Chapter Twenty-Three
"The sheriff's deputy will meet us at Aikwood Tower, a few miles from here," Liam said, riding beside Tamsin. As they left the makeshift forest stable behind, he led the way along another path that skirted the encampment. Well behind them, Finley rode alongside Lindsay's man, Iain Campbell—two guards, one amiable and one dour, securely at their backs.
Tamsin had seen the leather bags they carried on their saddles, covered with blankets so as not to attract attention. Something important was to be delivered to the man they were to meet. She knew it had to do with Bruce, something Liam was part of arranging. She would wait—when the time was right, he would tell her. She felt more sure of him every day. Glancing back, she saw Finley lift a hand, and waved in response.
Brawny and silent, Iain Campbell also gave her a begrudging flicker of the hand. Inordinately pleased, she turned back.
"Is Aikwood held by the English?" she asked Liam.
"No one holds it just now. Fire damaged it beyond use, but it suits for private meetings, as no one goes there now. Though if I feel this fellow is not one I want to deal with, I will entrust the goods to James Lindsay, and we will all leave quick as we can.
"What goods are those?"
"Meant for Bruce," he said simply.
"So you truly need to trust this sheriff's deputy."
"Aye. If all is well, you and I will travel onward."
"On to Selkirk," she affirmed.
"It is another five miles or so from the tower. Then you will be content, hey?" His glance held a twinkle.
She smiled faintly, anticipating the hours ahead. What would she do with the book once it was in her hands? Originally, her plan was to take it to Kincraig, for it should belong to her family. But King Edward still wanted it—and Liam wanted Bruce to have it. But the book was hers to decide, not his. She frowned, determination growing.
In the quiet as they rode, she felt the wind stir her white veil, the simple everyday linen piece that loosely covered the top and sides of her head tied around her brow with a cord, leaving her long braids to hang down. She had crammed the veil in her bag when she had left Dalrinnie—departing a widow, now riding a wife again, at least for now. She smoothed her gray skirts, shabby now but brushed clean, and adjusted her blue-and-green plaid cloak, its generous width draped over the back of the horse.
When she sought better purchase on the iron stirrups with her booted feet, her recent dream came back. Why had she dreamed of standing on a hill, waiting for the knight? The first dream about him had proven true; escaping, she had met Liam again. But this dream felt dangerous, hopeless, for she had been confined behind iron bars as if in a prison. It haunted her.
Where the forest path narrowed, she followed on the dappled horse behind Liam as they passed a pool and waterfall. Finley and Iain came behind at a distance. She slowed, wanting to linger in that pretty place.
"The air is so refreshing here," she said over the sound of the waterfall as Liam turned, questioning. "I wish we could stay."
"Another time." His simple reply brought a spark of hope; his casual certainty about the future made her feel good in the moment. They moved on, leaving the rushing falls and the narrow path behind. Liam rode beside her again.
"We should not stop anywhere we might meet soldiers," he said. "The closer we come to Selkirk, the more chance there is of seeing them. We must keep alert." He glanced back. "Even with an armed escort, we could meet trouble."
"Liam," she said, "are those sacks a source of trouble? Is it gold we carry?"
"Not gold, though revenue," he explained. "I am—a collector of rents."
"A tax collector?" She smothered a surprised laugh.
"Not quite. I keep the rent-rolls for Bruce's properties, aye. Before you and I met at Lochmaben, before I—spent some weeks in King Edward's hospitality, I went about to Bruce's tenants in Carrick and Lochmaben to ask if they could pay rent to help the king. Not all could, nor will Bruce pose a penalty for it, not in this clime. But any money we can gather for him goes to the cause."
"It is good work that you do, then."
"The most important thing we carry, though, is a rent-roll document that is marked to indicate who among Bruce's tenants and neighbors support him and his kingship and could be called upon to help the cause of Scotland. Sir Hugh Douglas," he added, glancing at her, "helped me to complete that work."
"Oh!" she said in quick comprehension. "And you have done this all along?"
"For a while. Between rescuing damsels."
"This man we are meeting will bring the silver and the parchment to Bruce?"
"He promised James, who trusts him. I could go on the strength of that alone. I do not know this deputy, but we shall see what comes of this meeting."
"If he is trustworthy, then he will ensure that no soldiers are near when you meet."
"That is the expectation." She heard something unspoken in his tone.
"Yet he could betray us," she provided. "This could be a trap."
"Aye." He touched his sword hilt.
"I have a dagger," she said, remembering. "I took it when I left Dalrinnie."
"Best locate it, just in case. Can you use it for other than slicing a bannock?"
She smiled as he laughed. "My brother Henry taught me to use a dagger before I left Kincraig, when we knew I would live in a garrisoned castle."
"The same brother who taught you to climb down a rope? All useful skills."
"He taught my sister Meg to shoot with a bow. She was keen for it, was Meg. My sister Rowena already knew how to wield a knife blade. For treating injuries, you see."
"Or inflicting them."
"She could," Tamsin allowed. "And she rather liked swords—the wooden wasters that Henry and our cousins would practice with in the yard. Later, she studied healing."
"And Lady Tamsin? Arrows and blades for her as well?"
"Books," she said firmly. "Just books, and ink. Very sharp quills, though," she added, as he chuckled.
"How did the Rhymer's work become your responsibility? Your siblings are his great-grandchildren as well."
"He gave each of us gifts. I remember that day so clearly. He gave me a pretty box with ink and pens and parchment pages that were his. My siblings have other things that belonged to him, and he asked us to carry on his legacy. It is not just me alone, you see."
"The Rhymer must have known he was not long for the world."
"I think so. But I was young and did not realize."
"Better that way, lass."
They rode in silence for a while then, leaving the woodland to cross broad, rolling moorland, keeping the wide-flowing Ettrick Water to their right side. Hills rose ahead, thickly fringed with bushes and trees.
Soon she saw a tower on a hilltop, stone walls rising up, a walled keep overlooking a vast rumple of hills, trees, moorland and glinting water. The tower, though high, was jagged and broken.
"Aikwood," Liam said and led their party over the bridge. Tamsin felt tension in the air and tightened her shoulders. She noticed that Liam sat tall but with wariness in his back and shoulders, his calm gaze keen as any hawk's.
The broken tower had no moat, just the protection of the long hill and the broad view from above, so that anyone approaching could be seen for miles. The gate stood open, a wooden arched door in an iron grid between the fieldstone walls. For a moment, the crisscrossed iron reminded her of the uncomfortable dream.
They rode into the yard and halted outside the ruined keep, dark with char and traces of the fire that had taken in down. Nearby, a low stone building stood whole, its door open on shadows. A lone saddled horse nuzzled at autumn grasses growing around the crooked doorstep.
A man stepped out of the low structure and came toward them. His brawny build and height were made larger by a heavy blue cloak with raised hood, and a green surcoat belted over full chain mail. Lifting a gauntleted hand in a gesture of peace, he paused.
Dismounting, Liam helped Tamsin down and then turned. The man shoved back his cloak hood to reveal a young face with high, rounded cheeks and a swath of thick blond hair. Seeing them, the fellow grinned, dimples flashing. He laughed.
Gasping, Tamsin ran toward him. "Henry!"
"Tamsin," Henry saidlater, his arm around his sister, "I thought you were safe at Dalrinnie. But what you say about Sir Malise is alarming. We all know the man, I think." He looked at Liam, who nodded. Standing nearby, Finley and Iain nodded in silent agreement as well.
"So you see, I had to leave," Tamsin said.
While she had reunited with her brother, explaining her situation briefly, Liam had stood by—thanking heaven's own luck that Sir Henry was the new sheriff deputy of Selkirkshire. He had met the fellow but a few times and had liked him, found him straightforward, intelligent, and discreet. The position he held was an honor, especially for a young knight. Henry Keith of Kincraig must have earned the notice and approval of King Edward, as well as the sheriff of Selkirkshire, Edward's trusted cohort, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke.
Yet Tamsin's brother gave loyalty to Scotland precedence; even his sister had not realized the extent of his dedication. But Henry Keith was playing with fire if Edward ever learned the truth.
"Sir William," Henry said, leaving his sister's side to come toward Liam. "I recall we met at Carlisle three years back, was it? I doubt you remember it."
"I do. Four years back," Liam said. "Have you been here in Selkirk long?"
"A month or so, sent up to Selkirk Castle with Patrick Siward to work with De Valence."
"Patrick Siward?" Liam frowned. The fellow had been looking for Tamsin not so long ago on Malise Comyn's orders.
"Sir Patrick was at Dalrinnie the last time I was there," Tamsin said. "He came to Dalrinnie sometimes when Sir John was alive, usually with Sir Malise."
"Interesting," Liam said. "We saw him recently leading a patrol for Comyn."
"Comyn and De Valence have been working together to find Bruce," Henry said, "and whoever is working with Bruce."
"Then I hope you are a wary fellow, straddling both sides as you do," Liam said.
"As wary as one can be. Both De Valence and Sir Patrick are gone, one north, one south. I am expected to watch the forest. One could get lost in there for days. Impossible to find rogues. Some days I just give up on the task." Henry shrugged.
Liam liked the lad immensely, even more now than he remembered. "I have something for you," he said, "if you can bring it to its owner. If not, please have the courtesy to admit it, and I will have your sister removed to safety."
"I give you my word on my sister's life, sir. I am here alone, and no one is aware of what I sometimes do. De Valence and Siward regard my position as not very important, so I am not under scrutiny. I have Edward's approval as well, though I had to work hard for that," he added.
Liam studied him. Henry's gaze was direct, his dark blue eyes steady. Liam nodded. "If Bruce asked you to do this, and Lindsay trusts you, that speaks well of you."
"I will guarantee my brother's honor as well," Tamsin said.
"That is good enough for me," Liam murmured.
Henry gave his sister a rueful smile. "Thank you. I would hope Sir William would take the word of a man's sister."
"He would take the word of his wife," Liam replied.
"Wife!" Henry stared, then laughed in delight.
Tamsin went to Liam's side, welcomed under his arm. "We were married recently."
"God's very bones! And you said nothing until now?" Henry grinned. "Had I made the match myself, neither of you could do better. But what of Dalrinnie? It was once yours, Sir William. Will my sister be Lady of Dalrinnie once again?"
"It is currently in Malise Comyn's hands," Liam replied. "But that can change."
"It can, but it will take some doing." Henry leaned to kiss his sister's cheek. "May I take this news to Bruce?"
"If the lady agrees," Liam said. She nodded. He turned back to Henry. "Where is the king now?"
The young lord knew which one he meant. "Heading west. I know where to rendezvous, but if I miss him, James Douglas of Morton, his watchdog, will find me. But I must hurry before they sail for the Isles. I hear that is their plan."
"Do you go alone? It might draw less notice but is the greater risk."
"I have just a few days to ride out and back before De Valence returns from Berwick. Siward rode to Dalrinnie to meet with Comyn." Henry looked toward Finley and Iain, standing nearby. "But should you order your men to guarantee my honesty on the journey, I would not object."
"They are not my men. Confer with them and let them answer."
"I shall. You have brought excellent news, and I am pleased and honored. But we should go our own ways. We have been here a while and could attract notice."
"Aye." Liam and his cousin went to the horses to remove the leather sacks intended for Bruce, and left them with Henry on the stone step. Reaching into one bag, Liam withdrew a leather packet. "This list is as important as the rest, perhaps more so."
"I will guard all of it with my life." Henry tucked the packet inside his surcoat. "Where will you go now?" he asked Tamsin.
"To Selkirk. I left Grandda's pages to be bound into a book—for the family."
Henry nodded. Watching, Liam frowned. More and more, he felt that this book, whatever it was, belonged with the Keiths. "And then?" Henry asked.
"I thought to go to Kincraig to be with Meg and Rowena," she said. "But I do not know what my—husband plans." She glanced at Liam, her cloud-gray gaze hesitant.
"We should stay in the forest for a while," he said, "until we see what Sir Malise does next. Then, sir, I will take Lady Tamsin to Kincraig to see to the safety of your sisters."
"Have you heard if Kincraig is under threat?" Henry asked.
"Not yet that we know, but Bruce wants Scottish noblewomen under additional protection. I will send someone there directly soon, and we will go up there ourselves as soon as we can."
"Send word if you have news."
"We will," Tamsin said. "I am so glad to see you, Henry, and know you are well."
"Where can I find you, Sir William, when this mission is done?" Henry indicated the bags at his feet.
"Send word to James Lindsay or to Holyoak. Either will know where I am."
"If King Robert has a message for you, I will bring word back."
"I would be obliged."
"Henry." Tamsin hugged her brother. "Can we find you at Selkirk Castle?"
"Or patrolling the forest, so long as I retain this position. Give me a moment for a word with your friends before you go." Henry extended a hand to Liam. "Sir, I am honored to call you kinsman now. Take care of her."
"I will." Liam clapped his shoulder. "Be safe, brother."
As they rodepast a stone-walled kirk and graveyard, Tamsin shivered, crossing herself. Riding beside her, Liam slowed near the small, simple church.
"This path leads past the kirk into the town," he said, pointing ahead. "We follow it to the Water Row and the Back Row—streets bordering the market. You can just see it from here." As he spoke, he looked up at the kirk's bell tower.
"You know this place." Tamsin watched him, understood immediately the connection he seemed to feel. "The town—and this church."
"Kirk o' the Forest, they call it."
"A pretty name for a pretty church on the edge of the forest."
"More than that. An important meeting place, this. A few years ago, Wallace was declared a Guardian of Scotland here. I stood inside that door to witness him swear to defend Scotland."
"You knew him well?"
"I ran with him for two years, a small group of men. James Lindsay was with him too. Wallace was a bold man. A good man, with courage. Too much, sometimes," he added in a bitter tone, then urged his horse onward.
"The Guardians of Scotland," she said, keeping pace. "They work with Bruce?"
"They were appointed to act as Scotland's guiding council when we lacked a king, and to work with Edward to strive for balance and justice. Not an easy task. The roster changes often. Some step down. Some die in the effort. I have known a few. Admirable men, each one. It is an honor to support them."
"In secret ways," she said. "That is what you do."
"It is." He glanced at her. "And whatever you learn stays secret too, lass."
"It will. I am glad to know you work for Bruce and not Edward."
He tilted his head. "Who said I do not work for Edward?"
That stunned her. "But you did work for Bruce—"
"At times I must work for both. But one king knows the truth."
"Bruce," she surmised, and saw him nod. "Will you take the book to Edward, as ordered, or to your other king?"
"I have not decided."
His words were like a flame to a wick, and her temper flared. "I am thinking this is not your decision," she said. "This book is mine, not yours. It belongs to my family, not either of your kings. I decide what to do with it. If you still think to take it from me—you can just stay here. I will fetch it myself." She pressed the dapple gray's sides and surged ahead, leaving Liam in her wake.
Riding past the old kirk, her heart pounded with a mix of indignation and anger tinged with regret. She did not want to argue with Liam—she wanted his agreement. She did not want to wander into a town alone, not knowing quite where to go. But now hurt and pride kept her from looking back, waiting for him. Yet she hoped he was there—perhaps keeping his distance, for she had not cooled entirely. The book was hers. He did not have the right of it. She desperately wished he would see that.
The kirk path became an earthen street, then turned to a cobbled street lined with buildings, to branch into other streets. Ahead, she saw the bell tower of a larger church and then saw the market area, a three-sided green lined with shops, stalls, carts. A busy place where people walked about, knights on horses rode past.
She slowed, still too proud to look behind her, though she wondered where she was, and where she should go. The market, surely, would be the place to look for the bookseller. One step at a time, she told herself.
Above the town, beyond the tops of buildings leaning unevenly toward their streets, she saw a castle looming over the town. Selkirk Castle, Liam had mentioned along the way. Then, behind her, she heard horses' hooves coming nearer, louder. Hesitating, still fuming—though it began to fade as reason set in—she held her chin high and did not look around.
A moment later, Liam rode up beside her and leaned over to take one of the reins of her horse. She slid him a glare in silence.
"Look daggers at me all you like, my lady," he said, "but the town council does not permit horses on the square. We need to stable our mounts. Come. I know a place."
He released the rein to her control and gestured for her to follow him down one of the branching avenues. "There is an inn down along the Water Row where we can care for the horses. We can also have a meal and find a room for the night."
"A room!" She lifted her chin again, still wanting to be angry. But she needed his guidance here. Needed his calm and assurance. Already she felt the town encroaching on her, the crowds and noise and commotion assailing her, making her suddenly anxious.
"Can we go back?" she asked.
"It is a long way back to the forest, and we would need to ride at night. We must stay. I know an inn. All is well," he added.
"Aye then."
"Keep your hood up. Even with the veil, your hair is bright as new gold. I do not want you noticed."
She tugged at the hood, guiding her horse to walk behind his. When he turned into an alley beside a building, she noticed a painted sign reading "The Grapes Inn," decorated with fat bunches of purple grapes. She stopped when Liam did, in the center of a dusty yard behind the inn, where a stable sat. A lad came running toward them as Liam helped her dismount to take the reins of the horses. Liam took Tamsin's leather satchel from her saddle and led the way through the alley to the inn's door.
A woman looked up from a table, where she was filling jugs from a keg. "Greetings, sir. What do you want?"
"My wife and I would like a room for the night."
Listening, Tamsin felt a sweet shiver go through her at the words, at the quiet confidence. My wife. She was still upset with him, yet his murmur softened that.
"We just stabled our horses," Liam continued, "and hope for a room and a meal."
"Extra for the stabling," the woman replied, and walked toward a high table that held papers and a locked box, presumably for coin. "If you want a hot bath that is extra too, and if so, you need to take the room at the back next to the kitchen. We dinna bring buckets up the steps. And we need an hour's notice to fill the tub. Soap is another charge. If you want food brought to the room, it is a half penny more. And no clippin' on the edge of the coins. A full half."
"We will want a hot bath and supper in the room when we return," Liam said.
"Off to market?" The woman picked up a heavy iron key. "This way."
Liam took Tamsin's elbow as they followed the innkeeper. She felt her temper begin to drain away at his touch. No matter how impermanent this marriage, he was her husband. He was Liam, and she felt better when he was with her. Calmer. More certain. More entirely herself.
She stopped in the corridor as they walked to the kitchen.
"My lady?" he asked. "This way."
She nodded, distracted. Just then, she had realized what had not occurred to her before. His words, so casually spoken to a stranger, shed clarity on what had been missing from her life. A sense of belonging. An end to loneliness and uncertainty. A place where she felt at ease.
In so short a time, Liam Seton had become so familiar to her that he was—like home to her. He was there for her, had been there for her every time she had needed protection, advice, comfort.
Secrets or not, truthful or not, plans for the Rhymer's book or not—that quality felt so true, so stirring, that it overtook her objections, her doubts. Tears sprang to her eyes. The lonely years at Dalrinnie when she had seen so little of her family, and had lacked the affection of her husband… That loneliness and lack of love had been a burden she had carried, had even taken with her beyond Dalrinnie's walls.
Now, she felt that weight lift, felt a profound change as she stood in an ordinary place, the dim corridor where the innkeeper went on about keys and baths and extra fees. Liam's quiet use of "my wife" moments ago had released something in her that she had not even known was locked. In his voice, she heard caring, recognition of her worth. She dashed tears away with the back of her hand, sniffed—and told herself she was just very tired. Surely, that was it.
"Is there a souter here? A chandler, a woolen merchant perhaps?" Liam asked.
"Look for the signs near the market cross. Selkirk is known for wool and weavings," the woman said with a proud lift of her nose. "You will find more than one."
"Is there a bookseller too?"
"Now what do you want that for? No one asks for the bookseller but the priests. He has a shop near the tanning shop, I suppose because he uses leather for his books. Well, if your lady wants a wee book of prayers you could find one there. But be prepared to pay a pretty penny."
"I am prepared." He gave her some coins. "For the room, stable, food, and bath."
"Generous, sir. Here you are." She led them away from the kitchen that bustled with cook and servants, emanating rich smells of roasting meat and baking bread that made Tamsin quickly hungry. Opening a door at the end of the corridor, the woman stood back, handing Liam a key.
"Should you have goods worth lockin' up. The room is old and plain, but warm beside the kitchen, see. Sir. Madam." She gave Tamsin a shrewd up-and-down look, then returned to the main room.
The chamber was simple indeed, with whitewashed stone walls, a small window looking out on the stable, a crude chair and table, a chamber pot in one corner and a brazier in another, thankfully glowing and warm. A shelf stored candles and cups. A large cupboard with a curtained opening took up most of one stone wall.
Liam dropped his chain coif and pushed fingers through his hair, looking about. "Where is the bed?"
"Here." Tamsin tugged at the curtained cupboard to reveal a mattress covered in a blanket and a sheep's fleece. "A box bed. We have one at Kincraig. Snug and warm."
He peered inside. "Private," he murmured. Her heart fluttered with the word. He turned. "Shall we go to the market?"
"Can I leave my satchel here if we lock the door?" At his nod, she tossed the leather bag inside the enclosed bed.
"I am glad you left your great sack of books at Holyoak and brought just the one with you today. It is less to worry about."
"I thought we would return to the monastery, thought they were safe there."
"They are. Let us find your bookseller."
They walked without conversation toward the market green with its tall stone cross and commotion of merchants and customers. Pausing on the grassy sward, Tamsin turned. "I do not see the shop."
"Is that it?" Liam pointed to a sign on a narrow shop door. "Richard Bisset, Maker and Seller of Books."
"Aye. But the window is closed." Beside the door, the hinged panel that would typically open like a shelf for customers was latched shut.
"Lass." Liam took her arm. "Back there, coming up the main road—knights on horses. Evidently the castle garrison does not heed the council's rules about steeds."
She turned to see three knights riding toward the market. Where she and Liam stood on the triangular market green, the bookseller's shop was just behind them, and the Water Row with its inn was behind that. "What should we do?"
"We must get inside the shop. Quickly."