The Fire in the Flint Read Online Free PDF

of such a journey, or the time away from more important matters regarding King John. I pray you, forget my request.’ She began to turn away.
    ‘Stay,’ said James. ‘What you propose is dangerous, but I understand why you wish to go.’ He did not want to part so uncomfortably. ‘I might find a way to do what you ask.’
    Now she blushed for pleasure. Hope lit her eyes and turned up the corners of her mouth. He found himself wanting to agree right now even though he knew he should consider it with care. More than his own life was at stake.
    ‘God bless you, James. I shall be grateful for any help in this – advice, someone who might be travelling that way, anything.’
    ‘I’ll do what I can.’
    She left him standing in the middle of the room feeling burdened by his duty as the deposed king’s kin.
    By the following afternoon Margaret regretted having told her uncle of her wish to return to Perth. He had snarled and glared at her, told her blood-chilling tales of women attacked by English soldiers, ordered her about until she had shouted back at him, and then he had announced he wasgoing to Janet’s and knew not when he might return. She was in charge and she had better not allow anything to happen that would bring the English to investigate.
    ‘As if I’d murdered Old Will,’ she’d muttered at the last.
    ‘You’ll be the death of me, and I’ve said that before.’
    He had indeed, more than once, and she had begun to think it was her uncle’s perverse way of expressing affection, for most of the time they worked together in concord, each understanding their own limits and the other’s strengths. Perhaps she had been right, but it could be that her talk of leaving had hurt him. The thought cooled her anger, although she still resented her uncle’s announcing his departure in Sim’s hearing. When the tavern servant knew Murdoch was away he slowed so much in his work that Margaret lost her temper, which was exactly what he wanted. Sim would express righteous indignation and storm out, leaving her alone to do all the work. Margaret had complained to her uncle, but he had his own reason for keeping Sim at the tavern. He distrusted him and preferred to have his enemy in sight. Margaret comforted herself with the thought that with Angus MacLaren off to the Trossachs the tavern would empty early.
    In late afternoon a tall man in travel-stained clothes came into the yard leading two sweatinghorses. Hal leapt into action, ever solicitous of animals. The man thanked him courteously and then enquired about a room for himself and his master – Margaret, overhearing, introduced herself.
    ‘Dame Margaret,’ he said, bowing. A fleeting expression on his moon-round face made her wonder what he had heard about her. ‘I am Aylmer,’ he said. ‘My master will pay you fairly for your best room.’
    She could tell that by the quality of this servant’s clothing. Servant – no, she did not believe it. He did not bear himself as a servant. Unless his master was of a class that she never saw in the tavern. And she guessed he was English, for ‘Aylmer’ was not a name she’d heard before. ‘Whom do you serve?’
    ‘He will be here anon.’
    ‘You do not wish to answer my question?’
    ‘He would rather do that himself, I am certain.’
    She detected a smirk, barely suppressed. ‘You may wait for him in the tavern. When I have met him, I shall decide where you might be most comfortable.’ She motioned towards the rear door of the tavern.
    She left him then, moving stiffly away, her irritation tightening every muscle so that each step took effort to execute without a jerk. In the stable Hal was humming as he brushed down the finest of the two horses.
    ‘What can you tell me about him?’ Margaret asked.
    Without pausing in the long, smooth strokes, Hal said, ‘In Edinburgh, only the Comyn’s horse is so fine. They are well cared for, though they have been ridden hard of late. The riders should be praying that