The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(39)

“Good.” The king bowed his head, dismissing him. Ewen turned on his heel to leave, but Bruce stopped him with a sharp laugh. “Although when you do find her, you may not want to tell her that I have a husband waiting for her—she’s liable to get it in her mind to disappear again.”

The reminder of her betrothal set Ewen’s teeth on edge. But he managed a smile, as it seemed to be expected of him.

He would find Janet and bring her back to her betrothed. But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Nine

Rutherford Priory, Scottish Marches, December 1, 1310

Janet’s self-imposed exile had begun to chafe. An excess of caution did not sit well with her, especially when anyone would be hard pressed to connect the Italian “Sister Genna” with “Novice Eleanor,” the English widow from Cumberland. She might not be able to change her face, but she’d done her best to change everything else—her name, her nationality, even the color of her veil.

Not much longer, she told herself. Friar Thom would come for her when it was safe, he’d told her as much.

But what was taking him so long?

The leaves had been thick on the trees and the grass still green when he’d delivered her to the nuns at Rutherford’s priory, the small convent of Cistercian nuns located a few miles west of Roxburgh, after her unfortunate confrontation with Father Simon.

She had to admit her heart had been beating fast there for a minute. Knowing she couldn’t deny the missive, which the priest had obviously seen, she’d slid the folded piece of parchment out of the hem of her scapular. “This?” She smiled. “It isn’t a missive, it’s a list.”

The priest’s eyes had narrowed to hard beads. “What kind of list?”

It had been her idea to use an inventory as a kind of code when passing messages about troops and supplies, and never had she been so glad of it. The priest had already unfolded the paper and scanned it when she replied, “As you can see, it’s a list of items for my next journey.”

She hoped her heart wasn’t pounding as loudly as it sounded in her ears and prayed he didn’t ask her where, as she had no idea of the specific contents of the letter.

“Why would a nun from Berwick travel to Carlisle? I thought you were returning to Italy.”

She heaved a silent sigh of relief. Carlisle! “I am. After next month’s market in Carlisle. As for why, our embroidery is much sought after, and surely a few miles isn’t too far in the name of the Lord’s work?”

He didn’t bother answering her. “Surcotes, purses—why are only two items written on this list?”

Men and horses. Those were the numbers the king was requesting for the English at Carlisle, if the information could be obtained.

Janet shrugged as if she were puzzled by his question. “Those are the only items of which I am short.” Her face fell, and she forced tears to well in her eyes. “Which makes the loss of the alms purse so much worse. It took Reverend Mother nearly six months to make. The level of detail was exquisite. It would have fetched a goodly sum that would have helped to feed the unfortunates—”

“You cannot remember two things?” he asked, cutting off her verbal detour.

“I am very forgetful, Father. It is a terrible sin,” she bowed her head for a moment as if shamed by the admission. “But the Sisters are helping me work on it. Lists help.”

“Is something wrong, Father Simon? Why are you questioning Sister Genna like this? She has done nothing wrong. It is she who is a victim of a crime.”

Janet had never noticed how formidable Sister Winifred could be, but she did so now.

Father Simon sniffed as if at something unpleasant. It was clear he and the older nun did not like each other. “She was acting suspiciously.”

“By possessing a folded piece of paper?” She laughed, and the priest’s face flushed an angry red. He looked foolish and knew it.

Fortunately someone had indeed gone for the constable, and he chose that minute to arrive. Janet held out her hand to Father Simon. Reluctantly, he handed her back the note. She knew the priest was suspicious but could think of no reason to question her further. No legitimate reason, at least.

Thankfully, that was the end of the unfortunate incident. It had been a closer call than most, but Janet had escaped unscathed—or relatively unscathed. Initially, she’d resisted Father Thom’s suggestion that she remove herself from Roxburgh for a while. But at his urging, she’d decided to take precautions.

Friar Thom had seen what had happened and had intercepted Janet as soon as she left the market. He’d told her that Father Simon, the priest who’d questioned her, was thought to be trying to earn himself a bishopric by ferreting out suspected rebels in the clergy for Edward. The priest from the castle church of St. John’s was much hated and feared in Roxburgh.

With Friar Thom’s help—and that of a handful of nuns who’d provided a distraction in case she was still being watched—Janet slipped away from the market and didn’t return to the Priory of Roxburgh, where she’d been staying at the convent. Instead, she changed her veil from black to white and made her way to Rutherford. There, Sister Genna had disappeared and Novice Eleanor had emerged. She’d given the friar a message for Lamberton, explaining her change of identity and where to find her, and Janet went about the long, tedious process of biding her time and waiting for his return.