Page 84 of The Scottish Bride
“Liam,” she said, “are those sacks a source of trouble? Is it gold we carry?”
“Not gold, though revenue,” he explained. “I am—a collector of rents.”
“A tax collector?” She smothered a surprised laugh.
“Not quite. I keep the rent-rolls for Bruce’s properties, aye. Before you and I met at Lochmaben, before I—spent some weeks in King Edward’s hospitality, I went about to Bruce’s tenants in Carrick and Lochmaben to ask if they could pay rent to help the king. Not all could, nor will Bruce pose a penalty for it, not in this clime. But any money we can gather for him goes to the cause.”
“It is good work that you do, then.”
“The most important thing we carry, though, is a rent-roll document that is marked to indicate who among Bruce’s tenants and neighbors support him and his kingship and could be called upon to help the cause of Scotland. Sir Hugh Douglas,” he added, glancing at her, “helped me to complete that work.”
“Oh!” she said in quick comprehension. “And you have done this all along?”
“For a while. Between rescuing damsels.”
“This man we are meeting will bring the silver and the parchment to Bruce?”
“He promised James, who trusts him. I could go on the strength of that alone. I do not know this deputy, but we shall see what comes of this meeting.”
“If he is trustworthy, then he will ensure that no soldiers are near when you meet.”
“That is the expectation.” She heard something unspoken in his tone.
“Yet he could betray us,” she provided. “This could be a trap.”
“Aye.” He touched his sword hilt.
“I have a dagger,” she said, remembering. “I took it when I left Dalrinnie.”
“Best locate it, just in case. Can you use it for other than slicing a bannock?”
She smiled as he laughed. “My brother Henry taught me to use a dagger before I left Kincraig, when we knew I would live in a garrisoned castle.”
“The same brother who taught you to climb down a rope? All useful skills.”
“He taught my sister Meg to shoot with a bow. She was keen for it, was Meg. My sister Rowena already knew how to wield a knife blade. For treating injuries, you see.”
“Or inflicting them.”
“She could,” Tamsin allowed. “And she rather liked swords—the wooden wasters that Henry and our cousins would practice with in the yard. Later, she studied healing.”
“And Lady Tamsin? Arrows and blades for her as well?”
“Books,” she said firmly. “Just books, and ink. Very sharp quills, though,” she added, as he chuckled.
“How did the Rhymer’s work become your responsibility? Your siblings are his great-grandchildren as well.”
“He gave each of us gifts. I remember that day so clearly. He gave me a pretty box with ink and pens and parchment pages that were his. My siblings have other things that belonged to him, and he asked us to carry on his legacy. It is not just me alone, you see.”
“The Rhymer must have known he was not long for the world.”
“I think so. But I was young and did not realize.”
“Better that way, lass.”
They rode in silence for a while then, leaving the woodland to cross broad, rolling moorland, keeping the wide-flowing Ettrick Water to their right side. Hills rose ahead, thickly fringed with bushes and trees.
Soon she saw a tower on a hilltop, stone walls rising up, a walled keep overlooking a vast rumple of hills, trees, moorland and glinting water. The tower, though high, was jagged and broken.
