Page 53 of The Sinner
Glynis dropped her gaze to the food growing cold in front of her.
“Damn him to hell,” Father Thomas said. “Gavin should have stuck to his poetry.”
“He is a poet?” Glynis asked, hoping to divert Father Thomas to a topic less upsetting to him.
“Gavin Douglas is famous for his own poetry as well as for his translations of ancient poems,” Father Thomas said. “A useless activity, of course, but one that would not have cost him a bishopric.”
“Useless?” Glynis said. “We Highlanders hold our poets in high esteem.”
From the way Father Thomas’s eyebrows shot up, he was not accustomed to disagreement.
“Why has the poor man been imprisoned?” Glynis asked, her curiosity overtaking her caution, as it often did.
“He is accused of attempting to buy the bishopric from the Pope.” Father Thomas shrugged one bony shoulder. “If Albany’s faction did not suspect Gavin had also advised the queen to flee to England with the Scottish heir, no one would care if he bought it.”
Glynis cleared her throat. “Are ye aware, Uncle, of what this new regent’s attitude is toward the Highland clans?”
“Of course I am,” he snapped. “’Tis fortunate that you escaped that God-forsaken place, for Albany has given the Campbells the crown’s blessing to destroy this Highland rebellion ‘by sword and by fire.’”
Glynis put her hand to her throat, fearing for her family back home. “What does that mean?”
“It means they have a free hand to lay waste to the rebels’ lands and murder anyone who stands in their way, including women and children,” Father Thomas said, “When the rebels submit, as they will, the Campbells are to collect the rebel chieftains’ eldest sons as hostages to assure their father’s good behavior.”
“My brother is only four years old.” Glynis felt sick to her stomach.
“Then it may just be possible to teach him civilized ways.”
If her father knew of this plan, surely he would see sense and leave the rebellion. Before Glynis could question Father Thomas further, he got to his feet.
“I must pursue my advancement independent of Gavin Douglas now,” he said, fixing his hard gaze on Henry. “It will be costly.”
Father Thomas did not wait for a response. Without so much as a fare-thee-well, he left the room with long-legged strides.
“Thomas is an important man in the church,” Peg said when he had gone, as if that should excuse his rudeness.
“Eat up,” Henry said to Glynis, as he stuffed an apple tart in his mouth. “A man likes a woman with some flesh on her bones.”
Glynis could not recover her good humor as quickly as her Aunt Peg and Henry, but she managed a weak smile and took a bite. The apples were not as tart as at home. Nothing tasted good here.
“What do ye think about James the Baker?” Henry said, looking at her aunt. “He’s a fine man. Wouldn’t he make our bonny niece a good husband?”
Glynis choked on the bite of dry tart caught in her throat. “Thank ye for your concern,” she said when she could speak, “but I don’t wish to marry again.”
“Don’t wish to marry?” Henry said, then repeated it more loudly: “Don’t wish to marry?”
When Glynis shook her head, Henry and her aunt exchanged startled glances.
“James is a steady man with a good future before him.” Her aunt reached across the narrow table and patted her hand. “It can’t hurt to meet him.”
“Thank ye kindly,” Glynis said. “But meeting the man will no change my mind.”
Bessie came in then and stooped to speak to Henry in a low voice.
“James is here,” Henry said, and gave Glynis a wide smile. “Make yourself pretty while I fetch him.”
Two hours later, Glynis was so bored she wanted to stab herself in the eye. James was easily the most tedious man she had met in her life. Alas, he was unattractive as well.
“Do ye never leave the city?” she asked after listening to him drone on about meetings of his guild. “Surely ye must long to take a sail or a walk in the meadows now and again?”
