The Gilded Crown (52 page)

The everlasting bells called the slumbering monks to Prime prayer and they toppled from their cots to shiver into habits and sandals. At Blanquefort castle, the sentinels outside the royal chamber slept peacefully as well, empty goblets strewn beside them. One had slumped against the wall, his helm angled precariously sideways over his yellow hair. He swung idly at his nose to swat a non-existent fly but did not wake. The same insect tested the second guard, the tip of a feather tickling his neck. Ten minutes on there was a soft plod within the Prince's apartment. There was a spark and the briefest flicker of candlelight showed beneath the door before disappearing. An hour later, the guard with the luteous mane slid the rest of the way down the wall and snored deeply while inside the chamber's virgin chimney, a dark shape dangled, waiting until the moon hid behind a cloud. Then it climbed out onto the roof and pulled up the rope. No soot was definitely a blessing. There would not be any indication of the silent incursion. Content with success, the shadowy figure tucked the parchment within the folds of a garment and as the moon emerged to dominate the night sky, ducked behind the gargoyle before making a leap to the hefty oak nearby.

Catherine woke to the rolling motion of the carriage and pushed the plaid from her legs. It had been the same nightmare, heat and smoke terrifying her as she fell into a dark abyss. As she sat up she was flooded with a dizzying sense of foreboding.

Agnes grasped her hand. ‘Are you all right, my dear?'

Catherine shook her head. ‘I am not sure what hurts the most, the pain behind my eyes or the crushing weight on my chest.'

‘Lord Wexford will have us back to Edinburgh in no time.'

‘And what will we do then? How will we ever find Gabby?'

‘I am sure your husband will know.' Agnes squeezed Catherine's fingers. ‘Now, tidy your hair and brush your gown. An unkempt appearance will only give Lord Wexford further cause to worry.'

Catherine did as she was instructed as she cautiously made her way towards the front of the covered carriage, climbing over their possessions which had been haphazardly packed in the rush to depart Govan for Edinburgh.

Simon made room on the bench as Catherine clambered onto the seat beside him.

‘Where are we?' She asked as she scanned the horizon for something familiar.

‘Ràthach.' Simon said. ‘We will reach Craigmillar before Nones.'

‘Craigmillar! But I thought—'

‘I will speak to David alone. You are not coming with me.'

‘But Simon, you can't leave me with Walter and Beatrix.'

‘In this instance you will be safer at Craigmillar and I will brook no argument.'

Catherine stared at the road ahead, her mind in turmoil. She knew Simon was right. She would be a hindrance and a pawn David could use against her husband.

Catherine grasped his arm as she was thrown up from the seat. ‘Will you take Walter with you? He may wield some influence.'

‘I have yet to decide. I think it best we wait and assess the Odistouns' response to our sudden arrival before I make any decisions.'

Catherine spent the next three hours concentrating solely on two tasks – praying for the safe return of Gabby and staring at Castle Rock as it grew more visible on the skyline. Simon directed the carriage through the increasing traffic, cursing several vendors with slow moving, overloaded carts and a goat herder who had lost control of his animals.

Catherine could feel his relief as they neared Craigmillar, construction of the new tower having progressed noticeably in their absence.

Roderick had ridden slightly ahead and was dismounting in the courtyard.

‘Who is Roderick embracing? It doesn't look like Walter,' Catherine observed as they drew closer.

‘God's bones!' Simon brought the carriage to a halt. ‘It can't be.'

‘Armand!' Catherine shrieked as she climbed from the conveyance and buried herself in his arms.

‘I never thought I would be so pleased to see you.' Simon slapped the Frenchman's back. ‘You could not have timed your visit any better.'

‘But I am not the bearer of good news, my friend.'

‘Then we best get inside for we are also facing a crisis,' Simon explained as he directed the young man towards the large, oak doors.

Walter and Beatrix met them in the hall; a small repast had been placed on the table and the fire lit.

‘I arrived only yesterday,' Armand began. ‘Your sister and her husband have been most kind and offered me excellent accommodation.'

‘You are pale, son.' Simon filled a tankard and passed it to Armand. ‘I would wager you have been unwell and are not yet fully recovered.'

‘That, my friend, is a long story and one I look forward to retelling with all its gory details, but not today.' Armand turned to Catherine. ‘Have you not received an urgent missive from Cécile?'

‘No, nothing whilst we were at Edinburgh Castle and we have only just returned from—'

‘Glasgow,' Simon interjected, fearful that Catherine was about to inadvertently reveal their destination to Walter and Beatrix. ‘We were escorting Lady Dunbar to visit her sister.'

‘But while we were away from the inn, Gabby went missing, along with Girda and Tiphanie.' Catherine struggled to keep the emotion from her voice. ‘Simon and Roderick are planning to ride to the castle and demand to see the King.'

‘Are you telling me that your son has been kidnapped?' Walter appeared genuinely shocked.

Armand looked decidedly uncomfortable and set his tankard down with a sigh. ‘She must have arrived just before me. I had hoped to get ahead of her.'

‘I think you need to explain, lad.' Simon frowned.

Armand divided his gaze between Catherine and Simon. ‘Anaïs d'Arques has come to Scotland to reclaim Gabby. She travels with her brother, Robiérre, who we believe secured her release from the hospice.' Amid the gasps, Armand told of the circumstances leading up to his illness and Cécile's arrest as a heretic. ‘We were to meet Gabriel, Minette, Margot and John Petit in Le Goulet. By the time Cécile and I arrived, Margot had been murdered and Jean Petit was gone.'

‘Oh, my lord! Walter, you must tell them what happened to English Mary,' said Beatrix, turning a nasty shade of pale.

‘When did you see her last?' Walter asked Simon.

‘The day we departed for Glasgow. Catherine provided her with extra clothing, which she intended to share with family in the city.'

Walter looked across at Catherine. ‘I am sorry to tell you that her body was found not ten furlongs from here. She had been brutally beaten, though none of her possessions had been stolen.'

Catherine watched as the walls of the room began to sway and her head felt much too heavy for her neck to hold upright. The last thing she remembered were Simon's strong arms about her and the scent of his doublet pressed against her nose.

Simon strode the short distance from the tower house to the stables and the turned and walked back. He was on his fourth rotation when Roderick and Armand appeared.

‘Perhaps you should conserve your energy, brother,' Roderick suggested.

‘I cannot sit idle and if Walter even looks sideways at me, in my current mood I am liable to wring his skinny little neck.' Simon kicked a small rock across the courtyard.

‘Anaïs and Robiérre must have arrived in Edinburgh at least a week before Armand,' assumed Roderick. ‘And someone told them where they could find English Mary.'

‘She is well known amongst the staff both here and at the palace. It would not have been difficult to gather the information they needed.'

In the sunlight Armand's fragility was more obvious, dark circles ringed his eyes. ‘How is Catherine?' he asked.

‘Distraught,' Simon lamented. ‘And I struggle to find words to comfort her, for what am I to do? If Anaïs has taken Gabby then where are they hiding?'

‘Perhaps she will approach you?' Roderick suggested. ‘Blackmail is at the top of her list of accomplishments.'

‘I doubt she would willingly cross my path, even for a large reward.' Simon slumped down onto the stone bench by the outer wall. ‘I fear I will have to speak with David and ask for help.'

‘Is that wise?' Roderick asked.

‘I have little choice, for what price can be placed on the life of a child, let alone two?'

Simon cradled his head. Nothing felt worse than helplessness. Nothing, except the distress he saw etched on Catherine's face. If it meant bowing down to David then so be it. He thought of Agnes and Clare Mentieth. He had been disgusted by their treacherous act, his heart hardened to their individual sorrows, but now he was able to empathise and could picture himself acting in a very similar manner. He would gladly exchange any amount of money or ancient relic for the safe return of his son and nephew. ‘If we hear nothing by this time tomorrow, I will ride to Edinburgh Castle and beg David for assistance.'

Armand tossed the brush into the bucket and ran his hand down the Panache's hindquarter. ‘I was not quick enough.'

‘You rode with the devil at your back. No one could ask for more.' Roderick was perched on a short, splayed stool, his shoulder wedged into the corner of the stable.