Chapter 12

A group of four was strolling toward Simon and Sibylla, so they walked on quietly until the others had passed them. Enjoying the comfortable silence, Simon remembered some news he had heard in the course of presenting himself to Fife's chamberlain, news he thought would interest Sibylla.

When the group had moved beyond earshot, he said, "I wonder if Edward Colville may have had reason to seek out your sister. Having learned she was here, mayhap he wanted to make a point to her, and to others, by openly declaring his rights. But I heard some news earlier that may interest you—and your father, too."

"I do not mean to tell my father about this morning's incident unless I must," she said. "He would see naught in Edward Colville's behavior to justify my reply."

He was more in agreement with Sir Malcolm than she knew but said only, "Thomas Colville's heiress has evidently changed her mind about marrying him."

She smiled mischievously. "Do not look to me to commiserate with Thomas, sir. I think the lady shows wisdom. Who is she?"

"The lady Catherine Gordon of Huntly," he said. "I do not know the family personally, but her father was a man of wealth enough to interest Fife. 'Tis said Catherine's inheritance includes properties that provide a significant income."

"So, one would assume that the Governor has become her guardian."

"He has, aye, and will act as trustee of her income until she marries."

"Only till she marries?" She looked at him. "That is not his usual habit, is it, sir? The estates his brother David of Strathearn's little daughter inherited did not go to her or to her husband, and Fife married her off straightaway, at the age of six."

"That was different," Simon said. "Margaret of Strathearn is Fife's niece, and David's estates were Stewart estates. Fife considered it his duty to retain them for the Crown just as any family will fight to keep family estates under its control. Recall Isabel's battle to keep Fife from taking the estates James left her."

"Aye, sure, so how did you learn that Catherine Gordon changed her mind?"

"Deduction," he said. "Another chap waiting to learn if Fife would see him told me that her ladyship has vanished. The Colvilles are searching high and low for her."

"But how does someone like that disappear?" Sibylla asked. "She must have an army of servants. Sakes, Fife must know exactly where she is."

"Godamercy, lass, do you blame Fife for everything that goes amiss?"

"Do you believe he does not want to add Catherine Gordon's property to the Crown's holdings?" she retorted.

"I don't know what he wants. I've not seen the man for eight months, and he was none too happy with me at the time."

The look she gave him then was troubled. "Fife tends to eliminate people with whom he is unhappy, sir."

"You sound like my mother," he said. "Do you fear he will want my head just because I refused to let Rosalie marry at thirteen?"

"Men have died for irritating him less," she said.

"Fife is too shrewd to order my death without strong cause. And why should he? He could not claim Elishaw, because my sisters would inherit. I'd like to see him try to wrest the estate from Buccleuch and Westruther."

"I hope you are right, sir."

He hoped so, too. Over the years he had seen Fife do many things that more powerful men than Simon had insisted he could not do.

Sibylla saw Simon's expression turn thoughtful and hoped he was reconsidering his position with Fife. As companion to Isabel, she had learned much about the Governor's devious ways and knew better than to assume anything about him.

Fife had long resented the order of King Robert the Bruce that the King of Scots' eldest son must succeed him. Before Bruce, Scots had chosen their High Kings from powerful leaders of powerful Scottish families, and many believed the Bruce's decision was a bad one that had weakened the Crown.

Fife certainly believed he was a better man to rule than his disinterested, crippled older brother. And many Scottish leaders, including the Douglas, agreed.

But most men of sense also knew better than to trust Fife. They knew he was not a man who exerted himself to avoid or overcome obstacles. He eliminated them.

A question occurred to her. "How could Catherine Gordon escape Fife?"

"Sakes, the man does not keep her with him."

"But he must have taken precautions, put her under some sort of guard."

"As far as I know, she was living at Huntly amidst her own people," he said.

"Where is Huntly?"

"Near Aberdeen, a hundred miles or so north of here." "Thomas Colville is unlikely to have any allies nearby then."

"You take unnatural interest in a man you spurned, lass. Has Colville become more intriguing to you?"

"I pity anyone he seeks to marry, that's all. And I am trying to understand why he sent for Edward Colville to come so quickly to Edinburgh. That detail concerns me because of Alice. I don't trust either of the Colvilles, sir, particularly when I cannot guess what they may be up to. Nor do I trust your master."

"He is not . . . That is, I mean to do what I can to distance myself—"

When he broke off and glanced around, she realized that more people had come outside to walk in the courtyard. Several were nearly within earshot.

"I expect we should return now," she said.

"Aye, we should." His voice hardened as he added, "Do not think that I commend what you did earlier, Sibylla, for I do not. I'll admit you had provocation, but Edward

Colville will remember that you struck him long after he forgets that he provoked you to it—if he ever admits that even to himself."

Understanding despite his stern look and tone that he was concerned for her, she said, "I will take care, my lord, as I hope you will. Prithee, do tell me if you learn more about the lady Catherine Gordon's whereabouts."

"Why does she concern you so?"

"Because if Thomas sent for Edward to help him hunt for her, they may both ride to Huntly. If they do, Alice can enjoy herself here without having to be always looking over her shoulder for Edward, and I may have a chance to persuade my father to undo this dreadful betrothal he has foisted on her."

"Mayhap I should not report what I learn of her then," he said lightly. "My master , as you call him, clearly wants her to marry Edward. He may even expect me to aid the Colvilles in their search for her."

That Simon might have to go to Huntly with the Colvilles had not occurred to her, and the possibility disturbed her. She did not trust them. If they were acting for Fife, his motive in putting them together with Simon might have less to do with finding Catherine Gordon than with arranging for Simon to suffer an accident.

The thought made her shiver before she called herself firmly to order, deciding she was seeing demons where none were yet visible.

Simon was not a fool. He could look after himself.

At least, she hoped he could.

It was as well, she thought, that he had asked only if she had come to find Thomas Colville more intriguing. Had he asked about her spurned suitors in general, she could not so easily have replied.

Simon saw Sibylla to her chambers and then went to his room to change to a black doublet and trunk hose for his meeting with Fife. He had spoken lightly to Sibylla, but as he attached his ceremonial dirk in its sheath to his belt, he wondered if the Governor might send him with the Colvilles to search for their heiress.

He would strongly resist such an order. With raiders wreaking havoc in the Borders, Elishaw and its inhabitants to protect, and his little sister eagerly seeking a husband, it was no time for him to be riding a hundred miles farther from home.

He'd have to be away for a fortnight, perhaps longer.

It occurred to him that he did not want to leave just as he was getting to know Sibylla, either. But he shook his head at himself for letting any lass distract him from his duties, let alone from the ticklish business ahead.

The Governor's high chamberlain escorted Simon upstairs to the room on the second floor that Fife used privately, rather than to his first-floor audience chamber.

The Governor sat by a crackling fire at a large table, facing the doorway. Dark red velvet curtains flanked the tall south-facing window from which sunlight spilled across the documents before him. Rounds of red wax for seals rested in a basket on the table, with the royal seal and other items needed for his duties nearby.

Fife was writing when Simon entered, so the chamberlain remained silent until he set aside his quill and looked up. Then, in a quieter voice than he employed in the audience chamber, the chamberlain said, "The Laird of Elishaw, my lord."

Simon made his bow.

"That will be all," Fife said to the chamberlain.

As Simon straightened, he saw to his astonishment that Fife was awarding him a friendly smile. He had seen that smile before, to be sure, but rarely directed at himself or at any other man in Fife's service.

The Governor could be affable, even charming when he thought it would serve his purpose. He could also be harsh, forbidding, and thoroughly ruthless. His usual manner was chilly, his eye critical, and his fury terrifying when aroused.

Dark enough of hair and complexion to have stirred lifelong rumors that he was less Stewart than his numerous blond, Viking-like siblings, Fife was also of slighter build. He wore his black clothing elegantly, and having reached his fifty-first year, had acquired a dignity of age more plausible than the icy arrogance that had been habitual with him when Simon had first made his acquaintance.

Simon searched Fife's expression for familiar signs of the anger he had expected to see but saw none. Instead of relaxing, he grew more alert.

"We greet you well, I trust," Fife said.

"Thank you, my lord, aye," he said.

"I am pleased that you were able to come to Edinburgh so swiftly and in such interesting company."

Simon was beginning to understand but said only, "Interesting, my lord?"

"Aye, sure, for I am as well informed as ever. In troth, though, most of the castle knows by now that you arrived here in company with Sir Malcolm Cavers and his daughters. This renewal of interest does please me, Simon."

Denial leapt to Simon's tongue, but he bit it back, saying, "I was able to assist the lady Sibylla some days ago, sir. Her horse had run off, so I took her to my mother at Elishaw. Cavers had just come to fetch her when your message—"

"Do you mean to say," Fife interjected, "that you do not mean to court the lady Sibylla? She must be grateful if you rendered her a service, and I do still favor such a match. She was perhaps too young before and most foolishly indulged."

"That may be, sir," Simon said, wishing he could think. For Fife to press him to agree that a match with Sibylla was still possible was an unusual tactic. But one did not offer the man a flat denial without knowing the ground on which one stood.

In the Governor's presence, pitfalls could open right beneath one's feet.

"I expect you to do your duty, Simon," Fife said with a direct look. "I'm told that your mother has brought the lady Rosalie to seek a husband. We will see what prospects are at hand. Meantime, may we hope you have at last stopped playing Jack-of-Both-Sides at Elishaw and will devote your loyalty wholly to Scotland?"

"At present, my lord, we are lucky enough to enjoy a truce," Simon said.

"During which, I expect you to learn what you can from your kinsmen to the south. If you keep a close watch on them, those connections may serve us when Northumberland next makes mischief, as certainly he will. I have heard complaints of such already. Pull up a stool," he added with a gesture.

"Thank you, my lord," Simon said, complying with silent thanks that Fife had not asked him directly if he would end Elishaw's neutrality or spy on his English kinsmen. To forestall such questions and the orders that must follow, he said, "The news you have heard of reiving is true."

"Aye, sure," Fife said. "What can you tell me about it?"

"The raids began west of us, near Kershopefoot, whilst snow still lay on the ground," Simon said. "They spread west toward Galloway first, but we've suffered increasing trouble in our area. I must tell you, though, I have found no evidence of an English leader—or one that anyone can name, come to that. My lads have caught no one. Nor have they identified any particular reiver."

Fife frowned. "Mayhap you should investigate more across the line."

"As to that, one of my Percy cousins may soon visit Elishaw," Simon said. "Cecil Percy, Northumberland's nephew, sent a messenger a sennight ago to apply for an invitation. I said he might come whenever he likes."

"This Percy nephew is close to Northumberland?" "He is, aye, my lord, very close."

"Excellent," Fife said. "You must keep me informed of all he says."

Recognizing signs of approaching dismissal, Simon stood. "I will do all I can, my lord, to learn who is initiating the raids."

"Good lad," Fife said at his most affable. "You must first see to your business here, of course, and we'll see if we can find your sister a husband. So for the present let Douglas and his lot seek your raiders. I am pleased to see you, lad," he added. "And most pleased that you have come to your senses."

"Thank you, my lord," Simon said, bowing.

"We will expect to see you at supper."

"I have not yet formally presented my sister Rosalie to the court, sir."

"I see no great need," Fife said. "You must bring the lady Sibylla, too, I expect—and her younger sister, of course."

"As to that, their father escorts them, but I believe we may sup with them."

"Tell my high chamberlain to seat you together," Fife said.

Simon bowed again, murmuring, "my lord," as Fife returned to his papers.

Backing away, Simon left without another word.

In the antechamber, he drew a breath of relief before relaying Fife's order—for such it had certainly been—to the high chamberlain.

Then, after sending a messenger to Isabel's chambers, warning its occupants that they would sup in the hall that evening, he retired there himself for a time to seek friends more in touch than he was with the rumors and gossip of the castle. He knew he would find several who were willing to share all they knew.

Sibylla, Lady Murray, and their charges spent much of the afternoon preparing for the evening ahead. Alice and Rosalie were irrepressibly excited.

At one point, hearing a shriek of laughter from their room, Lady Murray said, "It must be crowded when all of you who serve Isabel are together here."

"The rooms are small, aye, and often untidy," Sibylla said. "Although the maids try to keep our clothing sorted out, they do not always succeed. However, the chambermaid did find the things I left behind last time, so I can go to supper with you properly if not stylishly attired."

"If you need anything that I have with me, you need only ask for it."

"Thank you," Sibylla said, hoping her surprise did not show.

Lady Murray had grown less stiff with her during their journey and seemed friendlier to everyone than she had hitherto seemed capable of being with anyone.

As Sibylla ordered water and a tub for their baths and watched Lady Murray with Rosalie and Alice, she noted that her ladyship treated the two much the same, as if Alice were another of her daughters.

Summoning the maid a short time later to help her wash her hair, she let her thoughts wander to Simon. Recalling that he had said his mother had also warned him against Fife, she hoped he did not think she was like his mother.

In view of her ladyship's friendlier manner, the thought seemed unfeeling, even silly. Why should she care if Simon treated her like his mother? He was perfectly civil to his mother, and heaven knew he was often not at all civil to her .

On the first floor of David's Tower, the fires in the two great-hall fireplaces were roaring and the company already merry when Simon and his party entered.

Because only members of the royal family, their noblest guests, and ecclesiastical dignitaries sat at the long table on the dais that extended along much of one long wall of the hall, the high chamberlain directed them to one of three long, linen-draped trestle tables set perpendicular to the dais.

Between the second and third tables, the arrangement left space for acrobats, jugglers, and musicians who would entertain throughout the evening. If dancing was to take place, servants would dismantle the trestles after everyone had eaten.

Fine steel knives, small dishes for salt, silver cups, and shallow pewter bowls rimmed in silver marked each place, and each place faced the central space so everyone could watch the entertainment.

Simon and the others were none too soon. As they stepped into their places, the chamberlain's hornsman blew for silence, and servants approached with ewers, basins, and towels so they could wash their hands. The royal chaplain soon began solemnly to speak the grace before meat.

Simon had taken the place at one end of their group, with Sir Malcolm at the other end, keeping the four ladies between them. Sir Malcolm declared that Lady Murray should sit beside him and Sibylla beside Simon.

"That way," he added, "our lassies will be well protected in our midst."

Simon had no objection. Having eaten precious little at midday, he was ravenous and appreciated the chaplain's brevity. With the court in residence, despite supper being smaller and more casual than the midday dinner, the ritual of serving was much the same for both and could be tedious.

As they took their seats, the royal pantler and his minions came in with bread and butter, followed by the royal butler and his lads, carrying jugs of wine and ale.

Then, to the accompaniment of pipes and drums, four linen-draped carts rolled in bearing huge barons of beef. These proceeded around the assembly with impressive ceremony and much applause, followed by a parade of servants with platters and bowls of other foods in profusion.

The royal carvers twirled their knives as the beef cart reached the dais, then proceeded with the ritual carving of the roasts onto silver platters for every table.

"Dare I ask if all went well with Fife?" Sibylla murmured to Simon as she took a roll from a basket presented to her.

Glancing at the high table, and aware of Alice next to Sibylla, Simon turned back and said, "We should exchange only civilities here, my lady. You know as well as I do that interested ears surround us here."

"Very well, then. I think your sister is enjoying herself hugely. Do not you?"

"I do, aye," he said, noting a twinkle in her eyes. "I am, myself, come to that."

His answer surprised Sibylla, but she did not comment on it, keeping to such harmless topics as the weather and the castle itself until he stirred a gurgle of laughter from her when, in the same tone in which moments earlier he had remarked on the elegance of the vaulted ceiling, he said, "I like that gown. It suits you well."

" 'Tis good that I am not vain, sir, or in a temperamental mood," she replied. "You, with all your experience of court life, must easily see that this dress is two years out of style and lacks every ornamental detail considered necessary today."

"I do know about style," he said. "Style and fashion are what drive women to such absurdities as painting their faces and shaving their foreheads and temples, not to mention plucking their eyebrows until . . . There! Just look at that lass across the way by the wobbly juggler on stilts. She doubtless considers herself a stylish woman, for she has plucked her eyebrows until she looks as if she hasn't got any."

He sounded so indignant that Sibylla had to suppress another laugh, but she said, "Men follow absurd fashions, too, sir. Just note that one with the nipped-in waist and padded chest, trying to look as if he has muscles under that tunic. If he dances, he will be lucky not to trip over those long-piked shoes of his."

"Sakes, lass, I hope you don't accuse me of wearing such stuff."

Her laughter bubbled over then until she could scarcely control it. The mental image of stern-faced Murray of Elishaw striding about in red-silk shoes with points nearly six inches long, a padded orange-and-green-striped doublet, and varicolored hose—one leg lavender, the other bright pink—was too much.

"I'd suggest rejecting the orange stripes," she said when she could talk.

He chuckled, and the sound warmed her.

Still smiling, she said, "That meeting must have gone well."

"Well enough, although I should describe it more accurately as perplexing," he said. "We won't talk of it here, though. Will you try more of this beef?"

They ate until they had assuaged their hunger, and soon afterward minstrels began playing as servants cleared the trestles for dancing and other activities.

When Alice and Rosalie asked if they could join a round dance, Simon said he would permit it if Sir Malcolm would.

"We should offer to join them," Sibylla suggested. "My father will not dance, but neither will he want Alice to do so unless someone keeps an eye on her. I warrant your lady mother will feel the same about Rosalie."

Accordingly, they moved to follow their sisters, only to watch in amazement as Sir Malcolm and Lady Murray went off with them, saying they would dance, too.

"I don't think I have ever known my mother to dance," Simon said.

"I must say, no one would suggest a dispute between our families now," Sibylla said. "Has her ladyship told you yet what caused their disagreement?"

"Nay, and your father told me flatly that he won't if she does not."

"Well, I know he won't tell me," she said. "Still, 'tis strange to see them so friendly, is it not? My father seems years younger of late."

"My mother is different, too," Simon said. Proffering his arm to her, he cast a wary look around the chamber and added, "Prithee, lass, promise me we will not end up playing hot cockles or hoodman blind with our sisters and their friends."

She was about to assure him that neither Alice nor Rosalie would want to play bairns' games even if adults were, when she caught sight of a familiar figure.

"The Douglas is here, sir. I wonder if Isabel came with him."

"He has seen us," Simon said.

Archie the Grim strode toward them. A tall, lanky man in his sixth decade whom many called the Black Douglas, he had retained the darkly tanned complexion of his youth. Although his once raven-black hair had grizzled, his deep-set dark eyes were as bright as ever, and the brilliant Douglas smile lit his craggy features long before he was near enough to greet Sibylla.

As she made her curtsy, he grasped a hand to draw her upright, pressing it to his lips as he did. "God greet you, lass," he said, kissing her next on the cheek. "I hope you are fully recovered from the sickness that kept you at Sweethope."

"I am, sir. But you must have seen Isabel. Did she come here with you?"

"Nay, for I came by way of Hermitage to talk to Fife and will return the same way on Sunday. If Isabel has not arrived, I warrant she must be somewhere betwixt Galloway and here. She expected to arrive this week. Art staying in her chambers?"

"Aye, sir, with Lady Murray, her daughter Rosalie, and my sister, Alice."

"That's good then. I must spirit this young man away for a time. Can you contrive without his escort whilst the two of us talk?"

She agreed, realizing only when the Douglas and Simon had walked away that the others in her party had done so, too. She spied her father and Lady Murray first, watching a troupe of acrobats, and then caught sight of Alice and Rosalie some distance away, where a ring was forming for a round dance.

As she wended her way through the crowd, she saw Alice join hands with a good-looking young man on one side and Rosalie on the other. Rosalie might not have been there, however, for Alice gazed at the young gentleman as if moonstruck.

Sibylla quickened her pace just as the lad pulled Alice from the ring and urged her hastily toward a nearby doorway. Rosalie watched them for a moment, frowning, then abruptly freed herself and hurried after them.

Sibylla followed apace, noting as she did that someone else was watching.

Edward Colville's brow knitted heavily, and he was closer than Sibylla was when Alice and her companion, and Rosalie, vanished through the doorway.