Chapter 22 #2
“I should go wi’ ye,” Coll whispered back. “Wherever ye’re a-going.”
Shaking his head, Dev opened the door and motioned for Coll to follow him onto the landing.
Easing the door shut, he murmured, “I’m taking Jock, not because I trust him more but because he’s gey clever about concealing himself.
And he’ll need to be. In a fight, I’d liefer have you and your sword. Today, I need Jock.”
Coll nodded, and Dev knew that he’d obey. “Keep close to her ladyship, and see that she stays here,” he added, his mind having automatically shifted to the person most likely to disobey him.
“I wield no authority over her,” Coll reminded him.
“You do today,” Dev said. “Stuff her in a kist and sit on it if you must.”
“Sir, you can’t mean that, nor would she ever forgive me if I did such a thing.”
“Then use your imagination, my lad, because if you let her do aught to endanger herself, I will have your head. So choose how.”
Hearing Coll gulp, he knew he’d made his point, and Coll would keep Robby safe.
Robina waited until she was sure that Dev had gone downstairs and Coll would be busy with his usual duties.
Then, aware that Dev expected her to sleep late and would tell Corinne not to wake her, she dressed as hastily as she could and went downstairs and out through the bakehouse to look for Sandy.
Disconcertingly, she ran into Coll instead.
“I thought ye were asleep, m’lady,” he said.
“I woke up,” she replied with a smile. “Have you seen Sandy or Shag?”
“Shag’s gone to help call in our lads. Sandy’s yonder,” Coll said, pointing. “I should tell ye, m’lady, that the master said I’m t’ keep close to ye.”
“Faith, why should you?” she demanded.
“To see ye keep safe, he said.”
“Well, I can keep myself safe, so you need not trouble yourself.”
“He said I’m t’ stuff ye in a kist and sit on it if I must,” Coll said desperately.
“Look here, Coll, you care about his safety, too, do you not?”
“Aye, sure, but—”
“Dev has gone, aye?”
“Aye, he left whiles ago wi’ Jock. But m’lady, I canna—”
“Clearly, I must take you into my confidence, Coll. You see, last night…”
Chukk woke Benjy early, knowing that to reach the meeting place would take time. His men were ready. Others had gone ahead, and they all knew what he expected of them. If Devil Ormiston’s sworn word was good, he’d have his treasure soon after midday.
He’d have preferred to meet at dawn, because folks in the area would still be sleeping. But they would have had to ride at night, and since their lair was two hours from Coklaw and the moon was full, they’d have risked being taken for raiders.
As it was, they’d separated into twos and threes and were keeping to woodland, away from open roads. When Chukk saw people gathering wood, he thought nothing of it. None paid heed to a man and a boy on horseback who looked like a father and his son.
Chukk led the lad’s horse to keep him from trying to flee. That irritated the laddie, but his glowers would lead onlookers to suspect only that he’d misbehaved. In any event, Chukk had told Benjy he’d take leather to him if he grew troublesome.
They soon saw many more wood gatherers, and children picking flowers, whereupon Chukk realized with shock that people were gathering wood for their Beltane fires. He’d forgotten that the first of May, when folks relit their home fires from communal ones, was nearly upon them.
“Not a word, lad,” he murmured to Benjy as they passed close to one group.
The boy wisely kept silent.
When someone called out to wish them good fortune, Chukk returned the greeting but increased their pace to discourage further discourse.
“Good lad,” he said when they were safely past the gatherers.
“I didna ken any o’ them,” Benjy replied gruffly. “I didna think they’d believe aught I said. They’d ha’ believed whatever ye said, instead.”
“Ye’re a wise laddie,” Chukk said. “See that ye stay wise.”
They came at last to the road he wanted, and he took it, confident that none would interfere with them there. Coklaw men would risk no harm to their lairdie, and others would assume that Benjy knew him.
He was more worried that one of his lads might err while they tried to position themselves without drawing notice. They were good lads, though, and clever.
As they rode, to pass the time, he told Benjy some of the tales his dad had told him about Shetland.
When the boy asked if he thought he’d ever get back again, Chukk said, “If all goes well, I will. Sithee, me da wanted to go hisself. But he could never think how to collect in safety what I’ll get today by me own wits. ”
“What is it?”
“Nay, then. I’ll tell ye only that it be rightfully mine and I’ll soon have it.”
“Was it buried in the ground? Is that why your da couldna get it?”
Stunned by the question, Chukk jerked on his reins, almost stopping his horse. Urging it on, he said tersely, “Why d’ye ask me such a thing?”
“I just wondered is all,” Benjy said, shrugging. “Me sister tells me tales of buried treasures, and gold that wee folk hide in the ground.”
“This be real and o’ greater import than any made-up tale. I swore to me da on his deathbed that I’d fetch it and go home to tell our people what became of us.”
“I hope you can do that,” Benjy said. “I want to go home to my people, too.”
“Ye’ll help us both by doing as I bid ye, then,” Chukk said.
“I want to help ye, sir,” Benjy said quietly. “A man must keep such a vow.”
A lump formed in Chukk’s throat, but he did his best to ignore it.
Leg o’ Mutton Cut lay just ahead.
Dev approached the cut alone, as he had promised.
Bangtail Joey had said naught about weapons, so Dev had a knife in his right boot, his dirk on his belt, and a short sword in its scabbard.
He also wore a chainmail shirt under the leather jack that he always wore in battle. Quilted and well-padded with horn and other hard objects, it weighed him down but was lighter than armor and would give some protection against arrows and sword slashes.
His head was bare, so the villains could recognize him, but he had strapped his helmet behind his saddle, atop his rolled-up cloak.
He hoped that none of his precautions would prove necessary, because if any did, Benjy might be hurt, even killed.
Robby’s sorrowful face leaped to his mind’s eye, but he ruthlessly banished the image. He could pray and he could hope, but he could do naught else. What happened would happen, and he would face the consequences afterward.
Jock had parted from him and gone to ground soon after they’d left.
His orders had been clear: to watch where Dev went but not interfere; to note what occurred; and, if the villains broke their promises, to do all he could to aid Benjy and then report what had happened to Buccleuch and Ormiston, and to the Douglas.
Auld Nick’s pace had been slow from the beginning to give Jock time to make his way, and for the benefit of any watchers. He kept it so now because he wanted to avoid having to wait alone in the cut as a sitting target for enemy archers on its slopes.
The English, he knew, were fond of archers.
He felt confident that if any were there, they’d do naught until their leader had hefted the jar and felt its weight. First, he’d want to see if Dev had it.
He did have it, in the cloak strapped to his saddle. If the silver in it did belong to Northumberland, the young earl was unlikely to see it. One of Benjy’s captors was likely the thief who stole it, and would want to keep it. But Dev would give it to them, anyway.
The people of Coklaw would benefit from the gelt if he kept it, but they’d benefit more by keeping their young laird.
Auld Nick found the measured pace tedious. Well behaved though the stallion was, Dev could sense Nick’s suppressed energy and his yearning to run.
Rounding the next curve, he saw the cut opening ahead.
And, approaching its central and widest point from the far end, he saw two riders on trotting horses, the larger one leading the smaller one’s mount.
Relieved as he was to see Benjy, Dev scanned the hillsides again.
He saw no movement on the slopes or sign of anyone else nearby.
Experience warned him to distrust what he saw and expect the worst, but he kept riding. He also kept Nick to a walk so the man who led Benjy’s horse could choose where to stop. His choice might provide information.
When the man pulled off his cap as he drew rein, Dev recognized him as the messenger Jock o’ the Storm. However, on horseback, there was something familiar…
Benjy waved, so Dev waved back and urged Nick forward. As he neared them, a score of armed men rose out of dense shrubbery on each slope, swords drawn.
Meeting their leader’s gaze, Dev said, “You’ve broken your word, Jock o’ the Storm, if that is your true name. Will you tell me why?”
“Why, me true name’s Chukk Jamieson, and I’ve no broken me word. Them be nobbut Percy lambs grazing on rightful Percy land. Where’s me jar?”
Recognizing him then and one or two of his henchmen on the nearer hillside as members of the ambush party near Chesters, Dev said, “I brought the jar, as I promised, but I expected to meet a nobleman or a gentleman spokesman for Northumberland. I did not anticipate meeting a ruffian who ambushes men going about their rightful business. I believe, however, that the contents of this jar belong to Northumberland, do they not?”
“They do not,” Jamieson replied. “That jar and its contents are mine. Ye might call it me inheritance, to which ye’ve nae right at all.”
He scowled fiercely at Dev as if daring him to deny it. Then, almost ludicrously, his focus shifted beyond Dev and his fierceness altered to dismay.
“Wha’s this, then?” he demanded.
Benjy’s mouth had fallen agape, too, so Dev looked back to see a host of mounted Borderers lining the low hill behind him and filling the mouth of the cut. Their unsheathed swords flashed in the midday sun.
He estimated that they numbered at least a hundred men.
Leading them—astride Black Corby in her breeks, boots, and jack—was Robby, waving the Gledstanes’s hawk banner.
Coll rode beside her, his sword at the ready.
Just behind them, Geordie Elliot waved the crescent-moons-and-star banner of the Scotts of Buccleuch with one hand and his sword with the other.
Beside Geordie sat Wat on his favorite bay, and beside Wat was Ormiston.
Wat’s sword remained in its sheath. His grin as the leaders reined in, however, was big enough for everyone in the cut to see.
Turning back to face Jamieson, Dev said gently, “What is that, you ask? Why those are Coklaw’s sheepdogs, sirrah. As fierce as they are, they’ll not stay leashed long.”
“Ye broke your word!”
“I promised to come alone, and unlike you, I did,” Dev said.
“I promised to bring your jar, and I did that, too. I did not summon those men or know they would come. I told no one of this meeting and gave orders that none should follow me. Buccleuch, however, does not take orders from me.” Nor, he added silently, does my lady wife!
“Are ye a-going to give me yon jar, then? Or is it empty?”
“It retains all of its contents,” Dev said. “As to giving it to you, I have yet to understand why you think it belongs to you. But if you’ll agree to return to Coklaw with me, I’ll hear your tale. If you can persuade me—”
“I’d ha’ to be daft to go wi’ ye. Ye might listen, but ye’d hang me for taking pity on the lairdie there, all on his ownsome in a graveyard, and keeping him safe overnight.”
“Is that how it was?”
When Jamieson hesitated, Dev looked at Benjy.
“He did me nae harm,” Benjy said.
“And you did go alone to the graveyard on Sunnyside Hill?”
Warily, Benjy hesitated. Then, drawing a deep breath and meeting Dev’s stern gaze, he said, “Aye, sir, I did. Ye willna hang Chukk, will ye?”
“I cannot answer that question until I have heard his reasons. But if you mean to speak for him, likely we won’t hang him.”
Turning to Jamieson, Benjy yanked his own reins from the man’s grasp. Then he said quietly, “Come with us, sir. I meant what I said about helping ye.”
Dev grimaced at the “sir” but kept silent, watching Jamieson, who said, “Will ye let me lads go, Sir David? They ha’ done nowt to ye.”
“If you can assure me that they will leave Coklaw land and that I’ll never find them raiding our kine, I will. I suspect they’re responsible for some stock we’ve lost recently.”
“I canna say ye’re wrong, but I willna say ye’re right, neither. What I will say is that I’ll send ’em back to Alnwick and they willna lift your kine.”
“So you do at least come from Alnwick.”
“Aye, sir, all of us.”
“Am I to understand, though, that you will return to Coklaw with us?”
“If ye’ll hear me out, I will. I must.”
Dev nodded. “Dismiss your men, and we’ll ride together. We can talk on the way.”
When Jamieson wheeled his horse and spurred it toward his men on the nearer hillside, Dev said, “I think that you and I must have a talk, too, Benjy.”
“Are you going to punish me?”
“That depends on what you have to say,” Dev replied. “I’d like to know why you went all the way to the graveyard by yourself.”
“To ask Rab why he talks only to Beany and see if he’d talk to me, too.”