“I am sorry. I thought you would marry him, too. But maybe you should not give up all hope. This war will end one day. The Wolf could attack Castle Fyne then, or Bruce might let him do so sooner.”
Margaret did not want to be enslaved by hope. If Alexander cared for her, he would have signaled it. “I have given up my family in a time of war. I have changed my politics.”
“Do you wish you had not done so?”
“I worry I have done it for nothing.”
“Alexander is a fool if he has decided to let you go! I am very sorry, Margaret, that you are so alone, but we will keep you safe, John and I.” Her stare was determined.
Margaret trembled, disbelieving. “You would do such a thing? When I have had such grave doubts about you?”
“We have known each other for most of our lives, and John has known you since you were a small child. Yes, we would do such a thing.”
Margaret hesitated, for her suspicions about John had been allayed—but they had not been vanquished. But still, the two women hugged.
Marjorie pulled away first. “It was good, to speak openly,” she said. “And at least we have restored our friendship.”
Margaret smiled. As long as Atholl was not a spy, they had restored their friendship. But there was still a chance Marjorie could not be trusted. “I am glad we spoke as we did.”
Marjorie took her hand and they went down to dine.
* * *
THE DEVASTATING NEWS came within days: Aymer de Valence had occupied the great city of Perth.
The enemy was within striking distance of Kildrummy Castle.
“Why does he leave us here?” Isabella asked, ashen.
Margaret took her hand. There was hardly any conversation in the hall that morning. How could there be? Ever since they had heard that de Valence’s great army was in Perth, an army of thousands upon thousands of well-trained soldiers and knights, the court had become stricken. And the queen was not present. She was behind closed doors with Sir Nigel, his other foremost knights, Marjorie and Bruce’s sisters. Clearly a great discussion was afoot.
The court was going to have to flee, Margaret thought uneasily. They could not remain there, with so few stores left, awaiting an attack from de Valence.
She had little doubt that Sir Guy remained one of Aymer’s commanders. Just as she felt certain he was chafing to be let loose upon Kildrummy—upon her.
“You are so quiet!” Isabella accused. “Can you not at least pretend to be confident of our fates?”
Margaret trembled, a scant instant from screaming at her. Instead, she said calmly, “It is time to grow up. We are in grave danger and I have no desire to pretend otherwise. There are fifty knights here to defend us. Aymer de Valence has an army of six thousand men. His knights are the best in the land. And—” she paused, now perspiring “—Sir Guy is with him. I am certain. And if we are captured, he will seek me out.”
Isabella gasped. “I am so thoughtless!” She embraced her, hard. “God, he will punish you for leaving him. But perhaps he doesn’t know you had an affair with Alexander?”
Margaret closed her eyes. Perhaps Alexander’s having left her would save her from Sir Guy’s rage in the end. But she did not think so.
Suddenly the doors to the hall burst open, as if rammed by a siege engine. Several women screamed. Sir Neil ran inside, followed by five of his men. He was ashen.
Margaret lifted her skirts and began running to him. “What has happened?”
He had been racing toward the doors at the room’s other end, beyond which were the queen and Sir Nigel. He reversed course and ran directly to her, seizing her by both arms. “Bruce’s army has been massacred!”
Margaret felt the room tilt wildly. “What?”
“There has been a terrible massacre at Methven,” Sir Neil was shouting.
And in that moment, all she could think of was, had Alexander survived?
The women began crying out, shouting questions, someone even screaming that Bruce was dead! Margaret looked into Sir Neil’s panicked eyes as the doors behind them opened. She heard the queen, the women, and Sir Nigel racing to them.
“What has happened?” Christina cried. “Is Rob dead?”
