The Border Vixen (51 page)

“I am told ye would speak with me,” the earl said.

“I am told yer considering an invasion of the southwest,” Ewan replied boldly. “I may have some information that could be of use to ye, my lord.”

Lennox did not invite Ewan Hay to sit down. “Speak,” the earl instructed him.

“Do ye know of the Aisir nam Breug, my lord?” Ewan asked.

“I do not,” the earl responded.

“It is a narrow pass going through the border hills that has been controlled by the same family for centuries. The Kerrs of Netherdale control the section of the traverse that runs through England. The Kerrs of Brae Aisir manage the portion that is in Scotland. It is tradition that the road is used only for peaceful purposes, families, messengers, merchant trains. Neither side has ever deviated from this unspoken rule.”

“Are ye suggesting that we take our army through this pass, Hay?” the earl asked.

“Nay, my lord, for it it too narrow,” Ewan said.

“Then what is the point of yer tale, Hay?” Matthew Stewart asked impatiently.

“If ye would allow me and my men to take the Aisir nam Breug, and its keep at Brae Aisir, the pass can be used as a safe and swift passage for yer messengers in and out of Scotland. As for the Netherdale Kerrs, Lord Edmund has always wanted to control the entire traverse himself. Promise it to him as a reward when King Henry has Scotland beneath his boot. I know Lord Edmund, and I can get him to cooperate with ye.”

“And in exchange for this ye will want?” The earl was no fool. Anyone who brought him information like this wanted something substantial in exchange.

“The keep at Brae Aisir,” Ewan Hay said.

“Whose is it now?” the earl asked.

“Dugald Kerr is the laird of Brae Aisir. He has a granddaughter who is his heiress, and she has a husband and several bairns. The husband is loyal to the Queen Mother, and to the little queen.”

“You would drive them out of their home?” The Earl of Lennox wondered what the real purpose of Ewan Hay’s offer was, but then he decided he didn’t care. He was planning a campaign into Aye and Renfrew eventually. A safe passage for messengers through the Borders would be a great advantage to him.

“I would hold the keep for ye, my lord,” Ewan Hay said.

Matthew Stewart laughed sardonically. “Ye have my permission then to forge an understanding with this Lord Edmund Kerr first; and then take the keep at Brae Aisir for me. Since its inhabitants have an unwavering loyalty to their child queen, do what ye will with them. I don’t care. Just make the keep and this passage secure for me.”

Ewan Hay bowed to the earl. “Ye have my word on it, my lord,” he said as he backed from the earl’s presence. Hurrying to find Bhaltair, he told him that the Earl of Lennox had chosen them for this assignment. “Gather the men! We ride for Netherdale on the morrow.”

Bhaltair grunted in acknowledgment of Ewan’s words. Then he said, “We had best find out the secret of how Fingal Stewart got into the keep without coming across the drawbridge. Then we can use that same route. Ye’ll not take the keep by riding into it.”

“How are we supposed to learn
that
?” Ewan said irritably. Why was Bhaltair always trying to spoil his plans?

“We could take one of the tower men and torture him until he revealed the secret,” Bhaltair said. “The men in the village obviously knew.”

“Aye,” Ewan Hay said. “Yer right.” Now why hadn’t he thought of that? “But I’ll have to convince Edmund Kerr into cooperating with me first.”

“Ye’ll lie to him, of course,” Bhaltair replied. “Will ye promise him Brae Aisir?”

“Nay, but I’ll promise him all the income from the pass. I must hold the keep at Brae Aisir for the earl,” Ewan Hay answered.

Bhaltair laughed cynically. “Ye’ll be holding the keep for King Henry,” he said bluntly, “but I know ’tis because like so many other good Scots, ye believe a marriage between the little queen and King Henry’s heir is a good and godly thing.”

“One day yer careless talk will get ye killed,” Ewan Hay said irritably.

“I’ll gather the men and have them ready to ride tomorrow,” Bhaltair replied, ignoring his master’s remark. Aye, he’d die one day, but not at Ewan Hay’s hand.

Ewan Hay had managed to retain twenty of the original thirty men his elder brother had given him. A man possessing twenty soldiers and a captain was considered valuable. It took several days for the Hay and his men to reach Netherdale Hall. They rode in on a rainy night, glad to have reached a warm hall. Edmund Kerr was suspicious. He knew what had happened at Brae Aisir the previous year.

“What do ye want?” he demanded of his guest, waving him to a place at the high board. He gazed at the Hay’s men as they seated themselves at the trestles below the salt. A quick glance told him they were fewer than they had been. Lord Edmund nodded to a servant to fill his guest’s goblet with ale and place a trencher of rabbit stew before him.

“I come from the Earl of Lennox,” the Hay began.

“Indeed, and what does that Scot want with me?” Edmund Kerr’s tone was not particularly friendly, but he was curious.

“King Henry’s nephew by marriage has a proposition for ye, my lord,” Ewan Hay said in a bland and polite tone. “One that will serve us all.”

Rafe Kerr sat at his father’s right hand, listening silently. Whatever it was that the Hay had to say, it did not bode well for the Kerrs on either side of the border, he was sure.

“Say on, Hay,” Lord Edmund responded, and his eyes narrowed as he sat back in his chair.

“The Earl of Lennox would like me to take the keep at Brae Aisir for him. I will then remain to govern the keep in his name. In exchange, ye will be allowed to collect all of the tolls,” the Hay said.

“Except for those ye steal at the other end,” Lord Edmund replied.

“Nay, only ye will collect the tolls. My function is to provide the earl with a safe passage for his messengers, and a secure refuge in the Borders for his allies in Scotland whenever they need to meet.”

“How long will he want Brae Aisir?” Lord Edmund sought to know. “This warring will end sooner or later. Some of the high and mighty will forgive one another, or will be forgiven by the Queen Mother, who is grateful for allies, and some will return home. Others will exile themselves into England even as Angus did. Those ordinary men among us on both sides of the border will be left to gather up what remains of our former lives. We will be judged by our associations, Hay.”

“King Henry will be very grateful for yer aid,” Ewan Hay said.

“King Henry wouldn’t know me from a wart on his bottom,” Lord Edmund said pithily, causing Rafe to smile. “He knows naught of me or mine.”

“But the Earl of Lennox does, and this earl has King Henry’s ear, my lord,” the Hay reminded his host. “Ye could find yerself created Baron Kerr.”

Edmund Kerr laughed aloud. “An empty title costing the parsimonious Henry Tudor nothing but a piece of parchment upon which the words will be written.”

“Then what do ye want?” Ewan Hay asked.

“I want all of the Aisir nam Breug for the Kerrs of Netherdale. I want David Kerr for my daughter’s husband,” Edmund Kerr said. “If ye can promise me those things, then I will help ye attain yer goal so ye can stand in high esteem with the earl.”

“I was only authorized to allow ye the tolls collected,” the Hay said.

“Ye think to have Brae Aisir for yerself, Ewan Hay, but I am no fool. Ye may hold the keep for the earl until the mighty stop their haggling over the Scots queen. But there is no need for ye to retain it after the settlement that will eventually come. It is Kerr land, not Hay land. Now, what will ye do with Fingal Stewart and my niece? And of course old Dugald will not give in to ye so easily.”

“I mean to slay Lord Stewart, and take his wife for my mistress. Once I would have wed her, but no more,” Ewan Hay lied to the Lord of Netherdale. He would find another priest lacking scruples and force the widow to the altar. Then her sons would meet with a tragic accident. It would be his children who inherited Brae Aisir, not Fingal Stewart’s and certainly not the grandchildren of Edmund Kerr. But right now he would tell his host whatever it would take to gain his alliance.

“If ye will guarantee me Brae Aisir after ye have finished with it, I will help ye,” Edmund Kerr said.

Rafe Kerr listened to his father, appalled. The familial relationship between the Kerrs of Netherdale and the Kerrs of Brae Aisir had always been stronger than politics and kings. It was the Aisir nam Breug that mattered; that, not the fortunes of the mighty, came first with the Kerrs. However, Rafe wisely held his own counsel and kept silent. He had thought his father had given up on his craving to control the entire traverse, but it had obviously become a desire that Edmund Kerr could not control or let go.

Ewan Hay remained at Netherdale Hall, now an honored guest. Rafe listened as Ewan Hay outlined his plan. He knew how Fingal Stewart had regained the keep, for Maggie had told him when the three had met in the pass one day. Early one morning as the sky began to lighten, Rafe Kerr wrote a note to his cousin on a miniscule piece of paper, folded it into a tiny scroll, and fitted it into a little metal cylinder, which he affixed to the leg of a pigeon he took from the dovecote. Releasing the bird, he watched it as it soared into the skies above Netherdale and then turned north. This was a means of communication used by the Kerr families in times of emergency, and this was certainly an emergency. He wished the bird Godspeed and silently prayed it would reach its destination without being hunted down by a hawk.

Several hours later the pigeon reached the dovecote at Brae Aisir. Fortunately, it was seen by little David Kerr, who ran to his mother saying, “Mama, a bird has just come into the cote. There is something on its leg.”

Maggie ran to the dovecote, and peeping inside, saw the bird among her own. Reaching in, she drew the pigeon out, unfastened the cylinder, and then set the creature back among the others. Hurrying to the house, she called to David, “Go and fetch yer da.”

The little boy ran off. Going into the hall, Maggie opened the cylinder, carefully drew out the little scroll, unrolled it, and spread it out flat upon the high board. The message was written in tiny letters, but she could read it.

Hay here. Assured Scot. Wants keep, pass, for Lennox.

Seeks secret entry. Will kill to learn it. What to do?

The message was signed by Rafe Kerr, her cousin.

Fingal came into the hall. “What’s happened?” he asked her.

Maggie pointed to the message, and her husband read it slowly. Finally she said, “I am so tired of Ewan Hay, Fin.”

He nodded his agreement. “Tell Rafe to somehow give the information to the Hay,” he said. “We’ll barricade the far end of the tunnel so there is no way he can enter the keep. And once Hay and his men are halfway down the tunnel, we’ll roll boulders in front of the outside entrance. With both ends of the tunnel tightly sealed, Hay and his men will die down there. After a few months, we’ll open the passageway up again, and give the bodies a Christian burial,” Fin said.

“If I didn’t think we might need the tunnel again someday, I would suggest we flood it when they are down there,” Maggie said fiercely.

“It’s obvious that the Hay told the English about the Aisir nam Breug, but if he doesn’t return to his masters, they will probably forget all about it. They probably wanted the convenience of a discreet refuge to meet with their assured Scots on this side of the border,” Fin said, “but I don’t believe it’s very important to them, as many of those men are borderers and have nearby homes.”

“I’ll let the pigeon rest the day, and send it back with our reply just before dawn tomorrow,” Maggie told her husband, and he agreed.

At Netherdale, Rafe Kerr watched the next morning for his bird to return. He prayed that none of the Hay’s men would notice the avian. His prayers were answered as he saw the pigeon swoop down from the sky and dance into its cote. He hurried to get the capsule, and taking it to his own apartments, he opened the cylinder, spread the parchment out, and read the following message:

Find a way to tell the secret. We’ll end this. Maggie

Rafe smiled, then tossed the tiny piece of parchment into the fire in his hearth. He watched as it burned to ash. Then he sought out one of the housemaids he knew to be totally trustworthy. “I need yer help, Glenda,” he began. Then he explained to her what it was he wanted.

Glenda listened, then said, “I’ll do it. One of the younger lasses might grow frightened and give it all away. The Hay has been casting about for a bedmate, for he is a lustful man. Better me than an untried maid. Give me a few days, my lord.”

“I won’t forget this service,” Rafe told her.

Glenda laughed. “Ye’ve always been more generous than yer da,” she said dryly.

That evening when Ewan Hay entered his bedchamber, he found a maidservant bent over while tending to the fire in his hearth. “Well, well, what have we here?” he purred.

The servant straightened, whirling about, a startled look upon her face. “Oh, sir, forgive me,” she said. “I meant to be gone, but the fire was stubborn and would not catch properly.” She curtsied to him.

She was very pretty, he considered, with large pillowy breasts, yellow hair, and big blue eyes.

“And is the fire as it should be now?” he said, smiling at her.

“Aye, sir.” She curtsied again. “Is there anything else I may do for ye, sir?”

“Give me a kiss,” Ewan Hay said.

“Oh, sir, ’tis very naughty of ye,” the maidservant told him. But she did not go.

“Tell me yer name,” he said, stepping to block her route to his door.

“Glenda, sir,” she half whispered.

“I am a guest in this house, Glenda, and I believe yer master would want every effort made to make my stay a pleasant one.” Reaching out, Ewan Hay put an arm about the servant and drew her close.

“Ohh, sir!” Glenda sighed, and she appeared to grow weak in his embrace.

He leaned in to give her a kiss. Her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue seeming to welcome his tongue. She was quite proficient at kissing, he quickly discovered. Reluctantly leaving her lips, he said, “I think ye may be a very naughty lass, Glenda. Are ye naughty?” His other hand fondled her covered breasts.