all you have brought?’ he asked her. ‘Are you so confident that your kinsmen’s house in Stirling will be in readiness for you? The English have taken over many dwellings.’
‘The tenants are skilled in gaining grace with whoever holds power,’ Ada said. ‘But I also sent my butler and cook on to prepare the house. So I carried only what was necessary for this journey and brought only my lady’s maid and the two menservants with me.’
James silently cursed himself for not having anticipated that Ada would send servants ahead. Now Simon Montagu might be forewarned and expecting a de la Haye. But it did not changeanything, merely hastened the meeting, for Montagu would have soon discovered Ada’s presence anyway, gossip typically being rife in a town under siege; unfortunately the gossip did not pass so easily out of the town to the countryside, and hence his need for Margaret. He noticed that she, however, looked distraught.
‘From this moment on I must think of myself as Ada’s niece,’ she said quietly to him. ‘For–’
Ada interrupted.
‘I heard you curse beneath your breath, James, but what would you have had me do? I could not expect the tenants to rejoice if they were suddenly consigned to the hut in the backlands.’ Her voice was tensely defensive. ‘Nor could I be certain they would have cleaned and laundered everything before they withdrew from the house.’ She was quite flushed with self-righteousness.
‘It is as it is,’ James said. ‘Come. We must make some distance before we rest tonight.’
Celia remembered an earlier journey made mostly by night, when Roger Sinclair brought Margaret from Edinburgh to Perth. She felt safer in the present company; James Comyn was not new to stealth and he seemed to have armed men at his beck and call. He was also more open about his purpose than Roger Sinclair had been.
But she was not confident about her mistress’s mission in Stirling, especially now that Dame Ada’sformer English lover was there. Margaret had been frank with Celia, as always, about the added danger, and although she understood that both her mistress and James Comyn considered it the best they could do when time was so short, Celia was worried about going on with the original plan. But not even fear would make her desert her mistress.
The land began to rise and the night grew chillier. Celia was grateful for the warmth of the horse beneath her, and for the wimple that just hours earlier she’d resented because of the damp warmth near the river. When not far along the road they turned off into a copse of trees she eagerly watched for light from a hut or a barn. One of the men opened the shutter on a lantern and she saw that they’d come to an earthen mound in a small clearing. She hoped it was a natural hillock and not a burial mound.
As she did not see or hear a stream or see any shelter Celia felt anxious, worried that the men had sensed someone following them and intended to make a stand here, which seemed quite ill-advised near a burial mound. Strange things happened around them, especially at night, and the battle might be fraught with surprises. She hoped she was wrong. Perhaps they were awaiting additional horses here, for with the men walking and leading the horses with the women astride they moved slowly. The man leading hers came around to assist her in dismounting.
‘Don’t be alarmed,’ James was saying to Margaret, ‘we will rest here for the remainder of the night and my men and I will change into our disguises. We want to escort you near enough to Stirling that we can be fairly certain you’ll safely reach Dame Ada’s house, so we must look like farmers.’
‘We’ll sleep in the open?’ Margaret asked.
‘No, in the barn.’
Celia had just heard a strange sound, the groan of something large being shifted, and turning to look back watched what she’d thought a section of the mound swing wide. It was a large door camouflaged with sod, part of an
‘The tenants are skilled in gaining grace with whoever holds power,’ Ada said. ‘But I also sent my butler and cook on to prepare the house. So I carried only what was necessary for this journey and brought only my lady’s maid and the two menservants with me.’
James silently cursed himself for not having anticipated that Ada would send servants ahead. Now Simon Montagu might be forewarned and expecting a de la Haye. But it did not changeanything, merely hastened the meeting, for Montagu would have soon discovered Ada’s presence anyway, gossip typically being rife in a town under siege; unfortunately the gossip did not pass so easily out of the town to the countryside, and hence his need for Margaret. He noticed that she, however, looked distraught.
‘From this moment on I must think of myself as Ada’s niece,’ she said quietly to him. ‘For–’
Ada interrupted.
‘I heard you curse beneath your breath, James, but what would you have had me do? I could not expect the tenants to rejoice if they were suddenly consigned to the hut in the backlands.’ Her voice was tensely defensive. ‘Nor could I be certain they would have cleaned and laundered everything before they withdrew from the house.’ She was quite flushed with self-righteousness.
‘It is as it is,’ James said. ‘Come. We must make some distance before we rest tonight.’
Celia remembered an earlier journey made mostly by night, when Roger Sinclair brought Margaret from Edinburgh to Perth. She felt safer in the present company; James Comyn was not new to stealth and he seemed to have armed men at his beck and call. He was also more open about his purpose than Roger Sinclair had been.
But she was not confident about her mistress’s mission in Stirling, especially now that Dame Ada’sformer English lover was there. Margaret had been frank with Celia, as always, about the added danger, and although she understood that both her mistress and James Comyn considered it the best they could do when time was so short, Celia was worried about going on with the original plan. But not even fear would make her desert her mistress.
The land began to rise and the night grew chillier. Celia was grateful for the warmth of the horse beneath her, and for the wimple that just hours earlier she’d resented because of the damp warmth near the river. When not far along the road they turned off into a copse of trees she eagerly watched for light from a hut or a barn. One of the men opened the shutter on a lantern and she saw that they’d come to an earthen mound in a small clearing. She hoped it was a natural hillock and not a burial mound.
As she did not see or hear a stream or see any shelter Celia felt anxious, worried that the men had sensed someone following them and intended to make a stand here, which seemed quite ill-advised near a burial mound. Strange things happened around them, especially at night, and the battle might be fraught with surprises. She hoped she was wrong. Perhaps they were awaiting additional horses here, for with the men walking and leading the horses with the women astride they moved slowly. The man leading hers came around to assist her in dismounting.
‘Don’t be alarmed,’ James was saying to Margaret, ‘we will rest here for the remainder of the night and my men and I will change into our disguises. We want to escort you near enough to Stirling that we can be fairly certain you’ll safely reach Dame Ada’s house, so we must look like farmers.’
‘We’ll sleep in the open?’ Margaret asked.
‘No, in the barn.’
Celia had just heard a strange sound, the groan of something large being shifted, and turning to look back watched what she’d thought a section of the mound swing wide. It was a large door camouflaged with sod, part of an
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