The Widow's Bargain. Juliet Landon

Meg’s liking. ‘Do stop it, Janet,’ she said. ‘I know you’re overwrought, but Sir Joseph would not have recovered, you know. Brother Walter warned us of that. He’s at peace now, and so are we.’

      Dame Janet sniffed, blinking at the stark truth. She was well padded, white-haired, and wearing a white wimple like a clothes-line in a high wind and a woebegone expression that reflected a deep sensitivity rather than a general misery. Much of her shyness stemmed from being a middle-aged, physically unattractive spinster in a household of males, the head of whom had delighted in making her the butt of his jests.

      Meg would have nothing to do with forced emotions. She flung her long mane of chestnut hair behind her and signalled to the men to come in, the steward, the reeve, the chamberlain, and Sir Joseph’s elderly valet, all of them strong enough to bear a corner each of the makeshift stretcher.

      ‘My condolences, Mistress Meg,’ the tall stately chamberlain said. ‘We’ll tak care o’thengs, dinna ye fash yersel. Leave him tae us.’

      ‘Yes, Master Morner, I will, thank you. I don’t know what will happen now. Those men are supposed to be leaving today. Did they get whatever it was they came for?’

      ‘Weel, they’re combing through the cellars already. I had to gi’ ’em the keys. Yesterday they went through the stables like watter through a spoot. He’d not be best pleased if he knew, wouldn’t Sir Joseph.’

      ‘Then it’s just as well he doesn’t, Master Morner. Still, what are they after? Lady Ebony tells me they’re looking for information.’

      ‘There’s enough stuff in the cellars to keep ’em happy for a year or so, but they’ll need more pack-ponies than we’ve got to carry it all away wi’ ’em. I expect they’ll ask us aboot the trading Sir Joseph does.’

      ‘Is that what they’ve come for, d’ye think?’

      ‘I wouldna be surprised, mistress.’ He took a corner of the stretcher and, with a mighty heave, hauled the large body off the table, manoeuvring him away with grunted directions through the door.

      Balefully, Dame Janet watched him go. ‘Shall I go and tell Lady Ebony?’ she said.

      ‘I believe Sir Alex went up to give her the news just after Father went last night,’ Meg said. ‘Poor Ebony. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.’

      ‘Into the fire, mistress? How?’

      ‘Well, if they do go today, she’s supposed to be going too. They want to take Sam, you see.’

      Dame Janet’s shock was overlooked as a figure from the doorway called an order to the men he had passed in the passageway, and then came further into the room, looking about him with distaste. ‘So this is where you’ve been holed up, is it? My sympathies, Mistress Moffat.’

      ‘Who’re you?’ Meg looked him up and down, not pleased by a tone that held so little of the sympathy he was offering.

      His face pleased her even less, his eyes merrily holding her stare as if he could have asked for nothing better than an argument with her. And when her gesture drew Dame Janet back to her side, she saw how in one glance he was appraising her as he would some special merchandise on offer at a good price. ‘Of course, we’ve not actually met, have we? Hugh of Leyland, mistress. Sir Alex Somers’s right-hand man. I’m here to offer my help.’

      Meg picked up her skirts and took a step towards the door. ‘Come, Janet. I’m in no frame of mind for silly small talk, and there’s much to be done. Since when did reivers offer help, for heaven’s sake? I’ve scarce heard anything so ridiculous. They spend all day putting the fear of God into everyone, they take the garrison off to heaven-knows-where, they blunder through the castle storerooms and then we hear that they’re about to help.’ She almost shrieked the word as she tried to march past him, but he caught her arm and held her back, causing a furious whirlwind of retaliation that made him duck and think again how to detain her.

      Dame Janet remonstrated. ‘Sir! You’ve done enough damage here!’

      ‘Shut up, Janet!’ Meg snapped. ‘This oaf couldn’t damage a caged parrot. Keep out of my steward’s office, you great lout! There’s nothing in here you could want. He doesn’t keep money in here.’

      ‘Problems already, Hugh?’ Sir Alex flattened himself against the doorframe as Meg stalked past him with her chestnut hair swinging down her back. Dame Janet’s affronted glare would have soured the milk.

      ‘Whew!’ said Hugh. ‘Good thing I ducked. Why don’t they attack you?’

      ‘Because I don’t grab at them. They tend not to like it.’

      ‘Then I should hoist her over my shoulder. Is that the idea?’

      ‘As a last resort.’ Sir Alex smiled at the jibe and cast an eye over the room’s disarray. There were bowls of reddened water and cloths, pots of salves, a flask of stale brown urine, bloodied bandages, piles of linen and an empty trestle-table ruckled with soiled sheeting. From between the grubby fold of linen, he lifted a strand of black leather upon which hung a small silver key. ‘And what might this be about?’ he said, holding it up. ‘It’s been cut from round his neck, by the look o’ things, so now we have the job of finding out what it unlocks.’ He slipped the key and its thong into his pouch.

      ‘Which may take a few days. Is that what you’re thinking?’

      ‘Things have changed with the old man’s death, Hugh. There’s no reason now why we shouldn’t stay till we’ve found what we’re after, especially since we’ll get nothing out of him. The hostage threat hardly applies now, does it? Though I’ve a mind to make it sound as if it’s still a possibility. See what I mean?’

      ‘I’ll go along with whatever you decide. If you want to hold on to that as a warning in case of trouble, then go ahead. I’ll back you…With those two we’ll need all the ammunition we can find.’

      ‘Good. Staying on in the owner’s place may be a bit unorthodox, but we can easily defend ourselves here, if need be.’

      ‘There’ll have to be a funeral, Alex. His cronies will come, and I don’t suppose they’ll be the cream of society.’

      ‘All the more reason for us to stay a while. Think of those two beauties playing hostess to Moffat’s pals, will ye? Doesn’t bear thinking about.’

      ‘But ye ken the rules aboot castles and women, Alex. No castle can be held by a woman without her man. She has to be out in a day or two and away to her dower-hoos.’

      ‘That’s true enough, especially when there’s so much raiding about. So, if we’re not entirely welcome, that rule will be enough to grant us extra time. As long as we’re here to protect them, I can see us having time to do our duty to the king on two fronts. Defend the castle and find proof of what he suspects.’

      ‘Guid. So I’ll tell the men before they start saddling up, shall I?’

      ‘Yes, Hugh. Do that. Then organise the garrison hall. I want this place better organised and prepared for some outside opposition. The odds are shortening. Make a start while I go and tell the new laird’s mother. She was asleep last night when I went up.’

      Hugh’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. ‘Now there’s a thing. The wee lad will be in his ma’s wardship now, won’t he? So we can expect a fair few interested parties flocking around to marry the mother and get their hands on the castle and whatever else they can before young Sam comes of age.’

      ‘More than likely, Hugh.’

      ‘And where do you stand in all this, my fine friend?’

      ‘Right at the front.’

      ‘No! Is that so?’ Hugh grinned. ‘As close as that?’

      ‘Even closer.’ He gave Hugh a friendly shove. ‘Get going, will you?’

      Hugh halted in the doorway. ‘Just one more