Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Let her go, Hugo," Michael said quietly when his cousin moved to follow. Understanding that he had not yet relinquished his battle fervor and thus had reacted only to knowing that Adela and Isobel had walked into danger, Michael added as he set the liner back in the holy-water font, "They did nothing wrong, and you know it. They thought they were obeying an order from the princess Margaret."

"I know, but that lass needs a strong hand," Hugo said. "I may have a word with Macleod, or with that aunt of hers. They should keep a closer eye on her."

"Macleod women are strong-minded," Michael said, smiling. "If you dislike that trait, I'd advise you to seek elsewhere to wed."

"Sakes, I don't want her," Hugo said. "I've too many things on my plate as it is. Moreover, we cannot just stand here. Those two are halfway to their chambers and will likely run into more mischief if we don't see to their safety."

Realizing there was no point to gain by trying to reassure him and not altogether certain he was wrong, Michael gestured for him to lead the way. His cousin's rapid pace told him that Hugo cared more than he was willing to admit about Lady Adela's safety, and he shook his head a little, wondering if his cousin's generally carefree nature was undergoing an unexpected change.

They were approaching the next landing when Henry stepped onto it from the quiet, narrow corridor they had searched before. Holding a finger to his lips, he gestured to them to follow him.

Isobel and Adela hurried to the bedchamber the latter shared with Lady Euphemia and, finding it empty, went inside. They had not spoken, because Adela was still angry and Isobel, suppressing her own amusement, had not wanted to stir her to say anything outrageous where others might overhear her.

As she shut the door, however, Isobel said, "What a thing to do, Adela!"

Adela whirled. "That man!" she exclaimed. "That arrogant, unfeeling, odious man! Someone ought to flay him."

"I'm sure that Waldron would oblige you, given the chance," Isobel said dryly, "but sakes, Adela, what has Sir Hugo ever done to you?"

"Done to me? Faith, he has done naught to me," Adela said, flinging her hands up. "He flirts with anyone wearing skirts, of course, so his smile means naught, nor his pretty words. Despite all that false charm, he could not even take a quarter hour to ride to Chalamine and collect your maid and belongings when he heard you had gone with Sir Michael, but he takes it upon himself to take me to task at every turn, to tell me that I ought to wear my hair free or pinch my cheeks, or that I ought to have known a fake gillie when I had no reason on this earth to think for a moment that the horrid man was aught but what he said he was. And then—"

"Peace," Isobel cried. "I can see that Sir Hugo has offended you, but to have thrown holy water in his face! Adela, that is not like you at all."

"And what am I like, Isobel? Do you have any notion? You, who took the first opportunity to leave Chalamine and live instead with Cristina and Hector? Don't talk to me about what I am like. You have spent all your time doing just as you please, whilst I have spent mine tending someone else's children and someone else's household. So don't you dare presume to tell me what I am like."

"If that is what you think of me," Isobel said more tartly than she had intended, "I fear that neither of us knows much about the other."

Adela burst into tears.

"Oh, mercy," Isobel exclaimed, rushing to take her sister in her arms. "Don't cry, love. What on earth has that dreadful man done to you?"

Michael and Hugo followed Henry to a point near the middle of the long corridor before he stopped and turned to face them.

"My lads are seeing to that unholy pair," he said quietly. "This corridor is not heavily occupied yet, as it contains the rooms of certain of the bishop's minions who are of higher rank than others and thus entitled to some degree of comfort. They have departed for the nonce, however, in order to leave sufficient space to house everyone who will attend my ceremony Sunday, so I think we can talk undisturbed for a few minutes, and it seemed wiser to speak here than to make it plain to others that we are conferring."

"Why are we conferring, Henry?" Michael asked.

"Because we need a plan," Henry said. "You and Hugo have apparently stirred up more than we knew if that precious pair was willing to molest two noblewomen to find what they seek. We all know that Waldron is not particularly nice in his ways when he is angry, so we must decide what to do next."

"I need to get to Roslin as quickly as possible," Michael said. "Perhaps I should leave at once."

"Nay," Henry said. "You do not want to make a song about it, lest you draw more interest than necessary. Moreover, I think Hugo should go with you, and if you both depart before the ceremony, it will just cause more talk. Our mother, for example, will be annoyed."

"Aye, she would be," Michael agreed. "But if you keep Waldron and the abbot locked up—"

Henry smiled ruefully. "You know I cannot do that," he said. "Part of my agreement with the Norse King is not to stir trouble with the King of Scots or the Lord of the Isles, and much as their graces dislike the Green Abbot, I warrant they will not take kindly to my arresting men who are not my subjects and keeping them locked up without even giving them fair hearing. Would you like to engage in a battle of words with that pair over who is at fault and why?"

Realizing that Waldron would invoke God and the Pope in such an exchange, might not even hesitate to accuse Henry and himself of stealing from the Holy Kirk, Michael shook his head. "Nay," he said. "I would not."

"Nor I," Hugo said. "Art sure you cannot simply stow them somewhere?"

"There is no dungeon here," Henry said. "Nor can I simply load them into a galley and take them to Caithness with me when I leave here. My own men are loyal, but others are here already, and more will arrive tomorrow. Many of them will know the Green Abbot if they do not know Waldron, and many fear the abbot's power, as you know. It would be better, I think, to allow them to attend the ceremony and depart afterward as if naught of any awkwardness had occurred."

Michael nodded, seeing his point. "Then mayhap they should see us departing as well, but for Caithness rather than Roslin."

"Why Caithness, and how would they know?" Hugo asked.

"We would tell them, of course," Michael said. To Henry, he added, "You have invited some of your guests to visit you at Castle St. Clair, have you not?"

"I have, of course," Henry said. "The bishop wants his palace back, and it is not far out of anyone's way to journey from here to St. Clair Bay. By the bye," he added on a more petulant note, "I have decided that I want no more to do with the French branch of the family. It is plain to me now that Waldron's early training is what led us all to this point, so I am going to return to the spelling our grandfather preferred. Henceforward St. Clair shall be spelled as Scotsmen pronounce it."

"I thought you preferred to avoid our mother's displeasure," Michael said.

"Aye, well, it won't happen overnight, nor do I intend to make a song about it. I warrant she'll have time to get used to it before she realizes what I have done. But what course did you have in mind for my guests at the castle, Michael?"

"I'm just thinking that if you were to invite Princess Margaret and the others from the Isle of Mull and Ardtornish to visit you there, everyone would assume that Isobel and I were with them. We, on the other hand, could leave before they do."

"You must attend my ceremony. Everyone would notice if you did not."

"Aye, but we could leave directly afterward. Dusk is already growing darker, and you could explain a single galley departing by saying you've sent to warn the household at St. Clair to expect more guests. And, if you put the Green Abbot and Waldron off the island early in the morning so they can see your departing guests only from a distance, Hugo and Lady Adela can take our places with the group from Mull. You know yourself how often people mistake Hugo and me for each other, and Lady Adela can easily be mistaken for Isobel."

"Aye, that might work," Hugo said. "At least, it might if you can persuade that temperamental lass to be seen in my company again."

Henry grimaced. "Have you offended Lady Adela, Hugo? If so, ingratiate yourself again. Waldron must not suspect that Michael goes to Roslin. If there is aught to find there, Michael must be the one to find it and make all safe. We may not know what we guard, but we do know that our primary duty is to guard it well."

Hugo groaned but Michael nodded, suppressing a smile. He recognized, if Hugo did not, that Henry's amusement matched his own.

Adela was still weeping.

"Sir Hugo is clearly just as dreadful as you say he is, and Cristina and I were beasts to leave you with all the responsibility at Chalamine," Isobel said gently. "But if you will not tell me what Hugo did, can you not at least say something?"

She had hoped that, by placing the blame at Hugo's door and her own, she might at least calm Adela, and was gratified when her sister's tears ceased at last.

But Adela said, "It is not your fault, Isobel. I don't know what made me say that. I would have welcomed neither your advice nor the behavior of which you were capable then. I was the eldest at home after Cristina and Mariota left, so it was my duty to assume responsibility for the household. Recall that Maura and Kate were still home, too, and all three of us are older than you are. Moreover, if you will forgive my saying so, Sidony and Sorcha were much easier for us to look after without you there to tempt them into mischief. Not," she added with a reminiscent gleam, "that Sorcha has ever needed encouragement in that regard."

"She does have a mischievous nature," Isobel agreed.

"Mischievous! That scamp would try the patience of God himself. I think I told you that her behavior is the reason Father refused to let her come here."

"You didn't, but I am not surprised," Isobel said. "And, of course, Sidony did not come because Sorcha could not."

"Aye, but—" Adela broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching the door. "Do not tell Aunt Euphemia about the holy water, Isobel. Pray, do not!"

"I won't," Isobel said, but she immediately deduced that the person outside was not Lady Euphemia when a firm fist rapped sharply on the door.

Raising a hand to silence Adela, she swiftly raised her skirts, drew her dirk from its sheath, and moved quietly toward the door. Before she reached it, however, the rap came again. "Isobel, are you in there?"

"It's Michael," she said to Adela, slipping the dirk back into its sheath and reaching for the latch.

"If Hugo is with him, don't let him in."

Fortunately, since Isobel was not sure she could keep Hugo out if he chose to enter, or that Michael would intervene to stop him, Michael stood there alone.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said, making no attempt to enter. "You've done well tonight, sweetheart, but come to bed now. We've much to discuss."

"I don't want to leave Adela alone," Isobel said.

"I've sent a lad to fetch Lady Euphemia," Michael said. "She'll be along straightaway, and in the meantime, Henry will wait out here to keep Adela safe."

"Sir Henry?"

"Aye, my lady," Henry said, stepping into view. "Had I known the pair of you would dash off as Michael tells me you did, I'd have left two of my lads to escort you. I don't blame you for being distressed, but I mean to make sure no one else annoys you whilst you are my guests, and lest you think I am not competent to guard Lady Adela until your aunt arrives—"

"I do not think that at all," Isobel hastily assured him. "Indeed, sir, I have been curious about something, and would like to ask you a question if I may."

"Certainly, madam. What is it?"

"You told me that you had once seen a map that would let you sail past the ends of the earth. Wherever did you see such a thing?"

"Why, my father showed it to me once when I was but a lad," Henry said.

"Truly? May I see it sometime?"

"Aye, sure, if we can lay hands on it," he said. "However, I own, I have not seen it from that day to this. I warrant it will reappear someday, though, and when it does, you shall be among the first to see it."

"Thank you, sir. In the meantime, I am sure that Adela could not be in more competent hands than yours."

To her astonishment, he turned bright red and bowed deeply to her as he said, "Why thank you, my lady. Did I tell you how glad I am that you have joined our family? I cannot doubt that your presence will much improve us."

Chuckling, she bade Adela goodnight and let Michael escort her to their bedchamber. They met Lady Euphemia on the way, but although she attempted to quiz them about what had happened, Isobel and Michael adroitly extricated themselves and hurried on their way.

"And to think," Isobel muttered as they approached their chamber door, "Adela believes that I have spent the past seven years doing just as I please, whilst she has been trapped managing my sisters and the household at Chalamine."

"Would you have wanted to trade places?" he asked, opening the door for her.

She grimaced. "You do know how to strike to the heart of the matter, sir. I would not, nor would I have had that option, as she herself reminded me. I was just thinking that families can too easily create a quagmire that one can step into without even knowing it exists."

"You may well accuse me of creating one for you now," he said, shutting the door. "Aye, and for the lady Adela, as well, because we have come up with a plan."

"As long as part of that plan is not to send me safely home with Hector and Cristina, or with my father, I want to hear it," she said, moving to poke up embers glowing on the hearth. "Fetch a couple of those sticks for me, will you?"

"Yes, my lady, at once, my lady," he said subserviently. When she looked up at him guiltily, he grinned.

"Impudent man," she said. "Would you have preferred that I send for a gillie to do it, or should I have asked you to tend the fire yourself?"

"I do have a fire for you to tend, sweetheart," he said, still grinning. "But first I think we should discuss our plan of action. Henry has put Waldron, the abbot, and the two louts who tried to help Waldron under lock and key, and he intends to keep them close held until after the ceremony, when he will put them into a boat and order them back to the Holy Isle."

"But Waldron will not want to go to the Holy Isle," she protested.

"Nay, he will not," he said, handing her the sticks she had requested.

"Nor do we know where the rest of his men are," she reminded him as she gently coaxed glowing embers to flame again. "We've seen only those two, and with all the people here for the ceremony, we'd never know which were his."

"Just so. That is why we mean to put them off our track by another means. You and I are going to Roslin, but Hugo and Adela—if she agrees—are going to make it look as if we go to Castle St. Clair instead."

She instantly saw his intent. "You expect Waldron, the abbot, or any other watchers to mistake them for us. But why would we be going to Caithness?"

"Because Henry is inviting a number of his guests to journey there with him on Monday. He will include as many of your family as will accept his invitation, and most folks will assume that we are amongst them. Are you finished fussing with that fire yet?" he demanded, holding out an imperious hand.

Letting him draw her to her feet, she said, "But won't they expect Hugo and Adela to be with us, too?"

"Aye, perhaps, but those to whom it matters most will be watching for me. Hugo will be dressed in my clothing, his ship will carry Adela, and it will fly my banner. I think the image will serve, as long as no one sees us depart earlier."

"But how will we get away without anyone seeing us?"

"I'm thinking we'll wear servants' garb, carry our own, and depart late Sunday night. Just in case anyone does see us, Henry can say that he is sending a boat ahead with servants to prepare those at St. Clair for more visitors. Unnecessary, of course. His people at St. Clair are always able to look after a horde of guests."

She thought for a long moment, then nodded. "I think it will work," she said. "But you know Waldron better than I do. Will he believe we are visiting Henry?"

He had become interested in her chaplet, the veil of which framed her face with soft ruffles. Finding the pins that held it in place, he began to remove them as he said, "I don't know what Waldron will think, but I believe the ruse will suffice to let us reach Roslin at least a few days ahead of him."

"Then you believe he will go there no matter what we do."

"I do. He believes we hold the secret, but since the most anyone seems to know is that the treasure likely came to the Isles in those ships, I think he has assumed until now that it still lies somewhere in the Isles and that we know where. However, it has to have occurred to him, despite his protests to the contrary, that I might have spoken the truth and knew nothing about it until he told me, himself. If he comes to believe that, he will know that by having confronted me, he has stirred my curiosity and will therefore want to watch me closely. Once he knows I have returned to Roslin, he may likewise deduce that the answer may lie at Roslin."

"I wonder why he hasn't searched there before now, if indeed he has not."

"He hasn't," Michael said confidently as he tossed her chaplet and veil aside and reached to remove the gold-lace net that still confined her hair. "I'm sure I have mentioned to you before how adamant our father was about keeping our private matters private. Even before I knew of the treasure, I took precautions to protect our privacy, and so does Henry, but we don't make a grand show of guarding Roslin. At the moment, it has only a minimal guard, but Waldron has never been alone there. Guests stay there only when I am at home, or Henry is, and although our people are discreet, guests never roam about without watchers to keep an eye on them. That was my father's way, and my grandfather's, and it has been my way and Henry's."

His words sent a shiver up Isobel's spine, but she understood the need for such precaution, however uncomfortable it made her feel. "Will they watch me like that?" she asked before she knew the question had stepped onto her tongue.

"Nay, lass," he said, tossing the gold net after chaplet and caul. "You are my wife, which makes you part of me and me part of you, and I am rapidly coming to trust you as I would trust myself. I am not saying," he added gently as he reached to undo the front lacing of her kirtle, "that nothing could ever change that, but at the moment, I cannot imagine what could."

The qualification annoyed her, but she decided her annoyance was unjust. Recalling that he had surprised her by not scolding her as Hugo had scolded Adela after the confrontation with Waldron and the abbot, she told herself that had she trusted him as she wanted him to trust her, she would have trusted him to accept that she'd had good reason to trust the gillie who had taken them there. Such reasoning made her head spin but reminded her, too, how complex trust could be.

The front of her kirtle popped open and Michael's warm hand slipped inside, instantly diverting her from her convoluted thoughts. "What are you doing?"

He grinned. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm getting ready for bed."

She glanced down at him. "Faith, sir, I believe you are ready now."

Needing no further encouragement, he had her kirtle and shift off her in a trice, picked her up without further ado, and took her to bed.

The next day passed swiftly and without incident. If Isobel spent much of it trying to discern who among the increasing company might be allies of Waldron's, or which of them might wonder where the Green Abbot was, she was careful for once not to let her curiosity show. She spent much of her time at Michael's side, chatting with old friends and making new ones. But she took care not to neglect Adela or the rest of her family, even taking time to talk with Macleod.

"Ye make a fine lady for your husband, lass," he said with satisfaction. "I'm that proud o' ye. Now, if ye'll just find a man for our Adela, I'll be thanking ye."

"Who will manage Sorcha and Sidony if I do that, sir?"

"Bless me, but ye can find them husbands, too," he retorted. Then, leaning nearer, he murmured, "In troth, lass, I'm thinking o' taking another wife, but I'm thinking she'll no want the burden o' looking after them lasses, so the sooner I see 'em off to live wi' husbands o' their own, the better satisfied I'll be."

Astonished that, after so many years, he was considering putting another woman in her mother's place, Isobel nevertheless promised to see what she could do for her sisters, and took leave of him soon afterward to rejoin Michael.

The following day's ceremony proved to be as lavish as Sir Henry had promised if rather more boring than Isobel had expected.

Kirkwall's cathedral teemed with the nobility of northern Scotland and the Isles, and included clan chiefs from as far away as Dumfries, Galloway, Knapdale, and Kintail, as well. The cathedral was neither particularly beautiful nor particularly large. The crowd of spectators filled it and spilled over to the grounds outside long before the ceremony began, but Henry had realized that it would, and began his procession nearly a quarter mile away.

The sun shone brightly in a clear azure sky, the breeze was light and not too chilly for comfort, and the pipers and other musicians played merrily as Henry and his entourage approached.

He had dressed splendidly in robes of silver, blue, and gray silk trimmed with miniver over a rich blue-velvet doublet and matching trunk hose, and he wore a simple round silver circlet on his head. He looked so much a prince of the realm that Isobel glanced at Michael, right behind him, to see if he had altered in a similar way. Reassuringly, he looked his usual calm self.

The members of Henry's entourage took seats that had been reserved for them on the front pews, and Michael joined Isobel in the second row, as Henry walked up to the altar and turned to face the assembly alone.

Trumpets sounded from both sides of the chamber, and then silence fell.

Henry opened his arms wide, looked up as if to seek guidance or offer thanks, and then looked at his audience and said in a firm, quiet voice that carried easily to the back walls of the chamber, "My lords, ladies, and people of Orkney, I, Henry of St. Clair, Jarl of Orkney, Lord of Roslin, do greet thee in the name of our Lord. On the second day of this month, in Maestrand, Norway, I took an oath in the presence of King Haakon, which I now repeat to you so that you may know what I have promised: Whereas the most serene prince in Christ, my beloved Lord Haakon, by the grace of God, King of the realms of Norway and Sweden, appointed us of his grace to rule over his lands and islands of Orkney, and raised us to the state of jarl over the foresaid lands and islands, we make known to all men both present and to come that we have rendered fealty to the same lord our King by the kiss of his hand and mouth, and rendered to him a true and due oath of fidelity to be observed so far as giving counsel and assistance to our said lord the King and his heirs and successors and to his kingdom of Norway. In the first place, therefore, we firmly oblige ourselves to serve our said lord and King over with the lands and islands of Orkney with one hundred good men or more, fully equipped in arms, for the convenience of our said lord and King, whensoever we shall have been sufficiently required …"

Isobel's attention strayed to a lady nearby whose headdress stood so high that people behind her were craning to see Henry.

"… we promise to defend the said lands with the men which we shall be able to gather for this purpose not only from the said lands and islands but with the whole strength of our kin, friends, and servants. Likewise if it should happen …"

She glanced at Michael. So Henry expected him to help defend the Orkneys for the Norse King, did he? No wonder the King of Scots took a dim view of this princedom. That reminded her of something else, and she leaned closer to Michael.

"Why did he not call himself Prince of Orkney?" she whispered. "He called himself something like an earl instead."

"‘Jarl,'" he said. "Jarl of Orkney is the highest rank in Norway except for that of its King. The highest rank in Scotland next to the King of Scots is that of prince. The difference is that in Norway, it's a bit of both."

She nodded but found the audience more interesting than Henry's speech, which went on and on until she was thoroughly bored. The people across the way, behind the lady with the tall headdress, seemed to be dozing. But at last it was over, and when Henry stopped speaking, the silence lingered long enough to make her wonder if everyone else had fallen asleep.

Then, suddenly, applause and cheering broke out, trumpets and pipes played wildly, and Henry and his entourage formed their recession and walked out much more briskly than they had entered. Michael joined them, taking Isobel's arm as he did, so that she felt as if she were actually part of the prince's entourage. The excitement proved contagious, and by the time they joined Henry outside and headed back to the bishop's palace, she was enjoying herself hugely.

The rest of the day provided more entertainment in the form of musicians, players, tumblers, jugglers, and their ilk. Feasting and dancing lasted well into the night, but just as she realized that she was thoroughly exhausted, Michael took her arm again and leaned close to say, "It is time, sweetheart."

"Time for bed?" she asked, covering a yawn. "I'm nearly asleep on my feet."

He chuckled. "Don't fall asleep yet, lass. Our boat awaits us in the harbor, and we must still change our clothes."

Startled completely awake, she stared at him for a moment before her wits caught up with her. "Oh, mercy," she muttered, glancing around to see if anyone could have overheard him, only to realize that no one could have over the din.

"Don't look as if we're up to mischief," he warned her. "And don't go that way. We are not going to our room but to his eminence's kitchen. Hugo has our clothes outside and will have found someplace for us to change into them. Look as if you are stealing a few private moments with your husband," he added, kissing her soundly on the lips.

She responded instantly, putting her arms around him and kissing him back.

Ten minutes later, they were outside with Hugo, heading for a thicket that he had assured them was sufficiently sheltered for their purpose. And fifteen minutes after that, Hugo returned to the castle, and she and Michael walked with three other men to the harbor. Only when they reached the longboat drawn onto the beach did Isobel see that two women wearing hooded cloaks were already aboard.

When she hesitated, Michael chuckled and said, "Hugo's sense of humor will sink him one day. They are but men in skirts, lass, pretending to be female to augment the illusion he's created. Tell them I said to keep their hands to themselves."

One of the two, in servant's dress almost exactly like Isobel's, moved to help her board. As she took the hand extended to her, she thought it unusually smooth for a man's but made no comment, certain the lad would not appreciate one.

Michael, swinging himself aboard behind her, said, "I'll be rowing for the present, lass, so just sit quietly there with your friend." To the other two in skirts, he said evenly, "I presume that someone has told you both that this lady is my wife."

"Aye, my lord, Sir Hugo said we was t' keep our hands to ourselves," one said gruffly, adding as a swift afterthought, "nobbut what we would anyway, sir."

"See that you do," Michael said.

So much for his confidence in her ability to take care of herself, Isobel thought, hiding a smile. Hugo's, too. She could as easily have worn men's clothes herself, as she had before. Hugo need not have made the two men wear skirts.

Not until they were some miles from the harbor did Michael leave his oar and return to assure himself that she was comfortable. She was dozing but woke when he said crisply to the two beside her, "You may both take an oar now. You need not think you can just idle away this whole journey."

"Do you really want us to row, Michael?" The voice was decidedly female, decidedly cool. "I think we would prefer to sleep. Hugo said he put blankets inside that locker. Pray fetch them out to us. Doubtless your bride would like one, too."

"Madam," Michael exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You must go back. Everyone will expect to see you tomorrow—aye, and as hostess at St. Clair."

His mother said in the same cool tone, "Do not stand prattling but do as I bid you. Jean is the proper hostess at St. Clair, and I cannot stand by and allow you to subject your new wife to this clandestine journey without a single suitable female to accompany her. And who, do you suppose, is more suited to the task than I am?"

That question being wholly unanswerable, Michael wisely held his tongue.

The journey east from Orkney and then south to the Firth of Forth proved tediously long but without incident, despite the presence of the countess and Fiona, her waiting woman. The countess remained cool but civil, and although Isobel did not warm to her, she could be civil, too. Michael kept horses stabled in the city of Edinburgh, so they encountered little delay and hurried on, although the day was already half over by the time they entered the harbor there.

The city fascinated Isobel, and it was as well that she rode a well-trained mount, because so delighted was she with everything she saw that she paid scant heed to its direction or guidance. They took only a dozen men with them, and the last ten miles passed swiftly. The countess and Fiona fell back a short distance with the men, and so Isobel passed the time by asking Michael question after question about Lothian and Roslin. He was describing a famous battle fought in Roslin Glen when they came upon the cart track leading down into the glen itself.

"The castle lies three miles yonder," he said. "We'll follow the river Esk for a time and then take a path up and out of the glen to its western rim."

"I thought you told me that the river runs right by the castle," she said, recalling his answer to an earlier question.

"Aye, it does, and curves around it on three sides, but the castle sits high above the water, as you'll soon see."

The glen was lushly green and eerie, almost as if it were haunted, Isobel thought. Remembering the battle fought there, she asked him to tell her more about it. He did so, and by the time he reached the Scots' victory over an invading English army, they had begun their climb out of the glen, the others still well behind them.

The great round towers and square keep of Roslin Castle loomed ahead of them, less than half a mile away, turned golden in the setting sun.

"Why is it called Roslin?" she asked abruptly after moments of silence.

"Because of its location," he said. "Roslin means ‘rock of the falls,' and there are two waterfalls that I'll show you tomorrow. Near the larger one, carved into a mossy rock wall, is an odd-looking head—not a bearded one, I'm sorry to say."

"Do you have any idea what to search for when we get to the castle?"

"I think so," he said. "I have been thinking about those bearded men in Henry's letter, as well as the underscored words and the many carvings at Roslin. I suspect we'll find that one particular likeness repeats itself many times. If that proves true, we need only find that likeness and follow where it leads."

The approach to the castle startled Isobel. She saw only too easily how it towered over the glen far below because, only a few feet from the castle wall, the ground fell away steeply to the river Esk, flowing swiftly in a sharp U around the high promontory on which the castle stood. The pathway they followed narrowed dramatically, becoming no more than a bridge over a deep ravine.

Riders approaching the castle could therefore proceed safely only if they did so in single file. For a good thirty feet, Isobel resisted looking down, because it was as if the world had fallen away from her on both sides, but she made no comment lest the countess think her a coward.

Inside the wall, servants flocked to the courtyard to welcome their master and the countess home, greet his bride warmly, and assure them all that supper would appear within the hour.

"Come, sweetheart," Michael said after dismissing their escort and leading her toward the huge keep in the southwest corner of the yard. Telling his mother in the entryway that they would see her at supper, he led Isobel away, adding quietly, "I'll show you where we'll sleep, lass, and give you time to tidy yourself."

"But don't you want to begin looking straightaway?"

"Not until after we eat," he said with a smile. "It is too late to do much exploring tonight in any event, and I don't want my mother hovering over us."

"You can show me the carvings at least."

"Aye, I'll show you some of them. You'll understand our dilemma better when you see how many there are."

"Your mother won't come down right away," she said, her curiosity growing by the minute. "If we change quickly, we can begin searching before we eat."

He laughed. "I can see that I'm going to have a hard time retaining my position as master of this castle, madam. Pray remember that I am."

She wrinkled her nose at him, but in the end, she had her way. The number and variety of the carvings he showed her did prove daunting, because although the countess retired after supper and they searched only a few rooms of the keep that night, the carvings were everywhere. Moreover, many depicted heads, and many of them were bearded. Occasionally they found two or three that looked alike, but in trying to follow them, discovered they led nowhere.

Isobel went to bed that night thinking they could search for a month without finding what they sought, but the next day she found Sir William's bearded men.

Taking advantage of the countess's decision to nap that afternoon, they had searched for a time without success. Wandering to the lower hall, feeling frustrated and depressed, Isobel had stopped near the huge fireplace and stood staring for some moments at a bearded face with a straight line for its nose, and cavernous eyes, before she realized she had seen one like it only moments before. Gathering her wits, she hurried back the way she had come and soon found the second one near a doorway. Passing through it, she found a third. Then, across the landing on the lintel of a second doorway, in a line of nearly similar heads, she found another.

Running to find Michael, she showed him what she had found, and together they discovered three more. But their search ended abruptly at the opposite end of the keep near a small chamber, apparently full of wine casks. No bearded face graced the framework of its door or any nearby wall.

Near a corner of the wine chamber, a colorful tapestry caught Isobel's eye, and thinking it an odd place to hang such a thing, she eased her way among the casks to have a closer look. A moment later, she exclaimed, "Michael, I think the head is woven into this tapestry! Fetch a candle and look for yourself."

He brought two, and she held them while he pulled the pegs at the bottom of the tapestry from the wall and lifted the heavy cloth to reveal a door. It opened easily onto a narrow, circular stairway.

Elated, Isobel slipped through, giving Michael one candle and holding the other to light her way. But elation faded quickly, for the stairway that had looked so promising led to a solid stone wall.