Candace Robb - The Fire In The Flint

Ada glanced with interest at Margaret’s basket. ‘The kitchen is deserted at present.’ She led the way to a small building at the edge of the backland. Directing Margaret to sit at the table beneath the window, Ada tossed some herbs in a small pot, added water, and set it over the fire. Their relationship was that of friends, but Ada also enjoyed mothering Margaret, and her efforts were appreciated. Once she was seated she asked about the documents. ‘Are they personal letters?’

‘No.’ Margaret’s face burned as she drew from the basket one of the letters she’d taken from Aylmer’s casket, suddenly shy about having taken what didn’t belong to her. ‘They may concern dangerous matters. You’ve only to say and I’ll find someone else to help me.’

‘Someone you would not mind endangering?’ Ada asked with a wry chuckle. But her strong face tensed as she noticed the broken seal. ‘It looks like rather official correspondence. Where did you find this?’

‘In the possession of Roger’s servant.’

‘Servant,’ Ada repeated in a thoughtful voice. For a long moment she held Margaret’s gaze. It seemed neither of them breathed.

When at last Ada stirred, her eyes and mouth softened. ‘I know you would not have searched had you not good cause.’ She spread the document on the table before her. ‘Let me see whether I can help.’ She skimmed the document and nodded. ‘The scribe has a good hand. That is to be expected, of course, in the household of King Edward of England.’ She watched Margaret’s reaction.

Sick at heart, Margaret crossed herself. ‘So I was right in thinking the seal that of Edward Longshanks. Are you able to read the letter?’

‘I can see that you are aware of the danger in reading such things, Maggie. Have a care.’ Ada nodded to herself, as if satisfied that she had done her duty in warning her friend. ‘The answer to your question is yes, by a good hand I mean that the writing is easy to read. You have learned some letters, you say?’

‘A priest in Edinburgh was teaching me.’

‘At your request?’

Margaret nodded.

‘I’m glad you wish to learn. I’ll take over for him if you like.’

By the rather inappropriate sparkle in Ada’s eyes, Margaret saw that her friend welcomed the intrigue. Margaret had hoped that Ada’s past with a noble lover might prove helpful, but she had expected some resistance.

Without waiting for Margaret’s response, Ada lifted the document and began to read aloud. The letter acknowledged Malcolm Kerr’s offer of the use of his ships for some of the king’s business in Flanders. The king accepted the offer, with the arrangements to follow.

It was as Margaret had feared, her father had chosen the side of wealth and influence in this struggle. She turned away from Ada, shamed by her father’s lack of honour.

Ada set down the document. ‘Many in Perth would admire Malcolm for this,’ she said in a thoughtful tone.

‘I hate him,’ Margaret said too loudly. ‘I am ashamed to be his daughter, coward and traitor that he is.’

Ada shifted, her silks whispering richly. ‘He might have done you a favour, Maggie.’

‘How could this favour me?’

Ada smoothed out the curling document. ‘If the English were in fact the executioners, they will never mention Smyth’s death; if they had nothing to do with it but consider a thief in your father’s warehouse a threat to either their supplies or their plans, again they won’t mention it.’ She gestured to Margaret to move closer. ‘Come, I’ll read the letter slowly, pointing to each word. Then we’ll read the next.’

Following along as Ada read calmed Margaret’s mind a little, but Aylmer’s possession of her father’s letter troubled her.

She next chose the document addressed to Roger that mentioned her own surname and bore part of a royal seal. She held her breath as Ada explained that it was dated shortly before Roger’s departure for Dundee. It was not the royal seal, Ada said, after a quick look at the contents, but that of the constable of Carlisle Castle, a royal castle, and thus it incorporated some royal details in its design.

‘The scribe wrote on behalf of Robert Bruce the constable of Carlisle,’ Ada explained, ‘father to the Bruce who some believe might lead us out from beneath Edward Longshanks’s hammer.’

Margaret had not told Ada of Roger’s connection to the Bruce. It was an unexpected complication, that Roger had been in contact with the father of the Robert Bruce whom Roger served. This Bruce was still publicly loyal to Edward Longshanks. Fearing the letter might concern Roger’s rescue of Edwina of Carlisle, Margaret said, ‘I don’t know that I want to hear this one.’

Ada gave a silky shrug. ‘It is a trifle, purely business. On behalf of your father, Roger was to receive some goods for the constable in Dundee and arrange for transport to Carlisle.’ She looked up at Margaret. ‘Would you care to go over the words?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘Perhaps I can come again to learn more words.’ She was relieved that Roger had genuinely intended to go to Dundee.

‘Come as soon as you like,’ said Ada as she handed back the document. ‘Do you have another?’

Margaret produced the other document she’d taken from Roger, the one with the word ‘Rex’ in the text.

Smoothing it out, Ada glanced through it, her expression growing troubled. ‘I believe this may be what you deemed dangerous. A letter from the younger Robert Bruce. Your husband should have destroyed this, once read.’

Her heart pounding, Margaret bent over the parchment. She recognised a few words but too little to understand the message. ‘What does it say?’

Ada read slowly. It concerned Edwina of Carlisle, the wife of ‘our good friend’. The wording was cautious, until mention of Edward’s slaughter of the burghers of Berwick, a slip of passion in an otherwise harmless request for Roger to escort Edwina to Edinburgh and there await the funds to continue on to an unspecified safe haven. She would travel under the name Dame Grey.

So Roger had rescued Edwina at the request of Robert the Bruce.

‘Does Roger think to survive by pleasing both sides?’ Ada wondered.

‘He had a change of heart as he travelled to Dundee on the elder Bruce’s business,’ Margaret said. ‘I already knew of this.’

‘Ah.’ Ada rose and poured the contents of the small pot she’d heated into two cups. After handing one to Margaret she moved to the window with hers and stood quietly gazing out for a while.

The tisane was spiced with ginger, Margaret discovered as she held the steaming liquid to her lips, and it was still too hot to drink. She set down the cup, drew out another document. The rustle of silk made her look up. Ada had turned from the window. Her attention was on the basket.

‘Are you also a supporter of the young Robert Bruce, Maggie?’

‘No.’ Margaret sipped the tisane, burning the tip of her tongue.

‘Are you spying on Roger for someone else?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘For myself. I need to know this man I married.’

Ada eased down beside her and took her hand, looking long into her eyes. ‘My dear friend, I had guessed there was much you had kept from me. Your stories the other day were amusing, yet I sensed a great sadness behind them. I pray you confide in me.’

It took little more coaxing for Margaret to open up to her friend.

‘Roger seems unable or unwilling to tell me the truth about how he came to disappear, what his bonds are with others.’ She explained who Edwina of Carlisle was, and her lingering suspicion that she’d been Roger’s mistress. ‘Uncle Murdoch was so loath to tell me about her, I was ready to believe the worst. And then Roger reappears with a servant far too fine for his station.’ Knowing she could trust Ada, Margaret also confided her own staunch support of John Balliol so that her dilemma was clear. ‘You see, I’ve taken a scunner to my own husband.’ She shook her head.