“Bastards,” he muttered, and kicked at the ground, sending several small pebbles flying.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With his hands on his hips he stared up at the cloud-covered sky. There was nothing to gain in having a childish burst of anger. He had dealt in the politics of court for too long to be surprised by this.
A part of him wanted to pack up his household and flee, to hide away with Ilsabeth until the true traitors showed their faces. Simon knew he would not do that, however. He wanted her free and that would not happen until the men who tried to use her to cover their trail were caught and punished. Now, he also wanted to stay so that he could prove himself. It did not matter if he had done so before, time and time again. He refused to flee leaving anyone questioning his honor. His good name, the reputation he had built, were all he had and he would not allow them to be taken from him.
A little calmer and determined to prove himself yet again, Simon began the long walk back to town. He was just negotiating his way through a thick tangle of brambles and saplings when he heard voices. Just far enough so that he could not hear exactly what was being said, two men were talking. Deciding it was an odd place for men to meet unless they wanted to talk of something they did not want anyone to hear, Simon slipped silently through the tangle until the men came into view. Crouching down, Simon smiled. It was Hepbourn and a man Simon suspected was the David they had been looking for.
“I tell ye, Walter, I am being watched!”
“David, watching isnae such a danger. Just accept that ‘tis true and be cautious.” Walter patted his cousin on the back. “T’will all be over soon. I just got word that Henry is on his way with his men.”
“That is good news but it doesnae help me much, does it?” David snapped, and began to pace. “Ye would find it hard to believe what a tortured route I had to take to get here. I tell ye, I think ‘tis worse than being watched. I would swear that I am being hunted.”
Perhaps David was not a complete fool, Simon mused, making careful note of what the man looked like, even down to the way he walked. A look at the anger on Hepbourn’s face told Simon that the man was not accustomed to David complaining. Dissent amongst the ranks was something Simon found very promising.
His men were doing their job well, too, he decided. They had put the chill of fear into David and made it difficult for Hepbourn and his lackey to meet in comfort. Such small inconveniences could disrupt even the most well thought out plans, although it appeared the plot was still on course. The guard around the king would need to be increased.
“David, calm yourself,” said Hepbourn. “This agitation could prove dangerous and ye ken weel that Henry willnae tolerate it.” Hepbourn nodded when David stopped his pacing and grew pale. “Exactly. Dinnae e’er forget how he treats those he no longer trusts. Wheesht, or those who just make him angry.”
“How can one forget? The mon made sure all those who were joined with him saw and learned the lesson weel. Are ye certain he is the right choice?” David took a deep breath and blurted out, “Aside from what he did to those two men who thought they could just walk away from all this, I have heard some hard things said about the mon.”
“It wouldnae do us any good if we had a weak mon to lead us, would it?”
“Nay, nay. Of course not. But, ‘tis said he killed his own bairns.”
“They were lasses. His wives have always failed him in that. Every mon wants sons.”
“Aye.” David nodded but his expression revealed his unease.
“If ye begin to have doubts, David, I would advise ye to swallow them. Henry will be here soon.” “How soon?”
“Three, four days. ‘Tis hard to say. He sent his mon ahead to tell us so that I can ready some accommodation for him and his men, but the trip from Lochancorrie isnae an easy one and there is much that could delay him.”
Simon nearly leapt to his feet and demanded Hepbourn tell him all he knew. Just hearing the name Henry had sent a brief shiver down his spine, but this chilled him to the bone. There could not be too many Henrys from Lochancorrie yet Simon did not want to believe that his own brother was involved in a plot against the king. The Inneses of Lochancorrie might not be a big, rich, or important clan but, until Henry had begun to rule it with an iron fist, it had been one many had been proud to belong to.
His home could be lost, Simon suddenly realized. If Henry truly was part of a plot to steal the throne and murder the king, and if that plot failed, then all of Lochancorrie would suffer. The king would have every right by law to take it from his family and give it to someone else. Henry was vain, brutish, and cruel, but Simon was finding it difficult to believe his brother, and laird, would risk all he held to grab for something he had no right to.
“Aye, I ken it. It was a miserable journey the last time we made it. I best go as the men watching me may wonder if I slipped away when I dinnae appear outside the inn soon. That would mean e’en more trouble for me as it took me quite a while to slip around them this time. ‘Twas more luck than skill, I am thinking, so I dinnae think I will be able to do it again.”
“I will meet ye in the tavern tomorrow eve.”
“But, if I am being watched …”
“I am doing naught wrong in going to a tavern to have some ale and a tumble with some wench and none can say otherwise. Go, David. I will see you on the morrow. And regain your faith in what we plan, cousin. I swear, Henry can smell a weakness or a doubt on a mon.”
Simon sat still and silent until he heard two horses ride away. To be certain he would not be seen, he remained where he was for a full hour. He needed the time to think, anyway.
“Henry, I kenned ye were a vicious, coldhearted brute, but I ne’er thought ye would be a complete fool,” he muttered, and ran his hand through his hair.
While it was true that he had not been near Lochancorrie for ten long years, Simon found the idea of the lands being taken from the Inneses too much to bear. There was some proud history in those stones. Good men had lived and died at Lochancorrie for years before his father and then his brother had stepped up as lairds. Simon did not want to see it gifted to some court lackey whom the king felt he owed a favor.
Standing up, he brushed his clothes off and resumed his walk back to town. He needed to find more proof that his brother was in with the traitors. David and Hepbourn were cautious in their speech even though they had thought they were not being listened to. Neither one of them openly spoke of a traitorous plot or murder. It was even more important to get his hands on David now. The fact that David was beginning to question the rightness of the plot, of their leader, could only work in Simon’s favor.
He needed to talk to his men and not only to get them to place themselves in every tavern in town in order to watch David and Hepbourn meet. He needed to know what, if anything, they had heard about the man Henry. If they had heard something, if Simon gained some proof no matter how thin, that his brother was part of this plot, he would have to move fast to try and save what he could of Lochancorrie.
“He was in the woods?” asked Peter, one of the men Simon had placed to watch David.
“Aye,” replied Simon, and waved to the tavern maid to bring both him and Peter some ale. “He met with his cousin there.”
