J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

Cormac turned slowly, examining the room. "Where do we even start looking?"

"It's not in the open. Everywhere obvious has been searched, so it must be in some hiding place."

Cormac shrugged a shoulder and wandered over to the hearth and hunkered down to examine the stones, then went to one side of the room and walked slowly, stepping on each floorboard and testing for any that was loose. Finished with the hearth, Cormac did the same with the stair steps, bouncing on each to test for give.

"Check the table," Law said. "Might there be some hidden drawer, do you suppose?"

There wasn't. They exchanged frustrated glances and went upstairs to the room Blacader used for his office. It was much smaller than the downstairs hall. They checked the floorboards, which were all solid. "Let's move the desk to check under it," Law said. He picked up the large pricket candlestick, noticing that it held no candle, and laid it on its side on the floor. Cormac picked up some papers, but Law said, "That's odd."

He squatted and picked up the candlestick, holding it upside down. Stuck in the bottom, which looked hollow, was a gob of wax.

"Why is it hollow?" Cormac asked.

"To make it lighter, I suppose. Pewter is heavy stuff." He unsheathed his dirk and pried out the wax. There was parchment inside.

Cormac squatted beside him as Law pulled it out. He saw that it was what he had been searching for-the letter from the duke of Gloucester. He dropped the candlestick and stood to smooth it on the desk. The seal of the duke of Gloucester was unbroken. On the front, the name of the intended recipient was written in a cleric's clear script: Walter Stewart of Lennox, master of Fife.

Law sucked in a breath.

"Should we open it?" Cormac whispered.

Law shook his head. "I want nothing to do with this. It is a death sentence." He glanced at Cormac. "You saw that in Glasgow."

As they left, Law heard Widow Blacader's voice coming from the large barn, lecturing her son on the best plans for a trip to Edinburgh. He and Cormac made their exit quietly and closed the gate behind them. When they reached Blackfriars, Dave Taylor was waiting at the gate, and they went in through a side passage to find Bishop Cameron. Law was glad to hand over the parchment.

Bishop Cameron looked at the letter, his face drawn into hard, grim lines. Then he turned and strode from the room with a sign for Law to follow. He shrugged at Cormac, who was apparently not included.

The bishop spent an hour closeted with the king, the Earl of Atholl, the earl of Douglas, and several other advisors, while Law paced in the corridor outside the chamber. They strode out with forbidding looks on their faces. The king commanded that a force be sent to Fife to arrest Walter Stewart, eldest son of the Duke of Albany, and Law was given permission to go home. He had never been so glad to do so.

He spent several anxious days until word reached Perth that Walter Stewart had been arrested and taken to Stirling Castle where he was put to the question. Law never heard what was done to him before he confessed to conspiring with the English to overthrow his liege lord, King James, the first of that name. He named his father and brothers as having conspired with him to put his father on the throne but Walter to rule in his name.

Within the week, the duke of Atholl was arrested as well. But Seamus Mor, the youngest son, escaped.

Five days later, Law received a summons from the king to the royal apartments in Blackfriars Abbey. The messenger in royal livery who summoned him led him through the same side gate that Taylor had used, on gravel walks between dripping evergreens, and beyond them along the marble facade of the royal guesthouse. From somewhere came loud voices, curses, and a laughing argument. As they rounded a corner, Law heard the thud of a ball and the sound of cheers.

The doorway was guarded by two men-at-arms in royal livery who admitted them at a word from the messenger. He stepped into a gallery crowded with nobles. Law bowed to the Earl of Douglas, who was speaking to someone Law did not recognize, but from the gold chain and belt, obviously another earl. Douglas gave him one glance and resumed his conversation.

Law went to the window to watch the game. The king, facing them, grunted and returned a serve with a fierce spin on it. Sweat was dripping down his face and from his hair. His opponent, a younger man Law did not recognize, raced to return it. The ball was hurled back and forth. It ended with a point for the king. There were cheers and applause as the two shook hands.

"It is still a grave situation," Douglas said loudly.

"Seamus will fight," the other man said. "And we'll be in a-"

"Wheesht." Douglas glanced toward Law. "We'll speak of it later."

After waving to recognize the applause, King James stripped off his doublet. He threw it down and took a wet towel from a liveried servant. A clerk approached and whispered to him. The king looked about. "Sir Law," he called. "Come and join me."

Law stepped into the court and followed the king to the opposite gallery, the king mopping cheerfully at his neck and chest as he walked. More servants carried in a table and goblets of wine.

The king was a man of only middling height, not as tall as Law, who was six feet. His damp auburn hair fell in waves to his shoulders, he wore a small chin beard and moustache but was smooth-shaven otherwise, and had remarkably large, piercing blue eyes. He had begun to spread a bit about the waist but still moved like a man in his prime.

"Sir Law," the king said, "it is a pity about your leg. You look like you'd be a good player otherwise. I'd offer you a game, but I'll nae play a man at a disadvantage."

"It would have been my honor, Your Grace," Law said, relieved that the king wasn't wroth about the news Law had brought about the king's own cousins. "If I can offer any other service, it is yours."

He handed Law the towel and said, "Rub down my back for me whilst we talk."

"Aye, Your Grace," Law said, trying to hide his amazement. He began to wipe the sweat from the broad, freckled royal back.

The king snapped his fingers, and a cleric brought him some documents. The king selected one and waved the man away. "You ken that I am adding certain practices I observed whilst I was in England to our Scottish laws?"

Law cleared his throat. "I… No, sir. I had nae heard that."

The king leaned back slightly as Law rubbed. "There are creatures called coroners in England. They investigate any sudden death and, if there is a fine to be imposed by the crown, see that it is collected. The English are much better at seeing that the royal revenue is not lost. So I am going to name coroners here in Scotland to serve the same purpose."

"But…"

"Speak up, man." He took the towel from Law and tossed it to a servant, who handed him a fresh white linen shirt.

"Is that nae what the sheriff does?"

"The sheriff will still hold the duty of enforcing the law. But you will be my first coroner to investigate deaths and collect any revenue owing the crown. You proved yourself in the matter of the Duke of Albany. So here is your authority." King James handed Law the parchment.

Law took the document. He read the words, forming them with his lips as he read since his Latin was rusty. "Scotland has never had coroners," he said weakly.

"Scotland does now."

Law tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"You will receive a stipend, of course. Nae a great deal for I still owe the damned, greedy English for my ransom, and rebuilding Linlithgow Palace since the fire will take a great deal of gold. But you will receive enow to pay for a roof over your head. And I always thought you deserved more reward for your services than you have received."