The Gowrie Conspiracy (3 page)

At that she stood up and smiling down at him, she held out her hand. ‘Now that you are here, you must be hungry,’ and pausing, she gave him a candid glance and added softly, ‘I suspect that you have come a long way, that this is end of a long journey.’

Following her across the garden, Tam asked the date. The question did not surprise her. ‘It is the year 1600, the end of July and you are in the grounds of Falkland Palace in Fife.’

As she led him up the turnpike stair into her lodging, Tam was relieved that he had found someone well prepared for his unexpected arrival. Especially a young woman as attractive as Tansy Scott. Tall and slender, with red-gold hair and sparkling blue eyes. As he tried in vain to recall her
grandmother
, a Janet Beaton whom he had obviously encountered some years ago, Tansy asked,

‘Can you tell me anything – about yourself, where you came from?’

Tam shook his head. How could he begin to tell her that the
rules for time-travellers were inviolate. Access to memories relating to earlier quests or any memory of the present that he had temporarily abandoned was forbidden to him.

‘My granddam hinted that you were from the future, oh – hundreds of years hence,’ Tansy said helpfully, ‘when machines and men flew in the air like birds and carriages moved without horses. When men, by the turn of a switch, could see what was happening in other lands and planets. See and talk to people across time and space through a tiny box held in the palm of their hand –’

She paused as if waiting for confirmation and, when there was none, she added triumphantly, ‘Even your name – Tam Eildor – by rearranging the letters Janet Beaton worked out that it spelt “a time lord”.’

Tam could not tell her a great deal more than that. How to explain that he did indeed come from a future where men had not only conquered space travel but also time itself?

There were no longer any unsolved mysteries except those of ancient history, but once on a mission a time-detective was bound by the laws and methods available in the Earth-time of his chosen period. In effect Tam had only his own wits and resources with no more facilities than were available to the persons and criminals he was investigating. Nor could any action of his change the course of recorded history.

Since Tam was similarly cut off from the present he had just left, he was unable to provide Tansy with any useful
information
. His only certainty was that he was on the threshold of some momentous event that had baffled historians. An event about which he was in total ignorance – as much as those living in Falkland Palace at the end of July 1600. He must wait and see, be vigilant, and patient.

Before the episode of the runaway horse and his first meeting with King James, Tam had a chance to familiarise himself with his surroundings and get to know Tansy Scott and,
through her, become acquainted with Queen Anne and the trying conditions of her royal marriage.

He found favour immediately in the Queen’s eyes as an agreeable young man who was kin to her broiderer Mistress Tansy Scott, the latter having quickly invented a cousin from the Borders to explain his presence there.

The queen, never one to be curious about those who served her, accepted this fiction and merely agreed that there was indeed a strong family resemblance. ‘Cousins, indeed,’ she said. ‘You could be brother and sister – twins even.’

Out of Her Grace’s presence, Tansy laughed and standing with Tam before a looking-glass they could see sense in the royal observation.

Apart from one having red hair and the other black, their features were undoubtedly alike. The same bone structure, firm chin and wide eyes, the same mouth, especially as Tam was beardless unlike the court fashion of the time.

They were also of a similar age. Tam, regardless of his
travels
, remained in his mid-thirties. Tansy born in December 1567 was eighteen months years younger than the king and had been married at fifteen, a dynastic marriage to a Ruthven neighbour.

Walter Murray of Tullibardine had been twice Tansy’s age. Childless, she had rebelled against his cruelty and the
privations
of her life, relieved when estate interests took him across the Borders. There he found a mistress who presented him with a son and heir and where he was presumably content.

‘If only he would divorce me – as a barren wife, he would have just cause,’ said Tansy, ‘then Will and I could marry.’ And Tam learned that Tansy had a lover, the natural son of James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, who was briefly Queen Mary of Scot’s third husband.

Tam hoped he would have a chance to meet William Hepburn who had been raised by his paternal grandmother Lady Morham and, on her death, inherited a small estate in Perthshire, neighbour to Ruthven Castle. Unmarried,
approaching forty, Tansy Scott had for many years been the one and only love of Will’s life.

Hoping Will was worthy of so great a prize, Tam also encouraged Tansy to talk about her granddam – the
remarkable
woman and witch Janet Beaton, aunt of Marie Beaton, maid-in-waiting to the Queen of Scots who had followed her into exile.

‘My granddam was the trusted friend of His Grace’s
mother
, you know, she was present at his birth,’ Tansy said
proudly
. ‘The queen had great faith in her herbs and, I do not doubt, in some of her magic spells,’ she added in a matter-of-fact manner, as if such knowledge was readily available to all.

Tam regarded her anxiously. Aware of the king’s merciless treatment of witches, he felt that Tansy, having already exhibited some of her granddam’s powers, should be more discreet.

Even as Tansy was informing Tam of Will’s imminent arrival to escort them to Perth, and in the Queen’s apartments the royal couple argued over King James’s wish to elevate Tam to the role of cupbearer, Mistress Agnew, huddled in her
borrowed
cloak against the rain, was hurrying across the
courtyard
on her way to Tansy’s lodging.

From her vantage point in the windowseat, Tansy paused to wave to her.

‘At last,’ she sighed. ‘Her Grace has made up her mind about the right colours. That has been delaying me.’

And studying him she frowned. ‘But what shall you wear for the queen’s Masque, Tam?’

Tam shuddered. ‘None of these slashed and padded breeches, if you please, Tansy. I am not a man of fashion.’

Tansy regarded him shrewdly. ‘I agree. I cannot for the life of me see you in such a role. I think a scholar’s gown would best become you,’ and, eyeing him narrowly, ‘yes, a good
velvet
cloak and a modest cap – black perhaps.’

‘Have I then to visit the royal wardrobe?’ asked Tam, having
already decided to keep as much distance as would be acceptable without suspicion between himself and any future contact with King James.

Tansy smiled. ‘I shall put you into Will’s capable hands. He has an excellent wardrobe but shares your scorn for the
fripperies
of court fashion. I am sure he will provide you with something suitable for grand occasions, especially as he is much of your height and complexion.’

Pausing, she frowned. ‘But where is Agnew? What has become of her? She is taking a very long time to climb the stair –’

Tansy opened the door where only the top of the spiral was visible. ‘Margaret,’ she called. And again, ‘Margaret!’

Her answer was a banging door left open out of sight at the foot of the stair, a sound like a moan…

She gave Tam a startled glance and together they ran down the stair. At the base lay a crumpled shape wreathed in a
rain-blackened
cloak.

‘Margaret, my dear, are you hurt? What has happened?’

As Tansy put her hand on the cloak, it came away with a sticky wetness. Not of rain but of blood. Gently, Tam turned the woman over. Her eyes opened and flickered for the last time as her head rolled back and he saw the dagger, the knife thrust to her heart –

Even as Tansy screamed her name they saw how she had met her death. Mistress Margaret Agnew had been
murdered
.

And for Tam the wheel had begun to turn.

In the dim recess of the turnpike stair, Tam and Tansy bent over the dead woman.

‘Who could have done such a thing,’ whispered Tansy. ‘Agnew never harmed anyone. She was such a sweet person; everyone trusted her, came to her for her herbs –’

Tam said nothing. This was the usual response on
discovery
of a murder victim. Only to reveal, as investigations
proceeded
, at least one person, more often than not a member of the family circle or a close and trusted friend, with a secret motive for murder.

‘What shall we do, Tam?’

‘I presume the Captain of the King’s guard is the man to deal with this,’ said Tam, moving into the light.

Tansy jumped to her feet. ‘Then I am coming with you.’

Tam hesitated. The dead woman had just drawn her last breath as they arrived. Someone ought to remain with her still warm body in case her killer returned with the grim intention of making certain that she was dead.

As if Tansy interpreted his glance at the crumpled form of Mistress Agnew, she shook her head, shivered. ‘Please, Tam. Do not ask me to … to stay here. I could not –’

Tam took her arm. ‘I would not permit you to do so.’

He did not add that it might be dangerous. Considering his logical conclusion that the killer was still lurking nearby, Tansy might well become the next victim.

‘Come then, we will go together,’ he said allowing Tansy to lead him in the direction of the royal stables.

Tracking down Lord Fotheringham was more difficult than they had imagined.

The Captain was not in the guardroom. It was deserted
apart from a bored young groom yawning and hastily
concealing
a flagon of wine under the table.

Somewhat reluctant to rise to his feet and salute the
newcomers
, slurring a little he informed them that the royal guards were out on their inspection of the Palace. They should be returning within the hour.

‘Exactly where might they be located at this moment? This is a matter of some urgency.’

Tam’s stern demand penetrated the groom’s somewhat wine-ridden haze.

He shook his head. ‘This is a routine inspection, sir. Twice a day around the royal apartments and the gardens.’ And, tapping the side of his nose in a gesture of confidence, ‘The Palace is under constant guard against strangers and
interlopers
.’

Pausing, he darted a sudden suspicious look at Tam as if he might well be slotted into either or both categories.

Interlopers but not apparently killers, thought Tam grimly. Whoever killed Mistress Agnew had by now slipped their particular net.

‘Your business with the Captain is urgent then, sir?’ said the groom, anxious to be rid of them as he darted a fond glance in the direction of his wine-flagon.

‘I have already said so,’ Tam responded shortly.

‘Of the utmost urgency,’ Tansy added.

The groom, suddenly aware of her pale face and agitated manner, recognised the pretty lady who was obviously a close confidant of the Queen, since he often saw them
walking
together in the gardens.

‘A woman has been killed at the door of Mistress Scott’s lodging,’ said Tam. ‘One of Her Grace’s servants, Mistress Agnew.’

The groom whistled softly. ‘I ken her well, sir. We all do, she will be sorely missed. Her herbs have cured many a sore head from an excess of wine-bibbing here in the guardroom –’

And other less pleasant excesses common in the
guardroom
too, thought Tam, interpreting his doleful expression. Doubtless Mistress Agnew’s popularity arose from her
confidential
cures for the pox, much in demand among the courtiers and lesser mortals.

Tam sighed. Here was another complication. As many
visited
the midwife secretly, both highborn and low, tracking down her killer was going to be even more difficult. Mysterious and unexplained deaths were not all that
uncommon
in the court where King James was known to be a
dangerous
man to cross. Offences were dealt with swiftly and
terminated
with unpleasant and often fatal results for the
misguided
wrongdoer.

On the other hand, Mistress Agnew’s death might be
related
to a marital disorder, since women who were midwives had skills in bringing about convenient abortions or
miscarriages
.

‘An accident, was it, sir?’ the groom was asking.

‘I think not. She died violently.’

Clearing his throat, remembering his manners, the groom struggled to his feet, dragged on his bonnet and came to attention. ‘A servant of Her Grace’s household too. This is an official matter for Lord Fotheringham himself to investigate,’ he said sternly.

‘Then go in search of him, tell him to proceed immediately to Mistress Scott’s lodging where I will await him.’

The groom bowed and set off purposely, staggering only a very little in the direction of the gardens where the distant sound of trotting horses indicated the imminent return of the king’s guard.

Queen Anne was upset by the sudden death of her midwife, although Tansy had tried to break it to her as gently as
possible
, saying only that Mistress Agnew had met with a fatal accident outside her lodging.

There was nothing personal in the queen’s distress. It was
not for the unfortunate woman’s sad demise but for the inconvenience of her absence, the loss of her soothing hands and the healing herbs that she had come to rely on.

Tansy preferred to evade such questions as she could see forming on Her Grace’s lips. Curtseying, she said quickly that she must return to her lodging where she had left Master Eildor to deal with the situation.

Her royal mistress would not allow her to leave
immediately
. She had urgent matters to discuss regarding the
forthcoming
Masque and the silks she had entrusted to Agnew for safe delivery.

‘I trust they were suitable colours?’

Tansy could think of no appropriate response, since she had not seen them. Such trivial matters were the last thing she would have looked for when they found the dead woman.

‘My main concern, Your Grace, was for Mistress Agnew,’ she said apologetically.

The queen gave her a hard look, pursed her lips and sighed. ‘Surely Mistress Scott’s first concern should be for ourselves, is that not so?’ she asked her ladies-in-waiting who, having heard the shocking news, had gathered nearby. Thus appealed to, they nodded vaguely and directed, as was expected of them, stern glances at Tansy.

‘I am disappointed in you, Mistress Scott,’ said the queen with a sad shake of her head. ‘The information concerning the silks as well as our costume for my Masque is of the utmost importance to us,’ she added in wounded tones.

‘They are indeed, Your Grace.’ The queen’s increasing pregnancy was a delicate matter. For decency’s sake
alterations
were necessary to accommodate a rapidly expanding figure in the costume of a scantily-clad goddess.

The queen’s frown boded ill and Tansy said hastily, ‘I do apologise, Your Grace. It was thoughtless of me not to have given the silks due consideration. I will look into it
immediately
.’ Curtseying, she was about to withdraw.

‘A moment, Mistress Scott, we have not yet dismissed you,’
came the stern reminder. ‘Where is the cloak we entrusted to Agnew to restore to you? We trust since it was a gift from us – very recently,’ she emphasised, ‘that it has not suffered
during
this unfortunate accident.’

‘I did not notice, Your Grace,’ Tansy stammered, which was solid truth.

The queen considered this information for a moment and sighed deeply. ‘We believed that, having forgotten to take it with you, you would wish to have it safely restored to you immediately.’ And with a sigh she gestured towards her ladies. ‘See what trouble a good-hearted gesture gets one into, how carelessly received.’

The ladies exchanged glances. Murmurs of sympathy directed at their royal mistress reached Tansy’s ears. But she was well aware of their understanding regarding Her Grace’s much vaunted generosity in the matter of gowns and jewels she no longer cared for. Her apparent benevolence contained an unwritten clause; the gift was to be visible constantly and admired frequently.

If the new owner failed in this respect, she would soon fall victim to the queen’s remarkable recollection of every item distributed from the royal wardrobe and jewel box. The
recipient
of her bountiful gesture would be mercilessly questioned as to its present whereabouts. Sad realisation swiftly
followed
. No matter how small or insignificant their worth, gifts were not bestowed at all, but rather released on permanent loan.

‘The cloak, Mistress Scott?’ the queen persisted.

‘I am deeply grateful to Your Grace,’ said Tansy, evading the question and, as she withdrew from the royal presence, adding to herself, ‘And for sure, I will never wear it again.’

Outside the rain had ceased, the sun shone through a
cloudless
sky raising clouds of steam from the Palace’s grey walls and reflecting bright mirrors of light across pools of water among the cobbles of the courtyard.

As Tansy hurried across and reached her lodging, she expected to see Tam and, with considerable dread, the body of Margaret Agnew. To her surprise the turnpike recess was deserted. Only a dark pool – of blood fast drying – remained to show that a body had lain there.

A scattering of the bright silks that were the queen’s main concern lay in a corner under the stair. Completely
overlooked
and completely ruined.

Tamsy went with him to summon assistance. Hoping that Tam had removed the key that Agnew wore on her
chatelaine
, Tansy ran quickly up the stairs and along the corridor to the servants’ quarters.

The midwife’s door was locked. Tam was not in evidence.

With some misgivings Tansy returned to her lodging to sit by the window and anxiously await his return. Distressed and sickened by Agnew’s murder she had also remembered with fast-beating heart the one significant fact that had been overlooked.

The midwife had been wearing her cloak.

At last she saw Tam emerge across the courtyard in deep conversation with Lord Fortheringham. The two men parted outside and Tam hurried towards the turnpike.

Eagerly, Tansy listened to his footsteps on the stair. In his presence she felt safe. Opening the door she asked, ‘What has happened? Have you found out who killed Agnew? And did you remove the key she carries?’

Tam shook his head and as Tansy quickly explained, he interrupted to say, ‘It appears that we were mistaken. In fact she was not killed at all.’

As Tansy began to protest, Tam held up a hand wearily and sat down on the windowseat beside her.

‘Listen, Tansy. I met the Captain and he insisted that
several
of his men accompany us to the scene of the crime. When we got here –’ He paused and looked at her grimly, ‘Mistress Agnew was certainly dead, but there was no dagger. And no chatelaine or key that I could see.’

‘Someone took it. But no dagger! But that cannot be. We saw it – ’

‘We did indeed. But it had undergone a transformation during our short absence.’

‘It cannot have done so – a dagger is a dagger.’

‘I agree. But this one had turned very conveniently into shears.’

‘Shears?’ said Tansy, regarding him wide-eyed.

‘Indeed, shears. The dagger had been removed from the scene and replaced by shears, the kind you use here –’ Pausing he indicated the overspill of bright materials on the huge sewing table, ‘shears thin-bladed, very sharp.’

Even as he spoke Tansy had rushed across the room and was searching among her rolls of silks and satins.

‘Tam,’ she cried turning to face him. ‘They have
disappeared
!’

‘Not really, my dear Tansy. They are not very far off. They were discovered lying beneath your poor friend’s body. The apparent cause of her death. And they have been carried off as evidence of her unfortunate accident.’

‘Accident – murder I think you mean,’ said Tansy
indignantly
.

Tam nodded grimly. ‘But the new evidence points to the fact that Mistress Agnew tripped on the stairs and fell on the shears she was carrying –’

‘Surely you told them about the dagger – protested that was a lie,’ Tansy interrupted angrily.

‘No, I did not. Think about it, Tansy, I beg you. It was on the tip of my tongue to do so, then I thought better of it and decided to remain silent.’

‘How could you remain silent?’ Tansy demanded.

‘With excellent reason,’ Tam said grimly. ‘I am a stranger here, remember? And I live in your lodging, only yards away from where Agnew was discovered.’ He allowed that to sink in before adding slowly, ‘Nor would I raise too much of an issue about your shears having disappeared.’

‘Why not? Someone stole them – they are valuable,’ was the short reply.

‘Exactly. But think carefully. Realise that fact could be used in evidence – if anyone should insist that this was no accident but murder.’ He paused. ‘Now do you understand – that the weapon used was yours.’

Tansy was silent as the full implications were suddenly apparent. ‘But the dagger –’

‘Ah yes, the dagger. I suspect that the killer was lurking nearby when we rushed downstairs. When we were bending over Agnew, I had this uneasy feeling, almost as if I could hear him breathing, see his shadow.’

Tansy shivered as Tam paused and looked at her soberly. ‘I realise now that although there was probably only one of him, that we were fortunate to be together,’ and picturing the scene, he added slowly, ‘Waiting for us to leave, he – yes, I presume it was a man – he quickly withdrew his dagger.’

‘He was clever about that. Daggers can be identified,’ said Tansy.

Tam nodded. ‘He ran upstairs and took your shears, rearranged the scene to look like an unfortunate accident, as the Captain said and believed. It could happen to anyone tripping on the stairs in dim light.’