Grumbling beneath his breath, the old secretary led the boy to the wide corridor leading to the great hall. “It’s at the end of this hallway,” he said. Then he turned about and hurried off.
Callum found the great hall easily. He inquired of a servant for the castle’s steward, who granted him a place at one of the lower trestles and said he might sleep in the hall itself. The boy lingered for the next few days, speaking little but listening a great deal as he moved discreetly about the hall itself. He learned that while, discouraged, she had fled into England, where she was now more prisoner than honored guest, Mary Stuart was still beloved by those within the castle. He heard whispers of a plot to restore the queen to her throne, but he learned nothing that was not really common gossip in all of Scotland. Finally, after two days, he sought out the castle steward once again.
“Would ye consider gieing me a place here?” he asked the man.
“Who are ye?” the steward said.
“I’m the courier who brought a message to Lord Fleming several days ago,” Callum reminded him. “I can read. I can write. And I can do numbers. There is opportunity here for me. If I return home I must toil in my father’s smithy.”
“I dinna know,” the steward said slowly. He looked the boy before him over. His hair was a bit shaggy, and his clothing was hardly elegant, but if he told the truth about reading and writing, he might very well be of use. Allan, His Lordship’s secretary, had been complaining about having to write letters for Lady Fleming when he was so busy with more important things to do for His Lordship. His hair trimmed, the rough clothing replaced, the boy might serve as Lady Fleming’s scribe. “Perhaps I have a place for ye,” the steward said. “But first I must hae yer hair trimmed, and find more respectable garments for ye.” He then went on to explain to Callum that Her Ladyship could use him to write her letters. She was a great letter writer.
“Thank ye, sir!” Callum bowed to the steward, who was further pleased by this show of manners.
The boy was sent to the kitchens, where his hair was trimmed and he was bathed so that the stink of horse would not offend Lady Fleming and her woman, and then he was given fresh garments of a more suitable sort for a lady’s scribe. Callum made certain, however, to retain the breeks and shirt he had formerly worn. The old laundress told him she would wash his garments and return them to him. He had to admit he was surprised by all this fuss just so he could serve Lady Fleming.
He returned to the hall, presenting himself to the steward once more.
The steward nodded, pleased. The lad had cleaned up nicely. “Follow me,” he said, and led Callum to Her Ladyship’s apartments, where Lady Fleming and her women were now gathered. He bowed, and Callum followed his lead. “Here is the lad I’ve found to be yer scribe, my lady,” he told her. “His name is Callum and he will serve ye well.”
“I must see an example of the boy’s writing,” Lady Fleming said. “Ye say he can write, but how he writes is more important than the fact that he can.” She spoke directly to Callum. “Go to the table there. There is parchment and ink. I would see an example of yer skills, Callum.”
“Aye, my lady,” the boy said, going immediately to the desk, seating himself, and taking up the quill. He spread a piece of parchment out carefully, thought a moment, and then wrote quickly. They could see the words forming upon the vellum. When he had finished he silently handed it to Lady Fleming. She read it and laughed.
“What did he write? What did he write?” demanded her women.
Their mistress read from the parchment: “‘Madam, I will consider it an honor to be in yer service. Yer most humble servant, Callum Ferguson.’ ”
“Ye write very well,” Lady Fleming said. “Who taught ye?”
“The Countess of Duin,” Callum answered truthfully.
Lady Fleming nodded. The name was vaguely familiar but of no importance to her. “He will do very nicely,” she told the steward.
Callum was pleased that so far the plan formed by the earl and his wife was working so smoothly. Now a part of the family’s household, he was apt to hear things he might not otherwise hear. He made certain not to be absent from Lady Fleming’s presence. He was always available when she needed someone to fetch something for her. He was young enough that she felt no shyness in speaking before him. Soon Lady Fleming found Callum, her scribe, indispensable. He was allowed a place at the far end of her table, even as Lord Fleming’s secretary was given a place at the opposite end. He ate quietly, and he listened.
And then one day his listening was rewarded. When Lord Fleming spoke at his high board, those seated with him did not speak over or around him, so Callum heard him quite clearly as he spoke with his wife.
“It hae been decided,” he said.
“Must more blood be shed?” Lady Fleming said.
“Do ye truly believe that Moray will ask his sister back to take up her throne again now that he hae all the power in his own hands?” Lord Fleming said. “It will nae happen, madam. They want a Protestant king, and the only way to gain one is to raise one.”
Lady Fleming sighed. “How soon will it be?” she inquired. “And how soon before we may welcome our dear queen home?”
“Moray will be the first,” Lord Fleming said. “As soon after Twelfth Night as we can. Then the others as quickly as we can run them to ground. Once Moray is dead the others will know the hunt is on and make provision to defend themselves. And remember too that they hold the wee king. The queen cannot return until we have destroyed her enemies. And after that we will have to go down into England to rescue her. It will be several months, but hopefully by summer Scotland’s queen will be restored.”
“She is fond of James Stewart, despite everything that has happened between them,” Lady Fleming noted. “She is sentimental when she recalls her childhood before France at Stirling. He was the oldest of the bairns. She looked up to him.”
“Which is why it is better to dispose of him quickly, and first,” Lord Fleming said. “She detests Lennox and will weep no tears over him. As for Erskine, it is a necessary evil we face, for he also is kin, but it must be done.”
Lady Fleming nodded. Then she crossed herself and continued eating.
At the far end of the table Callum listened while he ate, and stored away the small nugget of information. In the days that followed he heard nothing more. When Lady Fleming asked him to go into the town to fetch her a supply of a particular sweet she loved, he knew he must use this opportunity to execute his escape. He visited the sweetshop and was pleased to learn he would not have to come back.
“She always orders these sweets near the holiday,” the sweetshop owner told Callum. “We have them in readiness for her,” he said, handing the lad a large square box. He thanked the man and then continued on his way, walking through the town until he heard a familiar voice at his elbow. Turning, he saw one of his kinsmen and stopped. “Rafe, ’tis time for me to return to Duin, isn’t it?”
“Aye, lad, it is,” Rafe said.
