leg-bail?”

Buccleuch smiled. “It means that they have crossed into another jurisdiction—either into the next march or over the line—seeking refuge.” Turning back to Quinton, he said, “It is important wherever possible to strike an even balance between English and Scottish penalties, even if it means letting bills of grievance stand over till the next meeting. The two sides can occasionally wipe the slate clean by agreeing to use one bill to cancel out another.”