Highlander Assassinated (Highlander In Time #16)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

T he morning dawned cold and clear, and with it came news that further confirmed their suspicions about Codlington — he’d sent some of his men out of the manor gates early that morning on some unknown errands, though he was very much not forthcoming about the nature of those errands. He also opted not to join the rest of them on their trip into the village for the Sunday morning church service, claiming haughtily that there was no way he could pray with the ‘Godless Scotsmen’ in such close proximity. What would once have been a dire insult at this point seemed only to make the MacClarans have to fight to suppress their laughter — it was so transparent that Codlington was trying to provoke them into anger that his barbs had begun to have the opposite effect.

If anything, the English refusing to join them for church made it easier for them to make inquiries in the village. Sure enough, Codlington’s men had been asking around in the village about a woman matching Penny’s description, claiming that she was a thief and that a substantial reward would be paid for information leading to her capture.

Niall was clearly worried for the girl’s safety, but Hamish was able to reassure him that the girl had been spirited safely away to the Keep overnight. And sure enough, when they returned to the Manor after church, a messenger was waiting to let them know that Codlington’s men had come to the Keep in search of the girl, too.

They shared what they’d learned with Lord Weatherby, meeting with him in his chambers again after lunch. He seemed impatient to act. “That’s evidence enough that they’re up to no good, isn’t it?” he demanded. “When can I expel these wretched men from my home?”

Sir Baldric cleared his throat at this point and stepped forward. He had a way of arresting the attention of the room when he chose to draw attention to himself — most of the time he had a way of making himself almost invisible, so it was always noteworthy when he stepped out of his self-made shadows. “There may be more to the story, my lord,” Baldric said carefully. He was holding a stack of letters. “Our original plan of watching and waiting may bear even more fruit if we’re patient. These were slid under the door of my quarters overnight,” he said, handing the letters to Lord Weatherby, who began to leaf through them with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Give us a summary, Baldric, there’s dozens of these,” Sir Weatherby complained, gesturing around at the room. “You know I trust the Laird and his men to hear whatever it is.”

“If you’re certain, my Lord. It concerns matters of the Crown.”

Lissa felt everyone in the room take a sharp breath in — it took her a moment to catch up. The Crown — Sir Baldric must mean the English crown. But what could this inquest have to do with politics in a neighboring country?

“The letters detail considerable communications with an unknown person in Parliament — they detail a plot to see to it that Lord Weatherby is deposed — by assassination or some other means — in order that his estate here changes hand.”

“Why the devil would they want to do that?” Lord Weatherby demanded, leafing through the letters with a deepening frown. “I may be without a direct heir, but my holdings wouldn’t go to Codlington in a thousand years. They’d be taken over by one of my wretched brothers, most likely.”

“Indeed,” Sir Baldric said softly. “The details of who would succeed you are made explicit in the letters, sir — this anonymous parliamentarian feels that your family members will be much more amenable to the nature of his own territorial ambitions here in Scotland.”

“He’s not wrong. Dreadful, warlike boys, the lot of them.” Weatherby handed the letters absent-mindedly to Niall and Hamish, who both began to read them intently. Laird Donal was looking at Baldric, frowning.

“If I understand the situation correctly,” he said slowly, “these letters detail a plot to assassinate Lord Weatherby in order to install one of his more aggressive family members in his position here — someone who would be more likely to wage war against Clan MacClaran?”

“I’m no political expert,” Baldric said reluctantly, “but that would seem to be the case.”

“It’s spelled out in black and white right here,” Niall broke in, a mixture of shock and anger making his voice shake. “They want to go to war. This is treason.”

“Sir Baldric, do you have any idea where these letters came from?”

“I’m making inquiries, but at present, no. I’d be willing to conclude from the anonymity of their delivery, however, that they come from within Lord Codlington’s ranks. We may have an ally among them.”

“That’s a surprise,” Amelia said, raising an eyebrow. “Makes me feel bad for wanting to beat them all into a pulp.”

That gave the group a chuckle — a much-needed break from the heavy atmosphere of the room. They agreed to continue with the plan as it stood — continue to pretend not to know what Codlington and his men were up to, keep their wits about them, and pay close attention to see if they showed their hand again. Meanwhile, Laird Donal was already drafting a letter to the King on a piece of parchment paper, with Hamish and Niall as his diplomatic advisors, one sitting on each side of him. The letters, it seemed, were more than enough to sink Codlington — the faster they wrote to the King requesting an investigation, the faster they would be free of Codlington and his men.

Lissa cleared her throat as the meeting began to draw to a close. “It’s worth reminding everyone to be careful,” she said. “We’re in a good position, especially with all this evidence — but we should remember what the situation is. We’re dealing with men who were more than willing to murder their host in cold blood in pursuit of a political aim. Men like that — men who are that casual about violence — they’re incredibly dangerous if they sense that they’re under threat. They’re clearly already unsettled by Penny going missing, if Codlington’s sending men far and wide to hunt her down. If he realizes that these letters are missing too, he’s going to start panicking. Just take care of yourselves. Watch what you eat and drink, and try not to spend too much time alone.”

“Well said,” Sir Baldric said quietly, giving her one of his little nods. “We’ll keep one another safe until such time as the threat is expelled.”

“Hear, hear,” Lord Weatherby said bracingly. “And a very good thought on watching what we eat. Having had a dose of whatever that wretched white powder was, I can’t say I’d recommend it.”

And with that, the meeting was concluded. At Sir Baldric’s suggestion, they all shared a meal there in Lord Weatherby’s quarters — one that he’d ensured had had no chance of being interfered with by any of Codlington’s delegation. There were a few brittle attempts at casual conversation, but the heaviness of the atmosphere was hard to shake. As promising as the arrival of the letters was, the truth was that they were all in danger here. It was hard to feel cheerful when your life was at risk.

And Lissa found herself reflecting, not for the first time, on the irony of having traveled so far to take a break from her work in security — only to find herself in the middle of the most complex case of her career.