Page 16 of A Constant Blaze

It was quite clever, and why she’d brought Alys, who had no reason to love Christian and every reason to avenge her dead lover. If the possibility existed that Christian might lie for the MacHeths, for whatever reasons, Alys was most unlikely to do so.

Alys lifted her head. “Oh yes. They don’t perceive the lady’s loyalty to Sir William—neither did I until now, not clearly. Nor do they understand our unbreakable loyalty to Your Grace.”

Christian inclined her head. It was doubtful Alys saw the irony in her gesture.

“This is most useful information,” the king said, “and we thank you for it.” He hesitated, gazing at Christian with a half-troubled, half-eager expression in his eyes. “What will you do now?”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, trying to hold on to the part she needed to play, that of a loyal young widow who’d suffered the indignity of a forced marriage with her husband’s killer, whose life was in ruins that she had to try now to rebuild.

Through the drumming of her heart, she raised her eyes once more to the king. “I would, if you will allow me, help Your Grace keep the peace. I know these people, and through them, I have come to know Malcolm MacHeth without ever laying eyes upon him. I believe your best hope of binding him is to make him promises, make him what appear to be concessions in return for his peace. He may then agree with dignity, and I will return to Ross with him as your eyes and ears.”

The king’s eyes widened. He exchanged thoughtful glances with the Earl of Strathearn, who finally said, “What promises would you have us make?”

Promises that would appear to satisfy Malcolm MacHeth’s anxieties over his son, and so lull the king’s and Strathearn’s inevitable suspicions, giving Malcolm and Donald time to get far away.

“Tell him that if he keeps the peace for a year, you’ll release his son,” Christian said boldly. “And that at the end of that year, you will also return his earldom to him—that is an easy concession since his family effectively holds it anyway, but it makes you magnanimous and further binds him to you for that year. Which will surely be long enough for him to appreciate all the benefits of freedom.”

*

Mairead couldn’t postponeher departure much longer. But Christian’s presence here threw her. Had she come to plead for the MacHeths or to betray them? The short message from the Lady of Ross had made no mention of Christian, merely given instructions for Mairead’s own part. She had trusted in the lady to arrange the rest and had seen it in the sudden threats from Somerled and Adam. But Christian’s arrival here could well be an obstacle none of them had planned for.

Surely Adam, a surprisingly good judge of character, would have told her nothing that could endanger Malcolm’s release?

She hung on, gossiping, flirting with anyone she could find, desperate for Christian to emerge from her audience with the king. The trouble was, in a house this size, there weren’t too many places to lie in wait, so it all had to be public.

Rumors, of course, were rife.

The Lady de Lanson had been kicked out by her husband and now had no land. Only, if he’d kicked her out, wouldn’t it have been in favor of the woman she’d brought with her?

No, she’d brought messages to the king from her husband who’d taken Ross and was about to fall on Adam MacHeth’s rear.

No, the MacHeths must have kicked the Lansons out of Ross. Lanson was either dead or licking his wounds or had run back to England or Normandy. But the lady had Lanson’s men with her. Lanson had a plan to defeat the MacHeths once Malcolm MacHeth was released…

And so it went on until Mairead was almost ready to scream. Finally, she glimpsed the figure of Christian’s pretty attendant, whom everyone knew to be Lanson’s mistress. Mairead wasn’t the only one who moved toward her in the hope of encountering either the Lady de Lanson in her wake, or news of her.

And the girl, who called herself Alys de Fauvoir, hid nothing. As soon as someone inquired for news, she said tragically, “Sir William de Lanson is dead. Adam MacHeth murdered him.”

Her bitterness and her grief were probably genuine, Mairead thought, watching her closely if surreptitiously from her own place against a nearby wooden pillar, although the girl overlaid it with an air of exaggerated drama for the sake of the attention she took as her due.

“Is that why the lady is here?” someone asked. “To seek redress from the king?”

“To seek vengeance for Sir William,” Alys said. “And for herself. Adam MacHeth slew her husband and forced her into marriage with himself. As soon as the MacHeths rode to threaten the south, we escaped to the king to warn him. The lady has a great deal of useful information for His Grace.”

Everyone, naturally clamored for details, which Alys was coy about revealing. She was clever, Mairead saw with some amusement. She knew she could keep everyone’s attention for far longer if she drew this out, even if she had no more information to give.

When Alys paused for breath, Mairead seized the moment. “Tell me one thing, Mistress Alys. Why did she bring you?”

Alys turned to her wide-eyed. “I am her attendant.”

Mairead didn’t laugh, but she did smile. Alys blushed slightly and tilted her pretty chin. “I am leaving the lady’s service, but I stand her friend.”

And Lanson’s. Christian was playing some deep game here, but Mairead had no idea what it was. Nor did she have time to wait any longer to get answers from the lady herself. Her husband was sending her home to Kingowan, although she’d go via Roxburgh. Hardly on her way, but necessary.

Her stomach churned with rare anxiety as she left the court with the blessing of both king and husband. At least she was going to see Malcolm again, and meet Donald for the first time, which would be fun if he was anything at all like his brother. But what really tugged at her heart was that this would be the last time she’d ever see Malcolm mac Aed.

*

Mairead abandoned herescort just east of Glasgow, with instructions to meet her in the town of Dundee a week hence. In the meantime, Mairead rode southeast for Roxburgh.

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