“The Braidfoot girl, you mean.”
“Aye. We nodded to each other and I greeted him by name—coldly, I suppose, for he did not answer me. I was not friendly, but I had not expected to see him there, so far from home and hunting my quarry. I expect he was no more pleased to see me. But Mirren was glad to see me come, so he and I glowered at each other for a spell, and then he walked away. I have not seen him since.”
“He was angry, then, when he left?”
“Spitting, I would say, had I spared a moment to think of it. But why did you call him treacherous?”
“Think. Did you lose any arrows while you were there?”
Will’s headshake was immediate. “No, sir, I did not.”
“Are you sure?”
I saw Will’s eyes narrow. “I am always sure about my arrows, Uncle. I carry few of them, and when I travel I cannot replace them easily, and so I am aware of every one. I took twelve broadheads with me and eight bodkin target shafts. I brought them all back and have them with me now.”
“An arrow belonging to you—white fletched and painted with a central band—was found in a slaughtered deer—one of a slaughtered herd—on the Annandale lands. It was the only shaft left behind, and it was cut short, but it was one of yours beyond a doubt. Can you think of any way in which an enemy might have stolen one without your knowing?”
Will shrugged. “Aye, easily, if he broke into my hut in the woods. I keep a supply there. Anyone could steal some. But unless they had a longbow, there would be no point to such a thing. Those arrows are too big and heavy for flat bows.”
“There was a point. Do not deceive yourself. Someone used one of them to entrap you.” Sir Malcolm then retold the tale of the morning’s events, and Will sank into a chair and sat open-mouthed.
“This verderer, Tidwell,” he said when his uncle was done. “I’ve never met him. Why would he do such a thing?”
“He was suborned, clearly.”
“By whom, in God’s name?”
Ewan spoke up for the first time. “Clear your head, Will, and think. The man worked the Bruce lands next to our own. Who else do you know who works those woods?”
Recognition flashed across Will’s face. “Graham.”
“But Tidwell has been arrested,” I said, “so he will confess and name the man who suborned him.”
Sir Malcolm flicked a hand at me impatiently. “We don’t know that, Jamie. The bailiff went in search of him, but he may not have found him.”
“Why would he not, Uncle? If the fellow thought his plan had worked he would have no reason to hide and they would have found him easily.”
Sir Malcolm was shaking his head. “Not so, Jamie, not so at all. That is your priest’s mind speaking. This man Tidwell is corrupt. He was paid to lie under oath and therefore he is far more dangerous to the man who hired him than he can ever be to us. I doubt he’ll be seen again.”
“You mean he’ll run?”
“No, Jamie. I mean he’s like to die and disappear. Once he is silenced, no one can question him.” Sir Malcolm looked around the table, engaging each one of us. “This man Graham is clever. Let no one here doubt that. The sole flaw in this foul scheme of his was that he knew nothing of your plans to visit Glasgow, William. Had you remained here at home, you would now be in jail under sentence of death, and safely hanged and out of his way when next he goes wooing your young woman. This man hates hard and harbours great malice. Having met his kind before, I think it likely that he followed the bailiff and his men here to watch you be taken. And when he saw them leave without you, he might have been moved to protect himself by covering his tracks.”
“By killing Tidwell, you mean?” Will said. “But what could he gain by that? We know what he did. We know where he lives. He would be risking everything.”
“He would be risking nothing. Without Tidwell, we have no proof of his involvement in any of this. He would run free and probably return home to Kilbarchan, to dream up some other means of killing you.”
“Killing me?” Will’s laugh was a harsh bark. “That popinjay? He would never find guts enough to face me.”
“He would not need to face you!” Sir Malcolm’s shout startled us all. “Nor need he dirty his own hands. This popinjay, as you call him, is rich, William. He can hire others to do what he could not. Think you this Tidwell killed all those beasts alone? You’re a forester, so use your brain. Do you think for a moment that seven deer would stand calmly and let him kill them, one at a time? Besides, Ewan assured me Tidwell uses a flat bow, a short bow. He has never owned a long one. I’ll warrant he was nowhere near the place when those deer were killed. He went there later, knowing what he would find and what he had to say. Which means that others did the killing, using nets to pen and hold the beasts until they were done. It would take three men at least, possibly more.”