The Gowrie Conspiracy (17 page)

There was panic in her voice as she clung to him. ‘Tell me that will not happen, Will. Tell me this is no dream.’

Tenderly Will kissed her, cradled her like a child in his arms. ‘No more bad dreams, my dearest love. Not ever again. Now you are mine forever.’

‘I only ever wanted to be free of him. Not his death,’ she whispered. ‘And although he treated me so badly, I am sorry for the child who has lost a father and for his grieving
mistress
. Like myself she has been an unofficial wife for many years.’

‘I should not waste too much sympathy in that direction. Think instead of how many times the two of them must have wished you dead,’ said Will sternly.

‘Aye, and done more than that. Remember the incidents at the queen’s Masque. Think how he would have rejoiced had news of your death been carried to him. To have heard that you had been the victim of a misplaced arrow or a goblet of poisoned wine,’ he added grimly.

‘We must tell Tam,’ said Tansy.

Tam was greatly relieved at the news. Like Will, he
suspected
that Walt’s hand could have directed the attempts on Tansy’s life. Now he too could also breathe freely at last, with one less item on his growing list of concerns.

‘Now we can be wed,’ said Will. And to Tansy, ‘We need not wait any longer. Not one day. Tomorrow will be our
wedding
day.”

‘How can that be?’ asked Tansy softly, gazing at him
adoringly
.

‘We have long been man and wife in the sight of God, now only the legalities remain. I shall ask Reverend Wilton to perform the ceremony. Here in our own home.’

To Tam he explained, ‘Reverend Wilton is our parish
minister
and has always shown a great deal of understanding for our living together as man and wife which was not of our choosing, but forced upon us after Tansy sought refuge at Kirktillo long ago – ’

‘A moment, Will dear,’ Tansy interrupted. ‘Make it the day after tomorrow,’ she begged.

‘You say that – after waiting so long. My patience, dearest love, is at a very low ebb. I want to claim before the whole world that Tansy Scott is now Mistress Hepburn, until death do us part.’

And so saying, he whirled Tansy around in his arms, while she laughed, kissing him and calling upon him to desist, that the whole world was whirling about her ears.

At last on terra firma again, Tansy said excitedly, ‘We must invite John and Alexander from Trochrie. They shall be our witnesses.’

‘We need a man to give the bride away,’ said Will. And smiling at Tam, ‘A father’s duty, but as Tansy’s true friend, one you will perform very well indeed.’

Tam bowed and as Tamsy hugged him and kissed his cheek, he decided wryly that she could be very bold at
displaying
her affection. Especially since he could not take her in
his arms, as he longed to, in front of Will.

Into this happy scene rode a newcomer.

Alexander Ruthven, on his way to Gowrie House from Trochrie, had decided to call in at Kirktillo and pay his respects to his foster-sister and his dear friend and neighbour Will Hepburn.

An onlooker, Tam found himself in the midst of family jubilation at the announcement of their unexpected wedding.

Embracing Tansy and Will, Alexander shook Tam warmly by the hand and said that this was the best possible news. He had never met Walter Murray but anyone who was unkind to his dearest Tansy was his enemy for life.

Tam, observing the bond of affection between the pair, realised that Tansy had been more fortunate in her foster-family than many orphans are with their own kin. In too many homes, the unfortunate child thrust upon them to rear as a matter of grudging duty becomes the jealous target of foster-siblings and, bullied and ill-treated all round, is regarded as little more than the lowest unpaid menial.

Tam’s thoughts on the matter were confirmed when Alexander, with his arm about Tansy’s shoulders, kissed her cheek and said to him, ‘There is no blood kin between us and had dear Tansy not this very day promised to be Will’s wife, then I would have married her tomorrow.’

‘You would not,’ laughed Tansy. ‘I am far too old for you.’

‘A mere fourteen years,’ sniffed Alexander indignantly. ‘A mere nothing if our roles were reversed. Old men take wives young enough to be their grandchildren,’ he added earnestly.

Will produced a bottle of fine claret and a toast was drunk to the wedding. Amid talk of Lady Gowrie’s health and whether she was making a good recovery at Dirleton with
their sister Beatrix, as well as other matters relating to the family in which Tam had no part, he had a chance to observe the Master of Ruthven.

Alexander had a fiery nature to match his fiery red hair. A nineteen-year-old whose life was already full of passionate loves and passionate hates.

Listening to tales of Padua from whence he had recently returned, and his revolt against the appalling conditions among the poor and the imprisoned, Tam decided they must have been dire indeed to make such an impression,
considering
the appalling conditions of such poor wretches in his own native land.

It was not difficult to make an assessment of Alexander Ruthven. Intensely chivalrous, he was ready to spring into action to right wrongs, fight imaginary dragons and rescue damsels whether or not they were in distress and whether or not they even wished to be rescued.

Tam had an unhappy awareness that Alexander Ruthven was one of time’s misplacements born at least two hundred years too late. He belonged to the medieval age of knightly deeds and tournaments, and would have served well in the Crusades.

The wedding of Will and Tansy was planned with
remarkable
speed to take place immediately and Alexander went back to Trochrie to fetch his brother.

To Tansy’s anxious question whether Martin should be invited, Will shook his head. ‘Summoning cousin Hailes will delay us by at least another day and politeness would mean including Simon, his wife and family. And who knows how the word might spread and the crowds gather?’

He shook his head. ‘No, my dearest. Neither of us would want that. To all who know us, for all intents and purposes except the legal ones, we have been long married. Martin will understand. You have been my wife in his eyes for a long time now. He can but add his blessing when next we meet and I have a fancy to take you to Edinburgh.’

‘And Edinburgh is not too far from Dirleton and my dear foster-mother. She will be so happy.’

Tansy was secretly relieved at his decision for she felt this small miracle, this bubble of happiness, was fragile as
thistledown
on a summer’s day and any delays might cause it to blow away and vanish for ever.

So Will summoned the minister from the parish church to prepare with all possible haste and in the late afternoon, accompanied by the two Ruthvens, the wedding party set off on foot to walk the quarter-mile across fields to the parish church.

There Tam led a radiant Tansy down the aisle. She looked at him and smiled, a little self-conscious, pleased but feeling somewhat overdressed for a simple country wedding. The wreath of wild flowers on her red-gold hair was not quite appropriate for the elaborate satin dress that the queen had given to her for the other wedding which would be taking place a few miles away.

As Tam handed her to Will, she blinked away tears. For the day that she had dreaded having to live through, so fraught with menace, with misery and fear had, by God’s grace, turned out to be the fulfilment of her heart’s desire, her own wedding day.

As Tansy and Will stood before the altar they made before God and those witnesses present the vows to love, honour and obey, until death did them part – the same vows that made them man and wife which they had sworn to each other privately so many years ago.

While Will slipped the ring back once again on Tansy’s
finger
, the sun beamed through the windows, touching their heads in benediction. And outside, the minister’s words were in keen competition with a blackbird singing most obligingly on a tree nearby.

Over the empty echoing pews, two butterflies, radiantly blue, fluttered and danced, while a bee droned, busily
sipping
nectar from the posy of wild flowers that Tansy had set
aside.

As they left the church she smiled, kissed her foster-
brothers
and Tam. ‘If only this day could last forever,’ she
whispered
and added wistfully, ‘There will never be another day – not in my whole life, I know – as happy as this one.’

And despite the warm sunshine, Tam shivered. For an instant the little group were frozen in time. The faces of bride and groom, the two handsome foster-brothers sharing in their wonder and delight.

‘It can never come again.’

Tam felt Tansy’s wistful words hung on the air, and he wanted to push back the moment of prophecy, the darkness still to come which might blight all memories of that golden day.

A simple wedding feast awaited them in Kirktillo. Wine and a joint of lamb with vegetables from the garden and a
splendid
apple pie.

With his first chance to get acquainted more closely with the two brothers, Tam expecting another edition of Alexander decided that it was fortunate for the Ruthvens that John, his senior by three years, had inherited the title.

Now Earl of Gowrie, he had been appointed Lord Provost of Perth when only fifteen years old. It took only half an hour in their company for the difference in their temperaments to become obvious. John was a much more cautious and
responsible
young man who regarded his fiery sibling with the apprehension of a man holding in check a team of wild
horses
.

Alexander had a special place in Tansy’s heart and,
walking
ahead of the others in the gardens, he was eager to hear about Tam Eildor.

In common with everyone else who first met him, Tam had made a deep impression on the boy.

‘Distant cousin, on my granddam Beaton’s side,’ was Tansy’s prompt response in reply to Alexander’s first question.

‘I guessed that,’ he grinned. ‘Two people so alike must be related. Brother John deeply regrets that he never met Lady Beaton. Was she really a witch?’ he asked.

Tansy laughed. ‘Dear Alexander, you have asked me that question so many times and the answer is still the same.’

‘Indeed?’ he said eagerly.

‘Indeed. To me she was simply my granddam, loving and kind. And wise with herbs and simples. I never saw her in any other light.’

‘John would be disappointed. Despite that sober and
scholarly
manner, my brother became particularly interested in alchemy and necromancy when we were in Padua. He often said he would have liked to discuss it with her, that she might have been uncommon knowledgeable about it. He insists there is much to learn about that other world. What do you think, Tansy?’

‘I have no opinions on the subject,’ was the careful reply.

Alexander frowned. ‘But even as a child, you saw things – things that other people were not aware of.’

‘Did I? An impressionable child. That was a long time ago,’ she said and, ignoring his look of disappointment, she
hurried
him in the direction of the other three, their heads bent in conversation.

A dangerous topic for discussion, but she did not doubt that Tam could have shed a great deal of light on John’s curiosity about that other world beyond time that so intrigued him.

The fact that Tam was devoted to Tansy was enough
recommendation
for Alexander to decide without knowing
anything
more about him that here was an excellent friend, a boon companion in the making.

And had he needed further information, the knowledge that he was in retreat from Falkland Palace having spurned the amorous advances of King James was an unbreakable bond.

He already felt he had found a brother in distress and once again he rode his favourite hobby horse, the degradation and iniquities he had suffered for that mercifully brief time before he had quit royal service as Gentleman of the Bedchamber.

Banging his fists together, his eyes blazed that his friend Tam Eildor should have also suffered at the hands of the
lustful
king.

‘That murderous wicked man – who killed our father – expected me – his son – to be his catamite. If only I could make him suffer, for Master Eildor and for myself.’

And quite suddenly, Alexander had an inspiration, a plan that would avenge them both.

Visiting his mother in Dirleton he had met Robert Logan, an old conspirator whose stronghold was Fast Castle, on the wild Berwickshire coast. Lady Gowrie, was well aware of her young son’s vulnerability regarding stories of hidden
treasure
. She considered Logan a black-hearted schemer, a man not to be trusted and to be treated with extreme caution.

But in common with many schemers, Logan also possessed plausibility and charm, attributes which he was ready and willing to shed on any who he thought might be useful to him. It took him less than an hour to impress the boy, who was incapable of seeing beneath the surface exterior of
anyone
who was kind and heavy on flattery.

Logan was no friend of King James. Listening to Alexander’s tale of woe, of his grandfather and father both executed plus his own indignities at Falkland Palace at the hands of the king, Logan was quick to see opportunity
lurking
within his grasp.

Telling Alexander just enough to encourage his interest, he hinted at a vague plan in the making to kidnap James, take him by boat from Leith to Fast Castle and keep him prisoner until he agreed to their terms, unspecified to Alexander.

The only words which he listened to were, ‘To keep him prisoner as once your father kept him in Ruthven Castle.’

Logan did not add that he had paid for it with his head.

Alexander was bound to secrecy. On no account was he to tell anyone. He could be discreet when necessity demanded, however, he could not resist gleefully telling brother John of his meeting with Logan and the plan to abduct the king.

John was horrified, appalled at such an idea. Proud to be the peace loving, respected young Earl of Gowrie, Lord Provost and God-fearing Presbyterian and keen upholder of the Protestant faith, he was eager to keep it that way and at that moment was conscientiously working on a sermon to be delivered at St John’s Kirk on Tuesday, 5th August.

‘Let it go,’ he warned his brother. ‘It is folly and far too
dangerous
. There can be no good outcome to such a scheme. Remember what happened last time – to our father, I entreat you.’

‘Do you not see, this is my very reason – and it should be yours too, brother.’

‘Alexander, we are living in peace now. The old wounds are forgotten. Or should be, for it is time to do so, if we wish to have any future.’

And at his brother’s stubborn look, he added, ‘I absolutely forbid you to go ahead with this mad scheme. I warn you of its dangers and I want no part.’

Alexander, disappointed, feeling let down and betrayed, thereupon decided that Tam Eildor, a brother in spirit, bold and fearless, would be the perfect accomplice.

He had it all worked out. Together they would make the king smart, put the fear of God in him.

And so Tam listened to his vague hints and tried to
dissuade
the impetuous Alexander with his wild ideas
emanating
from Logan, about whom he knew nothing, but could guess quite a lot of what was in his mind, when Alexander spread a plan of Fast Castle on the table before him.

‘Take a look, Tam, see what possibilities it has for us,’ said Alexander excitedly. ‘It stands on the very edge of a
perpendicular
cliff, its only access by a natural staircase cut in the living rock.’

Pausing, he looked eagerly at Tam. ‘Already it is known as the meeting-place of smugglers and Papist spies with gold in their purses, chosen because it is an impregnable fortress, with the wild North Sea on one side and landward a waste of bent and dune from which it is severed by a narrow rib of rock over a deep gorge spanned by a drawbridge.’

Tam tried in vain to reason with him. How could he hope to accomplish all this, kidnap the king with a handful of loyal servants – there were about six only at Trochrie who would be going with the Ruthvens to open up Gowrie House.

‘There is a saying that twenty men could hold Fast Castle against all Scotland,’ said Alexander triumphantly.

‘That may be so. But first you would need a whole army to get him there, from Falkland to Leith and down the
treacherous
Berwickshire coast.’

Alexander pondered for a moment. ‘We could take a ship from Perth down the River Tay – ’

At that Tam stopped listening. He decided that the boy with his fantasies was not really dangerous. He was just a
little
mad. A madness, he hoped, that age and wisdom would cure.