“Why is he in France?” Donal Stewart persisted.
“His mam was French,” Annabella explained. “The last of her family hae died, and he hae inherited their lands. He must appear before a French magistrate in order to claim them and then sell them to a neighbor, for Angus hae no wish to hold lands in France. He says Duin is all he can manage.”
It was a reasonable explanation, and offered without any hesitancy. Still, he would add it to the report he was planning to give the Earl of Moray. One could never be certain where traitors lurked. Donal Stewart knew his father was not the most beloved of men.
Annabella walked with her guest to the courtyard, and ordered the drawbridge lowered so Donal Stewart and his party might depart. “Please tell the regent that Duin is and always hae been loyal to their king. May God go wi’ ye, Donal Stewart.”
“I shall give my master yer message, my lady, and tell him of yer kind hospitality, for which I thank ye,” he said. Then, turning his horse, he signaled his men and they rode forth from Duin. He wondered who had brought this isolated castle and its unimportant lord to Moray’s attention. But there were surely no traitors at Duin. Although the steward had been loath to allow them entry, the countess had not hesitated. He and his men had been well treated, and his questions had been answered to his satisfaction.
When they had cleared it the drawbridge was raised once again. Annabella turned to reenter her home. Angus would not be pleased when he learned of Donal Stewart’s visit. Who else had known that Mary Stuart had briefly stopped at Duin?
And why would they attempt to implicate the Fergusons in some unspoken plot? She wondered if they would ever know.
Chapter 11
Ye were clever wi’ Moray’s man,” Matthew Stewart told Annabella afterward. “I wonder if my brother knows how clever ye are.”
“I suspect Angus knows far more about me than ye do, Matthew,” she told him. “After initial caution there was nae reason nae to admit Donal Stewart and his party into the castle. If I hae allowed ye to continue, ye would hae aroused his suspicions.”
“Suspicions? Why would anyone be suspicious of Duin? We hae always lived in peace, disturbing none,” Matthew replied.
“Did ye nae realize that someone learned that the queen sheltered here briefly? They reported this fact to Moray in an effort to curry favor wi’ him. It is obvious that the land is nae secure. Moray must hold his position by might as well as right. Any threat must be investigated.”
“Ye lied to him,” Matthew said.
Annabella laughed. “Only a little bit, and nae so much as to be caught by a stranger. Would ye hae had me tell him the full truth?’Tis true that I prevaricated a wee bit, but Donal Stewart did nae know it. I answered his questions wi’out demurring, and in such a manner as to prove our innocence in any crime that might be charged against Duin. His report to my lord Moray will calm any fears the regent might hae toward us.”
“Perhaps such pure innocence will but arouse Moray’s suspicions further,” Matthew said. “Duin canna be put in danger. Ye hae bairns to consider, and my Aggie is full wi’ our bairn.”
“Duin is nae in danger,” Annabella reassured him. “Angus will be back soon.”
The Earl of Moray had more important matters to concern him than Duin. He listened to his bastard son’s report of his visit and asked, “Did ye believe them?”
“Aye,” Donal Stewart said. “Duin is a very isolated holding. I am nae surprised they did nae know what was happening. And too their earl is of nae importance. Had ye ever heard of him before this rumor was brought to ye, my lord?”
“Aye, actually I did. He was one of Bothwell’s groomsmen when he wed Jean Gordon, but I had nae heard of him until then. His wife, however, is another matter. It was she who defended my sister’s body from harm when that wretch Riccio was disposed of, by flinging herself in front of the queen. That is the kind of loyalty a ruler hopes for but seldom receives,” the Earl of Moray said.
“Only one small matter caused me pause,” Donal Stewart said. “The Earl of Duin was not in his castle, but according to his wife in France settling a family matter. His mam was a Frenchwoman, it seems. The young countess did not demur when I asked her about it, my lord. Even though the history of the Fergusons of Duin is that of a clan avoiding controversy at almost all costs, Scotland is at war wi’ itself now. Was the settling of an estate so important that a man would leave his holding, his wife and bairns, to travel to France in such a time? Not being a man wi’ lands, I cannot say, but I think I might have erred on the side of caution and not traveled right now.”
“So the question becomes, why did the Earl of Duin travel to France?” Moray said.
“It could be for just the purpose told me,” Donal Stewart replied.
“Or it could be something else entirely,” the Earl of Moray said thoughtfully. “It could be for the purpose of treason, of bringing aid of one kind or another to my sister. I must learn the truth of this matter, Donal. Ye hae done well wi’ this matter so far. I will leave it in yer capable hands to discover exactly what is going on. Ye hae my permission to do whatever ye must.”
“And if the earl is caught in treason, my lord?” Donal Stewart asked.
“See that he does not return to Duin. I hae no time for trials and public executions wi’ the Queen’s Men besieging me at every turn,” the Earl of Moray said.
Donal Stewart bowed to his father and departed his presence. He knew the network of spies available to him in France. He would contact them and begin his investigation as quickly as possible. It was likely to come to nothing, but one never knew what one would find.
The Earl of Duin had reached Brittany after a rough voyage that had taken him into the Irish Sea, past the Isle of Man, into St. George’s Channel down the west coast of England, around Land’s End, and across the English Channel to France. He landed at Saint-Pol and, hiring a horse, rode to the estate where his mother had grown up. It was near Saint-Brieuc.
The small château in which she had spent her early years was in a state of sad repair, but he was able to live in it during his stay, cared for by two ancient servants with nowhere else to go. He would remember before he left to pension them off so they would not end their days in abject poverty. He presented his credentials to the village magistrate the day after his arrival. They were accepted, and he was free then to sell the property. To his surprise he found there were two bidders for the Mont de Devereaux lands.
The village magistrate offered to advise him, and Angus accepted.
“The lands are fair enough, and arable,” he noted, “and as they match Monsieur Claude’s lands, I understand his wanting to purchase them. But who is this second bidder? Is he also a local man?”
