Chapter 30
That night, Meleri fell asleep in Robert’s arms. In the wee hours of the following morning, they were awakened by the clamorous sound of someone banging the brass knockers on the front door. Pulled from a deep sleep, Meleri could not imagine who was knocking at this hour.
She watched as Robert sat up. She knew he intended to hurry downstairs before the clanging noise awakened everyone in the household.
“Who could that be?” she asked. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No. I have no idea who it is.”
She rolled over and leaned toward the end of the bed, trying to reach her dressing gown.
“Don’t get up,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “I’ll see who it is.”
He was into his shirt and breeches quickly and blew her a kiss before he said, “Go back to sleep.”
“Will you be gone long?” she asked, barely getting the words out before she yawned.
“Not with a lass like you waiting all soft and sleepy in my bed. Keep yourself warm, I’ll be back soon.”
“And if I find myself getting cold?”
“Don’t worry. I am confident I can find a way or two to warm you when I return.”
He disappeared around the door, and she stared at the place she had seen him last. She intended to stay awake until he returned.
She remembered Robert telling her the night before how much he loved her and luxuriated in the thought of it for a moment before she rolled over and nestled down into the warm, downy bed and closed her eyes.
He woke her with a kiss when he returned.
Her eyes flew open.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She raised her shoulder and rubbed it against the cheek he kissed, as if the kiss were still there and she could feel it. She shivered. “Brrrr. Your nose is cold.”
He chuckled. “So is the rest of me.” He went to his wardrobe and removed his boots and a pair of socks. “I wish I had time to warm up a bit. A couple of rounds in the bed with you ought to do it.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Aye.”
“Where?”
“Down the road a bit.”
That answer told her a great deal, she thought. She watched him pull his socks on. “Who was at the door?”
“A neighbor.”
Robert certainly did not volunteer more information than he had to. Scots, she had learned, were not lavish with words, or anything else. A more frugal lot she had never seen. Only two days ago, Agnes reported that it was a well-known fact that Lady Margaret never put dots over her i’s to save ink.
“It’s a bit early to be paying a social call. What did he want?” she insisted.
“He wants me to go with them.”
“Why?”
“They found a body.”
“Where?”
“Down the road, not too far from here.”
Exasperated, she decided getting information from him was like gathering scattered pearls from a broken necklace…you could do it, but it would take some time. “Why do they need you to go?”
“He’s not someone they recognized. They are hoping I might be able to identify him.”
Two complete sentences in a row, she thought. Unbelievable.
Suddenly, she shot up in the bed. “If they found a dead man, do you think it was the ghost?”
He gave her a look that said he found her charming in spite of that mindless comment. “You’re so idiotic, you’re adorable.”
She crossed her arms. “I am not your ordinary idiot.”
“Interesting. Remind me to give that some more thought when I have the time. Until then, I shall simply wonder how one would go about killing a ghost. Unless you can enlighten me, of course.”
If her face was not red, it should be. She had never felt more stupid. “I did not phrase that correctly….”
He pulled on a boot. “No, you did not. Care to try again?”
“What I meant to say was, could I have seen a real man and only thought it was a ghost, and if so, could he the dead man?”
He pulled on his other boot and stood up. “It’s too early in the morning for me to decipher that. I’ll think about it and give you an answer when I return.”
“Perhaps I should come with you. If it is the man I saw, I will recognize him.”
He came to the side of the bed and kissed her. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you stay here and work on a list of more questions to ask me when I get back.”
Before she could retort, he was gone.
Edwin Muir and some of his men were waiting for Robert. When he led his horse out of the stables, they were dousing their lanterns. It would be daylight soon, and over the tops of the hills in the distance, the sky was already beginning to lighten.
“Sorry to put you to all this bother,” Edwin said.
“No bother,” Robert said, putting his foot in the stirrup and swinging into the saddle. “Has anyone sent for the sheriff?”
“Aye, James Fergusson stopped by my place on his way to Dumfries. He was going after the sheriff.”
Robert nodded and the men started off. They rode in silence down the pebbled lane that led to a single-track metaled road. Once they reached it, they turned in the direction James indicated. They then rode toward the low sloping hills where the fires of druid sacrifices once blazed.
The sun was on the horizon, coming through the trees in slender red shafts, the confusion of leaves striking the road with lace-patterned tracery. Robert studied them for a moment. “Was it James who found him?”
“No, it was one of his men coming home late from a tryst,” Edwin said.
“The body is still where you found it?”
“Aye, we thought it best to leave it that way for the sheriff.”
“Could you tell what happened?”
“Not exactly. Daniel Murray found him. He said it appeared that his horse had dragged the man to death. When Daniel found him, his foot was still caught in the stirrup.”
Something about Edwin’s voice made Robert wonder if Edwin was holding something back. “Is there anything else? Something you don’t want me to know?”
“No, nothing I want to keep from you, exactly, but James did find something strange when he arrived.”
“Strange? You mean he found something that might indicate the man was murdered?”
“He wouldn’t say murder, exactly, but he did say there were some coins lying next to the body.”
“Scots coins?”
“Aye.”
“They probably came out of his pockets.”
“Aye, that is what I thought, but James said the coins were old ones. Very old.”
“Hmm. That is odd,” said Robert. “Perhaps he was a collector, then. I wonder how old, or what kind they were.”
“James said he didn’t recognize them, although it was dark and he was using a lantern to see by. I asked him if they could have been doits, bodles or merks. He did not think so. He thought they might be older.”
They arrived at the place where the body was found. Just as Edwin said, Daniel Murray was waiting for them in a small clearing. No one else was there. Not even a body.
Robert greeted Daniel with a nod as he dismounted. “It looks like the sheriff arrived ahead of us.”
“No, James hasna arrived with the sheriff yet,” Daniel said.
“Then where is the body?”
“Not far from here. Angus Beattie and Donald Mackie are waiting with the man’s horse.”
Robert nodded. He knew both Angus and Donald, who were in the employ of James Fergusson.
“I suppose we might as well get this over with,” Edwin said.
“Aye,” Murray said, “This way.”
Edwin and Murray walked ahead, while Robert followed at a slower pace. When they reached the clearing, Edwin and Murray paused to speak with Angus and Donald.
When a bright shaft of light struck the clearing, Robert saw something sticking in a tree nearby. Closer investigation proved it to be a dirk, quite old and solidly wedged, deep in the bark. It took some doing, but he managed to extract it.
“Have a look at this,” Edwin called to Robert.
Robert slipped the dirk in his belt and joined the three men, where they were standing next to a fine blood bay, his reins wrapped around a tree branch. Donald Mackie held the bridle and stroked the bay’s head. The horse was of exceptional breeding and conformation—one that would belong to a wealthy man; or else, it was stolen.
Robert walked around the bay with Edwin. He saw the body lying facedown, the man’s left foot still caught in the stirrup and horribly twisted.
Daniel Murray was now crouched down on his haunches near the body. He came to his feet when he saw Robert and Edwin approach.
“Is the body where you found it?” Robert asked. “It hasn’t been moved?”
“Aye. I tied the horse as soon as I discovered the body and the coins, then I rode after Mr. Fergusson.”
“After James and I arrived, we thought it best not to touch anything else,” Edwin said. “We left Angus and Donald here with the horse, so he wouldn’t break free and drag the body off.”
“I have heard horses don’t like to be around the dead,” Robert said. He looked down at the body and saw the clothes were badly torn and muddy. He glanced at the saddle. “The saddle appears to be English.”
“Aye,” Edwin said.
“Anything in his saddlebag?” Robert asked.
“No identification, but there was a purse full of English pounds,” Edwin said, then added, “He was a wealthy man, whoever he was.”
Robert nodded in agreement. “Aye, I thought the same when I saw the horse. The wealth alone should brand him as English.”
“Aye,” Edwin said. “English, or a robber. The horse and the money we found in his pockets could have been stolen.”
Robert looked at David. “What about the coins that were found? Where are they?”
“I have them,” Angus said, and he handed Robert a kerchief he had tied around them. Robert untied the knot and looked down at five coins. They were old. Quite old.
“Where did you find them?”
“They were lying here,” David said, indicating a place near the body. “Three of them were lying on the ground right here, the other two were near his head.”
Robert picked up one of the coins and turned it over in his hand. It was inscribed, but he could not make out the words. He walked a few feet away from the dense foliage of the tree, so he could see the coins in the full sunlight. He recognized three of them immediately and knew they were gold. He read the inscription. “Ihc Autem Transiens Per Medium Illorum Ibat.”
“Latin,” Edwin said, “but I didn’t like Latin as a boy. Now I can do little more than recognize it. Do you know what is says?”
Robert nodded. “‘But Jesus passing through the midst of them went his way.’ They are nobles, worth six shillings and eight pence, or half a Scottish mark. They are from the reign of David II.”
Edwin whistled. “Rare as virgin’s milk. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of them before. How did you know what they were?”
“My grandmother has two such coins, although hers are more worn and not all of the inscriptions can be read.”
“Fourteenth-century coins,” Daniel said. “That makes them very old.”
“And too rare and valuable to be lying loose in the dirt,” Edwin added.
“Do you suppose he stole them?” Daniel asked.
Robert didn’t get to answer, for at that moment the sheriff, Walter Robertson, rode into the clearing with James Fergusson.
Walter didn’t seem too interested in what kind of coins they were, only in the fact that they were quite old, and the significance of them being found with the dead man.
“Daniel was just asking Robert if he thought they were stolen when you rode up,” Edwin said.
“Could be,” Walter said, then he rolled the dead man over and looked down at his face. “Does anyone recognize him?”
No one did, and the sheriff busied himself with his routine investigation before he enlisted the help of Robert and James Fergusson. “You can take his foot out of the stirrup now,” he said.
Once that was done, he told Angus and Donald to lead the horse away from the body. “Tie him over there, away from the other horses. He is acting a bit skittish. No need to agitate the others.”
Robert glanced down at the body. It had been dragged for some distance, for the face was badly scratched and cut. It would make identification almost impossible for anyone, save those who knew the man well.
“Was anything in his pockets?” the sheriff asked.
“We didn’t check his pockets,” James said. “The coins were found in the saddlebag.”
Walter searched the man’s pockets and produced a few shillings and a small silver knife with the initials P.W.A. engraved upon it. He did not say anything, but went on about his investigation. When he was finished, he ordered the men to put the body over the back of his horse and secure it. Walter then scratched his head and said, “Well, I agree the man is probably English, but beyond that, I don’t know. It sure would help things if we knew who he was or where he was from. If only someone could identify him.”
Robert had been quietly thinking justice had at last been served, and the bastard was dead. “I think there is a possibility that he is an Englishman by the name of Philip Ashton.”
“Philip Ashton,” Walter repeated. “What were the initials on that knife?”
“P.W.A.,” James said.
“Philip W. Ashton,” he said. “It could be.” Walter looked at Robert. “How is it you have a name, but you can’t identify him?”
“I have never met Philip Ashton.”
“Do you know anyone who has, anyone who could identify him?”
“Aye, my wife.”
Walter looked as if he had some more questions he wanted to ask, but he checked himself and said, “We will take the body to Beloyn,” Walter said. “I am anxious to have this done.”
As they rode toward Beloyn, Robert explained the association between himself and Philip Ashton, telling them how Philip and his wife had once been betrothed and how Philip had suddenly appeared and approached her, twice in the last two days. Apparently satisfied, at least for the time being, Walter did not ask anything more.
Robert was thankful for that. It was damnably difficult to maintain a casual conversation when his insides were knotted with disbelief. Ten years he had wanted to get even with this man, and then, when it happened, it had all gone so quickly.
Robert thought about Meleri, worried about the strain it would put upon her to be asked to view a dead body. She had been through enough already with this man. He was not sure how she would react to all of this. He was certain about one thing, however, and that was the dead man’s identity.
If it were up to Robert, he would have left the bastard’s body out there to rot. However, Meleri would have to identify him, so the family could be notified and the body returned to his home. Robert was filled with iron resolve, knowing he had to maintain a passive sort of front, for he could not register even the slightest amount of hatred toward this man, save the ordinary hatred he would have for what he did to Meleri. As far as Sorcha’s murder, he could not, would not, ever let Meleri know the truth about Philip. Not to protect that English pig, but for another reason entirely.
If Meleri ever found out, he would lose her.
When they reached Beloyn, Robert invited everyone inside, but they declined. “I think it best if we wait here, then we can be on our way after your wife has had a look,” Walter said. “Once we have a positive identification, we will need to make arrangements to have the body sent to his family. You wouldn’t know where the family of this Philip Ashton lives, would you?”
“Aye, they are in Northumberland. His father is the Duke of Heatherton.”
Walter grimaced. “Another reason to make haste,” he said.
Robert went to get Meleri. He found her in her room, sitting at her desk, her red hair touched by the sun coming through the window behind her, bursting with all the colors of fire. She looked up when he entered and gave him a welcoming smile. In spite of the circumstances, it was a smile that warmed him considerably.
“I’m glad you are back. Did you get everything taken care of?” she asked.
“Almost.”
“Were you able to help?”
“Some.”
“Did you recognize the man they found?”
“Not exactly.”
“Could you be more explicit?”
“I think I know who he is, although I could not make positive identification.”
“Why not?”
“If he is who I think he is, I have never met him.”
“And you think I sound confused? Talking to you…I get cross-eyed from the effort. If you’ve never met the dead man, how could you know who he is?”
He searched for a way to break it to her, but in the end, he knew the only way was to be blunt. “Meleri, I am quite certain it is Waverly.”
“Philip?” All the color seemed to vanish from her face at once. “Philip is dead? Oh, dear Lord, he’ll be furious.”
He gave her the same expression he had given her earlier, when she made a similar idiotic statement. “Meleri, have you taken leave of your senses? The man is dead. How can he be furious?”
“How do I know? You’re the one with the haunted castle. You tell me.” She put her hand to her head. “Well, I hate to say this, but I’m glad it’s him and not one of us. Are you certain he’s dead?”
“He is. Believe me, he is.”
“Are you certain it’s Philip?”
“Reasonably so, just as I told you.”
“How did it happen? Was it an accident? Robbery?”
“It wasn’t robbery. Other than that, all we know is that something caused him to fall from his horse. His foot caught in the stirrup. He was dragged to death.”
She winced. “Oh, how awful. It is such a dreadful way to die.”
“Do you know a good way?”
“No, but no one deserves to die so horribly.”
He told her that the sheriff was waiting out front with the others, that they needed someone who could make positive identification. “Since you are the only one around here who knew him…”
“No!”
“Meleri, there isn’t…”
“Please, Robert. Not me.”
“Love, if there was any other way…”
“Don’t make me to do this. You don’t know what you are asking.”
“You know I would not if there was another way.”
“Can’t you find something to identify him? Was there nothing to prove who he is? No identification?”
“Nothing other than a silver knife with initials on it.”
Her face went white. “P.W.A.,” she said, as if familiar with the knife.
“Aye, those were the initials. You have seen it?”
“Of course I’ve seen it. I was betrothed to him. In England, it is common practice to give your betrothed a gift on certain holidays. I gave the knife to him Christmas last. The initials are for Philip William Ashton.” She stood up, walked to the window and looked down to the courtyard below. “Did you…” She paused, her voice breaking. He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She did not turn around. “Did you tell them about myself and Philip? About his abduction?”
“No. I only told them what I thought was necessary, that he was a lifelong friend, that you had been betrothed but had agreed mutually to call it off.”
“Did you tell them he came to see me, here?”
“Aye, I told them he had been here twice. I did not tell them of the threats he made or the abduction. I felt there was no need. I wanted to spare you.”
She sighed, turned back to him and lay her head against his chest. Her arms slipped around him. “I suppose this is something I will live through, although if I had a choice, I would rather do anything than this.”
“If I had any other choice, I would not ask it of you.”
He tilted her head up and kissed her soundly, as if it were possible to transfer his strength to her. “Are you ready?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply and then released her breath, and he knew she was composing herself. “I doubt anyone is ever ready for such as this, but I am resigned.” She put her arm through his. “You are coming with me?”
“Aye, I would not have you go through this alone.”
“As long as I have you, I can face anything, do anything, be anything.”
“That’s my lass,” he said, and kissed her again.
They went down the stairs, but when they reached the bottom step, Robert stopped her. “Identification will be difficult.”
“I understand. His face does not matter. I could identify him even without looking at his face. I have known Philip since I was a child. There is a scar on his right arm, where it went through a glass window. There is also a small nick on his left shoulder where Tony wounded him during fencing practice.”
“Then it should be over quickly.”
“I have prayed that would be so.”
In the end, her prayers were answered, for she knew it was Philip even before they looked for the two scars she described. When they drew back the sheet, she put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. After she gained control, she looked down at the body again. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s Philip. He always had such lovely blond hair. How I envied it as a child.” She stared down at him solemnly. “How sorry I am you have come to this.”
She turned away and buried her face against Robert’s chest. Behind her, Walter instructed the others to remove Philip’s body from his horse and lay it upon the ground. Once they found the two scars she described, the sheriff said, “If you would be so kind, Lady Douglas, as to look at these…just so we can be certain.”
“It’s almost over,” he whispered. “You’re a strong lass with a pure heart.”
She looked at the body again and saw the scars. “It’s Philip. Those are the scars I described,” she said, and turned quickly away. She grabbed Robert’s arm for support.
“Are you all right, lass?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I must go inside.”
Before Robert could say anything, she ran up the steps and through the open door.
Agnes was waiting inside with a glass of water. “Here, drink this. You need to lie down a moment.”
“I couldn’t. Not now. I don’t want to be alone.” She glanced around. “Where is everyone?”
“I believe they all went to church. Lady Margaret came asking about whether you wanted to go. I told her I didn’t know, since you did not sleep in your room last night. I offered to see if you wanted to go with them, but she said I was not to disturb you.”
“It was a good thing I did not go.” Meleri looked out the window and saw the sheriff and his men ride off. “The sheriff is leaving,” she said, and hearing a noise behind her, she turned to see Lady Margaret come down the stairs.
“What is going on out there?” she asked.
“Robert is coming inside now. He will explain everything.”
Agnes opened the door, just as Robert came off the last step.
“How do you feel?” he asked when he saw Meleri.
“Much better.”
He looked at his grandmother. “Where are Iain and Hugh? I want to have a word with them.”
“They are at church where all good Presbyterians should be. This is the Sabbath, or have you forgotten?”
He rubbed his eyes. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t had much time to think about what day it was,” he answered. “Whatever day it is, it is going to be a long one.”
“Who was that man?” Gram asked. “Why did Meleri have to go out there with you?”
He glanced at Meleri, and she shrugged. “I told her you would explain everything when you came inside.”
“How would I ever manage without you?”
“You wouldn’t,” she said, trying to lighten her mood by teasing with him. “I am amazed you got by this long.”
“Aye, events of great consequence often spring from trifling circumstance.”
“Trifling, is it?” She was thinking of a leveling comment when Lady Margaret stepped between them.
“You two can argue off your tensions later. I want to know what happened. What are you trying to do? Give me an attack of anxiety?”
Robert took his grandmother by the arm and his wife, too, then escorted the two of them down the hall and into the library. “It’s a long story and what I have to tell you would be better received if you were sitting down.”
Once they were comfortably seated, Robert told Gram about Philip, leaving nothing out. Once he finished, she did not say anything for a few moments, as if she were weighing his words. “In light of what you have said, I cannot help thinking how good a thing it is that his death was an accident.”
“That is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Robert said.
Lady Margaret’s expression turned more serious. “There is something you haven’t told me?”
Robert stole a quick glance at Meleri and her heartbeat suddenly escalated. She was so full of dread, she could only look at him with a helpless expression.
Robert went on. “Aye, there were several coins found near the body.”
“They probably fell out of his pocket. I see nothing strange about that,” Gram said.
“These were old coins…quite old…from the reign of David II.”
“That would make them from the fourteenth century, the same as the coins I have.”
“Aye, they were identical to the two gold coins you have, but these were in much better condition. I could even read the inscription. ‘Ihc Autem Transiens Per Medium Illorum Ibat’.”
“‘But Jesus passing through them went his way,’” Meleri said.
“‘But Jesus passing through the midst of them went his way,’” Robert corrected her. “Your Latin is very good.”
“Yours is better.” The smile faded and her look turned serious. “What is it about the coins that troubles you?”
“It isn’t just the coins that bother me. There was also a dirk with an ivory handle.” He drew back his doublet and pulled an ivory-handled dirk from the waist of his breeches. He stared down at the intricate scrollwork on the blade, and the name inscribed there. “Douglas the Good,” he read, and handed the dirk to his grandmother. “What do you make of it?”
“I have never seen it before.” She turned it over and studied it from every angle. “It would appear to be authentic, for it is obviously quite old.” She handed it back to Robert. “Where did they find it?”
“They didn’t. I found it stuck in a tree as I was walking back to my horse. I am surprised no one else saw it.”
Meleri gasped. “You didn’t tell them you found it?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“When I saw the name Douglas, I thought it best to say nothing. I knew it wasn’t my dirk, just as I knew it did not belong to Iain or Hugh. But I knew it could cause problems for us.”
“Aye,” Gram said, “it could be the source of tremendous problems.”
“On top of that, I wasn’t certain it had anything to do with what happened. It could have been sticking in that tree for hundreds of years and no one noticed it.”
“Or it could have been left there as a sign,” Gram said.
“That thought crossed my mind,” Robert said.
“A sign?” Meleri scooted to the edge of her chair.
“A sign left there by the missing earl.”
“That can’t be right,” she said. “You told me Douglas the Good was killed in Spain and it was his nephew, William, who was the first earl.”
“That is correct,” Robert said. “James Douglas was Douglas the Good.”
“Then how did William have the knife that belonged to James?”
“It was probably inherited,” Lady Margaret said, “something that was kept in the family. An heirloom. It is reasonable to expect William would have inherited these things.”
“So, you are saying you think Philip might have been murdered by the missing earl?”
“It is the only explanation I can come up with,” Robert said. “I know this sounds preposterous…”
Meleri leaped to her feet. “We must be getting somewhere! That is the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.”
“All right,” Robert said. “Let us practice a little supposition. Suppose the ghost you saw was, in fact, the ghost of William, the missing earl. Suppose by revealing himself to you, you are the one he has declared to be the one with the heart of the truest Scot. Suppose he was the man you saw that first day when Philip attacked you, the one who obviously frightened him off. Suppose he knew what a threat Philip was. Suppose he frightened Philip’s horse, causing his death, and left the coins and the dirk as proof.”
Meleri sat back down and put her hand to her forehead. “That is preposterous. Things like this do not happen,” she said. “Ghosts don’t go around leaving tokens scattered about and frightening horses and God knows what else.”
“How do you know they don’t?” he asked.
“I…”
Robert went on talking. “I understand how you could be skeptical. Lord knows I was, too, in the beginning, but now I don’t think these things can be chalked up to mere coincidence. There are simply too many of them.”
“Aye,” Lady Margaret said. “I think the time has come. I think the old earl is tired…tired of haunting this castle, tired of waiting for the legend to come true. I don’t think he would allow anything to stand in the way of bringing the legend to a close.”
“But wouldn’t the jewels have to be found before that can happen?” Meleri asked.
“They will be,” Robert said.
“All in due time, child. All in due time,” Lady Margaret said. “We must be still and wait with patience.”
Meleri stared woefully out the window. “I hate waiting! Truly! Nothing at all happens. Nobody comes. Nobody goes. Nothing is learned. Nothing decided. You cannot imagine how much I hate standing around doing nothing. I don’t know how anyone can tolerate it. I would take anything over this! Absolutely anything!”
“Be careful what you ask for,” Lady Margaret said. “You might get it.”