Once in privacy by the huge casks of beer and the ample sweet smell of the malt, Young Hutchin gabbled out his tale.
Young Hutchin had seen Mick the Crow Salkeld at dawn in the Castle stables, taking one of the hobbies and asking about the best route to Netherby that avoided the road. When somebody wanted to know why he was sneaking into the Debateable Land, he had tapped his nose and said something about Lady Widdrington.
‘What did he say?’ demanded Carey.
‘Ah dinna like to repeat it, sir, it were…rude,’ answered Hutchin primly. ‘It were along the lines o’ my uncle…er…takin’ your place, so to speak.’
Carey breathed deeply through his nose for a moment and then nodded. ‘Go on.’
Young Hutchin had been greatly taken with Lady Widdrington, so he had decided to go to Netherby himself and see what was up.
‘Ah dinna trust Uncle Wattie, see,’ explained his treacherous nephew. ‘It’s costing him a fortune to mend Netherby an’ there isnae a man he’s met since it happened that isnae jestin’ ower the way ye pulled the wool over his eyes and got the better of him.’
Carey’s eyes had narrowed down to slits.
‘You didn’t run all the way there and back again? It’s ten miles.’
Young Hutchin coloured. ‘Nay sir. Ah ran a couple of miles to the further horse paddock and…er…borrowed a hobby and a remount. I brung ‘em back too,’ he added with proud rectitude.
Carey nodded.
‘So, anyway, sir, I got to Netherby an’ it were full up wi’ me cousins and the like, and Skinabake Armstrong and his gang. Ah couldnae get close enough to hear what Mick the Crow’s message was, but half an hour after he arrived he was back on the road south again and the place was boiling out like an overturned beeskep.’
‘Which way did they go?’
‘South east. Across the Bewcastle Waste, sir.’
‘How many?’
Young Hutchin squinted at the roofbeams and thought hard. ‘By my guess he’d have fifty men or thereabouts, fra the look of them.’
‘Armed?’
‘Oh aye, sir. Well armed.’
‘Who was leading them?’
‘My Uncle Wattie, sir, nae mistaking it. Only, Ah wouldnae tell ye if it were nobbut a raid, but my thinking is that Mick’s tellt Wattie which way my Lady Widdrington’s gone an’ he’s intending to lift her and ransome her to ye. He’ll have heard by now how she helped ye.’
Carey said nothing for a moment and looked as if he was thinking furiously, which surprised Barnabus who had expected immediate fireworks. He was thinking regretfully about all the hard cleaning work he had put in on Carey’s fighting harness which would now no doubt be wasted.
‘Barnabus,’ said Carey eventually. ‘I know you’re there, skulking in the corner. Go and find Long George and Bessie’s Andrew and tell them to come to my chambers in an hour. Young Hutchin, thank you for telling me this. I’m indebted to you. Only I’d like to know why you did it.’
Young Hutchin went pink about the ears.
‘It wasnae for ye, sir,’ he said gruffly. ‘Only, I like the Lady, see.’
Carey looked shrewdly at Young Hutchin for a moment, causing further reddening around the ears, and then smiled.
‘All the better,’ he said. ‘That’s a perfectly honourable reason.’
Barnabus came hurrying back to the Queen Mary Tower from his errand and was surprised to see Carey still wearing his ordinary clothes. He would have expected the Deputy to be in helmet and harness and chafing to ride to rescue his beloved, knowing the man. Carey grinned at his obvious shock.
‘Barnabus, think,’ he said. ‘I’ve got no men around here; they’re all at the haymaking and even if they weren’t, seven certainly is not enough to match fifty riders. And we don’t know for sure what’s going on.’
‘But if Wattie Graham’s after Lady Widdrington, shouldn’t we get after ‘im, sir…?’
‘You’re a bit rash, Barnabus.’ Barnabus blinked at this outrageous instance of a kettle calling a brass warming-pan black. ‘I said, think. Nothing’s going to happen to her today because unless she’s been extraordinarily unlucky, she’ll be into Thirlwall Castle by now.’
‘Ain’t you going to send a message? Or talk to the Warden?’
‘No, I’m going to talk to Lowther first, he’s due to take the patrol tonight.’
Barnabus trotted after Carey as he strode out of the Castle and into the town where Sir Richard had a small town house on Abbey street.
Monday 3rd July 1592, afternoon
Carey was magnificently languid as he was ushered into the Lowther house and bowed to the dumpling-faced nervous creature who was Lady Lowther. Sir Richard came out and his face hardened with suspicion. After a few exchanges of airy courtesy, Sir Richard growled, ‘What can I do for you, Sir Robert?’
‘I would like to take your patrol out tonight.’
‘Eh?’
‘I’ve heard a rumour about where some of the King of Scotland’s horses are being kept and I’d like to investigate. Unfortunately, most of my men are out making hay and as it’s your patrol night tonight, I thought I’d ask you.’
He smiled guilelessly, looking remarkably dense for one so intelligent. Barnabus wondered uneasily what elaborate lunacy he was maturing now.
Lowther grunted with suspicion. Barnabus watched him considering the suggestion. Discourteous as ever, Lowther hadn’t even offered his master anything to drink, but Carey was standing there playing with his rings as if he hadn’t noticed, looking benignly enthusiastic.
Carey reached into his belt pouch and took out a folded sheet of paper. ‘I could…er…give you this back,’ he offered. It was Lowther’s note of debt for fifteen pounds.
Uh oh, thought Barnabus, he’s overdone it. Lowther will want to know why he’s so eager to take somebody else’s patrol.
Lowther did want to know. ‘That’s very handsome of ye, Sir Robert,’ he said. ‘Why are ye willing to say goodbye to so much money for such a minor thing?’
Carey smiled. ‘King James is offering a large reward for his horses,’ he explained. ‘If I can find those horses and bring them in, I might make ten times that, besides pleasing the King.’
‘Ah.’ Lowther’s expression lightened slowly. This he understood, and he was only too happy to tear up his large losses at primero. ‘I’ll speak to Sergeant Nixon then.’
He reached for the paper but Carey put it away again.
‘You can have it when I get back,’ he said.
Aggravatingly, when they returned to the Queen Mary Tower, Barnabus was sent to find Young Hutchin and make sure he stayed near the stables where Carey could find him, though out of sight.
Carey arrived a little later with Long George and Bessie’s Andrew, all three of them wearing their helmets and jacks. Long George’s pink-rimmed eyes were looking amused and Bessie’s Andrew was swallowing nervously and biting his fingernails, whereas Carey was humming something complicated and irritating about springtime and birds going hey dingalingaling.
‘Barnabus,’ he said as he passed by. ‘Don’t try and wander off; I want your help as well.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Barnabus resignedly, making sure he had his dagger and the throwing knife behind his neck. The one he usually kept up his left sleeve was currently in pledge with Lisa at the bawdy-house. Then he climbed up one side of a box partition and sat on top of it with his legs dangling.
Lowther arrived, followed by his troop of men, including Sergeant Ill-Willit Daniel Nixon, Billy Little and Mick the Crow Salkeld.
All the men bunched up in a disorderly rabble and stood picking their teeth while Lowther made a short speech explaining that Sir Robert Carey would take them out in search of some of King James’s horses and they were to render to him all the assistance they would to himself, etcetera and so on. Touching, Barnabus called it. Then Lowther departed, quite pleased with himself, while Carey looked them over. Considering the state of them, Barnabus wondered what he would say, but all he did was to ask, ‘Where are your bows, gentlemen?’