Chapter 3

G iff watched the two women hurry up the polished wooden stairway and realized he was hoping Lady Sidony would look back before they disappeared. With half an ear, he heard Hugo tell a gillie to fetch refreshment. Then, except for the hushing of the ladies’ skirts and the quick, light taps of their footsteps on the stairs, silence fell until Hugo cleared his throat.

Well aware of the older man’s lack of patience, Giff nevertheless waited long enough to draw a breath and let it out before he turned and said, “Let us to the parlor, lads. I am eager to hear what new adventure lies ahead.”

He saw the other two exchange glances and was sure Hugo came close to rolling his eyes, but that did not surprise him. Both men were several years older than he was, as Michael was, too, and were already established at Dunclathy when he’d arrived there. They had thought themselves superior then, and although he had soon proven his worth, some of that earlier sense of superiority clearly lingered.

Taking the initiative now, he said, “I was sorry to learn of the deaths of your father and brother, Rob. You are Logan of Lestalric now, are you not?”

“I am,” Rob said. “And if you’ve just come from Galloway, doubtless you bring news from any number of our kinsmen there, do you not?”

“Aye, sure,” Giff agreed, recalling that the unnatural beast he had ridden to Edinburgh belonged to one of those kinsmen. “But mayhap this is not the moment—”

“At this moment, Giff,” Hugo interjected, shutting the parlor door, “I want to hear how you met Sidony. Surely you do not accost young women in town streets.”

“It is worse than that,” Giff said, grinning. “You’ve forgotten her fine fish. I heard her whistling in the abbey woods, and I followed the sound.”

The grim look on Hugo’s face deterred Giff from mentioning the stolen kiss. He decided to hold that in reserve against a time when he might need a diversionary tactic. Prior experience with Hugo told him such diversion might prove necessary.

Hugo said, “You probably frightened the lass witless.”

“I warrant I surprised her,” Giff admitted. “But I doubt I’d have scared her witless under any circumstance. Her ladyship keeps a cool head.”

“Does she? Why were you in the abbey woods in the first place?”

“Have you seen the main roads?” Giff asked. “Wool carts as far as the eye can see. And sheep! All baa ing and leaping over one another, or just leaping when one least expects it. The horse I borrowed takes a dim view of sheep.”

Rob grinned. “They do create hazards now and again, I’ll agree, but the wool must get to the ships, so I must put up with them more than you did. Sithee, a good bit of the shore of Leith Harbor belongs to me, and those sheep and carts cross my land to get to the harbor. I’ve even let them put up shelters against the rain when it comes, and some shepherds, especially those with only a cart or two to their name, drive their sheep as far as Lestalric before they shear them.”

“That explains seeing as many bald ones as ones still in wool,” Giff said.

Hugo’s expression indicated a total disinterest in sheep. He peered more closely at Giff and said, “What’s that mark on your face?”

Clapping a hand to his left cheek and feeling suddenly eleven again, Giff fought an urge to step back.

“Take your hand away,” Hugo said, looking closer yet. “By the Rood, that looks like a smear of fish scales.” He glanced at Rob, who was biting his lower lip, rigidly controlling himself. “Does something about this amuse you, my lad?”

“Aye,” Rob said unrepentantly.

Hoping to divert them both, Giff said, “I’ve come all the way from Galloway in just two days, Hugo, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’ve got smut on my—”

He broke off when Hugo put a finger to the cheek in question, rubbed hard, then raised the finger to his nose and sniffed.

Favoring Giff with an enigmatic look, he said, “So that salmon is not just supper. What did you do to warrant smacking with it, Giffard?”

“Sakes, what would make you think such a thing?” Giff demanded.

“My knowledge of you and of the Macleod sisters,” Hugo retorted. “You should know that I have the honor to be married to the one nearest in age to Lady Sidony. I own, however, that although my Sorcha would not hesitate to flatten a man who accosted her, it does surprise me that Sidony tried such a thing.”

“At least you do me the kindness to assume she only tried,” Giff said, ignoring memory of his ignominious descent to the boggy ground as he added glibly, “I fear I mistook her for a serving maid. When I let my error be known, she clouted me. May we sit, Hugo? I’ve had little sleep these past two days.”

“Stay away from her, Giff,” Hugo said. “The Macleod sisters may look as high as they like for husbands. Her father and good-brothers will seek one for her who is wealthy, steady, and reliable—not a scapegrace whose byword is ‘reck not.’”

“Nay, then,” Giff said, smiling again. “Not that I have any intention of taking a wife, however fine, but for Mac-Lennans ’tis ‘whilst I breathe, I hope.’”

Hugo shrugged. “If you ask me, it is much the same thing.”

“Aye, sure, but ’tis why you sent for me, is it not?” He glanced at Rob. “You keep quiet, sir, yet dare to show amusement. Have you nowt to say in this?”

Rob smiled sleepily. “I can trust Hugo to say all that needs saying, and in my experience, the Macleod lasses are well able to look after themselves.”

“Sakes, don’t tell me you married one of them, too!”

“The lady Adela.”

Giff shook his head. “I trust that all these women have nowt to do with why you sent for me.”

“We sent for you because we’ve a task to undertake that is fraught with peril, and you have a reputation for succeeding at such tasks,” Hugo said bluntly. “You’d best succeed with this one, too, because if you fail, all Scotland may suffer for years to come, if not forever.”

“You intrigue me,” Giff said, pulling up a stool to sit, although Hugo had yet to extend permission. “What is this so-important task?”

When a sharp rap at the door heralded the entrance of the gillie with their refreshments, Hugo murmured, “Have patience.”

The lad poured them each a mug of ale, then said, “Her ladyship sent them wee cheese rolls for ye to ha’ wi’ your ale, me lords, but she did say to tell ye that supper is to be on the table in an hour and that there be roasted lamb and salmon.”

Telling him to assure her ladyship that they would not be late, Hugo waited only until the door had shut again behind him before saying, “There are things you need to know, Giff, but first, I trust you still command several good, stout ships.”

“Aye, sure, although they won’t be much use to you here, as they are all harbored in the west. But, of course . . .”

Looking from one man to the other, he saw from their gloomy expressions that his words were not what they had hoped to hear.

“The first thing you must do is take off that awful dress,” Isobel said, looking Sidony over from top to toe as they entered the bedchamber Lady Clendenen allotted to the Macleod sisters when one or more of them visited. “Where is the one you had on when we arrived here?”

“There is no need for me to wear that, either,” Sidony said as she shut the door and began to untie the side ribbons of the old blue kerseymere tunic. “With all the visiting I’ve done this year, I have clothing scattered over three castles as well as here and at Sinclair House. I only put this on to play with our wee William Robert. So I still have at least one other in that kist yonder that is more suitable to wear for a supper with the gentlemen.”

“Then we must take it out at once, for I warrant it will need pressing,” Isobel said, moving to put her words into action. As she shook out the pale-yellow silk skirt she found neatly folded in the kist and looked it over, she glanced at Sidony with a twinkle. “It won’t need much, so are you going to tell me about him now?”

Feeling heat in her cheeks at the thought of describing all that had happened in the abbey woods, Sidony shifted her skirt around so she could untie its waistband as she said, “Should we not send for a maidservant first, and some hot water?”

“No, we should not,” Isobel said. “I want a round tale, and I know you won’t say a word in front of a servant, so you can use the cold water in that jug on the stand to wash your face and hands, and I’ll help you dress. Where are the comb and brush that usually sit on this table?”

Resigned, Sidony found them on a shelf of the washstand that stood between a pair of tall narrow windows overlooking the garden behind the house. Then she undressed to her shift as Isobel shook out the gold-lace-trimmed bodice that matched the pale-yellow silk skirt.

“I think there is a clean shift in that kist, as well,” Sidony said.

“There is,” Isobel agreed. “What’s more, I believe one of the maids must have aired these things earlier. Everything seems quite fresh, so there is naught to delay you in telling me everything now. How did you come to meet him?”

Seeing no way to avoid it, Sidony told her, leaving out only his daring to kiss her and her smacking him with the salmon. If Isobel’s eyes narrowed at that point, doubtless it was because Sidony had blushed while explaining that he had wanted her to ride his horse back to Clendenen House.

She was able to indulge that thought only long enough to think it, though, for Isobel said coaxingly, “You are not telling me the whole of it, Siddie. What do you think of him? He is very attractive, is he not? Although not as handsome as Michael,” she added loyally but wistfully, as well.

Understanding the wistfulness, Sidony said, “He will be home soon.”

“Not soon enough and only because he knows I’ll travel to the Highlands for the wedding with or without him,” Isobel said.

“You really should not travel alone in your present condition.”

“So he says, and I can scarcely blame him whilst I am likely to lose all I eat even without being in a boat on heaving seas,” Isobel said. “But that will soon pass, and Michael may still try to make me forgo our father’s wedding.”

“Mayhap he should,” Sidony said, hoping the topic would serve to divert her sister’s thoughts from Sir Giffard MacLennan.

“I can handle Michael,” Isobel said confidently. “But I don’t want to talk about him right now. You still have not told me what you think of Sir Giffard.”

Sidony had turned to the washstand and was pouring water from the jug into the basin. She took a moment to soak a cloth, trying to think what to say.

“Well?” Isobel said encouragingly. “I saw for myself that he has a nice smile. He seems to have a sense of humor, too, and clearly, he does not fear Hugo.”

“I cannot decide what I think of him,” Sidony admitted without turning. She could think better if she did not have to watch Isobel’s reactions. “But if he does not fear Hugo, he cannot know him well.”

“Sakes, you don’t fear Hugo, do you?”

“Nay, but ’tis nothing like the same thing. He may scold and he may seem fierce enough at times to terrify anyone. Indeed, he terrified me when I first met him, but when I came to know him, I realized I could trust him. His men do fear him when he’s angry, but although I do not look forward to what he will say to me before supper, I know he won’t beat me. I do hope Sir Giffard does not annoy him more in the meantime, though.”

“You deserve to hear whatever he may choose to say to you,” Isobel said gently. “You cannot imagine what thoughts went through my head when no one knew where you had gone. But I shall let Hugo say all that is necessary. You need not hear it twice. Did you really borrow a fishing pole from the gardener?”

“However did you know that?” Sidony said, turning to face her with profound relief that she did not intend to scold.

“I heard you tell the gillie to return it,” Isobel said. “I stood at the top of the stairs for a moment before I came down.”

“Eavesdropping,” Sidony said wisely. “You should not, you know.”

“I rarely do anymore. In troth, I’d got up so quickly when I heard Rob shout to Hugo that you were home, that I felt dizzy and thought I should wait a minute before I went down the stairs.”

“What else did you hear?” Sidony said, uncertain whether to believe in Isobel’s dizziness or not. Her sister had few scruples about shading the truth or inventing excuses when she knew her behavior might draw censure.

Isobel shrugged. “Not much. I heard Sir Giffard ask Hugo if he meant to keep you standing on the doorstep, then tease him that it wasn’t even his doorstep.”

“Hugo said it was about time Sir Giffard arrived, that they had nearly given him up,” Sidony said. “Do you know what he meant by that?”

“Dearest, you must stop trying to change the subject,” Isobel said. “What difference can it make what Hugo meant? He is not going to share his thoughts with us. Besides, I want to know what you think of Giff MacLennan.”

“Mercy, you should not call him Giff, even to me,” Sidony said. Especially to me , she added to herself, aware of how easily she had spoken her very thoughts to him. If she began thinking of him as Giff, she could guess what would happen next.

“Pooh,” Isobel said. “Art afraid you’ll call him so when you should not? If that is an indication of what you really think of h—”

“It isn’t!” Sidony exclaimed, goaded. Scrubbing her face quickly, she folded the cloth and turned back to say more calmly, “If you are asking if I like him—or more than that, if I could think of him as a possible husband—let me tell you that you should put that idea right out of your head. I know everyone wonders when I’ll marry, but Sir Giffard is too much like Hector and Hugo even to consider for that.”

“And what, I wonder, can you mean except that both men can be ferocious?” Isobel said with a thoughtful look. “Did you already contrive to make Giff angry?”

“Nay,” Sidony said, repressing a memory of the look on his face after she had hit him, and the real fear she had felt, however momentarily, when she had turned and fled, and again when he caught her so easily. “How should I have made anyone angry on such a short acquaintance?”

“How, indeed?” Isobel said with a more searching look. “You are not a good liar, my dear. You should practice more if you mean to do a lot of it.”

“We don’t have much time, for I warrant Hugo will not keep Lady Clendenen too long from her supper,” Sidony said. “Are you going to help me with that skirt?”

“You did make him angry,” Isobel said, nodding satisfaction as she moved to hand Sidony first the fresh shift and then the skirt, adding as she donned the latter, “Turn around and I’ll fasten it for you.”

“Truly, I hope you won’t tease me about him,” Sidony said as she obeyed. “When I said he was like Hector and Hugo, I meant he gives orders like they do and expects the same obedience, even on short acquaintance. I don’t want a man like that, always expecting me to put each foot down as and where he tells me.”

“Does he do that?”

“Aye, he does. I told you he wanted to put me on his horse to ride back to Clendenen House. I didn’t want to because I knew everyone we met would stare if he led me on horseback through the abbey grounds and along the Canongate, so I declined. But he put me on his horse anyway.”

“So he is a strong man,” Isobel said.

“Sakes, it doesn’t take great muscles to lift me,” Sidony protested.

Isobel laughed. “I meant the sort of strength it takes to do what one thinks is right, even in the face of opposition.”

“I call it a stubborn determination to have one’s own way.”

“So what did you do?”

“I swung my legs over and dismounted on the off side.”

Isobel’s eyes twinkled. “So that’s how you made him angry.”

“Nay, it wasn’t that.”

“Still, you did.”

“Aye, straightaway, but I am not going to tell you about that.”

Isobel said no more but turned her attention to fastening the tiny buttons up the back of the silk bodice after Sidony put it on. Her silence did not reassure Sidony, though, because of them all, Isobel possessed the most curiosity. When she wanted to know something, she found out about it, so although she had clearly thought better about plaguing her more now, Sidony knew the respite would be brief.

To forestall further questioning, she said, “He is interesting, and I do like his smile. In troth, I mightn’t mind him so much if he were more like Michael or Rob.”

“Well, in my opinion, you have not given much thought to marrying anyone,” Isobel said. “’Tis just as well that Ealga no longer means to make Father marry off every last one of us before she will marry him.”

“Aye,” Sidony agreed. “I did fear he might arrange some horrid marriage for me just to get me off his hands, but since Adela’s marriage, neither he nor her ladyship seems so concerned about that.”

“Aye, for Adela was the real obstruction,” Isobel said. “After all, you are not of a decisive nature, but she is.”

“I think it was more that she had run the household at Chalamine for years and years,” Sidony said. “Even I can understand how Ealga would dislike competing for precedence in her own household. Adela would have continued to make suggestions, too, if not actual decisions, for all that she might try not to.”

“Aye, they’ll both be happier with things as they are,” Isobel said. “Hand me that brush now, and we’ll soon show Sir Giffard how well you can look.”

“Isobel!” she protested. “Don’t say such things! I’ve told you how I feel, and in any event, he will doubtless soon be returning to the west.”

“I doubt that,” Isobel said. “After all, Michael and Hugo sent for him.”

“They did? He did not tell me that, only that he had come to see Hugo,” Sidony added, aware of a surging mixture of unidentifiable emotions.

She had no time to sort them out, though, because Isobel only laughed again and pushed her toward a stool, ordering her to sit and let her brush her hair.

Giff frowned as he waited for either Hugo or Rob to tell him why they wanted ships, but they seemed to prefer staring at each other. They did so long enough to make him feel as if they could read one another’s thoughts without bothering to speak.

“What the devil did I say?” he demanded. “You must have known I didn’t bring even the Storm Lass when I told you I’d got here in two days from Galloway. The fastest ship before the fiercest wind could not get round the north of Scotland and down to the Firth of Forth in less than a fortnight. As for going south, ’tis just as far, and I’m not fool enough to challenge the English in their own waters.”

“Aye, well, we did hope you had access to a boat or two nearer,” Hugo said, holding up a hand as he opened the door again, peered out into the entryway, and glanced up toward the top of the stairs. “Forgive me,” he said when he had shut it again. “One could wish this door were heavier, but we’ll talk quietly.”

Nodding, Giff muttered, “Even if I had a ship in Leith Harbor, I’d want a dozen more to escort it if I am to carry an object of value. But the Sinclairs possess the largest fleet of ships in Scotland, Hugo, and not only are you close kin to them, but you and Michael sent for me. Why do we not use his family’s ships?”

“Because Scotland is exporting its wool, so the Sinclair ships are all away.”

“Even if we could use one, we’d have to disguise it somehow,” Rob said.

“Why?” Giff demanded. When neither man answered, he said with a sigh of resignation, “I suppose I can send a rider to Galloway with orders for my lads. It should not take them longer than three weeks to sail here with a sizable flotilla from the Isles, but we should consider what that will suggest to folks here, and think how to ease their fear of such a navy. Your plan cannot be set in motion quickly, though, so three weeks should give us time to work out details, should it not?”

“Sakes,” Hugo said, emerging from his thoughts with a sardonic look. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken to planning, my lad. I doubt you’ve ever followed a plan in your life even when ordered to do so.”

“Now, Hugo, that just shows how little you know me,” Giff said in an injured tone. “I can assure you I am all obedience when dealing with the Douglas, who is arguably the most powerful man in Scotland, notwithstanding the King or his ambitious son, Fife. Indeed, with most men of the Douglas’s ilk, I—”

“Aye, sure,” Hugo interjected. “I’ve heard your excuses, my lad, and whilst the captain of a ship may claim that a change in weather demanded a change in his interpretation of his orders, the enemy’s failure to act as expected is not an excuse.”

“Is that what you think I do?”

“I know that is what you do,” Hugo said. Then, with a shake of his head, he added, “But I’ll admit that whatever you do, you usually win through in the end.”

“All I do is make decisions without wasting time flinging about for other men’s opinions of what I ought to do,” Giff said. “That is the trick, you know, being able to make a quick decision and commit to it before the moment to act is lost. And that is what you need, is it not, someone who can act quickly to win the day?”

He kept his tone solemn. The mission intrigued him, and he did not want to anger Hugo, but neither did he want to hear a lecture. His record spoke for itself.

Exchanging another look with Rob, Hugo said, “Aye, that is what we need. However, we cannot wait for a flotilla, or even for one ship. The time we have is fast disappearing. Sithee, Fife most considerately occupied himself in the Borders for the best part of this past year, and we’d hoped he would continue to do so long enough for us to arrange the details of our plan without arousing his curiosity. But instead, he has chosen to return to our midst just when we least want him here.”

“Aye, well, you’ll get no sympathy from anyone in the Borders,” Giff said. “Douglas and the others fighting the English there are all warriors far more skilled than Fife. He may be shrewd, but he kens nowt of strategy or tactics and cannot think under pressure, so they’re well rid of him. No one was much surprised when he decided to leave just as the English began moving their armies north.”

“Are they not still dealing with rebellion in the south?” Rob asked mildly.

“Aye, but it has spread northward,” Giff said. “However, we stray from the point. Tell me about this mission of yours.”

“First you should know that it involves Templar business,” Hugo said. “I trust you remember that your duty to the Order supersedes all others.”

“Aye,” Giff agreed, more intrigued than ever.

“Many things that affect us have occurred in the past two years,” Hugo went on. “We need not discuss them all now, but the safety of an item entrusted to two of our members is in peril. As you know, Templars have long provided safekeeping for items of great value for heads of state and others of wealth or power.”

“Aye,” Giff said, “including the Templars’ own vast treasure until it disappeared from the Paris temple nearly three-quarters of a century ago.”

All Scottish Knights Templar knew of that great loss, which occurred when King Philip IV of France, heavily in debt to the Templars, decided that rather than repay the vast sums he had borrowed, he would seize their treasure for himself. To that end, he first took it into his head to destroy the Order’s fine reputation with lies of heresy. A devious man as well as an evil one, who had put his own pope at the head of the Kirk and housed him at Avignon, Philip then bullied the man into declaring all Templars heretics. Eventually, still under Philip’s thumb and terrified of him, the Pope had issued an edict disbanding the Order.

But Philip had not waited for papal action. In October 1307, he raided the Paris temple and arrested as many Templars as he could lay hands on in France, including their grand master. But his raid on the temple failed in its objective. His raiders found the treasury empty and most of the members gone. Their great fleet, harbored at La Rochelle, had vanished with them.

“One does hear rumors that Templars who came to Scotland when the Bruce offered sanctuary to any who could get here may have brought at least part of the treasure with them,” Giff said thoughtfully. “We all know that the Scottish Templars were never disbanded because the Pope had excommunicated Bruce the year before, so Bruce never received the edict. Also, he needed the Templars to help him free Scotland. Still, most folks here believe the Scottish Knights Templar are mythical,” he added. “Even most of us Templars don’t believe all the treasure tales were true.”

“Our Order guards its secrets well,” Rob said.

“And must continue to do so,” Hugo said. “This does not concern the Paris treasure, Giff. The item we are discussing has never left Scotland. Bruce himself entrusted it to two men, knowing them to be Templars.” He hesitated, then added with obvious reluctance, “I should tell you, however, that Fife suspects it lies with the rest of the Templar treasure. He suspects, as well, that the Sinclair family knows the treasure’s whereabouts.”

“Do they?”

“That is irrelevant. Nor need we discuss it now. My point is that Fife is willing to do whatever he must to find what he seeks. He hopes to win Scotland by seizing it, and he has narrowed his search to a critical point. The object must be moved as quickly as possible now to avoid possible discovery.”

“Sakes, man, what is this so-desirable object?” Giff demanded.

“’Tis the most sacred object in Scotland,” Hugo replied evenly.

“Well, it must be second most, because the most sacred item to Scots is no longer in Scotland,” Giff protested. “The English stole that nearly a century ago.”

“Did they?”

A chill shot through Giff, accompanied by a hope so overwhelming that he found it impossible to say what he was thinking without resorting to the language of his childhood, the Gaelic of the Highlands and Isles. “The Lia Fail ,” he murmured.

“Aye,” Hugo said. “The—”

He broke off, and Giff heard the distant light tapping sound that had stopped him, and recognized it. One of the women was coming downstairs.

“We’ll talk more after supper,” Hugo said, moving toward the door again as he spoke. “You’ll doubtless welcome time to refresh yourselves before we eat.”

On the words, he opened the door, stepped back, and said, “Come in, lass.”

Giff stared as Lady Sidony, wearing only pale yellow and gold, stepped into the room with her head high and paused serenely by Hugo.

She was a treasure in and of herself, Giff thought, like an exquisite golden statue come to life.