CHAPTER THREE

 

Sophia drew her cloak tighter against the brisk breeze that chilled the air as she and their maidservant, Coira, walked toward the market the next morn.

Much to her frustration, she had yet to speak with Edgar. When she’d approached him two days past, he’d brushed aside her request to speak with him, telling her that he did not have time. But she was nothing if not persistent and would try again this day. He was the key to gaining assistance to her brother’s release. She was certain of it.

“I’ll be pleased when we can plant the garden,” Sophia said, putting aside her worries about Edgar and her brother to focus on what needed to be done in the present. “Buying all our food is costly.”

“The man at the cookhouse said if he had any meat left, he’d give us a good price on it.”

“Thank you, Coira. That is very helpful. I suppose it depends on whether Alec returns home with fish. Salmon would be welcome.” She bit her lower lip at the lie. Fish graced their table far too often. But with little money and the autumn harvest so distant, it was their best option.

“I don’t mind the sea trout either, my lady.”

Sophia closed her eyes at the thought. Alec had become a very good fisherman in the past months, which helped their family tremendously. She was grateful for it. Truly. But she’d grown weary of fish.

Prior to the siege, Alec had served as a squire for her betrothed, Sir Richard de Comense. Now her younger brother wanted nothing to do with knights, nor did he have any interest in training to be one. Not after all he’d witnessed during the siege. He’d much rather be fishing, as he was this morn.

Alec had told her what he’d seen when he’d joined her in the tunnel just before they’d escaped. How the knights in the garrison of Berwick Castle had watched while the people of the city had been slaughtered. Many had expressed their desire to fight, but her brother had forbid it, fearing it would only make King Edward angrier and therefore cost more lives. The king had eventually let the garrison flee with their lives as reward for not fighting.

Richard had been one of the few in the garrison who had died. Had he felt any shame when he’d attempted to escape dressed as a peasant prior to the king’s pardon? Had he wondered where she was? Had he even tried to come to her rescue? Knowing Richard, she was certain of the answers. While his words were often noble, his actions were less so.

She couldn’t help but wonder what her life would’ve been like as Richard’s wife had events unfolded differently. While she’d liked him well enough, she hadn’t loved him. In truth, his arrogance had irritated her at times, but when her brother had insisted her marriage to Richard would be a good match, she’d agreed. Now she realized they would’ve never suited. She should’ve known that when William had suggested the marriage, but she’d acquiesced to her brother’s wishes. Duty came before such a fanciful notion of love. She’d never expected to care deeply for her husband but had hoped to at least respect him.

She admonished herself. Thinking ill of the dead was poor behavior.

Alec had asked her permission to seek an apprenticeship with one of the craftsmen, but she’d held off. William would not be pleased if she allowed their younger brother to do such a thing. He’d always insisted Alec should train for knighthood and helped him do so when he could. If William was ever released—

Nay, when he was released, he’d be sorely displeased to find Alec working in a shop.

She hoped time would ease Alec’s distrust of knights. They weren’t all bad, even the English ones. She shook her head as an image of the one she’d spoken with two days ago filled her mind. She couldn’t allow a pair of blue eyes to convince her to do something that would bring more disapproval on her and her family, even if they were the color of a stormy sea.

As she and Coira entered the market square, Sophia’s steps slowed as she noted the welcome sight of several new stalls. Soon the square would be filled to the brim. A good thing for the city, and hopefully, for her as well.

A man and a young lad stood beside a cart piled high with silk cloth. The bright colors—red, purple, gold, and green—so welcome after the dreariness of winter, had already drawn a crowd. A pang of envy filled Sophia at the sight. Though she rarely cared about her appearance, there were times when she missed having a fine kirtle to wear, or having her hair braided in an intricate manner.

She shook her head. Those days were gone. Such things no longer mattered. What she needed to focus on was earning enough money so they could buy food and pay their rent.

“Lady Sophia, is that you?”

Sophia turned at the familiar voice as Coira continued forward. “Jacques, how nice to see you,” she said, the words heartfelt. “’Tis been several years since you last visited.” Though a Frenchman, the merchant used to be a regular visitor.

He stared at her with a puzzled look, taking in her simple woolen cloak that parted toward the bottom to reveal her rough brown kirtle.

She supposed she appeared quite different than the last time he’d seen her in a fine velvet embroidered gown with ribbons in her hair, and a fur-lined cloak. She lifted her chin a notch, refusing to be ashamed by the change in her circumstances.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“I am. May the same be said of you?”

“Indeed. I heard of the terrible battle two years past and wondered how you and your family fared.”

“’Twasn’t much of a battle, more like a massacre. Many thousands died.” She glanced around at the buildings, some of which had yet to be rebuilt or repaired. “The destruction has changed many lives, including mine.”

“Your brother, William?”

“He is being held at an English holding. They took his son as well, but his wife remains here with me.”

“What of the rest of your family?”

“We are well. As well as can be expected.” She didn’t care to answer any additional questions and sought a change in the subject. “It’s been some time since you last visited Berwick.”

“The years have not been easy at my home either. Drought has plagued our lands and that affects all aspects of life, including trade.”

“I hope your arrival here means the situation has improved. What did you bring on that fine ship of yours?” Sophia asked.

“Many things, most of which came from those returning from the Holy Land. I am anxious to see what price they will bring.” He glanced around the square. “That is, if there is anyone here who might be interested and has money to spare.”

“I think you’ll find many. ’Tis been some time since we had a ship from France.”

“Excellent,” he said with a smile.

“If you carry any spices, you might try Gregor first.” She pointed to the building where he could be found. “I spoke with him yesterday, and he was in need of more. What else do you have?”

“Rice, dates, apricots, sugar, and some unique household goods.”

“Gregor should be interested in those as well. Joseph, one of the newer merchants, would also be interested though I can’t say what prices he’d be willing to pay.”

“What would we do without you to connect us all, Lady Sophia?” Jacques asked with a grin.

“You’d be fine,” she said, allowing a smile. “Though it might take longer for you to complete your business.”

“I would be pleased to offer you something for your trouble once I speak with them.” He bid her goodbye and strode toward the building where Gregor could be found.

Sophia made a mental note to speak with Gregor later to see how the transaction had gone and discover if he wanted additional goods, and if so, what kind. She’d learned long ago that knowledge was power and often provided money. Most merchants paid her a fee or offered goods for the information she provided. In a city this size, it was difficult for newcomers to make the right contacts without a little help. Plus she knew her efforts aided others. That alone made it worthwhile.

She caught up with Coira, and they continued toward the stalls displaying food and goods in the square and made their selections. Shopping each day for food was a necessity as it did not keep.

But Sophia’s mind had already shifted to how she could convince Edgar to meet with her. She had to find a way to persuade him that he needed her.

 

~*~

 

“That’s Lady Sophia?” Garrick asked as a man selling paternosters pointed to the very same woman he’d met upon his arrival. The same one who hadn’t cared for him. The one who’d suggested that he journey elsewhere. And the one from his vision. Damn.

“Aye. Of the Douglas family. If you’re interested in trading, she is an excellent source.” The man stepped away to assist a customer.

“Isn’t she the woman who took an immediate dislike to you the other day?” Chanse asked.

“Aye. It seems she has no love for English knights.” Garrick scowled.

“Charm her,” Chanse suggested. “I’ll wager than you can do so.”

Braden scoffed. “Of the three of us, you’re the only one good at charming,” he told his brother.

Garrick frowned at Braden. “I am capable of charm, especially when an attractive woman is involved.” Normally that was true, but doubt filled him as he watched the lady. He still felt off-balance at the idea of speaking further with her, whether it was because of his vision of her or her earlier rebuff, he didn’t know.

Braden merely raised a brow to express his skepticism.

“Compliment her.” Chanse smiled his crooked grin, the very one that caused so many ladies to flutter. “Tell her she has lovely hair or beautiful eyes.”

The very thought of saying such a thing while the lady glared at him made Garrick’s stomach tighten. The worst of it was that he understood the reason for her dislike of English knights. If they’d sacked his city, he would not only hate them, but do his best to exact revenge. Which made it seem highly unlikely that she would even consider aiding him with his wool. Without a contract for the wool, what plausible reason would he have to remain in Berwick to search out the rumors of unrest?

With a sigh, he turned to Chanse. “How’s this?” He smiled.

Chanse frowned. “Too much teeth. Make it more natural.”

Braden shook his head. “You two will have everyone in the square staring at us once again, and that will help nothing.”

Garrick drew a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need more than that,” Braden called out as Garrick walked toward the dark-haired beauty.

“Good morn to you, my lady,” Garrick greeted her as he approached. He couldn’t help but compare the image of his vision to this woman again, still puzzled at the differences as much as the similarities.

She turned from her perusal of the cheese selection, eyes narrowing when she recognized him. “Ah, the man who is interested in my sister.” After looking over his shoulder to locate his cousins, she gave a curt nod to Garrick before turning back to the cheese.

As Garrick opened his mouth to deny her statement and compliment her dark brown plaited hair, he decided compliments would get him nowhere. Not with this woman. Though he wasn’t sure how he knew that, he allowed his instincts to guide him. There had to be some other way to gain her help.

“I ask again if I could request your assistance,” Garrick said.

“With what?” She didn’t bother to meet his gaze, irritating him.

An idea took hold, and he could only hope he wouldn’t regret it. “I’m in need of a man who could make an introduction for me.”

“Oh? Of what sort?”

“I have some excellent wool to trade, and I’m certain with the proper introduction from someone who knows how these things work, I could get the best price possible.”

“And for this you need a man?”

He blinked. “Of course. No woman would have such contacts.”

“Then why are you asking me? I’m merely a woman.” She shrugged delicately. “Obviously I have no knowledge of such matters.”

Christ. He was an idiot. His plan had failed completely. He’d thought his words would urge her to prove him wrong. Now what was he to do?

She requested a small portion of cheese from the seller then turned back to Garrick. “Was there something else you needed? Perhaps more ribbon?”

The knowing look in her eyes made him smile. “I did indeed purchase some ribbon. My mother is always pleased when I bring her a token from my travels.”

Lady Sophia’s lips moved the tiniest bit. Not a smile by any means, but Garrick took it as a sign of encouragement. “Please accept my apologies for my failed attempt to goad you into helping me. I am Sir Garrick de Bremont.”

“Sir Garrick.” She nodded but didn’t offer her name as she placed the chunk of cheese in her basket. “What is your mother’s name?”

“Lady Elizabeth.”

“And who are your companions?” She glanced over his shoulder at Braden and Chanse once again.

“My cousins. Sir Chanse and Sir Braden. May I introduce you?”

“Nay. One English knight at a time is quite enough.”

The shadow that crossed her face gave Garrick pause. What had she lost in the terrible siege? Her home for certain. Her brother’s presence as well as her nephew’s, from what he knew. He hoped he’d have the chance to ask her.

He followed her to another stall. “May I please ask for your help with my wool? I understand from others in your fine city that your expertise and assistance is beyond compare.”

“What is it that you need?” She studied the contents of the cart they’d stopped in front of, but he didn’t think she was interested in the goods. That gave him a tiny bit of hope.

“We’re searching for a long-term contract for a significant amount of wool.”

Her wary gaze measured him. “How is the quality?”

“Excellent.”

She raised a brow in question.

“Truly. ’Tis very fine wool. I brought a sample. Would you care to see it?”

“Nay. I have little knowledge of wool.” She sighed as though reluctant to say more. “I might know of someone who would be interested but winning his favor is not easy. He enjoys negotiations and prefers to drag them out.”

Garrick nodded. “I respect that. I am in no hurry.” At her raised brow, he added, “I have never before ventured to Berwick. I am planning on remaining here a fortnight or longer.”

“Where are you staying?”

He named the inn.

“You might consider The Keys Inn instead. They offer a reduced rate for guests staying longer, and they provide some meals as well.”

“Thank you. Your knowledge of Berwick is impressive. How did you come to learn so much?” Though he already knew a little about her, he didn’t want to reveal that to her.

She frowned. “I’ve lived here most of my life. My family has always been in a position to serve the city. Regardless of the changes all who live here have undergone, I still enjoy helping people.” Her eyes widened as her gaze caught on something over his shoulder.

Garrick turned to see an older man approach. His lips were pinched, his bushy brows furrowed. The angry look on his face did not bode well.

“What are ye doin’ here?” he demanded as he stared at Lady Sophia. “Yer kind is no’ welcome.”

She glanced at Garrick as pink stole up her cheeks before she looked back at the man. “I have as much right to be here as you, McDonnell.”

“Not near my goods. Now get on with ye.” He made a flicking movement with his hand as though she were a fly he would shoo away.

“That is no way to speak to—” Garrick’s reprimand was interrupted when Lady Sophia touched his arm.

She shook her head and turned away, closing her eyes for a brief moment as she moved on to another stall in the opposite direction. If Garrick hadn’t been watching closely, he would’ve missed the hurt that stole over her expression.

Unwilling to completely let it go, he glared at the older man before following her.

“What was that about?” Garrick asked, although he could hazard a guess. “No one should treat you so rudely.”

“He has every right to be angry. He lost much in the siege.”

“As did many. But it almost seems as though he blames you for that loss.”

“He’s not the only one,” Sophia muttered.

“Why?” When she didn’t answer, Garrick moved closer. He truly wanted to understand the reason. “Why would anyone blame you?”

“This is not the place for such a conversation.” The sadness in her brown eyes tugged at him as she looked up at him. The breeze blew strands of her hair across her face, touching her lips.

Suddenly the image from his vision came to mind and desire along with it. He reached out to move her hair, noting the rosy color of her mouth, the slightly fuller lower lip. The urge to kiss her struck him hard. With resolve he pulled his gaze away from her lips to look into her eyes again, still holding that soft strand of hair, linking them.

“You are beautiful.” The words were out before he could halt them.

She scoffed and pulled away. “Paying me compliments will not aid your cause.” But she didn’t completely hide her pleasure at his comment.

“I merely speak the truth.”

She glanced at him again then bowed her head as though suddenly uncertain. “Please keep such words to yourself.”

“My father taught me to speak my mind. I fear you’ll have to grow used to it.”

“I hardly think we’ll be together long enough for that.” She arched her brow as though daring him to disagree.

What could he do but comply? He leaned close to whisper in her ear, “I can only hope you’re wrong for I would enjoy spending more time with you, Lady Sophia.”

She jerked back. Whether it was from his words or his proximity, he didn’t know.

“I have already said I will consider helping you with your wool. You have nothing to gain by speaking further with me. I will send word if I have any news for you.”

“I enjoy speaking with you. Perhaps while you’re shopping, you could tell me about the city.” He knew he was grasping for excuses, but he wasn’t ready to let her escape him. She was so different from other ladies he’d met. There was a depth to her that appealed to him, as though she had layers of reserve that would need to be eased away in order to see her true self.

Would she allow him that pleasure?

“I am done with my shopping.” She glanced down at her basket as though she’d forgotten what she’d placed in it. That made him smile.

“Excellent. Then perhaps you’d have time to show me some of the city.”

“I’m far too busy. I’ll bid you good day.”

“Will you return to the market on the morrow?”

“We shall see. Good day, Sir Garrick.” The last was said so firmly, he decided it best to allow her to take her leave.

As he watched her and her maidservant walk away, he already doubted that she would encourage any sort of revolt. However, spending more time with her would be a pleasure, and he looked forward to it. He turned toward his cousins, shaking his head as he watched Braden toss a coin to Chanse.

 

~*~

 

In the dead of night, the two lords, the earl, and the bishop met at a deserted inn in a remote location in northern Scotland. Rushlights cast a warm glow in the room and cups of ale sat on the table, awaiting their pleasure.

Lord James Graham eyed the three other men warily as they settled into their chairs around the table, pondering whether they could truly be trusted. If their commitment to the cause ran as deep as his.

It was unfortunate their numbers were even as a vote on the action to be taken might easily end in a tie. But no other men could be relied upon. Drastic steps were required in these desperate times. Would these men have the stomach for such deeds? Scotland’s future depended on it.

“’Tis a tragedy Margaret of Norway died,” the bishop began. “Her death caused the beginning of many problems.”

“That is God’s truth,” one of the lords agreed, his dark brows shading his eyes. “If only she’d lived.”

James hid a scowl. He had no desire to recount the problems that had occurred in the last several years. They needed to discuss the future rather than the past. Yet he held his tongue, waiting to see what the others might say. He already knew the bishop would be the more cautious of the group but the others were not as clear.

“Who can best lead Scotland since John Balliol failed so completely?” The earl tapped his fingers on the table as though impatient to decide.

“Many have come forth,” the other lord said. “Mayhap too many.”

“Indeed. Confusion has been the result.” Once again, the bishop stated the obvious, giving no opinion of his own.

“We must do all we can to keep King Edward out of our affairs and out of Scotland until another leader emerges,” James offered at last, earning a nod of approval from the earl.

“But how?”

“Mayhap it is time for us to teach Edward a lesson.” James made the suggestion quietly despite the burning in his belly to rage about what exactly Edward deserved.

“And earn the King of England’s wrath yet again?” The bishop shook his head. “Surely that would be foolhardy. The lesson at Berwick was harsh.”

“I would suggest something more subtle but clever nonetheless.” James caught the earl’s gaze, hoping he would lend his immediate approval. James had already secretly formed a plan, but he could not implement it without assistance in the form of men and money. Though he longed to tell them the full extent of his arrangements so they might realize his brilliance, he bit back the words. He must bide his time and take small steps toward his goals.

“Do ye have something in mind?” the earl asked.

“We need to strengthen our position. Make it clear that anyone loyal to Edward has no place here.” He paused until he saw he had the full attention of everyone at the table. “Those with English ties should be eliminated, one at a time, beginning in the south.”

“In Berwick?” the bishop asked.

“Excellent idea,” the earl said with a nod.

“I wasn’t suggesting—” the bishop started with a hint of panic in his tone.

The earl waved him to silence. “What better place to make a stand?”

“I don’t understand,” one lord said. “Speak plainly.”

“We look first in Berwick. One by one, those with loyalty to Edward will die.” James watched the others closely, searching for a reaction.

“How can we prove—”

“No proof is needed,” the earl interrupted. “We take a small but bold step in that city and make an example of those we believe to be on the wrong side of the border.”

“The Guardians of Scotland will thank us for our efforts,” James added.

“I do not believe they would approve of such drastic measures.” Once again, the bishop frowned in disapproval.

“They will once they see the benefits of our actions,” the earl suggested. “Do you have a list of potential targets?”

“I believe we should begin with the Douglas family.” James held his breath, waiting to see if the men would agree.

“Sir William is already being held in England and many of his holdings stripped away. Surely that’s punishment enough.” The bishop obviously didn’t share the same vision as James.

“Nay. We must eliminate him as well as his family. They have caused enough problems.” James tried to keep all emotion from his voice. Cool logic would better serve him.

“I agree,” the earl said with a slap of his hand on the table. “Start at the top of Berwick and send a strong message.”

“Excellent notion. In fact, I think we can cast blame on Sir Gilbert de Umfraville, the new governor of Berwick, for their deaths,” James said as though the idea had just come to him.

“Bloody perfect,” the earl declared. “He is their sworn enemy and has openly admitted it on more than one occasion.”

“And he has English ties as well. Simon de Montfort acted as his warden. That makes him English to my mind.” The other lord nodded. “That would eliminate two problems at one time.”

James paused for a long moment, waiting to see if anyone disagreed. Though he could tell the bishop continued to have doubts, the man held his tongue. James couldn’t be more pleased. “Are we in agreement? Eliminate the Douglas family and Sir Gilbert along with them?”

“Aye.” The votes were cast. Even the bishop agreed to the plan.

“Hail to the Sentinels of Scotland,” the earl declared, raising his cup.

“Here, here,” the others joined in as they clicked their drinks together before draining their cups.

“I’ll send a message when the deed is done,” James said as he rose from the table, eager to begin.

Seeing an end to Sir William Douglas and his family would be partly business but mostly pleasure. What better way to exact his revenge on Sir William than to eliminate all trace of him and his family from the face of the earth? Doing so while ridding Scotland of English ties made it all the sweeter. At last William would pay for murdering James’s son.