Free Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] by Border Lass Page B

lord, you should send her more men-at-arms.”
    “Nay, for if you are right, Fife will be subtle. She is his sister, and one would think that must keep her safe, but many doubt that her brother David of Strathearn died naturally. So I want someone who knows my thinking to keep an eye on her.”
    After a brief pause, he added, “Mayhap you can learn something to aid your search, too. You’ve not talked with her yet about Jamie’s death, have you?”
    “No, sir, for as you know, I was at Otterburn myself. His people believe his armorer failed to fasten his cuirass properly, leaving it open for any lance or dirk. Some even think the armorer stabbed him, but as the man died in a knife fight a day or two afterward, we cannot ask him.
His
killer disappeared, and many believe that he, too, is dead. Others believe he never existed and James died heroically in battle.”
    “ ’Tis all rumor then save the last,” Archie said as they passed the market square at the foot of the High Street. “Everyone agrees that Jamie’s death was heroic whatever its cause. But this of Will, with what you saw and what Will himself told you at the end . . . Have you shared that with anyone but me since you left Threave?”
    “No, sir. I’d intended to tell Buccleuch, and I should tell him, but I have not yet done so.”
    “Tell him,” Archie said. “Just get his word that he’ll keep it to himself. Wat’s word is as good as yours or my own.”
    “That does relieve my mind, sir. I’m not accustomed to keeping things from my cousin. Nor should I,” he added, speaking as much to himself as to Archie. “Although I serve you at present, my lord, Wat is chief of my kindred,” he added. “Now that I hold Westruther, I must also answer to him.”
    “Use your own judgment then,” Archie said. “I trust you, and I trust Wat.”
    Garth nodded, satisfied and grateful.
    “Now then, as to how we shall proceed,” Archie went on, “I want to draw as little notice to your presence there as possible. Isabel always has two or three knights to serve her and keep her men-at-arms under control. I assume you mean to attend the Queen’s coronation tomorrow, so I’d have you get there early and . . .”
    Monday morning at Scone dawned as pleasantly as Sunday had, with puffy milk-white clouds drifting in an azure sky. In the eastern monastic building the bustle began early, because the Queen’s coronation would take place hours earlier than the King’s had and take much less time.
    Feasting, such as it would be, was to follow at noon in the abbey park.
    Isabel was already receiving visitors in the prior’s study. Amalie and two of her ladies had come downstairs with her, and the other two were still with her, along with Sir Duncan Forrest, to keep order if necessary.
    Such necessity rarely arose with Isabel. People loved her, recognizing her as one who cared for others besides herself. The two ladies with her were of higher rank than Amalie and would remain with the princess while she met with her visitors. It was rarely necessary or desired for Amalie to stay on such occasions.
    The coronation of the Queen would be interesting, but Amalie looked forward more to the feast. In general, the food the abbey had provided for them was paltry compared with offerings in the much grander establishments that had housed Isabel and her ladies over the past eight months.
    The Austen Canons of Scone considered a little bread and water enough to begin one’s day—their own beginning much earlier, just after midnight, at Matins. For their royal visitors, they did provide ale and a tart bramble jam, however.
    Amalie liked beef, or a bowl of barley porridge or oatmeal brose, to break her fast. Bread was all very well in its place, but in the morning she preferred food that provided more energy. She was glad to see and smell the cook fires for the midday feast already burning when she stepped outside to have a look at the day.
    The other ladies were already