Bertrice Small - Until You

Rosamund, he knew, had believed that she would control their courtship. She thought that he wanted her enough to dance to her tune. And he did. But he realized now that Tom knew exactly what he was saying when he suggested play difficult to obtain. It had been just the right thing to do. Now the next move in this game they were playing would be up to her. He wondered what she would do.

“You will remain the night,” she said. It was not a question on her part.

“Nay,” he said. “I think it better I return to Claven’s Carn, lady. I must think on how we may bring your cousin and Lord Dacre into serious conflict with each other. I will return when I have the answer to my questions.”

“Very well, my lord,” Rosamund answered him. He was not staying. Why would he not remain? Could they not have spoken together and made a plan? “Perhaps if we dealt with the matter together, Logan Hepburn, the solution might come easier and sooner,” she heard herself suggesting.

“Do you think so?” he said. She was asking him to stay.

Rosamund nodded. “Certainly Claven’s Carn is well protected in your absence, as your son resides there,” she reasoned. “And it would indeed be a quicker ride home for you in the daylight.”

“You may be right,” he said casually. “Very well, lady. I will stay.”

“Come into the hall, then,” she invited him, and turning, she led the way.

Logan winked at Lord Cambridge, and then he followed her.

“What was that all about, I should like to know.” Maybel demanded. “What mischief are you up to, Tom Bolton?”

Tom grinned at the old woman. “I have simply advised him how to win her. He must pretend his interest in her is beginning to wane so it is Rosamund who will have to convince him that they should be man and wife,” he told Maybel.

“Oh, traitor!” Maybel said, and then she laughed. “My child would not be happy if she realized how well you have come to know her, Tom Bolton. But you are right. If we are to see her married again, and happy at last, it must be her own wish, not ours.”

“You’ll not tell on me?” he said, his eyes dancing with their conspiracy.

“Nay, I’ll not,” Maybel promised. “You have been her guardian angel since the day in which you came into her life, Tom Bolton, and I thank the Blessed Mother for it.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “But you well know we have been a blessing to each other, Maybel. Come along, now, and let us see what is transpiring in the hall. Are you not curious? I know that I am.”

That evening, after the meal had been served, Rosamund, Logan, Father Mata, Maybel, Edmund, and Tom sat together in the hall plotting. Philippa had been sent to her bed, her windows barred, Lucy on the trundle by her bedside, and the Hepburn clansman on guard outside the girl’s door.

“The bait must be something tempting to them both,” Rosamund said.

“Then the trap must be baited twice,” Logan told them. “Once for Henry the younger and once for Lord Dacre.”

“If Dacre believes that Henry and his men are Scots,” Rosamund considered, “that should be bait enough for him. But what will bring them together at the same time and in the same place?”

“There is a deserted abbey near Lochmaben,” the priest said. “What if Lord Dacre learned that gold, previously hidden there, was to be transported from that abbey across Scotland to Edinburgh for the little king’s use? He would want to take that gold. And what if Henry the younger learned about the same gold? The abbey is in a desolate area. Both men would consider it an easy haul. Lord Dacre would be warned of this band of renegade Scots in the neighborhood. Henry would not be warned of Lord Dacre. If they came upon each other, certainly a battle would ensue.”

“I remember once,” Edmund remarked, “my brother Richard saying you would go far in the church, Mata. Your talents are indeed wasted in this rural outback.”

The young priest grinned.

“To get them to the same place at approximately the same time,” Logan noted, “that is where our problem will lie.”

“Not if Henry believes the shipment will be unguarded for only the first five miles of its trek. That it will meet up with the king’s men where the abbey road and the Edinburgh road join. That means he must attack before the gold reaches it guardians. If he is clever, he will wait until the shipment is halfway between the junction of the two roads. We will make certain he does this and then we will make certain Lord Dacre knows it,” Logan said. “Your cousin is basically a coward. He is not looking for a fight, but rather easy pickings.”

“How do we do this?” Rosamund asked him.

“I will go to Lord Dacre,” Tom said. “I am English, and he will believe me, particularly as I will bleat about this bandit who threatens my estates at Otterly and those of my cousin the lady of Friarsgate, who is the queen’s dear friend, just back from court, you know, where her daughter was chosen to be a maid of honor in two years’ time and may be matched with the Earl of Renfrew’s son. His lordship is a snob. He will listen carefully to what I have to say and think to gain greater favor with the king by stealing this gold for him and protecting the queen’s friend in the bargain.”

“And who will tell Henry the younger of the gold?” Rosamund asked.

“I will,” Edmund spoke up.

“You, old man? Are you mad?” Maybel demanded. “Am I to be widowed in my old age, then? You will do no such thing, Edmund Bolton!”

They all laughed, but Edmund replied to his wife, “Nay, old woman. I will go to my nephew and tell him this tale of gold. I will say I heard it from our neighbor, the laird of Claven’s Carn. That I have come to him in hopes that by telling him of this bounty that can be his, he will leave Friarsgate and Philippa Meredith in peace. That the gold he may steal will give him the opportunity to begin a new life somewhere else. I am his uncle, his blood kin. He knows how much I love Friarsgate and our family. He will believe me, for he could never conceive that I would be duplicitous with him where the safety of Friarsgate and its inhabitants are concerned.”

“He is right,” Tom said.

“Aye, and brave, too,” the laird remarked. “You’ll take an armed guard with you, Edmund, for without them your nephew might be tempted to do something foolish.”

“And just where is this gold going to come from?” Maybel demanded. “And how will you gain the monks’ cooperation in this charade?”

“Remember, the abbey is deserted, Maybel. But neither Lord Dacre nor Henry the younger will know that,” the priest said. “Monks’ robes are easily available, and some of the laird’s men can don them to make it appear to anyone watching that the abbey is populated. Two monks will drive the cart up the abbey trail towards the road. At the first sign of trouble, the drivers will leap from the cart and flee into the woods. No one will chase after them, for it is the gold they want, not a pair of cowardly monks.”

“You still have not said where the gold will come from,” Maybel insisted.

“There is a supply of bricks stored away from when we made the new bake ovens,” Edmund said. “They can be wrapped in cloth and tied with yarn. Piled in the cart, they will appear to be just what Lord Dacre and my nephew have been told. Gold.”

“It must all be done with perfect precision if we are to succeed,” the laird said. “Tomorrow we will set up the steps to follow.”

“What will Lord Dacre think when he discovers the bricks?” Rosamund wondered.

“He will undoubtedly head for the abbey, and discovering it empty, realize he has been duped. I suspect he will believe there was indeed gold but that it was transported earlier in some secret manner to foil the English,” Tom said. He stood up, stretching and yawning broadly. “Oh, I believe I am ready for my bed,” he said. “All this plotting is absolutely exhausting, dear girl.” He bent, and kissed Rosamund upon her forehead. “Good night, and sweet dreams, cousin. Logan. Maybel. Edmund.” And then he was gone from the hall.