The Gowrie Conspiracy (18 page)

Back at Falkland Palace, the arch conspirator Sandy Kay was also mad.

Mad with rage. News of Walter Murray’s sudden death had deprived him of a reasonable income, based on plans to rid his one-time master of Tansy Scott, his legal wife who was now his widow.

Since the attempts on her life had failed miserably he could not expect to be reimbursed for the fracas of the mistimed accident with the bridge at Kirktillo. It had cost him the
services
of two out-of-work mercenaries hired at a local inn.

As they were now out for his blood – quite literally. He decided to quit Falkland Palace quite sharply since he had also failed the Duke of Lennox in that other important mission.

To discredit Tam Eildor. A task no longer necessary, since Master Eildor had been removed from under His Grace’s amorous eye to Gowrie House.

Ludovick Stewart had no quarrel with the young Earl and his brother. His first wife Sophia, who died some eight years ago, had been their elder sister, a relationship he was not inclined to brag about, aware of James’s violent antipathy to any mention of the hated Ruthvens.

The morning of August 3rd saw Kirktillo in a flurry of
activity
.

The newlyweds were leaving for Edinburgh, and thence to Lady Gowrie at Dirleton Castle. But first they would call upon Simon Fuller and bring the glad tidings of their
marriage
to Martin Hailes, with the certain hope that he would offer to accommodate them at his Lawnmarket house.

The bridge repaired, Will took out his seldom-used
carriage
with a groom delighted at the chance of a rare jaunt to Edinburgh.

Tansy embraced Tam in farewell and said, ‘This is just a short parting, you will see me at Gowrie House very soon. As soon as my dear husband here will release me,’ she added with a mock curtsey in Will’s direction.

As Tam glanced quickly at Will who smiled, Tansy said defiantly, ‘I gave my word. They need my assistance. Two young lads, helpless as babes where refurbishing a house is concerned.’

Will laughed and kissed her hand. ‘I think I can spare her for a short while. I cannot be greedy – what are a few days when she has the rest of her life to spend with me?’

They radiated happiness, the certainty of a future which stretched ahead exactly as they had always imagined. The dream they had believed in for so long had at last come true. And watching the carriage depart, wishing them God-speed, Tam closed his eyes, willing it to be so.

Willing it to be so, he thought again as, ready to leave for Gowrie House with his saddlebags, he headed for the stables. Why should he suddenly prickle with terror of the unknown? If only he knew its nature and could warn them.

‘Tam!’

The horseman racing across the bridge was Alexander. ‘I met Tansy and Will on the road.’ He laughed. ‘My timing could not have been better. Now you are to come to Gowrie, John is already on his way there, but I told him I would
collect
you. John has a great deal on hand at the moment. He is to deliver a sermon at St John’s Kirk in two days time. He sends his apologies.’

Walking alongside, Tam bowed in acknowledgement, thinking this was a great deal of trouble for the Earl and his brother to personally escort a servant from one house to another, only a few miles distant.

A groom appeared leading Tam’s horse and as he
mounted
, Alexander said, ‘A moment, where pray, is your luggage?’

‘Here, sir.’ Tam patted the saddlebags. ‘A servant, even a steward, needs little luggage, sir. Merely a few necessities.’

Alexander shook his head and said sternly. ‘No servant, Tam Eildor and no steward, for we have one already from Trochrie. And no “sir” either. You come to Gowrie as our dear friend and honoured guest.’

As they rode out, Tam marvelled at such a generous
invitation
on a mere three days’ acquaintance. Alexander called across to him, ‘You shall hunt with us if you have a mind to it and perhaps advise on certain other matters before you return to Peebles.’

That was the story Tansy had told Alexander allowing Tam an open door and the freedom to leave when he must. As for those ‘certain other matters’, Tam hoped that young Ruthven had accepted his final word on the madcap scheme of the king’s kidnapping.

Riding swiftly down through twisting lanes from Kirktillo on to the tree-lined roads that led to Perth, the countryside had the mellow look of a hot summer that had burned itself out, its day almost over.

The distance was short and Tam was thankful.

He was able to handle a horse competently enough. Even the wild stallion whose life he had saved from King James’s
wrath had settled down very happily to domestic life with Queen Anne’s mares.

At last the roofs of houses and the tall spire of St John’s Kirk appeared above the distant treetops and a few minutes later they were riding towards Shoe Gait, or South Street, the city’s chief thoroughfare, crossed at right angles with Spey Gate on the right and Water Gate on the left.

There, behind high walls with locked gates, glimpses of handsome turreted houses half-hidden by trees, were the homes of Perth’s richest citizens and merchants and the town houses of county lairds.

The gateway of Gowrie House was directly opposite the end of Shoe Gait, with a wall extending the length of the Spey Gate and concealing vast gardens stretching down to the River Tay.

Recalling their earlier unsuccessful visit en route for Kirktillo and the uneasy atmosphere exuded by the empty house, Tam hoped that a sunny day would bring about a great improvement.

There was none; the house, a pile of buildings of assorted dimensions like an inverted ‘L’ faced east and west. Only late afternoon would obliterate the dark shadows of its north-
facing
courtyard and warm west-facing apartments with the gleam of a sunset sky.

Grooms took their horses and Alexander led the way into the house by-passing a door which lay open revealing a
narrow
spiral staircase, which Tam presumed to be the main entrance.

Alexander shook his head. ‘That is another way. Quicker access to the upper apartments of the house, but so dark and dismal it has always been known as the Black Turnpike. Follow me.’

The main doorway led up a great wheel-staircase to emerge into the Great Hall dominated by a handsome stone fireplace and bare stone walls. Beneath lay rolled tapestries and carpets while items of furniture, dust-sheeted chairs and
tables, stood everywhere, awaiting distribution.

‘This will appear a great deal more comfortable once Tansy gets to work on deciding how and where the tapestries should be hung,’ said Alexander, almost apologetically, as if, Tam thought, he was indeed some honoured and
distinguished
guest.

As Alexander opened a door on the left Tam had a glimpse of a panelled room whose central table and chairs proclaimed it as a dining-room before following across the hall through a door with an external stair which he said led into the garden.

Back on to the main staircase, Alexander pointed to a door into the family apartments and said, ‘We shall find you a place there, Tam.’ Another door and they were in the Great Gallery hung with paintings which Alexander pointed out had been gathered from all over Europe by his father.

‘Facing south it was the warmest and most welcoming area of the house. Windows gazed down on sunny tree-lined
gardens
. Beyond them like a twisting silver ribbon, the River Tay.

‘This is magnificent,’ Tam said.

Alexander sighed. ‘It is indeed. It was the inspiration of our late father, the Earl who had it built and supervised its
decoration
,’ indicating the painted ceiling with its ornate cornices and carved wooden panels depicting scenes from Greek mythology. And leading the way across the floor, ‘The gallery extends above the dining-room and the hall we have just left and over there,’ he pointed to the right to a door in the wall. ‘That is the Gallery Chamber. Its windows face on to the Shoe Gait.’

Tam followed him into the room. It was so cold after the warmth of the Gallery with its sunny windows, that it gave him a sense of shock, as if ice had been thrown over him. At the extremity of one wall a door led into a turret, a small
circular
-shaped study where one window looked down to the gateway, the other to the street.

Alexander was opening a small door to the right. At first glance, Tam thought this to be a cupboard, since it was completely
dark.

‘Down there is the Black Turnpike. Now you will observe how easy it is to reach the upper floor by anyone entering the quadrangle and avoiding the main door.’

The Gallery Chamber was empty, one wall draped loosely by a curtain. Even on this warm August day the room had a brooding atmosphere which chilled Tam to the bone.

He wondered if Alexander felt it too as he went across and dragged the curtain aside, to reveal the full-length portrait of a man in fine robes. A falcon on his wrist, deerhounds staring up into his face, he stood proud but faintly smiling against the distant backdrop of what was presumably Ruthven Castle.

‘That is my father, Tam. The man the king so cruelly put to death,’ said Alexander, his voice bitter and angry. ‘I hardly knew him. I was only three years old, but I loved him. Indeed, I do still love him and it is my whole life’s intention to avenge his death.’

Tam said nothing. This was the same statement Alexander had made at Kirktillo, the same sentiments which he guessed were expressed over and over again to all who would give him hearing.

Treasonable sentiments which could be extremely
dangerous
if they ever reached King James’s ears.

Alexander was regarding him eagerly as if he expected some response.

The appearance of a servant at the other end of the gallery saved Tam the necessity of emphasising once again that such schemes were doomed to disaster and would inevitably end with the hangman’s rope and the drawing and quartering reserved for traitors.

The servant announced that the Earl wished to speak with his brother.

Alexander took Tam by the arm. ‘How selfish I am being, keeping you to myself like this. John must also be waiting impatiently to welcome you to Gowrie House.’

Tam followed him downstairs to the dining-room, now occupied by the Earl with a spread of papers on the table so that his first impression was not of welcome but of intrusion.

As Alexander pushed him forward, introducing him with great affection, John looked askance and with an impatient frown and set down his pen. Embarrassed by Alexander’s fulsome manner, John’s reaction suggested that his request for his brother’s company was for some matter to be
discussed
privately. He had not expected to see him
accompanied
by Tam Eildor.

Although John greeted him civilly enough, could Tam have read his thoughts, they would have revealed some surprise and confusion that this newcomer, who he had understood from Tansy was to be employed by them as steward, had been suddenly elevated to his brother’s dearest friend and their honoured guest.

John hoped that his misgivings were not evident for this was a path he had walked wearily many times before. His impetuous younger brother, the Master of Ruthven, lacked all discernment in choosing companions. This man Eildor was typical of the kind of friend he would often choose from a lower strata of society.

A better choice, he had to admit, than Robert Logan who John dismissed as a dangerous plotter and cautioned his brother against as a reckless schemer.

Certainly this man Eildor was unusual enough to stand out in any crowd. Not a flamboyant character like Logan, rather the opposite. Scholarly and reserved but neither sly-seeming or secretive.

Taller than average, well-built, his looks were strange. There was something about his face that John had never encountered before in a man and yet it was familiar and he suddenly realised what had been lurking at the back of his mind.

Eildor bore a strange resemblance to their foster-sister Tansy. Had he hit upon the very reason why he appealed so
strongly to Alexander, John thought triumphantly?

Poor Alexander, periodically in hopeless infatuation for some fine lady or other who was older, married and either inaccessible or unresponsive to him, had always been a little in love with his foster-sister.

Regarding Eildor, however, John was certain his feelings towards this man were not unnatural, since he was tired of having to listen to the tale of Alexander’s attempted
seduction
by King James and how he had fled to understanding Queen Anne. He had also been in love with her and hinted that she returned his affection.

‘Do not encourage her for that is a dangerous pursuit for a queen,’ John had remarked. ‘Heads have fallen for less.’

John sighed. The sooner his brother found a wife, the
better
and there was an interesting possibility of matchmaking in the immediate future. After his sermon at St John’s Kirk on Tuesday, he was proposing to break his journey to Dirleton to see his mother by calling on Lady Margaret Douglas at Seaton Palace.

John had met Lady Margaret several times and found her company quite delightful. Teased by Alexander, he had slyly mentioned her younger sister who he had to reluctantly admit was clever as well as being the acknowledged beauty of the family.

John soon realised his error. He should have known better. Experience should have taught him that anything he
suggested
or hinted at prompted immediate opposition. This was no exception. His gentle proposal regarding a visit to Seaton Palace received the inevitable reaction.

‘I cannot bear clever young maidens. They never learn how to laugh and they take life far too seriously. But the sister sounds a good choice for you, brother, for you must take a wife, and soon.’

When John did not comment or appear to take this
message
to heart, Alexander continued solemnly, ‘You must
provide
an heir for our dynasty. If you do not marry then my son
will be the Earl of Gowrie some day.’

John laughed. ‘You are racing ahead of yourself, Alexander. First get your wife, then your son – and then come back to me with your warning.’

Thinking it over though, John decided that Alexander was right, for once. The title inherited early carried with it undoubted responsibilities. Many lairds and noble lords of his acquaintance had already produced heirs by the dynastic necessity of arranged marriages at the age of twenty-two.

Thus far he had never met the one woman who so
outshone
all others that he yearned to spent the rest of his life with her alone. Had he been so inclined, the alternative of taking a mistress was forbidden by strict adherence to his Presbyterian principles.

He decided that he could afford to be leisurely about the future. Time was on his side. Time without the encumbrance of a wife, to indulge in his scholarly activities and the
fascinating
subjects opened up to him in Padua, especially
necromancy
and alchemy.

Dining together that first evening, Tam’s first impression that the two Ruthvens were poles apart was confirmed over the meal that evening. While they did not actively quarrel over any particular topic under discussion, their personalities were constantly at war with each other and unrelated even by colouring, John was taller, tougher looking with thick fair hair, a beard and the high cheekboned face of the Lowland Scot while Alexander, red-haired, slight and mercurial leaned towards Celtic origins.