V Masters - The Castilians - A Story of the Siege of St Andrews Castle

‘Father, what is going on? How can I have suitors when I’m already promised, or are you now planning a bigamous marriage for me?’

‘Do ye no ken what’s happened?’

She shakes her head.

‘I thought your mother, or Agnes, would’ve told you. Norman Wardlaw dropped dead,’ he pauses, ‘or so his brother claims. I heard tell there was a violent altercation between them and Norman came off worst. Nevertheless that’s the story Walter Wardlaw is telling, and we have no way of disproving it.’

Her eyes fill with tears. ‘Norman was a good man.’

Father lays his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s right and proper you should mourn him lass, but we must get you to safety. I am by no means certain that Wardlaw will not send soldiers here.’

She looks up; it is all so strange.

‘It is best you marry, and quickly.’

She can hardly believe it: she was nearly a wife, and widow, and now she’s back to being Father’s chattel to do with as he wishes.

‘I never thought to have a daughter that would be so sought after, and by two men of wealth and standing. Mebbe ’tis better if you leave Scotland for a whilie, lass, until all these protestors settle down to become guid Catholics again, and your role in the siege is forgotten. Although, there is the issue of Mainard’s father’s crime; it made me much disinclined before, I must say.’

She rubs her face. Father knew the reason for Master de Lange’s pilgrimage all this time, and he never mentioned it to her.

He’s still ruminating. ‘And yet Logie is of a good family: the Logies of Clatto. He is the younger son and a soldier, mind. Perhaps he can protect us from any retribution for my traitorous son’s activities…’ He tugs on his beard. ‘…yet Mainard, I’ve done business there, only a small amount, but if we’re all family then we’ll be favoured, protected even.’

She waits as Father ponders aloud. She notices Mainard’s father’s transgressions are becoming of less consequence.

Father rubs his hands. She does not venture an opinion, but then none is asked. She realises she’s safe from Walter Wardlaw and, having failed her family there, she should do what’s best for them now. Then she feels a surge of rage at being used as Father’s pawn, again.

‘I will make my own choice this time, Father.’

His face flushes. ‘You are my daughter and will do as I say.’

She takes a breath and replies calmly. ‘But I am of age, and do not require your permission to marry.’

‘I must speak with Mainard,’ says Bethia.

Father stands up but replies mildly, as though he’s trying to sooth a difficult child. ‘Heed my guidance, lass, for I know much of the world, and you little.’

‘I’ve learnt a lot more this past year,’ she mutters.

Father rubs his face. ‘I am for Logie. Antwerp is a long way away. We would not see you daughter, if you lived across the sea, and we do not know the provenance of the de Lange family. The Logies are well known to us and have strong connections in Fife, a powerful family and a noble one.’ He pauses, stroking his beard. ‘It would please your mother, and may help in having Will’s transgressions overlooked. Aye, I have decided. You will wed Gilbert Logie.’

‘I will speak with Mainard first, we have some unfinished business.’ She sweeps past him and opens the door.

Father’s lips tighten. ‘Wait here while I fetch him. I will give you a few minutes, no more. Then you will do as you are bid, lass, I will brook no disobedience.’

He returns with Mainard and sits down. She thinks to insist he leaves the room, but then decides not. She has a growing suspicion, and it will be easier confirmed one way or the other with him here.

‘Father says you wish to wed me?’

Mainard looks startled by her directness but answers civilly. ‘I do, yes.’

‘Why did you not write to me, as promised?’

He blinks. ‘I did. Why you did not reply? I write to you every time my father send a letter to yours, and more in between.’

Father stands up. ‘I see no purpose in continuing.’ He opens the door wide and waves at Mainard to leave. Both Mainard and Bethia stare at him.

‘It was you, Father.’

Father tugs his beard. ‘It is an irrelevance, the laddie was not suitable. The sins of the father are visited upon the son, even unto the fourth generation.’

‘But to leave me in ignorance – and heart-sore. Why, Father?’

‘You kept the letters,’ says Mainard slowly.

‘More like burned them.’

Father’s face goes red, the veins standing out on his forehead, but Bethia doesn’t care.

‘Why did you not ask for my hand before you left last year?’

‘I did not think it right that death and marriage be confused. Was important first to go home with my father, and the Certificate of Pilgrimage, and for all to be forgiven, before I propose.’ He smiles at her. ‘You are most direct.’

She returns the smile. ‘And, fortunately, you give good answers. Her face grows solemn again. ‘But why did you not return sooner?’

‘When you do not reply to the letters, I thought you change your mind.’

‘Then why come now?’

Mainard flushes. ‘Something my own father say made me suspect that he destroy my letters.’ He looks at Father from under lowered brows. ‘It does not occur that you, sir, will have objection, especially since you now do much trading with us.’

Father raises his hand and steps between them, but Bethia pushes him out of the way. She looks up at Mainard. ‘Do you still want me?’

‘Yes,’

‘As your wife.’

He nods, smiling. ‘As my wife.’

‘Stop!’ roars Father. ‘Have you lost your senses? You’re my daughter and you will do as I bid you. You will wed Logie.’

‘No, she will not,’ says Gilbert from the doorway, the rest of the family clustered behind him, agog. ‘I withdraw my suit.’

She almost feels sorry for Father, who looks as though he’s about to have a seizure.

‘You will take good care of her,’ Gilbert says, looking over her head at Mainard.

She turns to see Mainard nodding. ‘I will take good care.’

She feels like she’s losing momentum, doesn’t want them talking over the top of her head as though she is a package to be passed around, from Father to suitor to suitor to suitor.

‘I will not be marrying anyone,’ she says loudly, then realises she sounds like a petulant child. ‘I will make my own choice,’ she amends.

‘You will do your duty,’ Mother screeches, face pink as boiling beetroot water.

Father shushes her, and she thumps down on the settle, but all attention is on Bethia.

Gilbert takes Bethia’s hand. ‘I will always wish you well,’ he says looking into her eyes.

She looks down at their hands joined together; she doesn’t know what to say to him.

‘I think it will be safer for you to leave,’ he says releasing her hands.

‘Aye, that’s true,’ says Father. ‘Our neighbours ken where you’ve been, or at least they guess, and Wardlaw is a dangerous enemy. I wasn’t able to save Will. Let me at least protect you – from imprisonment, or worse.’

What he says makes sense and she nods slowly.

‘I am giving you to the lad, and if we are punished for Will’s transgressions then it may be wise for the family to have a base in Antwerp.’

‘I must have Grissel with me.’

Father grunts, but says, ‘you will take your servant, as any respectable lass would.’

Gilbert is already halfway down the hallway. She looks at Mainard, ‘I must speak with him.’

Mainard stands aside and she pushes past Agnes and Grissel, sees a woebegone John tucked in the corner, but her attention is on Gilbert.