Three of the men at arms came, for the other two remained on duty. Elsbeth, Flora, Grizel, and Jack came up from the kitchens. Gathering about Adair and her guest, they waited expectantly for him to speak.
Hercules Hepburn drained half of his second goblet of wine, and began. “At Sauchieburn on the Stirling plain the battle was met. It was fought near Bannockburn, the very site your husband’s ancestor, Robert Bruce, fought a great battle. And in the same month too!” It was obvious Hercules Hepburn was a great storyteller.
“Ahhhhh,” his listeners murmured, fascinated.
“The Highlands stood for the king. The earls of Huntley and Crawford, their Gordon and Lindsay clansmen, the burghal levees from Edinburgh, and clansmen from many of the northern clans came to support the king,” Hercules Hepburn said. “And there we stood, facing their great army, badly outnumbered, but with the right on our side. Prince James was magnifi-cent. He rallied the forces of Angus and Argyll, Douglases and Campbells, the Hepburns, the Bruces, the Armstrongs, the Homes. Even the bishop of Glasgow sent men to the prince’s aid. Most good border names, but there was one Highland laird who stood out. He was the Leslie of Glenkirk, and he came with his clansmen to support the prince. A tall man who fought like the devil himself.”
“My husband?” Adair said anxiously.
“Alive and well, madam. Not a scratch on him, I am pleased to tell you. But let me continue. The battle went on for several hours, and though outnumbered by the king’s forces our men fought far more fiercely. The Highlanders and the others in the king’s service fell before us, slaughtered by our swords and spears. And it is said that when James the Third saw that the battle would not end in his favor, he fled the fray. At Beaton’s Mill his horse stumbled and threw him, the witnesses reported.
“Two cottage wives, not knowing who he was, but seeing he was injured, dragged him into the mill for his safety. It is reported that he asked for a priest. One of the women ran from the mill, crying for a religious. She returned with a man who claimed to be one. The king asked to be left alone with the cleric in order to make his confession. Shortly afterward the priest departed.
When the two women returned to see what they might do to aid the injured man, they found him stabbed in the heart, dead. They fled screaming from the mill, and sought help from the men coming from the battle.”
“Jesu!”Adair whispered, and all those listening crossed themselves.
“It is not known who assassinated the old king, but Scotland has a new and undisputed king, James, the fourth Stewart of that name. May God protect him!”
“Aye! God protect our King James!” the assembled responded.
“I thank you for coming and reassuring us that my husband is safe,” Adair said. “Do you know when he will return to Cleit?”
“The king asked those who had supported him to come to see him crowned at Scone on the twenty-fifth day of this month,” Hercules Hepburn answered her.
“Your man will return home to you after the coronation, madam.”
Adair nodded. “You will stay the night?” she asked.
“Nay, but thank you,” he replied. “There is little darkness in June, half the day left, and a fine border moon tonight to ride by. I can reach Hailes, and then I must return to join my master.”
“But you will eat?” Adair tempted him with a smile.
“Aye, a bit of food would be appreciated,” Hercules Hepburn admitted.
Elsbeth fed him, admiring his appetite, for this Hepburn had been well named. He was a big man with a great appetite. And then he had departed Cleit. Before he had left Adair had given him a verbal message for her husband.
“Tell Conal Bruce,” she said, “that he is not to dally amid the festivities of the coronation, for we have business to take care of here.”
“I’ll tell him,” Hercules Hepburn replied, and then, mounting his horse, galloped forth from the keep, his horse heading north once again.
Chapter 16
On the last day of June, Conal Bruce came home to Cleit. His two brothers and twenty Bruce clansmen rode with him. There were also seventeen Armstrongs in the laird’s party, but the laird of Duffdour was not among them. Adair was in the courtyard to greet her husband and his brothers. They appeared tired and worn. Young Murdoc’s shoulder was bandaged, and Adair could see the bandage needed changing. She insisted on taking him to her apothecary first. He sat silent as she carefully removed his binding and examined the wound. It was a deep slash, but whoever had tended to Murdoc had seen that the injury was well cleaned, and there was no infection, although the edges of the long cut oozed just slightly. She cleansed the injured area, rubbed an ointment made from polenta, mint, and salt mixed with a bit of goose fat into it, and rebandaged the wound with clean strips of cloth.
“You’ll live,” she told him, and he gave her a weak smile.
“It was horrible,” he said softly. “I’ve seen enough blood and carnage to last me a lifetime, Adair. I know a man is supposed to be strong, but I am so glad to be alive. Don’t tell my brothers what I said. I don’t wantthem ashamed of me.” His eyes filled with tears that began to slip down his handsome young face.
Adair put her arms about him. “It’s all right, Murdoc.
I won’t tell.”
“I’m the same age as the king, and yet he was so brave,” Murdoc replied.
“I suspect he weeps too in the privacy of his chamber,” Adair said. “All men do, though they will not admit to it. I saw my uncle grieve deeply over the loss of his wife and his little son. Being strong and being a man does not mean you cannot sorrow.”
The hall quickly filled up, and the women were kept busy bringing food and drink to the trestles, the high board having been served first.
