“Who has been renting it?” Lord Stewart was curious.
“Ye’ve let the agent rent it out to lords and churchmen with no homes, but business here in Edinburgh. Kira, the goldsmith, has yer funds, my lord. We can live comfortably while ye remain in the town.”
Fin nodded. “Where is the queen now? Not the bairn; her mother.”
“Still at Linlithgow. The wee queen has become a prize to be squabbled over by the Protestant lords and those who hold with the old faith,” Archie said.
“Does Queen Marie ever come into Edinburgh?” Fin wondered aloud.
“I can listen to the gossip in the streets, my lord,” Archie replied.
“I would pledge my loyalty privily, but I suspect it is better I not go to Linlithgow where I might be seen. My loyalty is to the royal bairn, and not to the factions that seem to arise in cases like this. I remember when King James was a lad being fought over. The lords were like dogs with a particularly meaty bone.”
“It was not a good time,” Archie agreed.
“Angus was a bad stepfather, and Lord Methven little better. Queen Margaret was not the woman Queen Marie is. This Queen Mother will not take another husband as her predecessor did.”
“I believe yer correct, my lord,” Archie said. “Everything she has done so far has been done with measured carefulness for her daughter.”
That same day Archie went into the market to purchase parchment, ink, and a fresh quill. Bringing the items home, he helped Lord Stewart compose a brief missive to his wife.
Madam, he began,I have just returned home from England. I am quite alive but have been unable to communicate with you until now. Archie has joined me, and we will remain here while I complete my business. You may expect me home within another month. My felicitations to your grandsire.It was signed,Your loving husband, Fingal Stewart. While his signet ring had been stolen from him, he had a another seal in his house. He pressed it deeply into the thick wax he had drizzled onto the parchment.
The next morning, Archie took the tightly rolled parchment and went to the small square where men who hired themselves out as messengers were waiting for employment. He stepped up on a square stone put there for the very purpose of hiring a man. “I need someone to ride into the Borders for me and deliver this message to the lady of the keep at Brae Aisir,” he called out. “There’s a silver piece in it for the man I hire.”
“The Borders grow more dangerous every day,” someone in the crowd of waiting men said. “Just where is this keep?”
“In the mid-Borders,” Archie said. “Away from Berwick and Carlisle.”
“Just deliver the parchment? Nothing else?” the voice inquired further.
“Just deliver the message to the lady of the keep,” Archie repeated. “Ye dinna have to wait for a reply. Just deliver.”
“I’ll do it.” A rough-looking bearded man stepped from among the crowd. “Where’s the silver?”
“Do I look the fool?” Archie said, glaring up at the fellow who stood at least six inches taller than he was. “My master is Lord Stewart of Torra House beneath Castle Hill. Come there when ye return with the name of the person at the keep into whose hands ye placed this message, and ye’ll have yer coin. Here’s a copper to show my good faith. Now will ye take the commission or nay? I’ve no time to haggle with ye. The price is indeed more than fair, but because the ride is long, my master is inclined to be generous with ye.” He tapped the rolled parchment against his boot impatiently.
“Give it to me! I’ll take it,” the big messenger said, holding out his hand for the copper piece promised as good faith. The little man was right. The price offered was fair. He tucked the message into his jerkin for safety. Two days there; two days back, he thought. The messenger went to his horse, mounted up, and kicking the beast, trotted from the little square.
Archie hurried back to his master. The messenger returned to Edinburgh several days later, coming to Torra House for his payment. “Who took the parchment from ye?” Archie asked him as he held the coin up.
“Didn’t catch his name,” the messenger replied. “He came up to me in the keep yard and took the message from me. I said it was for the lady. I did my part.”
Archie gritted his teeth. The messenger had been given specific instructions, but to argue with the clod would accomplish naught. Reluctantly he flipped the man the promised coin.
Chapter 15
Six weeks after Annabelle Stewart had been born, her mother was churched in the Brae Aisir chapel in an ancient ceremony of thanksgiving that celebrated a woman’s safe passage through the ordeal of childbirth. In order to keep Ewan Hay from his great-niece, Father David declared the ceremony could be attended only by the women of the village. Knowing no better, Ewan Hay was forced to keep away.
It was the middle of May now, but no ransom demand had come for Lord Stewart.
Still there was gossip that King Henry had released a number of lords back into Scotland.
Archie had managed to slip away to Edinburgh to search for Fin in case he had gone to his house beneath Castle Hill first. Ewan Hay knew nothing about Archie, as Fin’s servant had returned before his arrival at Brae Aisir, and Archie had been kept in a small chamber in the attic being nursed. Maggie held out hope yet that her husband would return.
But few others did. Even her grandfather believed now that Fingal Stewart had died at Solway Moss and lay in an unmarked grave. Father David had attempted to reason with Maggie, but she would not listen to his words of comfort. May came to an end, and one day a group of several neighboring lairds came to see Dugald Kerr. They would not speak with him until she had left the hall. She refused to go until her grandfather had quietly asked her to leave them.
Maggie had never refused any request her grandsire had asked of her. She curtsied to him, and walked from the hall, her head held high. But once out of sight of those in the hall, Maggie hurried to a small alcove on one side of the chamber’s wall that had a spy hole. Here she could see and hear all that transpired. What she heard did not please Maggie in the least.
