“But this is interesting,” Sir Adam added. “The note mentions Despenser’s mission, but that is all. No details are given.”

That was interesting. Whoever it was had probably not been at the meeting last week. That he hadn’t probably only made them suspect him more.

“I assume the monk was questioned further,” Alex said, referring to who might have given him the note.

Sir Adam nodded. “Fortunately, he did not require much encouragement.”

Torture was not uncommon on either side, but Alex didn’t like it. To him it was the very antithesis of chivalry and beneath the dignity and honor of a knight. Torturing a churchman—or woman for that matter—was even worse. The “do whatever it takes” and “ends justify the means” attitude wasn’t reserved just for Scots. The English fought just as dirty, they just hid it beneath fine surcoats with colorful arms.

Right and wrong had always been so clear to him. Did anyone actually believe the vows of knighthood and code of chivalry anymore? Sometimes he wondered whether he was the idealistic relic that Boyd had so often accused him of being. It was not a little disconcerting.

“Unfortunately,” Sir Adam continued, “he was unable to provide much information. He claimed to be just a courier. Messages were left for him in the confessional and he picked them up and delivered them to another confessional in Melrose.”

Alex nodded. It was consistent with the practice Bruce had employed a few years ago. The “couriers of the cloth,” as Bruce called the monks and nuns who delivered messages and passed other important intelligence, were an important part of Bruce’s intelligence network.

“So the monk never saw the person who left the message?”

“He claims not.”

“I suppose that would be too much to ask.”

Sir Adam smiled at the wry comment. “Whoever it is, they are careful. They’ve been doing this for a long time and aren’t likely to make a mistake.”

“People always make mistakes.” Alex paused, an idea forming. “Although since we don’t have much time we might have to encourage them into making one.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I’d like to see the note. Who has it?”

“The soldiers brought it to Pembroke. I assume he still has it.”

It didn’t escape Alex’s notice that Pembroke hadn’t told him anything about it even though he was supposed to be searching for the spy.

When Alex confronted him about it later that day, Pembroke wasn’t surprised that Alex had learned about the captured communiqué and didn’t object to Alex studying it. He handed him the folded piece of parchment with the broken wax seal. “It won’t do you any good,” he said. “There are no identifying marks. It’s basically a list.”