CHAPTER ONE
Edinburgh Castle, Scotland, 1433
The incessant pounding on the portcullis rang in her ears. Annabella Beaufort squeezed her cousin Joan’s hands and prayed it would be all over soon. Though she had been told there was no way the “filthy Highlanders” could penetrate the castle’s defences, she had to give them credit for their persistence.
“Will they never back down?” she asked her cousin—the queen consort.
“I have never known a Scot or a Highlander to back away from anything. But I fear my husband has infuriated this particular lot one too many times,” she said, while rubbing her heavily pregnant belly.
“And you believe we are safe here in the chapel, so close to the gates?”
“I believe we would be safe anywhere inside these gates. They will not be permitted entry unless my husband wishes it, no matter how much clamour they create.”
Annabella hoped that was true, but the pounding had not let up for hours. They were not allowed to walk the battlements of the castle, so could not see just how many men posed this threat. She and her cousin had been exploring St. Margaret’s Chapel when the attack had occurred, and had been instructed by passing guards to bar the door from the inside.
They should have returned to Linlithgow Palace to pass their noon meal an hour ago; instead, they were holed up in a tiny chapel with the constant clanging outside. Surely this was how madness began.
And then it stopped. The queen looked at her with raised eyebrows. Annabella went to the door and placed her ear against it. She could not discern any individual sound outside, rather a growing roar of men shouting and steel clashing against steel.
The windows to the chapel were all stained glass, depicting various persons of importance to Scotland including St. Margaret herself, St. Columba, and St. Andrew. Seeing what was going on outside was not easy, but Annabella had to know. She stood on her toes, and then leaned left and right to peer around the image of William Wallace in order to gain a better view of the outside, to no avail.
“Do you think they found a way through?” she said, turning toward her cousin who was now doubled over. “Cousin! Please tell me the babe does not come early!”
The older woman drew in several short breaths and then slowly straightened her body. “It has passed and was only a twinge.”
The last thing Annabella wanted at that moment was to bring a babe into the world. Not that she would not know how, but she’d witnessed it before and this was Joan’s eighth. Still, so much could go wrong and this small chapel was no place for it, especially with an attack happening just outside.
Annabella turned back to the window. Shapes moved about, but the vibrant coloured windows would not permit a clear view. When Joan doubled over again and the air hissed through her teeth, Annabella turned and reached for the door.
“No! You must not open that door. We do not know who is outside,” Joan warned. “If we stay here out of sight, the danger will surely pass us by.”
“I will not allow your child to come into this world on a cold stone floor. I am no midwife, and you need help. I shall peek out and see if there is a way to acquire a guard’s attention.”
“Please be careful. I do not want to give birth here, either, but I would rather live to do so wherever it may be.”
Annabella could not argue with that. She turned her head and leaned toward the door again. This time there was no sound for her to decipher. She carefully lifted the round metal latch on the wooden door and pulled just enough to peep through. There did not appear to be anyone near the cannons nor along the main cobblestone walkway.
She pulled the door open and stuck her head out. The sun shone so bright she had to squint to see the battlements. She could almost find humour in how she might appear to anyone who might be looking her way. But there was no one about.
Annabella swung the door wide and stepped out onto the stairs. The walkway leading to the portcullis appeared abandoned. Where could everyone have gone in such a short time? The air was warm, and a gentle breeze lifted her unbound hair.
A noise behind her made her turn to the left and look out toward the end of the battlements. Three guards ran toward her. Thank God! She had not wanted to encounter a Highlander. She’d been told of their savage ways and how they were wont to rape and pillage. Surely God would judge them harshly when their time came.
When the men had almost reached her, they stopped. All three were large men; the Scottish guards were each impressive, but these were larger still. And one in particular was even more so. He turned in her direction and walked toward her.
“Will you assist us?” she asked him.
“Us assistyou?” he asked with raised eyebrows and a smirk. His hair was flaxen and his green eyes sparkled like gemstones.
“Yes. My cousin, the queen, is with child and needs a midwife.”
The man’s smile disappeared. As if on cue, Joan let out a mighty cry from within the chapel. She stumbled out through the door. “I can ride. I want to return to the palace now.”
“But that is a long ride, and in your condition we should go to the infirmary here,” Annabella said, wrapping her arms around her cousin.
Joan leaned forward. “You there. Can you secure a carriage? You will escort me to the palace immediately.”
The man scrubbed his beard as he considered them. “Hamish,” he said over his shoulder, “do you think you can secure a carriage for the queen and her cousin?”
