Border Fire (41 page)

Feeling heat in her cheeks again, Janet said hastily, “They cannot know what he thinks of me. They merely do honor to their laird’s wife.”

“Nay, then,” Hob said, his harsh features softening. “Ye’ve been gey kind to many of them and theirs, mistress, and they dinna forget kindness.”

“We’ve no time for this,” she replied, feeling unfamiliar tightness in her throat. “Buccleuch will be waiting to hear from you, and Wee Toad can wait here with me. I promise, I will not leave you to face him alone for long.”

“I dinna ken how ye will fool him in that dress, mistress.”

“Only because you know where it came from,” Janet said. She had kept Jess Armstrong’s sister’s skirts, not bothering to disguise herself for the return journey except by bundling her distinctive hair into an oversized cap. Quinton’s people knew her now, and they would do her no harm.

Hob did not look convinced, but if he had learned anything, he had learned the futility of argument. Touching his cap, he wheeled his pony and rode over the hill to Hermitage.

Twenty minutes later, having edged their way round so as to approach from the direction of Broadhaugh, Janet and Wee Toad Bell followed. A little to her consternation, Buccleuch was in the great hall to greet them. He sat in a large armchair with his bad leg propped up before him on a cushioned bench.

“I’ve been expecting you, lass,” he said, giving her a direct look.

“Have you, sir?” She smiled. “I warrant you have learned that I do not possess much patience. I thought I would find Hob the Mouse returned to you by now, and so I came to hear his news.” Having carefully avoided presenting him with an outright falsehood, she tried to ignore the sense of guilt that stirred within her.

His expression was unreadable. He said evenly, “Apparently the Bairns have agreed to follow him. I own, I did not believe he could be so persuasive.”

“But that is excellent,” she said.

“Indeed.” He turned to Hob and said in the same even tone, “You will have arrangements to make before Saturday, so get yourself some food. Then return to me in an hour and we will discuss exactly what I want you to do. Todrigg is here, and Gaudilands will come later. I’ll arrange for an escort to see her ladyship safely back to Broadhaugh. You can follow after we’ve had our talk.”

Tempted though she was to protest being sent away, Janet held her tongue.

“We’ll go upstairs,” Buccleuch said to her, signing to several of his men. With their help, and despite the logistical difficulties, he made it up the spiral staircase to the master’s hall, where they settled him again. Then, at his brusque command, they took themselves off, leaving Janet alone with him.

For the first time since her arrival, instinct warned her of danger. Reminding herself that he was smaller than either Quinton or Hugh, that his injured leg made it unlikely that he could do her harm, she took a deep breath and let it out. It did no good whatsoever. Her nerves fluttered, her skin prickled, and her mouth felt dry.

“So you rode over from Broadhaugh just to speak to Hob the Mouse, did you?” His tone was still matter-of-fact, but she was not fooled. Although she wanted very much to dampen her dry lips, she did not, nor did she reply.

The silence lengthened until it became clear that he would wait for her.

“Quinton is my husband, sir,” she said quietly at last.

“You are a strange woman,” he replied, shaking his head.

“If you mean that most women would wring their hands and weep, then wait helplessly for men to act, then perhaps I am strange,” she said.

“Most women would show the good sense to realize that men are better suited to act,” he retorted, not bothering now to conceal his anger. “I will not ask you to tell me all you have done, and for that you may thank my deep affection for your husband. If I should learn the extent to which you persuaded men who owe me fealty to defy my commands, I should be forced to punish them, and I need them at their full strength just now. But I will not remain dependent upon others for long, lass. Remember that, and defy me again at your peril.”

“Well, as to that, sir…”

“There is no ‘as to that!’” he snapped. “You will do as I bid you.”

“Forgive me, sir, but truly, I do not act out of defiance.”

“Ah, Christ, lassie, I ken fine why you act, but you’re nobbut a bit lass. I want Quin free, but I’ll no want to face him if I’ve let you be harmed through failure to force your obedience.”

“Please, sir, will you give me but fifteen minutes to explain my thoughts? I vow, if I cannot persuade you, I will do exactly as you bid me.”

“You’ll do as you’re bid, regardless, for there is naught you can tell me that will alter my opinion.”

“My brother Hugh will be at Langholm,” she said. “Doubtless he will have a number of his followers with him.”

“Aye, and so what? ’Tis not unusual for men from both sides of the line to attend the races. How better to judge each other’s horseflesh? For all that it’s practically march treason to sell horses across the line, men do it all the time.”

“Aye, sir, but my point is that my brother’s people are as loyal to me as they are to him, and it is not so unusual for women to attend the races. No one would think it odd to find me there, in any case. You see, I wrote to Lord Scrope a fortnight ago, begging his permission to visit Quinton.”

“I know you did that, lass. I would not be who I am did I not ken fine how to keep an ear to the ground. I know also that he refused your request.”

She wondered what else he knew, but pushed the discomfiting thought aside to say, “Then you must see that people will simply believe that I am still trying to get word of Quinton. I’ll have opportunity to talk with many Grahams, sir, and I’ll tell them what really happened. I have good cause to believe that many do not know the truth about how he was taken. Moreover, regardless of what you think of them, they will disapprove of breaking the truce. That certainly cannot hurt our cause.”

To her surprise, he did not instantly order her to put all thought of attending the races out of her head. She even detected a twinkle in his eyes when he said, “I think I mentioned before that I am no fool, lass. What you say makes sense, but there is more, is there not? You, not Hob the Mouse, are the beacon round which Rabbie’s Bairns have gathered. ’Tis for you they will act and for you that they have agreed to obey men whom they consider to be less able leaders. It occurs to me that it will be helpful if they can manage to keep their purpose firmly in mind right up to the moment they gather to depart for Carlisle.”

She hardly dared to breathe. It was as if he had read her mind.

“You may attend the races, lass,” he said at last. “I own, my worst fear has been that without a strong leader, Rabbie’s misfit Bairns may begin fighting amongst themselves, or simply ignore orders and thus bring the whole raid to naught. Your presence at the races will remind them why they are going to Carlisle. Hob the Mouse will pass word at Langholm of the place and time to meet Todrigg and Gaudilands. He’ll lead the Liddesdale men who are taking part.”

“How many men will you send?” she asked.

“The raiding party will not be large, less than a hundred men, but it will be large enough for the purpose. We want to get across the line without drawing too much notice, and I must see that Broadhaugh remains well guarded, too, you know.” She nodded, able to breathe easily again. A hundred men did not seem enough, but she knew a larger force would make her scheme less likely to succeed. Getting to the races would be just the beginning. While the plan passed from man to man, she would do her part while studiously ignoring Hugh and any Musgraves who were present. She did not think they would seek her out, and it would underscore for the rest of her kinsmen what she thought of their breaking the truce. After the races were over, wherever the little army gathered, her real work would begin.

If Hob was surprised to learn that she had survived her confrontation with Buccleuch with her dignity intact, she could see no sign of it. When she informed him that she meant to attend the races, he said only, “Aye, Himself did tell me that.”

Reassured, she said, “You will be gathering the men after, will you not?”

“Aye.” He watched her with fascination.

“I mean to be there, as well,” she said firmly. “Buccleuch agrees that the Bairns should see me there.” Buccleuch had not said that exactly, but she was certain that he would not object. Not to that part of her plan, at all events.

She had expected to encounter resistance, and when she did not, her suspicions stirred. Buccleuch was not a man who would brook much defiance. Was it possible that he had taken steps to prevent her from putting her plan into action?

Shortly before daybreak Saturday morning, when she descended to the bailey, despite assurances from Ardith that Hob and an armed escort were waiting to accompany her to Langholm, she half expected to find them already gone. They were there, however, and she saw at once by the number of arms they carried that, as she had expected, they meant to act swiftly after the races.

“I don’t want the sidesaddle,” she said when she saw it on her pony. “The distance is too great, and we should have to travel too slowly.”

Hob nodded to one of the lads, and Janet nearly laughed when the lad immediately led another horse from the stable, already saddled with her favorite cross-saddle. She looked at Hob.

Grinning, he shrugged, then moved to help her mount. “Will I tie this bundle to your saddle, mistress?”

“If you please,” she said, hoping he would not ask what it contained.

He did not. Nor did he ask what had become of Ardith, and again her suspicions stirred. Surely he wondered what she thought she was doing, riding nearly twenty miles from home without a female to attend her.

They had traveled nearly five of those miles before the sun peeked over the hills to the east. Janet, riding beside Hob at the head of their entourage, had made no attempt to initiate conversation. The men chatted amongst themselves, but Hob seemed lost in thought.

“There are rather a lot of clouds,” she said at last, casting an eye skyward.

“Aye, it rained again in the night,” he said. “Likely it will tonight, too.”

She looked directly at him. “How many of these men are you expecting to send back with me tonight?”

Returning her look, he said, “As many as ye require, mistress.”

Uncertainty flooded through her. Was he daring to threaten her?

“I told you,” she said, “I mean to go to the gathering place.”

“Aye, Tromble’s Tower. That’s where we’re all to meet.”

“You’ll not try to stop me?”

“Nay, mistress. Himself said I were no to fratch wi’ ye.”

“What else did he say?” she demanded suspiciously.

“He said to give ye your head,” Hob said.

“He didn’t!”

“Aye, then, he did. He said he could order ye locked up, but ye’d most likely just find a way out and get yourself in a worse scrape.”

“I’d get out, at all events,” Janet agreed.

“Aye, well, he said it’s no our job to put ye in a cage. Our job, he said, is to get the master free so that he can deal with ye.”

Certain that she heard a note of satisfaction in his tone, Janet did not press the issue further. He would not stop her, and that was enough. If her blood chilled a little at the thought of facing Quinton afterward, she ignored it.

It was an hour before sundown when they gathered, more than a hundred strong. Janet, in the breeks and boots she had carried in her bundle, and wearing a jack of plate like many of the others, draped her heavy cloak over her saddle bow to accept the golden-brown steel bonnet that Ally the Bastard handed her. The helmet gleamed from regular polishing with sheep fat. It was uncomfortable to wear, but she had twisted her long hair into a topknot to serve as a cushion.

Ally the Bastard said curiously, “Why the bonnet, mistress?”

“I am going with you,” she said.

As word of her reply spread rapidly through the gathering, she heard gruff protests and swearing.

“Hear me,” she cried. “I must go. Carlisle Castle is immense, and I am the only one who. knows exactly where they are keeping Sir Quinton prisoner.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Hob the Mouse shouted.

“Just tell us where he is, mistress!”

“I cannot do that unless someone amongst you already knows the interior of the castle well enough to understand my directions. Moreover, I can find my way more easily than I can describe it.”

More grumbling greeted her words, but there were no more overt protests.

She fastened the strap of her helmet carefully, then turned to Hob the Mouse. “Will that do?”

“Aye, mistress,” he said with a chuckle.

“Sweet Jesu,” Wee Toad Bell exclaimed, shaking his head. “The master will have all our heads for this!”

“Only mine,” Janet told him.

Hob stood in his stirrups and waved. “Lads, can ye hear me?”

“Aye,” they shouted.

Janet surveyed the army she was rapidly coming to think of as her own. Ally the Bastard had assembled his scouts—mostly Armstrongs—a short distance to her right. To her left, men of the fighting party helped Todrigg’s assault group tie the long scaling ladders, two to a pony. They also loaded them with crowbars, pickaxes, sledgehammers, shovels, and other tools—anything that might be helpful to break down walls or gates—or to undermine them, if necessary.

“Ye all ken our plan,” Hob shouted. “Ally the Bastard will captain the scouts! The fighting party will ride next wi’ me, the Laird o’ Gaudilands, and the mistress. The Laird o’ Todrigg will follow wi’ the main body. They’ll be carrying the ladders and assault tools, ye ken, so we canna get far from them.”

A roar greeted him, and Janet grinned at their increasing enthusiasm. After a moment, she held up a hand for silence. When it grew quiet again, she shouted, “Can you hear me?”

“Aye,” they roared.

“Remember, everyone, this is a rescue, not a raid. There must be no plundering tonight.”

Exaggerated moans and groans answered her.

She waited until the noise had died to muttering.

“Hear me well, all you Bairns,” she shouted then, wanting to be certain that no man among them could claim later that he had not heard her. “No one is to lay violent hands on any townsman or any woman. No man is to take so much as a stone from Carlisle Castle or injure one of its inmates without strong provocation. Anyone who does will answer both to Sir Quinton and to Buccleuch. Put plainly, lads, there must be no murder or mayhem. We are simply reclaiming one of our own who was captured in violation of the truce.”