Free The Gowrie Conspiracy by Alanna Knight

‘we believe ye’d play better were ye bare-chested,’ and to Ramsay, ‘Mannie lad, ye’d better strip down also, then ye’ll be evenly matched.’
    An expression of distaste hastily concealed twisted Ramsay’s mouth at having to obey this royal command.
    As Tam removed his shirt, the king glanced from one to the other and noted with considerable pleasure and excitement that Master Eildor was, as he had expected, a fine well-set up figure o’ a man, broad in chest and shoulders.
    Alongside him, James and the assembled courtiers, some who were jealous rivals, could not help but observe with considerable satisfaction, that Ramsay looked what he was, a mere boy who had not yet reached manhood’s maturity.
    With a gamesman to keep the score, the king took his seat and gave the signal for play to begin. As each sent the volley of balls across the net, Tam, who had an excellent eye and was well co-ordinated, was soon ahead of Ramsay who, althoughthe more experienced player, had his speed of movement considerably hampered by the heat and his unwieldy attire.
    Used to having the king as his opponent, whose enthusiasm was greater than his skill, Ramsay soon discovered that he was being beaten by Eildor. And the more James applauded the score, the angrier and more flustered Ramsay became which did little for his prowess.
    At last James held up his hand. ‘Enough. The game is over.’
    Ramsay stared at him defiantly, since he had scored that last two points and was still hopeful of victory. ‘Sire?’ he pleaded.
    James shook his head. ‘Nay, I have seen enough. Da locum melioribus – give way to your betters.’
    Ramsay’s bow failed to hide his furious countenance which delighted his rivals for the king’s favours, gratified to witness the young upstart’s humiliation at the hands of a common man – and one old enough to be his father.
    The score was counted. Tam had won by twelve points and the king applauded
    ‘I have won my wager,’ he said eagerly, snatching his purse back from Lennox.
    Meanwhile Tam approached Ramsay to gallantly offer his hand to a defeated opponent whereupon the boy turned his back rudely and strode off the court. Watching him, Tam realised sadly that he had made an enemy; an unforgivable insult for a king’s favourite to lose face by defeat.
    He was surprised when the king came forward humbly carrying his shirt and jerkin over his arm. Smiling broadly he came close enough to touch Tam.
    ‘Well done, Master Eildor, well done. And ye won our wager for us. Here, put it on,’ he said holding out the shirt. ‘Ye’ll catch a fever,’ he added anxiously. ‘Ye’re too heated.’
    Not as heated as Your Grace, thought Tam wryly, regarding James’s flushed countenance. The brooding eyes misted with excitement and Tam tried not to wince as his bare arm was gently caressed by the royal hand as it emerged from thesleeve of his shirt.
    ‘Good strong muscles there, Master Eildor. Aye, fine indeed,’ James added with a sigh, smacking his lips. ‘But what have we here – this mark? Have ye been hurt?’ he said anxiously, touching a dark triangle on Tam’s forearm.
    ‘A mere bruise, your Grace,’ said Tam, thinking quickly.
    ‘A bruise, is it?’ James asked doubtfully. ‘It looks ugly.’
    ‘It will soon heal, your Grace,’ was the consoling reply.
    James continued to look concerned. ‘We trust so, Master Eildor. We would not wish for you to take ill from such a bruise. We could have our physician bleed you, just to make certain.’
    Tam shook his head. ‘That will not be necessary, Your Grace. Please rest assured it is nothing.’
    But the king’s discovery was calamitous for Tam. The crystal charmstone formerly worn around his neck had been superseded, as too obvious and potentially dangerous, by a tiny microchip under the skin marked by a triangle, his sole connection with the life he had temporarily abandoned.
    His first instinct had been to inform the king that this was a