Page 20 of Flanders’ Folly (The Curse of Clan Ross #7)

20

THE ELEPHANT UP THE RAT’S SLEEVE

* * *

T he riders approached the gate with haste, trying to reach their destination before full darkness fell. Their horses were lathered and their heads hung low from a hard journey. The youngest among them, a man with a confident bearing and rich garments, rode slightly ahead of the others. Despite the evident weariness of his mount, his own face showed little fatigue as he reined to a stop before Todlaw's gates.

Robert and Flanders stood atop the wall, watching as the party halted at a respectful distance.

"Hail, Todlaw!" the young nobleman called, his voice carrying easily on the moist evening air. "I seek audience with Laird Robert Duncan."

Robert nodded. "I am he. State yer business."

The man bowed slightly from his saddle. "I am David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl, sent by Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray and regent to King David." He reached into his tunic and withdrew a sealed parchment. "I come with full authority to settle the dispute between yerself and Laird Stephan."

Flanders stiffened at the Strathbogie name. Here was the son of a traitor who'd fought against The Bruce in the Wars of Scottish Independence. Only after the tide turned at Bannockburn did the family pledge their loyalty to Scotland's true king. And now this pup, barely older than Robert, was sent to judge them?

Robert's face remained impassive, but his knuckles were white. He’d been a new babe when Bannockburn was fought. This Strathbogie had been all of five.

"We welcome the Regent's interest," Robert replied carefully. "Though we received word just hours ago that he considered this a local matter."

"Aye, that messenger was sent before my appointment." Atholl held up the parchment. "This grants me authority to resolve this as I see fit."

Flanders noted that Stephan made no move to approach the gates this time, nor did he send a representative. The Rat Laird remained by his tent, watching from afar.

Robert exchanged a glance with Flanders, then nodded to the guards. "Open the gates. We'll receive ye properly inside."

Atholl raised a hand. "I thank ye for the courtesy, but I must decline. To maintain impartiality, I will hear both sides without interruption." His smile never wavered. "Protocol demands I speak first with the aggrieved party. I shall return on the morrow to hear yer defense."

“I would hear the charges now.” Robert said, the very spit of his fearless father.

"All in good time, Laird Duncan." Atholl tucked the parchment away. "I assure ye, justice will be served."

Flanders stepped forward, unable to contain himself. "The Earl of Moray knows us well. We fought beside him at Bannockburn." He let the implication hang in the air—unlike your father, who fought against us.

Atholl's smile tightened. "Indeed. He spoke highly of ye both. My father often remarked on the... loyalty ...of The Bruce's men." The pause was slight but deliberate. "Which is why I'm certain this matter can be resolved without… undue… bloodshed."

"Yer father learned the price of disloyalty," Flanders said evenly. "I trust his son remembers the lesson."

"Some lessons are worth remembering," Atholl replied, his voice cool. "Others, perhaps, are best forgotten. Until tomorrow, gentlemen."

With that, he turned his horse and led his men toward Stephan's encampment. They rode directly to the Rat Laird's tent, as if they'd known precisely where to find him. As if they'd been expected all along.

Robert and Flanders watched them go, their expressions grim.

"We're about to lose it all," Robert said quietly. "Randolph is a fool to trust a Strathbogie."

Flanders nodded. "Aye. It’s no wonder now why Stephan’s been smilin’ in the rain.”

* * *

The war chamber felt smaller than usual, crowded with worry and the restless movements of Hemming, who paced from window to window, checking each direction with growing concern.

"They're movin'," he reported, his voice tight. "Fanning out to surround us completely."

Robert leaned over the map of Todlaw, his expression dark as if he were bidding the place adieu. "How many?"

"More than before. Many more." Hem shook his head. "More than triple. Must have been waitin' for Atholl. Could have only come from the south or we would have had warnin'."

Snorre cursed under his breath. "We're trapped like rats."

"We're well-provisioned rats," Rolf reminded him. "And these walls have never fallen."

"Aye, but they've never faced a judge with The Regent's seal," Robert said grimly.

The door opened and Gerts entered with Brigid close behind. Their attention darted from one man to the next as they tried to guess why they'd been summoned.

"What's happened?" Brigid asked.

Flanders moved to her side, his voice low and steady. "Stephan's reinforcements have arrived...along with a judge from The Regent."

"A judge?" Gerts' eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl," Robert answered.

Gerts inhaled sharply. "Strathbogie? Are ye certain?"

"Aye. Do ye know him?"

"Well enough." Gerts' face had gone ashen in the torchlight. "His mother was Joan Comyn, Hector’s cousin. She died a few years back, but the connection remains."

"Comyn?" Robert's head snapped up. "As in Red Comyn ?"

"The very same. Yer Earl of Atholl is the grandson...of the rival Robert the Bruce killed in Greyfriars Church."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications sank in. It was no wonder the Strathbogies had fought with Edward of England.

Flanders said what every one of them was thinking. "Thomas Randolph has invited a poisonous snake into the royal nursery."

Brigid swayed slightly on her feet. Flanders guided her to a chair, sat beside her, and secured her hand in his. She gripped it tightly, and the connection became an anchor he desperately needed.

"Take a moment. And when ye're ready, I would ask if ye can see anything of the future. Anything that might help us."

She took a deep breath, nodded, and closed her eyes, her face a mask of concentration. After a bit, she shook her head. "Nothing but darkness. The same blackness I've seen before." Her eyes opened. They were full of regret and dread, but she forced a smile. "Not promising. Perhaps death is still close by, waiting for me."

"No." Flanders squeezed her hand. "I'll not allow it."

"Can we send another rider to Stirling?" Rolf asked. "To request a more impartial judge?"

Hemming snorted. "Look outside. This move was, no doubt, to prevent us from doing just that."

"We must prepare...for his worst." Snorre glanced at the women, then grumbled to his feet and moved to a window. "The advantage is, we already know what that is. What we had thought to prevent, we might have only delayed."

"He can demand all of Stephan's people be returned," Flanders said. "Demand compensation for Robert being caught in his fortress, and for the cost of bringing his army to take them back."

"And if I refuse?" The petulance in Robert's tone betrayed his age.

"Then he will take Todlaw from you," Flanders said, not without great pain. "And likely give it to Stephan."

Gerts nodded sadly. "Which is what my husband has wanted all along."

Robert slammed his fist on the table. "I'll die before I surrender my brother's keep to that rat."

"Maybe we can negotiate," Rolf suggested. "Maybe everything has a price that can be paid. Perhaps he’d rather have treasure in place of his people."

Robert rallied, but only just. "If only we could find the hoard Heslington hid..."

While Flanders explained to the women, who hadn't been told of the missing silver, Gerts began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew until she could barely control herself. Tears streamed down her face.

"Gerts?" Flanders frowned. "What is it?"

She wiped her eyes, still fighting for composure. "Wouldn't it be poetic if that particular snake was our salvation?"

"Yes, but we'd have to find his silver first," Robert said. "And we've looked everywhere."

Flanders studied her closely. "He told you where it is." It wasn't a question. "How did you get that man to share his deepest secret?" He paused. "Wait! Perhaps I don't want to know."

She rolled her eyes. "Ye reckon my husband was the only man in the fort drinkin' hensbane?"