Candace Robb - The Fire In The Flint

Aylmer shook his head slowly. ‘Sterlings — they were clear about it, Dame Margaret.’

She found it unsettling, both of them aware that her father’s ships had carried Edward Longshanks’s men and that Malcolm had no doubt been paid well, probably in sterlings, the coin of the realm, and yet neither mentioning it.

‘Sterlings, coins, what does it matter?’ she asked, an honest question for she had no idea why Aylmer found it significant.

‘Might I ask what you know of your father’s trading?’

About to rebuff him, she changed her mind, thinking she might quite naturally put him off. ‘Less than I know of my husband’s, which is little. The household is my responsibility.’

Aylmer said nothing.

‘What did you tell these men?’ Margaret asked.

‘That my master understood Malcolm Kerr to be in Bruges. I could not help them. It was but a small lie.’

‘You know something of the sterlings?’

‘No, but I believe your father has been in the town.’

Margaret wondered whether Jonet had told him. She should have admitted it when Roger first asked her. He would not have harmed her father. And yet there were the letters. ‘In faith, little surprises me of late.’ She rose. ‘I must be going.’ Mungo rose and stretched, obviously intending to stick by her.

To her dismay, Aylmer insisted on escorting her home. ‘The men were quite agitated, Dame Margaret. I would not have you harmed.’

‘No one accosted me earlier, and now I have Mungo to protect me.’

‘You were fortunate to pass safely. But your husband would not wish you to risk walking alone again.’ He nodded to the dog. ‘As for him, he hid when the men arrived.’

Aylmer’s determination silenced further argument.

They found Celia in the yard airing clothing. She greeted Margaret and bent to scratch Mungo behind the ears. Margaret was bemused to find fussy Celia fond of dogs. She told Celia briefly why he was there, and the maid offered to watch him while working out in the yard. ‘You have been missed,’ she said. She did not so much as look at Aylmer.

Roger was pacing in the hall when Margaret and Aylmer entered. He glanced from one to the other. ‘What has happened? Did you find Fergus?’

‘No.’ Aylmer informed him of Ruthven and company’s visit. When Roger exhausted his questions, Aylmer excused himself and withdrew to his room.

Margaret’s heart sank. She could only hope that Aylmer was so confident the papers were well hidden that he did not obsessively check for them on return.

‘Have you no idea what it is the men are demanding of Malcolm?’ Roger asked.

Margaret stood beside the table at which Roger had apparently been going over the accounts. She set the basket out of sight on the bench pulled up to the table and fussed with a mound of tally sticks. ‘I have never witnessed anyone descending upon my father’s house in the mood that Aylmer described. Is there enough light for you to work in here?’

‘Yes. And leave the tallies as I had them.’

Margaret shrugged and sank down on to the bench beside the basket and sighed as if weary.

‘It is strange they do not think to come here about your father’s debts when they find no satisfaction at his house,’ Roger said. ‘As if they know only Malcolm can satisfy their demands.’

‘Sometimes I think Andrew is the only member of my family I understand.’

‘I have seldom heard you praise him. You thought him lacking joy.’

‘I have learned to value his steadfastness. And at present even Fergus lacks joy.’

‘That reminds me …’ said Roger. ‘I sent Aylmer for Fergus. Where is he?’

‘I don’t know,’ Margaret said. ‘What did you want of him?’

‘We need to make certain that the English hear the same story about John Smyth from all of us.’

‘I don’t understand your secretiveness about his death. Everyone knows of it. We don’t know what happened, but he shouldn’t have been in the warehouse. He was trespassing. Isn’t the truth our best defence?’

‘Maggie, I know what I’m doing. Do not interfere.’

Margaret refused to back away. ‘Then explain how you imagine it working.’ She paused as she thought of a possible explanation for the scene at her father’s house. ‘I wonder. Smyth’s death is no secret. Perhaps Da’s creditors are worried that the English will seize him when he returns, and they fear their money will be claimed by the English.’

Roger cast his eyes down for a few breaths, then met her gaze with interest. ‘That is quite possible. With whom have you discussed this?’

‘Only with Aylmer. He spoke with the men. Why?’

He shook his head. ‘I maintain that it’s best the English find no proof of anything amiss.’

Margaret was about to appropriate Ada’s reasoning and suggest that the English might have been the executioners, or would approve of Smyth’s murder, but remembered in time that she should not know of Malcolm’s cooperation with the English for she’d learned of it in the stolen letters.

‘What of Smyth’s kin?’ she asked instead.

‘What proof do they have? And I don’t think the English will care enough to talk to them. They’ve bigger problems, with Wallace and Murray gathering troops near Kinclaven, and the Bruce they know not where.’ He began to leave the room.

Margaret relaxed a little. She might at least return Roger’s documents. But he suddenly turned in the doorway.

‘Where is Malcolm?’

‘I’ve wondered that myself. All but his family seem to have seen him. Aylmer believes he has been in Perth.’

‘We’ve found signs of someone shifting goods as if preparing to move them. Whoever it is, he has not succeeded in hiding the preparations. But you’ve not spoken with your father?’

For the second time this day she regretted her promise to her father. His carelessness made her feel a fool. But she did not have time to consider the consequences of confessing to Roger. ‘How could I have spoken to him without your knowledge?’

‘Where were you this morning?’

‘At Ada’s. I’m worried about Fergus,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘It’s not like Mungo to bark in the night, even when Fergus is from home. Do you think Ruthven and the others are watching the house? Do you think they might have taken Fergus?’

‘If they had him, why would they storm the house when Aylmer was there? More likely they would demand ransom. I’m still wondering why they don’t come here.’

‘Give them time,’ said Margaret, ‘they’ll think of it soon enough.’ She picked up the basket and rose, struggling to keep her mind from the damning documents she carried lest Roger somehow read her thoughts. ‘Perhaps we should close up Da’s house and let Fergus and Jonet bide here.’

‘We’ll discuss it.’

‘I thought that’s what we were doing.’

‘I must think about it.’

‘Oh. Then I’ll be about my work.’ Margaret brushed past Roger and climbed to the solar to return his letters to the casket.

Halfway back to Perth, Fergus halted. Fear of what he might face on the road was propelling him back into the trap of his family. But it occurred to him that because of his father’s activities Perth might be the most dangerous place for him at present. Or was he using that as an excuse not to see Matilda? He could not think clearly.

The afternoon grew hot as Margaret, Jonet, and Celia shifted the airing bed linens. Celia kept up a patter about spreading linens on lavender shrubs, which Dame Katherine had recalled from her mother’s youth in Suffolk in the south. That led her to perfumed oils and unguents. Margaret relaxed with the chatter, imagining an idle life in a richly furnished home with a glorious garden that bloomed even in winter. Mungo had been sleeping in the sun, but suddenly he stood up and growled.