20. David

D AVID Northallerton, Yorkshire, 15th May 1613

P ATRICK GRAEME OF INCHbrAKIE was neither tall nor fierce of feature, but men overlooked him at their peril. At the Fleece, he'd settled in an alcove to the side of the great fireplace, with the low-beamed ceiling overhead, a window to his shoulder, and his booted feet stretched out and crossed before him, drinking wine as one who might, at any moment, start to drowse amid the drifting smoke and conversation. But when he rose to welcome David, six men turned their heads and one half stood, so watchful were they of his moods and movements.

‘Easy,' he advised them. ‘All is well.' He folded David into a swift, hard embrace. ‘'Tis good to see ye've not been harmed. Ye had me worried.'

David let his eyes close for the space of half a heartbeat. He'd forgotten, in the time he'd been away, and in these stressful past few days, how good it felt to have the loving touch of family. He allowed himself to lean into the hug before he straightened.

‘Granville!' Patrick called the landlord over. ‘Drinks all round. My cousin is returned to us.'

One of the men whom David didn't recognize looked disapproving. ‘Should we not be on our way now that we have him?'

Patrick held a chair for David. ‘There's no rush,' he told the man. ‘The Messenger has none to help him but an old man and a lass and a wee lad still wet behind the ears. He kens we have him in the corner. He'll not fight.'

The laughter that met that remark stirred something within David that he'd not expected. Something that surprised him – an instinctive urge to rise to the defence. He took the cup of wine that Granville gave him and cut through the laughter with, ‘That is no common Messenger. That's Andrew Logan.'

Patrick raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘The one William speaks of?'

‘Aye, the very same.'

‘Well, that explains much,' Patrick said. ‘I expected to have ye in hand long afore this, but he was fair sharp, for a Messenger. It was like chasing a clever stag who seeks to tire the hounds.' He glanced at David like a man who, having finished with a game, desired to replay its moves. ‘How close were we to you at Langholm?'

‘Very close.'

‘I had a sense we were.'

‘Aye.' David smiled briefly at the recollection. ‘So did Logan.'

Patrick eyed him strangely. ‘Anyway, we'll rest here the night, then at first light we'll ride to the coast. I've a ship that will carry us both to the continent.'

‘Patrick.'

‘It can't be France, of course. They have their spies there. But William thought Italy might—'

‘Patrick,' David said, quietly.

‘Aye?'

‘I must go back.'

‘Back to Scotland?' Patrick shot down the suggestion. ‘There's no safety there for ye, not even to the north.'

‘Not back to Scotland.' Looking steadily at Patrick, David sought to make his meaning clear. ‘I gave my word.'

‘To a Messenger?' Patrick scoffed. ‘No man is bound by the promise he makes at the point of a blade.'

‘I was not forced. I gave my word freely.'

His cousin, tight-lipped, exhaled the brief sigh that had always betrayed his frustration with hard knots and difficult puzzles and stubborn men. David knew Patrick was gathering patience.

‘And what,' Patrick asked, ‘did ye promise?'

‘The first time? That I'd not escape.'

‘But ye're not escaping, are ye?' Patrick said. ‘Ye're being rescued. So ye can rest easy in your mind.'

David smiled faintly. If they'd found him several days ago, if they had come upon him at the Roman wall, he likely would have gone with them, and used that very reasoning to ease his conscience.

But that had been before his rides with Phoebe Westaway, when he'd learned more of herself and of her father; and before he'd started looking forward to the daily stream of Hector's questions, which reminded him of… well, it was familiar.

David said, ‘'Tis not that easy, Patrick, for tonight I also gave my word that I'd return within the hour.'

His cousin thought a moment, then he gave a nod. ‘And so ye shall. With me and all my men behind ye.'

David shook his head. ‘I cannot let you do that.' He knew in strength he'd never been a match for Patrick, nor in cunning, and there was a chance that Patrick might yet simply knock him senseless and be done with the debate, but they had always shared a bond of deep respect and love for one another, and he trusted that it would survive this test.

His cousin stared at him. ‘Ye've lost your mind. Ye ken that it's a trap the king has laid for ye in London?'

David nodded.

‘And he does not mean to let ye live.'

‘I know it.'

‘But because ye gave your word to one who is not worthy of it, ye would choose to walk into that trap.'

‘I didn't say that.' David drank his wine. ‘I'm not in London yet.' He set his cup down, adding as an afterthought, ‘And Logan's worthy.'

Patrick shook his head. ‘My brother George was right.'

‘Pray, what did George say that was wise?'

‘He said I should be careful, for ye might not have the will for living now the prince was dead, and we would both end up without our heads.'

For all it had been fired from a friendly bow, it was a sharper arrowhead that found its mark. ‘And what do you think?'

‘I begin to think that he was right.' Patrick's frown fell partway between contemplation and concern, but then it cleared. ‘Ah, well,' he said, ‘ye've always had a melancholy face. Your head will look well on a pike above the Tower Bridge.' He grinned.

‘And yours?' asked David.

‘Why?' Patrick raised his eyebrows, all in innocence. ‘What wrong have I done?'

‘Tried to aid a fugitive from the king's justice.'

‘Well.' His cousin shrugged. ‘They'll have to catch me first, and I don't wish them luck with that. Have ye time for one more drink within the hour ye've been allotted?'

‘I believe so.'

‘Good.' As Patrick summoned Granville to refill their cups, he said, ‘'Tis not the king's men that do worry me. It is your brother William, when he learns I've left ye on the road alone.'

‘I'm not alone,' said David.

‘Maybe not entirely, but ye've none to guard your back.'

David sat back in his chair and disagreed. ‘I have an old man and a lass and a wee lad still wet behind the ears.' He faintly smiled. ‘And I have Andrew Logan.'