The Scottish Prisoner

So groggy was he that it hadn’t occurred to him even to wonder where Fraser and Qui

“I said I wouldna do it, and that’s flat!” Fraser’s voice was low, intense.

“Ye’ll turn your back on the men ye fought with, all the blood spilt for the Cause?”

“Aye, I will. And so would you, if ye’d half the sense of a day-old chick.”

The words faded, and Grey’s vision of Qui

The vision melted slowly into a vaguely erotic twi

Loud moaning from Tom woke him, sweating and queasy, to find the little boat gliding under sail along the shore of a flat green island—Inchcleraun.

Feeling mildly disembodied, and with only the crudest notion how to walk, he staggered up the path behind Fraser and Qui

27

Loyalty and Duty

JAMIE WAS GREETED WITH CONCERNED WELCOME BY THE monks, who took Tom Byrd away at once to Brother Infirmarian. He left Qui

The abbot looked him over with fascination and offered him a seat and a glass of whiskey, both of which he accepted with deep gratitude.

“You do lead the most interesting life, Jamie dear,” he said, having been given a brief explanation of recent events. “So you’ve come to seek sanctuary, is it? And your friends—these would be the two gentlemen you told me of before, I make no doubt?”

“They would, Father. As for sanctuary …” He tried for a smile, though weariness weighed down even the muscles of his face. “If ye might see to the poor lad’s arm, we’ll be off as soon as he’s fettled. I wouldna put ye in danger. And I think perhaps the deputy justiciar of Athlone might not respect your sanctuary, should he come to hear about Colonel Grey’s presence.”

“Do you think the colonel did in fact murder Major Siverly?” the abbot asked with interest.

“I’m sure he did not. I think the miscreant is a man called Edward Twelvetrees, who has—had, I mean—some associations with Siverly.”

“What sort of associations?”

Jamie lifted his hand in a vague gesture. His bruised right shoulder burned like fire when he moved it and ached down to the bone when he didn’t. His arse wasn’t in much better case after hours of rowing on a hard slat.

“I di

“The man I brought with me—Tobias Qui

“I remember,” murmured the abbot. “But I could not, of course, make use of that information, given as it was under the seal.”

Jamie’s smile grew a little more genuine.

“Aye, Father. I ken that. So now I tell ye outside that seal that Toby Qui

“I will indeed, mo mhic,” Father Michael said, his face alight with wary interest. “And you say he knows about the Cupбn?”

An unexpected shudder ran over Jamie from his crown to the base of his spine.

“He does,” he said, a little tersely. “I leave that between you and him, Father. I should be pleased never to see or hear of it again.”

The abbot considered him for a moment, then raised a hand.

“Go in peace, then, mo mhic,” he said quietly. “And may God and Mary and Padraic go with you.”

JAMIE WAS SITTING on a stone bench by the monastery’s graveyard when Grey came to find him. Grey looked exhausted, white-faced and disheveled, with an unfocused look in his eyes that Jamie recognized as the aftereffects of Qui

“Give ye dreams, did it?” he asked, not without sympathy.

Grey nodded and sat down beside him.

“I don’t want to tell you about them, and you don’t want to know,” he said. “Believe me.”

Jamie thought both statements were likely true, and asked instead, “How’s our wee Byrd, then?”

Grey looked a little better at this and went so far as to smile wanly.

“Brother Infirmarian’s got the ball out. He says the wound is in the muscle, the bone’s not broken, the boy has a little small fever but, with the blessing, all will be well in a day or two. When last seen, Tom was sitting up in bed eating porridge with milk and honey.”

Jamie’s wame gurgled loudly at thought of food. There were things to be discussed first, though.

“D’ye think it was worth it?” he asked, one brow raised.

“What?” Grey slumped a little, rubbing the itching bristle on his chin with the palm of his hand.

“Tom Byrd. He’ll likely do fine, but ye ken well enough he might have been killed—and yourself, too. Or taken.”

“And you and Qui

“If I thought that, I wouldna have done it,” Jamie said bluntly. “But I like to know why I’m riskin’ my life when I do it.”

“Fair enough.” Grey put down a finger, trying to entice the worm to climb on it, but the creature, having prodded blindly at his fingertip, decided that it offered no edible prospects and, with a sudden jerk, dropped from the bench, dangling briefly from a silken tether before swinging out on the wind and dropping away altogether into the grass.

“Edward Twelvetrees,” he said. “I’m morally sure he killed Siverly.”

“Why?”

“Why might he have done it, or why do I think he did?” Without waiting for Jamie’s reply, Grey proceeded to answer both questions.

“ Cui bono, to begin with,” he said. “I think that there is or was some financial arrangement between the two men. I told you about the papers they were looking at when I went there the first time? I am no bookkeeper, but even I recognize pounds, shillings, and pence written down on a piece of paper. They were looking over accounts of some sort. And that very interesting chest was probably not filled with gooseberries.

“Now, Siverly had money—we know that—and was obviously involved in what looks very like a Jacobite conspiracy of some kind. It’s possible that Twelvetrees was not involved in that—I can’t say.” He rubbed his face again, begi

“So ye think that he might have discovered what Siverly was into—perhaps as a result of your visit—and killed him to prevent his carrying out the scheme? Whatever scheme it was?”