Page 48 of Flanders' Folly
Atholl's eyes flashed. "Ye mock me at yer peril."
"We mock anyone who takes Stephan's word as truth," Flanders replied. "Perhaps ye should hear from those he claims were kidnapped." He nodded to Rolf, who opened the door and beckoned.
Gerts entered, her head high, her bearing every inch the noblewoman. She curtseyed to Atholl with perfect grace.
"Lady Stephan," the surprised earl stood and bowed.
"My lord." Gerts took the seat offered to her. "I understand my husband claims I was taken against my will."
"He does."
"Then he lies, as he has lied about many things." Gerts' voice was steady. "My husband attempted to force himself on a young woman. When that failed, he accused her of witchcraft and burned her at the stake. When I and others protested, he banished us. Threatened us with our own burning if we ever returned. Perhaps he intended to lay the blame at Laird Duncan’s feet all along.”
Atholl's brow furrowed. "Laird Stephan claims the woman was a proven witch."
"Proven by whom? By what evidence?" Gerts shook her head. "I know from long experience that my husband often has...difficulties...with women. His pride cannot bear it, so he blames others."
"Ye expect me to believe he burned a woman alive because she refused his attention?”
"Ye misunderstand me. Out of fear, she refused him nothing. It was he who could notriseto the occasion. And I expect ye to doubt any man who would burn his own wife, and others, for questioning him. Surely, there are more just punishments for such mild sins. Besides, The King forbade such practices for witches. I reckon he wouldn't have looked kindly upon wife-burning?—"
"The Bruce is dead," Atholl said flatly.
"So he is. But would The Regent think it wise to rescind such policy?” Gerts took a breath and resumed a mild manner. “My husband banished everyone who dared speak against him, including me. Had Robert Duncan not taken us in, where would we be? Dead in a pit or reduced to dust in a fire. No, he does not want us back."
"As for harboring a witch," Flanders injected, "the woman in question is a healer, nothing more. She's treated Stephan himself many times. But because she showed some preference for me, he wants us both punished."
For the moment, Atholl seemed as if he actually believed their slightly altered story. "And the matter of sending a spy to poison him?"
"That was Heslington, the steward I banished from Todlaw for stealing from our people. He went to Stephan seeking refuge, since together, they’d been siphoning Todlaw’s resources to Gallabrae. But Heslington’s ambitions knew no bounds. Whatever poison was used, it came from his hand, not ours. And lo, Stephan arrives at my gates hale and hearty. So how deadly could this poison have been?"
Atholl leaned back against his chair, sweat now streaming freely down his face. "And the cost of bringing his men to Todlaw?"
"That is part of the farce,” Robert said. “He kicked out his people and chased them here, then blames me for filling their bellies. If ye knew the man well, ye would recognize his cunning. He's held a grudge against Todlaw since my brother built it. Long ago, while visiting here, The Bruce denied him a boon, and Stephan seeks revenge for that slight now. That is the long and short of it."
"Ye have witnesses to support these claims?"
"Forty-two," Robert replied, not mentioning that half of those were bairns.
Atholl wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Laird Stephan has hundreds who corroborate his version of events."
"Of course he does," Flanders said. "Men will say anything when their laird holds a sword to their throats."
The earl stood abruptly and moved to an eastern window. He leaned out for a breath of cooler air and stared down at the bailey, then to the distant walls where Todlaw's men stood ready to shed their blood if Robert asked.
Hemming moved slightly closer, his eyes flicking to the sheer drop beyond the window. He caught Flanders' eye with a raised brow, as if asking permission for a simple solution to their problems.
Atholl must have sensed the danger, for he stepped quickly away from the window, his face pale despite the heat.
"Some families just choose the wrong side," Flanders remarked casually. "In war, in politics...in justice. But ye, here, have a chance to prove ye’re a wiser man than yer father."
The Earl's eyes narrowed. Flanders had overplayed his hand. "Now that I've heard yer defense, I will need time to render my judgment. Tomorrow?—"
"Today," Robert cut in, his voice hard as steel.
"Pardon?"
"We will not pace our floors for another day whilst ye play patty fingers with Stephan," Robert said. "We will provide a room where ye can worry through the details and ask God for wisdom. Ye’ll not be interrupted. After the evening meal, we will expect yer conclusions." His smile was cold. "And worry nothing for yer men. We'll see they're treated as fairly as ye've treated Todlaw."
