Free The Gowrie Conspiracy by Alanna Knight Page B

concerning this shabby interloper.
    How had such a wretched man managed to worm his way into His Grace’s affections? Such poor, unfashionable clothes, with breeches and shirt as the poorest peasants wore. Not even the meanest of royal servants would have been seen in public in such attire.
    That such a lowly ill-dressed creature was capable of attracting His Grace’s attention. Most of the courtiers were of royal blood or young noblemen and all were swift to recognise this newcomer as a threat to their personal futures, their jewels and favours, not to mention their security at court and ultimate honours and estates. In that moment they were united and John Ramsay’s injured pride was soothed as they gathered protectively around him.
    For his part, Tam would have been only too delighted to give the courtiers reassurance that, much as they wanted rid of him, he would be glad to be relieved of the king’s favour.
    With some misgivings as to what was coming next, he watched servants bring wine, fill two goblets and silently withdraw. A royal gesture signalled dismissal for the courtiers who bowed out of the room.
    Last to leave were Lennox and Ramsay. If looks could have killed then Tam Eildor would have been spread out at their feet. Instead, what was almost equally as unnerving as sudden death was for Tam to know that he was now alone with James.
    He took a great gulp of air as he was handed a goblet of wine.
    Here was a situation out of nightmare, Tam thought, as James indicated a seat at the window by his side.
    ‘Sit ye doon, Master Eildor. Nae need for formal manners when we are alone. Ah now – here’s health to you.’
    Tam inclined his head. ‘And to you, sire.’
    James drank deeply, put down his goblet and regarded Tam thoughtfully. ‘We have a thocht to invest ye as our cupbearer , Master Eildor. What think ye to that?’
    Tam could not think of anything that terrified him more than such an unexpected honour and it was certainly the last thing, or almost the very last thing, he wanted in this world.
    Conscious of James awaiting an answer, Tam smiled vaguely. ‘Sire?’
    This was taken as assent. ‘Aye, that would please us mightily .’
    As James proceeded to explain the duties involved, Tam hardly listened. The prospect of close confinement with James was unbearable. This new honour would not please him nor fit in with his plans. His mind in turmoil, for he had no idea how long the quest would last and could only presume that it was not only the murder of Mistress Agnew – which he suspected was merely a curtain-raiser, the prologue to some bigger ploy – that had been selected as his challenge to solve.
    He realised that if faced with the matter of satisfying the king’s lust for him then he would have to abandon the quest and seek an emergency recall. He had never done so willingly , but his present predicament added another dimension, a moral dilemma.
    He considered the king, a man of his own age who looked considerably older. Had he been more attractive and cleaner in his person, for he smelt abominably at close quarters on a hot day, Tam wondered if he could have abandoned his own scruples for the sake of finding the solution to an event that had baffled historians.
    At last James paused with a flourish of Latin quotations none of which Tam understood, to ask again, ‘Weel, Master Eildor, what think you? Are ye no’ pleased to serve your king?’
    As Tam had not been paying attention, he could onlyrespond with, ‘I am glad to serve Your Grace, but alas, this honour is too great for me – ’
    ‘That is for your king to decide,’ James interrupted sternly.
    Tam bowed his head. ‘Sire, I have no noble background. I am …I am only a humble scholar.’
    James’s narrowed glance, sharp and shrewd, told Tam that he had made a mistake.
    ‘Humble, indeed, ye may well be, Master Eildor, and sichlike modesty becomes ye well. But a scholar who kens no Latin taught to every lad in the village