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“So, ye were at the root o’ the killin’ at Mortain then? How so, lass?” Elspeth did not hesitate to come to the point. As well as decent food she had returned to Roselyn’s lonely chamber with warm clothing as well as a few necessaries for Roselyn’s comfort—aired water to wash in, and even a porcelain pot for her more personal needs. The Duncleit cook appeared to consider these kindnesses entitled her to be blunt, and Roselyn could find no reason to dispute that logic.
“I was. I am. I wish… I wish it were not so.”
“What’s done is done, lass. So, tell me how this came about.” The woman settled on the edge of Roselyn’s bed, clearly in no rush to leave.
“I do not know where to start.” Roselyn brought her knees up to her chin and leaned forward. She started as her companion patted her leg.
“Sorry, lass, I didna mean tae startle ye. Is it all right to touch ye?”
“Of course, yes. I just… I was not expecting it, is all.”
Elspeth cupped Roselyn’s knee and squeezed. “Just start at the beginnin’ and we’ll see where that gets us tae, shall we?”
Roselyn nodded. “My brother is Alan, Earl of Ingram. It was he and his soldiers who attacked the castle at Mortain.”
“I ken that, lass.”
“He did it because I told him there was gold there, wealth to be stolen. He… My brother is in dire need of coin because he owes money to the king. The Duke of Gloucester, brother to Edward of England, had become most insistent that the debt be repaid to help finance the costs of the border wars with Scotland. Alan was desperate and he arranged a marriage for me to one of the Percys. The husband he selected is John of Hexham, a half-brother to the duke, a man of forty-five summers who has been wed twice already but both his wives died in childbirth. He was willing to overlook my obvious flaws in return for a young and he assumed fertile bride, and would even forgo the usual dowry. Alan was determined upon the match. He saw it as the means to secure an alliance with the Percys and thus bring about a shift in his fortunes. But first he had to placate Gloucester and the king, and to do so he required funds.”
“I take it the match was not tae yer likin’?”
Roselyn shook her head, emphatic. “John of Hexham is a brute, a vile man. My brother came to Kelso, the priory where I normally reside, and he told me of the match. I pleaded with Alan to select a different husband for me if I must wed, but he would not shift. Sir John holds sway with Northumberland so his brother-in-law Alan would be able to draw on his support. My brother is an ambitious man, and power-hungry. A female relative, even a blind one who has spent the last several years in the cloister, is a commodity to be bartered and he would not listen to me. So… I struck a bargain with him.”
“A bargain?”
Roselyn nodded, and made no move to check the tears which streamed down her cheeks. “I offered my brother information in exchange for his agreement to release me from the betrothal to Sir John. I used his need for money as leverage, and told him I knew where he might acquire a small fortune in gold.” She paused, drew in several shaky breaths, then continued. “Of course, he seized on this information and demanded I provide the details. Immediately I regretted my offer and I refused to tell him what he wanted to know. I even agreed to marry the repulsive Sir John if he would drop the matter, but he just laughed and told me that the wedding was to take place within the month whatever I might wish. I had betrayed my friend and played into his greedy hands, and for naught.”
“Your friend? You refer to the Lady Joan?”
“I do, though she was perhaps more of an acquaintance. We met a few times as children and Lady Joan visited us at Kelso Priory on occasions, most recently to pray for the safe delivery of her son. She was kind enough to read to me during the evenings whilst she was under our roof and I very much enjoyed her company. We spoke, and she confided that her husband was so delighted with the news of her pregnancy that he had gifted her the entire sum of her dowry. She told me the fifty gold crowns remained untouched even after two years of marriage and that she intended to bestow a proportion of it on Kelso Priory as a mark of her gratitude for the holy sisters’ prayers and good wishes.”
“So that is how you became aware of the wealth stored at Mortain. Yet, ye say you refused to share that knowledge with your brother?”
“I did, but once he became fixated on the prospect of acquiring the gold he was having none of that. He was aware of my acquaintance with Lady Joan, and he knew that I had spent time at Mortain as a child so might claim familiarity with the layout of the keep there, all of which lent weight to the notion that I was indeed privy to the details I had claimed to know. He became quite… insistent.”
“He threatened you?”
Roselyn nodded. “He not only threatened me. He beat me too. I was on the floor and he was kicking me, screaming at me to tell him the secrets of Mortain. I believed he would actually kill me before he was done, but he suddenly stopped. My ribs were broken, I am certain of it. I could hardly breathe for a week, and every movement was agony. He had not given up though, simply changed tack. He threatened to harm the holy sisters instead, swearing he would burn down the convent with me and the sisters locked within if I did not tell him exactly where to find the coins. I… I could not allow that to happen. So, I told him what he wanted to know.”
“You say you visited Mortain when you were younger and knew the castle, which was why you could describe just where to find the coins? Why did you go there?”
“Alan and I share a father, but we have different mothers. My mother’s kin, the Beauchamps, lived just a mile or so from Mortain and I would spend time with them as a child. The Beauchamps were regular visitors to the castle, and I would accompany them. I played with the castle children, including Lady Joan when she was there, and we would explore all the secret places. I recall the cellars quite vividly. There were storerooms and butteries filled with wondrous things and we loved to play chasing and hiding games in the dark and winding corridors. One day I was down there with Lady Joan and we observed Sir Edmund and his father moving through the rooms. We followed them and watched as they unlocked the door to the strong room beneath the stairs at the end of the buttery. It was the day of Lady Margaret’s death, and of Edmund and Joan’s betrothal. The laird opened the secret chamber because he had gold plate secreted there and intended to make a betrothal gift of it to the McGregors. Later, when Joan told me of her dowry, I surmised that if her husband did indeed have fifty gold coins within his keep it was most likely kept in that strong room. And I was right.”
“And this is what you told to your brother? You gave him directions to find Lady Joan’s money?”
“I was scared, convinced he would set light to the priory. But that is no excuse. I know I should never have breathed a word of Lady Joan’s confidences to me. I should have just obeyed my brother and agreed to wed Sir John, and if I had done so Mortain would have remained untouched. But I swear, even in his greed and avarice, I never contemplated that my brother would perform such a bloody act. I expected him to attack the castle and force his way in to seize the gold. I never imagined he might… he might…”
Roselyn buried her face in her hands and gave way to sobbing. “Oh, dear Lord, what have I done. I am sorry, and if there was anything, anything at all that I might do to atone for the harm I have caused I would do it gladly. But there is nothing, nothing I can do to bring back those who are lost.”
Chapter Three
It was a weary band of McGregors who clattered into the bailey at Duncleit, their laird riding at the head of his men. Blair dismounted by the stables and tossed the reins to the bleary-eyed lad who came stumbling from the hayloft to greet them. Others followed on the boy’s heels and soon all the men were walking toward the keep, their mounts in safe hands.
“We missed him this time, Blair, but we shall have the bastard. Eventually.” Aiden uttered the words with deadly certainty, a sentiment shared by his laird.
“Aye, I shall not rest until that vicious cur has paid in blood for the evil he has done. We paid out enough in bribes, and promised far more for information if and when he dares to slink back to his seat in Etal. There’s little enough loyalty for him thereabouts, someone will come forth and tell us.”
