The Fire in the Flint (31 page)

In the end, Fergus did not dine with Matilda. He had not the constitution to accept two humiliations in one day. On his arrival he discovered one of
Matilda’s old sweethearts seated in the hall, regaling her with tales of his adventures in Edward Longshanks’s ranks. Her blue eyes were fixed on his suntanned face, sounds from her lovely throat expressing awe at every pause. She was enraptured by a traitor. Fergus was doubly shamed, by his lack of experience and his stupidity in falling in love with such a witless woman. He could not bear another night in Perth, no matter what Maggie had to tell him. In late afternoon he collected his travelling pack from Maggie’s stable and was off north.

16

After Roger left for the warehouses in the morning Margaret lingered in the hall waiting for Fergus. She hoped his tardiness was a sign that he had stayed late with Matilda. To while away the time she engaged Celia in helping her hang the largest of Christiana’s tapestries.

Quiet at first, her dark eyes pensive, Celia eventually broke her silence to ask whether Margaret dreaded the return of the English soldiers. Margaret was about to answer when Celia continued.

‘Will they take an interest in Smyth’s death? Do we have anything to fear?’

‘They must control the townsfolk for the safety of their men, so they’ll mark anything unusual. I’m certain they’ll hear the rumour and come to question Fergus,’ Margaret said. She explained
Roger’s reasoning about the surreptitious burial. She understood Celia’s sceptical expression, for it seemed less useful each time she recounted it. It was plain that she had not managed to reassure Celia. Margaret was sorry to leave her with such concerns, but she was anxious to take the documents to Ada and learn their contents for she must know the nature of her father’s business with Longshanks. ‘If Fergus comes, tell him I’ll not be long away,’ she said.

Ada answered her knock, elegant in her silk gown but too impatient to wait for a servant to open the door. Seeing something in Margaret’s demeanour, she guided her in by the arm and closed the door. ‘What has happened?’ She lifted Margaret’s chin so that she could clearly see her face. ‘You look as if you’re about to have a spell.’ She touched one of Margaret’s hands. ‘And you’re cold despite the day.’

‘I’m in no danger of fainting.’ Margaret was sorry to have caused Ada concern, but she did not wish to spend the visit reassuring her. ‘I hoped you might read some papers to me. I’ve learned to read a little, but only enough to confuse myself.’ She glanced at Ada’s niece, who was rocking the baby’s cradle with one foot as she spun wool. ‘Might we talk where we would not be heard?’

Ada glanced with interest at Margaret’s basket. ‘The kitchen is deserted at present.’ She led the way to a small building at the edge of the
backland. Directing Margaret to sit at the table beneath the window, Ada tossed some herbs in a small pot, added water, and set it over the fire. Their relationship was that of friends, but Ada also enjoyed mothering Margaret, and her efforts were appreciated. Once she was seated she asked about the documents. ‘Are they personal letters?’

‘No.’ Margaret’s face burned as she drew from the basket one of the letters she’d taken from Aylmer’s casket, suddenly shy about having taken what didn’t belong to her. ‘They may concern dangerous matters. You’ve only to say and I’ll find someone else to help me.’

‘Someone you would not mind endangering?’ Ada asked with a wry chuckle. But her strong face tensed as she noticed the broken seal. ‘It looks like rather official correspondence. Where did you find this?’

‘In the possession of Roger’s servant.’

‘Servant,’ Ada repeated in a thoughtful voice. For a long moment she held Margaret’s gaze. It seemed neither of them breathed.

When at last Ada stirred, her eyes and mouth softened. ‘I know you would not have searched had you not good cause.’ She spread the document on the table before her. ‘Let me see whether I can help.’ She skimmed the document and nodded. ‘The scribe has a good hand. That is to be expected, of course, in the household of King Edward of England.’ She watched Margaret’s reaction.

Sick at heart, Margaret crossed herself. ‘So I was right in thinking the seal that of Edward Longshanks. Are you able to read the letter?’

‘I can see that you are aware of the danger in reading such things, Maggie. Have a care.’ Ada nodded to herself, as if satisfied that she had done her duty in warning her friend. ‘The answer to your question is yes, by a good hand I mean that the writing is easy to read. You have learned some letters, you say?’

‘A priest in Edinburgh was teaching me.’

‘At your request?’

Margaret nodded.

‘I’m glad you wish to learn. I’ll take over for him if you like.’

By the rather inappropriate sparkle in Ada’s eyes, Margaret saw that her friend welcomed the intrigue. Margaret had hoped that Ada’s past with a noble lover might prove helpful, but she had expected some resistance.

Without waiting for Margaret’s response, Ada lifted the document and began to read aloud. The letter acknowledged Malcolm Kerr’s offer of the use of his ships for some of the king’s business in Flanders. The king accepted the offer, with the arrangements to follow.

It was as Margaret had feared, her father had chosen the side of wealth and influence in this struggle. She turned away from Ada, shamed by her father’s lack of honour.

Ada set down the document. ‘Many in Perth would admire Malcolm for this,’ she said in a thoughtful tone.

‘I hate him,’ Margaret said too loudly. ‘I am ashamed to be his daughter, coward and traitor that he is.’

Ada shifted, her silks whispering richly. ‘He might have done you a favour, Maggie.’

‘How could this favour me?’

Ada smoothed out the curling document. ‘If the English were in fact the executioners, they will never mention Smyth’s death; if they had nothing to do with it but consider a thief in your father’s warehouse a threat to either their supplies or their plans, again they won’t mention it.’ She gestured to Margaret to move closer. ‘Come, I’ll read the letter slowly, pointing to each word. Then we’ll read the next.’

Following along as Ada read calmed Margaret’s mind a little, but Aylmer’s possession of her father’s letter troubled her.

She next chose the document addressed to Roger that mentioned her own surname and bore part of a royal seal. She held her breath as Ada explained that it was dated shortly before Roger’s departure for Dundee. It was not the royal seal, Ada said, after a quick look at the contents, but that of the constable of Carlisle Castle, a royal castle, and thus it incorporated some royal details in its design.

‘The scribe wrote on behalf of Robert Bruce the constable of Carlisle,’ Ada explained, ‘father to the Bruce who some believe might lead us out from beneath Edward Longshanks’s hammer.’

Margaret had not told Ada of Roger’s connection to the Bruce. It was an unexpected complication, that Roger had been in contact with the father of the Robert Bruce whom Roger served. This Bruce was still publicly loyal to Edward Longshanks. Fearing the letter might concern Roger’s rescue of Edwina of Carlisle, Margaret said, ‘I don’t know that I want to hear this one.’

Ada gave a silky shrug. ‘It is a trifle, purely business. On behalf of your father, Roger was to receive some goods for the constable in Dundee and arrange for transport to Carlisle.’ She looked up at Margaret. ‘Would you care to go over the words?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘Perhaps I can come again to learn more words.’ She was relieved that Roger had genuinely intended to go to Dundee.

‘Come as soon as you like,’ said Ada as she handed back the document. ‘Do you have another?’

Margaret produced the other document she’d taken from Roger, the one with the word ‘Rex’ in the text.

Smoothing it out, Ada glanced through it, her expression growing troubled. ‘I believe this may
be what you deemed dangerous. A letter from the younger Robert Bruce. Your husband should have destroyed this, once read.’

Her heart pounding, Margaret bent over the parchment. She recognised a few words but too little to understand the message. ‘What does it say?’

Ada read slowly. It concerned Edwina of Carlisle, the wife of ‘our good friend’. The wording was cautious, until mention of Edward’s slaughter of the burghers of Berwick, a slip of passion in an otherwise harmless request for Roger to escort Edwina to Edinburgh and there await the funds to continue on to an unspecified safe haven. She would travel under the name Dame Grey.

So Roger had rescued Edwina at the request of Robert the Bruce.

‘Does Roger think to survive by pleasing both sides?’ Ada wondered.

‘He had a change of heart as he travelled to Dundee on the elder Bruce’s business,’ Margaret said. ‘I already knew of this.’

‘Ah.’ Ada rose and poured the contents of the small pot she’d heated into two cups. After handing one to Margaret she moved to the window with hers and stood quietly gazing out for a while.

The tisane was spiced with ginger, Margaret discovered as she held the steaming liquid to her lips, and it was still too hot to drink. She set down the cup, drew out another document. The rustle of
silk made her look up. Ada had turned from the window. Her attention was on the basket.

‘Are you also a supporter of the young Robert Bruce, Maggie?’

‘No.’ Margaret sipped the tisane, burning the tip of her tongue.

‘Are you spying on Roger for someone else?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘For myself. I need to know this man I married.’

Ada eased down beside her and took her hand, looking long into her eyes. ‘My dear friend, I had guessed there was much you had kept from me. Your stories the other day were amusing, yet I sensed a great sadness behind them. I pray you confide in me.’

It took little more coaxing for Margaret to open up to her friend.

‘Roger seems unable or unwilling to tell me the truth about how he came to disappear, what his bonds are with others.’ She explained who Edwina of Carlisle was, and her lingering suspicion that she’d been Roger’s mistress. ‘Uncle Murdoch was so loath to tell me about her, I was ready to believe the worst. And then Roger reappears with a servant far too fine for his station.’ Knowing she could trust Ada, Margaret also confided her own staunch support of John Balliol so that her dilemma was clear. ‘You see, I’ve taken a scunner to my own husband.’ She shook her head.

Ada listened to all of it attentively, asking no
questions though her eyes were alive with emotion, which Margaret found comforting.

‘And yet I weaken at his touch,’ Margaret added in a hushed voice, then blushed and looked away, thinking she had said too much. The last was not something to share with others, no matter how close. She closed her eyes and drank down the spicy tisane.

Ada was bent over the next document by the time Margaret was composed enough to open her eyes.

‘I am glad to know all this,’ said Ada. ‘Now I know your mind.’

‘I feared I’d said too much.’

Ada pressed Margaret’s hand, then tapped the letter. ‘As for this,’ she said, ‘it contains further arrangements for the king’s use of your father’s ships, acknowledging that Malcolm will be sailing on one of them.’ She regarded Margaret. ‘The first of these you found in the possession of Roger’s servant, or whatever he is. This one, too?’

Margaret was only half listening. That Aylmer had one of Malcolm’s letters was suspicious, but to have two was damning. She needed to know whether these letters had been in her father’s casket at her uncle’s tavern, whether Aylmer and Roger were the intruders who murdered Old Will.