“He asked that I go with him to the magistrate and temporarily sign over these lands to the de Guise family. As soon as a bill of sale was drawn up, the lands would be returned to us, and I would get my gold,” Monsieur Raoul said. “But I didn’t do it.”
“Why not?” the earl inquired.
“The gold was tempting, but there was too much of it for this to be an honest venture. My father had told me how you had a greater offer for this property, yet you still sold it to him. I realized that whatever the de Guises wanted that bill of sale for, it was a dishonest purpose,” Monsieur Raoul finished.
“And yet there was a bill of sale,” the earl said. “And in my saddlebags was found a bag of gold coins, and a letter for Mary Stuart.”
“It is the magistrate,” Monsieur Claude said with certainty. “He has always been a greedy man. He forged a bill of sale for this property, and was well paid for it by the de Guise family, I have not a doubt.”
“Then I shall visit the magistrate,” the earl said ominously.
“I will go with you,” Monsieur Claude replied.
“Non, I will not involve you and your family in this,mon ami. The de Guises still maintain a certain amount of power, despite France’s queen mother, Catherine de’ Medicis. You do not want to find yourselves involved with them if you can avoid it. You have acted honorably, as has your son,” Angus Ferguson said, “and I am grateful to you both.”
“I will go with you,” Monsieur Claude repeated. “The magistrate acted dishonestly, and must know that I know. I have more power than he has in this village.”
Annabella spoke low to her husband. “The magistrate hae insulted the honor of this family. Let him come wi’ ye, my lord. It will gie him an advantage that he dinna hae before over this dishonest man. That will certainly be a punishment.”
“Ye’re a devious soul.” Angus chuckled. He turned to Monsieur Claude. “You do me honor. I will be glad for your aid.” He held out his hand in friendship, and the Frenchman took it and shook it.
“Let us go immediately, monsieur. The magistrate will just now be sitting down to his meal. We can catch him unawares. He is a man who can concentrate upon only one thing at a time, and his food will be his first priority. He will be frightened and confused by your questions, and easily caught in the lies he will spew to cover his dishonesty in this matter.”
“My papa does love a good intrigue,” Monsieur Raoul murmured.
The earl chuckled, nodding. Turning to Annabella, he said, “Bring the horses, Robert, and follow us.”
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, trailing after the two men as they left the salon.
Behind them a relieved Monsieur Raoul heaved a sigh.
They walked the short distance from the château into the village. Above them the sky was a clear blue, the sun warm upon their shoulders. Annabella in her guise as the earl’s servant led their two horses along the dusty path. The village was quiet in the heat of the afternoon. A large fountain in the square offered cool water to passing travelers. They stopped before a substantial stone house. Annabella tethered the animals as the earl knocked loudly upon the door of the house.
“What is it you want?” the servant answering the door said.
“We’ve come to see your master,” Monsieur Claude said in a loud voice.
“My master has just sat down to table,” the servant said. “You can wait.”
“I have no intention of waiting, you insolent varlet!” the earl snarled, pushing his way into the hallway of the house. “You will take us to your master immediately or your next position will be in the eunuch’s choir in Rome.”
The unfortunate servant blanched. “Yes, monsieur! Come this way!” He ran down the hallway ahead of the trio. Reaching the dining salon of the house, he flung open the doors, ushering in the visitors.
“What is this?” demanded the magistrate, looking up from a fat capon that he had been slicing.
“Villain!” Monsieur Claude said angrily, shaking his fist at the seated man. “You would attempt to involve my family in your dishonest practices. You have brought dishonor and danger to the monsieur in his own land so that he must hurry back to Mont de Devereaux to clear his good name. How much were you paid by that sly agent of the de Guise family to put your signature to that false bill of sale?”
The magistrate’s mouth fell open with his surprise. “How . . .” he began.
Angus Ferguson quickly stepped forward. The dirk in his hand casually speared a small piece of the carved bird. He brought it to his mouth and chewed, swallowed. “You have endangered my wife, my children, my most honorable name,” he said quietly.
The magistrate, his eyes on the dagger, shrank back just slightly. “Monsieur . . .” he began again.
“I am not interested in your lies,” the earl told him. “Your actions have caused me to be accused of treason against my own king. You have taken coin for this deceit.”
“Judas!” hissed Monsieur Claude.
“Now you will correct your error,” the earl said, “that I may prove my innocence.”
