and your party,” the captain responded. Then he bowed, and taking up his cloak, departed.
“I am ravenous!” Rosamund announced. “It has been a long, cold ride.”
“Dermid, find the landlord and order us supper. Do it discreetly, and try not to be seen by any who might recognize you. Leave your plaid and badge here, man,” the earl instructed his servant.
“Aye, my lord,” Dermid said, and hurried out.
“Why did you instruct Dermid as you did?” Rosamund asked Patrick.
“Because Leith is a port, and it is full of spies seeking whatever bits of information they can find to sell. A Leslie tartan would give rise to questions in certain quarters, and so I prefer that we not be seen or identified,” he explained to her.
“But the landlord? How did we get this private accommodation, and how will we pay for it?” she questioned him.
“The landlord of the Mermaid is in the king’s pay. He collects bits of information for Jamie Stewart. He was instructed to have this room available for Captain Daumier and his friends. And he was paid well to be silent about it,” the earl explained to her.
“This is certainly a world of which I had no idea,” Rosamund said to him.
“Why would you, my love?” he said in answer. “You are the lady of Friarsgate, a prosperous estate in the borders of England. Intrigue is not something with which you would be familiar, but you will soon learn much of it, for you are with me. This is more than likely a useless business I undertake, but the king will attempt every means he can to avoid a war with England. Would that your king were as careful.”
“Henry Tudor has a great sense of his own importance,” Rosamund began. “When he decides that he is right, he will follow a course to its end. And God is always on his side,” she finished with a smile.
The Earl of Glenkirk laughed aloud at this. “I think, my darling,” he said, “that you have a very sharp eye and will be very useful to me in this matter.”
“I will not act against England, Patrick,” she told him. “I am no traitor.”
“Nay, lovey,” he responded. “We do not act against England, but Scotland’s king is older, more experienced, and has more wisdom than your Henry Tudor. And do not forget that Scotland’s queen is England’s sister. But we would prevent a war, and our king will not betray his alliances to serve his own ends, as your king attempts to make him do. It is most dishonorable, Rosamund.”
“I know,” she sighed. “Meg always said her younger brother was a bit of a bully. And now he is England’s king.”
“And jealous of King James’ good relations with His Holiness. He attempts to destroy that relationship for his own ends,” the earl noted.
“He is not a man who likes to lose, or even take second place,” Rosamund admitted. “Patrick, tell me exactly what it is you go to do.”
“When we are aboard
“You do not trust me?” She was astounded and hurt.
He took her in his arms. “Aye, I trust you, but I cannot know who is listening at the door, my love. Do you understand me?”
Her amber eyes grew wide with surprise, and then she silently nodded.
A moment later the door opened to admit Dermid and a servingman bearing a tray. The tray was set upon a table, and the servant left after a swift glance about the room. There was nothing of note, and it was just as his master had told him. Lovers escaping to another land. No one would pay good coin for that unless they were people of importance, and while their clothing was fine, it was not extravagant, and the gentleman wore neither a plaid, nor a badge that would identify him. Disappointed, the servingman was swiftly gone.
“He’s got a sharp eye in his head,” Annie noted pithily.
“Nothing to see here.” Dermid grinned at her.
The two young servants served their master and mistress the meal that had been brought, and then, invited, sat down to eat with them. There was a joint of beef, a fat capon with apple, and bread stuffing. There was a bowl of mussels steamed in white wine and bread that was freshly baked and still warm from the oven, with softened butter melted on it. A wedge of cheese had been supplied along with a pitcher of October ale. They ate in silence, and they had barely finished when there was a soft knock upon the door. It opened to reveal a young boy.
“Madame and monseigner will follow me,” he said, turning to go.
Annie set her mistress’ fur-lined cloak around her shoulders and then stuffed the pockets of her own cloak with the apples and pears that had come with their meal. Then she and Dermid followed after the ship’s boy. They exited the inn through the same back entrance through which they had entered, and followed their guide away from the courtyard and down a narrow alley, out onto a long, wide dock. At the end of the wharf was their vessel, a fair- sized boat that appeared to be in good condition. They boarded, and the boy led them through a door at the ship’s stern.
“This will be your cabin,” he said, and then he left them.
Rosamund looked about the room. It wasn’t very big, she thought nervously.
“There is still time,” he said to her.
“Nay,” she responded.
A large wide bunk was built into the wall, and above it was a single bunk.
“You and Annie will sleep here,” the earl said. “Dermid and I will take turns sleeping and watching.”
“ ’Tis cold,” Rosamund said.
He nodded. “We won’t be warm again for several weeks,” he told her. “Traveling in winter is never very pleasant, but we will manage. You and Annie get into bed now, for that is how you will stay warmest. Remove only your shoes, lovey.”
The two young women climbed into the larger of the two bunks after taking their shoes off. They burrowed beneath a surprisingly warm down coverlet.
“It’s better here,” Rosamund agreed.
“You can sleep safely. Dermid and I will not leave you,” he told her.
“I think I am too excited to sleep,” Rosamund told him, but both she and Annie were soon snoring lightly.
“Get your rest. I’ll take the first watch,” the earl told Dermid, and the servant climbed into the top bunk without another word. Patrick settled himself in the small window seat of the stern window. He listened while the ship was freed from its moorings. He felt the shift of the vessel as it began to get under way, slipping out into Firth of Forth, riding on the outgoing tide. He could see the royal shipyard with the black masts of
Patrick thought back to the last time he embarked for San Lorenzo. His daughter, Janet, was no more than ten, and Adam, six. He traveled as King James’ first royal ambassador to San Lorenzo. He hadn’t wanted to go, to leave Glenkirk, but duty had called him; the king had said it would not be for more than a few years. When he had returned again to Scotland his daughter was lost to him forever. He and his son and Mary MacKay, who had been his daughter’s maternal grandmother, had gone back into their Highlands. Mary had died several years later, in her cottage, where his daughter had been born. Jan. Janet Mary Leslie. What had become of her? Was she even alive today?
And now here he was once again on his way to that exquisite Mediterranean duchy, traveling this time with a girl younger than his daughter would be now. What madness, he thought, with a small smile. And what incredible happiness he was experiencing, such as he had never known in all of his life. Silently he thanked the fates for giving him Rosamund. That she was as passionate about him was astounding. The mode of their travel was hardly romantic. It would take them several days to reach France traveling as they were, and then a long and weary ride stretched before them. He had been mad to ask her to go. He had been mad to consider going himself. It was a fool’s errand the king was sending him upon, but James Stewart would do whatever he had to do to keep the peace with England.
Amazingly, the weather held as they sailed south down the coastline, never letting the land disappear from their sight. It was cold, but the brisk winds sent their vessel speeding along. And then, one morning as Annie and Rosamund stepped from the cabin for a walk about the deck, Captain Daumier approached and pointing, said, “France, madame. We crossed the Strait of Dover in the early hours of the morning. As the weather is holding, we shall make for Le Havre. With luck we will be there by the morrow.”
