J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

"I don't know! I cannot read, man. How would I know what was in it?"

"Then who sent it?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm sworn to-"

Law pressed his dirk into soft flesh just below the man's eye just hard enough that a drop of blood welled around the point. "And I'm sworn to find out."

The man made babbling noises that were almost sobs. "If I tell you, it's treason."

Law slid the dirk, making a small cut that wept a few drops of blood. He really didn't want to have to kill the dammed man. What would that benefit them? "And if you don't, then I'll kill you. And I am the closer."

The man made a piteous whimpering sound. "I'm in the duke's service. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester."

Law leaned back on his heels and let out a breath. Gloucester was the regent of England-one of their infant king's uncles. He looked at Taylor, who was, for once, speechless. "What the devil…?"

Taylor gave the man's hair another jerk. "It was a letter then."

"I told you I couldn't read it. I was supposed to wait for an answer. That's why I'm still here."

Taylor grunted. "Aye, that makes sense, well enow. He is probably telling the truth. Though…"

"Though what?" Law asked.

"Who was Blacader to deliver the message to?"

"I don't know," Langholme wailed. "Let me go now. I told you what you wanted to know-all that I know. I've done you no harm. Let me go."

Law stood, looking down at the man who was no more than a dark shape on the ground. "I dinnae see how he could have anything to do with what happened in Perth. I have nae more business with him."

"Well, we cannae let him go," Taylor said. "He'd pass word that we've learned his task here."

Langholme twisted, struggling to fight free. "No! Help! Mur-" A slash of Taylor's dirk cut off the cry.

"Damn you to the devil!" Law jumped back from the gush of blood. "There was nae reason to do that."

"He was an intelligencer working for the English. That was a death sentence by the king's own law. And I was right that he would have never have kept quiet that we learnt about the message he carried. He would have gone running back to his master. No, silencing him needed doing."

Law looked over his shoulder to see Cormac, holding onto the wall and bending over to retch. "Watch to be sure the noise did nae rouse anyone," Law told him, and then he turned to Taylor. "Curse you to hell and back. I'm nae murderer."

Taylor shrugged. "He sneaked into Scotland to spy for the English. His life was forfeit."

Law thrust his hands through his hair. "Aye… Well, it is done now. And I must return to Perth. Somewhere there is a letter gone missing from the Duke of Gloucester. And a murderer…" He glared at Taylor. "A different murderer still to be found."

"I must go to Stirling to take word of this, so I'll ride so far with you."

Law glared at the man again, not that Taylor would see it in the dark. "What about that?" he growled, nudging the dead man's leg with his foot.

"Someone will find him, but we need nae to be here when they do. Take your friend and hie back to the tavern."

"I intend to." He wanted to hit the murdering scoundrel, beat the smirk from his face. He certainly had no right to give Law commands. Who did he think he was? He turned and stomped to give Cormac a pat on the shoulder. "You all right?"

"I'll meet you at the tavern at first light," Taylor said as he slipped away into the night.

The attack was sudden.

They were making good time toward Stirling, the town a hazy blur in the distance, the castle at one end atop the high cliff. In the fields below them, the fields were still being harrowed with lines of laborers using large rakes to work seeds into the soil. Here and there was a field with sheep and gamboling spring lambs. There was a long stand of trees to their right.

Law ruminated on what they had learned and how they had learned it. At his side, Cormac rode again silent and thoughtful. Dave Taylor brought up the rear, his hand on the dirk that hung from his belt, dressed in a journeyman's sturdy woolen jerkin and leggings. But he carried a well-made sword. The only reminder of his guise as a rat catcher was the terrier, draped across his saddlebow, that occasionally lifted his head to give a doggy grin.

"Someday I should play for the king's court," Cormac said in a distant tone. "I should like that."

Law smiled. "I thought you did nae like lords and kings and such."

"I dinnae mind them as long-"

"'Ware!" Dave Taylor shouted as he dropped his terrier to the ground

Law turned in his saddle to see a crossbow's quarrel sticking up from the dirt and Taylor kneeing his horse in a circle as he searched for the source of the bolt. He drew his sword with one hand and wrapped his reins around his saddlebow to free the other.

"Yonder," said Cormac, pointing at the trees where three horsemen burst into view, urging their horses to a gallop. A big man in the lead swung a battle-ax as he rode. The two others had longswords that gleamed in the sunlight.

Law drew his dirk and wheeled his horse with his knees to face the onrushing men. "Cormac, ride for Stirling," he shouted.

His steed-no trained warhorse-danced sideways, snorting, as the first of the men reached them. He ducked under a swing and returned it. His attacker dodged, leaning sideways, shouting. His horse flattened its ears and plunged away from the fight. It took a struggle of legs and heels for him to turn it in time to parry a blow that would have gutted him. Standing in his stirrups, he blocked the swordsman's downward slash.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taylor's sword beat the swing of the ax aside. The small dog was dancing about, dodging horses' hooves and barking furiously. A horse's scream and cursing from behind him told him that Cormac had not fled, but the blade he carried was no match for a sword.

His opponent's horse reared, its rider fighting to control it. Law saw his chance. He lunged, using his sword like a lance, booting his horse hard so that it was driven through the man's belly. The swordsman swung as he went down off his horse, swinging as he fell, but he only fanned air.

Law kneed his horse in a turn to join Cormac, who was bleeding from a cut on his head and slashing wildly with his blade to try to keep the swordsman back. Cormac leaned far sideways, dodging a fierce two-handed swing. His horse reared, and he fell.

Law hacked at the man who was trying to circle Cormac's horse to reach the minstrel who was struggling to his knees. Suddenly a horn blew further up the hill.

"Yonder's aid for them," his opponent said yelled to his fellows. "Save yourself."

Six horsemen appeared around the bend in the road, riding fast. As the riders galloped toward them, the two attackers still ahorse broke and careered back toward the trees.

Law dismounted and squatted next to the man he had downed, who was moaning. He knelt, tossed the man's sword toward Cormac, and took a closer look at the man's wound.

"Curse you," the attacker said through gritted teeth, "you've killed me."

A wound was through his side, rather than his belly, Law realized to his chagrin. He had missed. But it meant that the man might live. The terrier stood stiff-legged with teeth bared, growling at him.

Law shrugged. "You may live."

Taylor had kicked his horse to pursue the attackers but turned back, cursing loudly, halfway to the trees. The newcomers slowed to a walk as they neared. They wore surcoats with the royal lion livery over worn but well-maintained armor. One used a hand signal to sign the men to surround the three of them, and rode up to Law. He had a small, bright red beard, and his blue eyes darted as he took in the scene of the fight.

Law stood and sheathed both of his weapons.