Wildewood Revenge (15 page)

He chose to sit at a small ta
ble with his back to the wall. O
ne hand held the obligatory mug of ale while the other gripped his knife hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. The other drinkers viewed him with mistrust and he avoided eye contact with them. He was not there to start a fight which he could not win, he was merely waiting. It did not take long for word of his arrival to reach the ears of the man he wished to meet
, and two jugs later
Alexander Stewart pulled up a chair opposite and sat down.

Miles studied the man in silence for a moment. He was
thickset, with a shock of carrot-
coloured hair worn long and tied at the nape with a leather thong. He carried a jagged scar across his left cheek which parted his beard and continued under his chin. It was an old scar but still vivid
,
and it caught the eye of the casual onlooker. Those who knew the man
saw it as a mark of his valour;
those who did not would have been repulsed by its severity. He wore the traditional weave of his clan and carried a short sword tucked into his belt.

“I see you still prefer to wear a skirt, Alex,” said Miles. “Aren’t you concerned you’ll be mistaken for a maid? This place is packed with randy men
.
I’d be watching my back if I were you.”

Alex ignored the jibe. “What brings
yer
this side o’ the border, Miles?”

“You owe me.”

“
An
yer
plan tae collect?”

“I do.”

Alex gestured to the inn keeper to bring more drinks. He loosened his sword he placed it on the table between them.

“When did ye git back?”

“I’ve been back in England a matter of weeks, just a few days back
at
Wildewood
.”

“So, what can ah
dae
for
yer
, Miles?”

“I need two things, Alex, and then we’ll call it quits. The first is the loan of a good man to carry a message to the Bishop of Durham. He must be discreet and trustworthy.”

“Do ye no have such a man of
yer
ain?”

“I have men who are discreet and trustworthy
,
yes.” He thought of Tom
Pandy
, Berryman and John. “But none are suitable for this task.”

“Sounds like
yer
up to
somethin
’, Miles. Does it have anything tae
dae
wi
yon young lassie-and
mibbe
a ransom?”

Miles tried hard to hide his surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“Miles, Miles
,” he shook his head and smiled, “t
he whole o’
Coquetd
ale
kens
aboot
yer
wee secret.
I
t
disnae
tak
much for news to trickle North.
What’s she like?”

“It doesn’t matter what she’s like,” Miles replied shortly.
How had word got out?
No one knew but himself and Edmund and the boy had spoken to no one. He recalled the sheriff’s interest. “What are they saying?”

Alex shrugged. “They’re
sayin
’ you’ve been fleeced, that yon lassie’s a spy.”

Miles stomach muscl
es tightened. “What do you mean
a spy? She’s from Kirk
Knowe
.”

“Is she?
Nay one there has heard o’ her.
Gerard thinks she’s been sent by
yer
English king, Edward.”

“Gerard, why would he think that?”

“Because Gerard is no
yer
king’s favourite baron at the moment and he’s become a wee bit mistrustful.”

“Indeed?” Now that did interest Miles.

Alex leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’
ve been away a
lang
time, Miles.
Gerard was a wee shite then,
an
he’s a bigger shite now. Folk never forgave him for what happened tae
yer
mother, even though he might protest it was an accident.”

Miles knew it was no accident. He had been there, just a boy with his mother walking in the parkland
,
when Gerard and his hunting party had mown down his mother with their horses. Gerard claimed his horse was spooked but Miles had seen the look of triumph on his face.

“Why would that interest the king?”

“Gerard’s been
gittin
worse, a bloated boar stuffed full o’ his ain importance
,
and that yon king of
yers
is
gittin
a wee bit weary o’ the complaints. There was a rumour some crusader booty destined for the royal coffers mysteriously disappeared on its way back from the Holy land an’ Gerard’s name was mentioned, but
nuthin
could be proven or found. Then he had Walter de
Swee
thope
imprisoned at yon castle.
God nays whit that was
aboot
, likely some pissing match between rivals
,
an’ Edward was obliged tae intervene tae get him freed.
That
wisnae
the first time either. Y
e heard
aboot
William Douglas the year
yer
left? Gerard has developed a
likin
’ for
a full dungeon.
Let’s just
say
he
wisnae
best-p
leased at Edward’s intervention,
nor was he enamoured the king gave
Wildewood
back tae
yer
, and he’s been
mekin
’ his
mooth
go. He thinks the king has him marked and somehow yon lassie is involved.”

“She’s not a spy.”

“Are ye sure?”

Miles considered this carefully and the truthful answer was no, he wasn’t sure. He sat back in his chair and swirled the dregs at the bottom of his mug. He’d come here with a simple plan to get a messenger to
take his ransom demand to the bishop. If the bishop agreed terms then he would deliver Grace back to Kirk
Knowe
himself, picking up the ransom and using it to repair
Wildewood
.

It was a little too simplistic he realised.

Thinking back to when they’d found her, he’d been so sure no one had been in the forest. At the time he couldn’t understand how she’d got past his trips and markers. If Edmund hadn’t accidently shot her with his bow, would she have stumbled in to his camp anyway and made up a story to ensure she was taken to
Ahlborett
Castle, to Gerard? She kept insisting she wasn’t a
nun and she wanted to go home. W
as that because she had a job to do for the king? If Grace had indeed been sent by the king to undermine Gerard’s position of power then they actually had something in common, a score to settle with Gerard. And then there was the sheriff who was not out looking for a missing nun but had been more than a little interested in Grace.

“No
, I’m not sure, Alex. S
ome things don’t ad
d up. She’s certainly different
and has been untruthful about things, trivial things
,
but she’s lied nevertheless.”

“You’re hol
ding her
agin
her will, Miles. W
hy should she respect
yer
wi
’ the truth?” answered Alex.

“You’re right
but I’ve always considered myself a good judge of
character. I had my suspicions
but deep down I believed her to be genuine.”

“She may well be, Miles.
Ah’m
only
repeatin
’ what
ah’ve
heard.
Yer
ken, people
dinnae
always tell the truth, for a variety
o
’ reasons and no always bad yens. Perhaps she’s a feared.” He paused with a smirk. “After all
yer
dae
hiv
a reputation...”

“Perhaps.”

“
Hiv
yer
heard from Hugh o’ late?” asked Alex.

“Hugh?”

“Aye, Hugh de Reynard, ye ken, the man who took
ye
under
his wing when
yer
mother died, t
he man who turned
yer
into a knight, who helped make ye the fine English lord ye are today.”

Miles smiled, “Oh,
that
Hugh. No I haven’t heard from him since I returned to England.”

“Ah hear he’s in Lincoln.”

“You hear an awful lot, Alex.”

“
Yer
should look him up. H
e can
mibbe
help
yer
wi
’ all o’ this.”

“Are you trying to say you can’t?” asked Miles.

Alex spread his hands wide. “Miles, if ye want a messenger tae
dae
yer
biddin
’
,
yer
can have one, but ah
dinnae
ken it’ll
dae
yer
any good. It’s
no
the bishop who wants the lassie, its Gerard de
Frouville
’ an’ somehow I
dinnae
ken you’ll want to trade
wi
him. If
yer
short o’ funds then we can always
dae
some business.”

Miles shook his head. H
e knew the kind of business Alex operated and had no wish to be hung as a thief.

“Or go an’ see Hugh,
mibbe
he can shed some light o’ the situation. He has the kings ear now, by
a
’ accounts.”

“I thought Hugh was off Edward’s list.”

“Things change, Miles.
Y
e need tae learn tae keep up.”

Mi
les stood and held out his hand;
it was time he left. He could do no more here and Alex’s theory that Gerard might be after Grace concerned him greatly. If the whole of
Coquetdale
knew of her existence then it would be reasonable to assume Gerard would know
Wildewood
had no men at arms and the girl was unprotected. “Thank you, Alex. I think you may be correct about the bishop.”

“Whit
dae
ye plan tae
dae
, Miles?”

“I need to get back and speak to the girl.”

“Rest a while. I
t
’s past dark. Y
ou’ll travel
nae
further tonight.”

Miles hesitated. Alex was
right,
i
t was foolhardy to travel after dark. He sat back down and accepted another drink.

“So what’s the second thing ah can
dae
for
yer
, Miles?”

Miles grinned. “I need a pony, one that won’t get me hung if the
sheriff looks upon it. A lady’s
palfrey, something finely built. Do you have anything?”

“For
yer
young lassie, Miles?”

Miles nodded.

“Whit size?”

Miles gestured to just under his chin. “She’s about this tall and light as a feather.”

Alex grinned. “Ah
meant the pony, what size pony? You’ve got it bad, Miles. T
he sooner
yer
decide whit tae
dae
wi
’ her the better.”

Miles scowled. “Have you anything suitable or not?”

Alex narrowed his eyes as he considered. “As it happens, ah have a wee grey filly. She’s young
an
still a wee green, but
wi
’ a gentle hand she’ll make a fine ladies mount. She’s
yer’s
if ye want her.”

“Thank you, Alex, that would be grand,” he sighed wearily. He hadn’t had any real rest, not since he’d got caught up with Grace. He rubbed his eyes and scanned the room distractedly. Most of the men had left and a serving girl was collecting the empty jugs. She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes and her invitation was unmistakable. Miles shook his head
;
he was not in the mood. Alex gestured one of the men over and spoke quietly to him. Nodding, the man pulled his cloak around him and left the inn. Miles assumed he’d gone to get the pony.