Page 99 of The Refuge

“The people suffer for he has burned crops and salted land to discourage rebellion,” remarked Isobel of Ross.

“Let us not think of England,” said Margaret. “We can thank God we are not there and pray Scotland never sees such a thing come to pass.”

The chamber door opened and Margaret’s maidservant said, “My Lady, the king asks for ye.”

Margaret rose. “I will return when I have news. The men will not leave for a day or two. As soon as they depart, we will go to the chapel to pray.”

Swiftly, she walked the small distance to her bedchamber. As she opened the door her gaze met Malcolm’s across the room. Light streamed in from the window adding hints of gold to his brown eyes. She saw the excitement in them and realized his course was set and he was eager to be about it.

“William is holed up at Abernethy on the River Tay,” he said. “As soon as I have my army, or all that can be gathered with so little notice, I will go to meet him but first I had to see you.”

She went to him, needing to touch him to draw from his strength. “Abernethy is not far, My Lord. You can feed the Conqueror your few promises and soon return to me.”

“Aye, ’tis interesting he has stopped at the Tay. I wonder if he knows it was once the abode of the Pictish kings and a reminder to us that Scotland has fought off invaders before.”

“I will pray he leaves without a fight, My Lord, beaten by your wisdom.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Aye, mayhap. But he is no easy foe and he comes with knights and ships prepared for battle.” Then fixing her gaze with his dark eyes, he said, “There is one thing he will want above all, mo cridhe, and I think you know what that is.”

She waited, dreading what he would say.

“William will want to make sure he does not again face a challenge for the crown he has seized and defended these last many years. There is only one whose claim to the throne of England is and always has been greater than William’s.”

“Edgar” she breathed out.

“Yea, ’tis Edgar, now old enough to wear the crown and lead the people. At the very least, William will want my vow not to aid him again. Are you prepared for that, mo cridhe?”

She said nothing, only looked at him, seeing sympathy in his eyes. He knew, as she did, how her brother had longed to take up his legacy.

“When Edgar urged my suit upon you,” he continued, “’twas in part to win my support.”

“Much has changed since then…”

“Aye, after William’s devastation of York, he and Maerleswein returned with defeat in their eyes. I saw it.”

“Should I speak to Edgar about what may be asked of him?” she asked.

“Nay. If you did, he would willingly give up his claim to spare us the war, but ’tis best if it comes to him. And if it does, we shall see. Edgar is more an exile than any of us, a king denied his throne by one grasping for plunder, lands and power like the Northmen from which the Normans hail.”

* * *

Catrìona stood in front of the tower, her arms wrapped around her as if she could hold in her anxious thoughts and her many fears.

The queen and the other ladies stood nearby, watching the men depart for Abernethy. The king sat atop his white charger. Beside him was Fia’s father.

Catrìona reached out to take her cousin’s hand.

“At least I do not worry for Rhodri,” Fia said.

It was not the same for Catrìona. This time, all the men she loved rode with Malcolm, mayhap to a bloody battle. Steinar, at the king’s back, led the guard. Niall rode at the front of the line of archers, an older bowman next to him. And Angus rode with Malcolm’s mounted warriors, waving to her as he passed by.

Steinar had come to see her before he departed, telling her not to worry. But how could she not? This time he had not asked for a favor to carry and he did not speak of the future, yet she still harbored hope that one day she would belong to the golden-haired warrior. The words Rhodri had spoken of Fia became the words of Catrìona’s heart. I will have no other.

When the men were gone, the queen called her ladies to her. “We fast and pray until they return.” Not a lady spoke against it, but of one accord, they turned and followed Margaret to the chapel.

* * *

It was very late in the day when the men returned. Gloaming still colored the sky shades of gray, rose and heather. Having received news of the men’s return, Margaret had dismissed her ladies and now looked down from the window in her chamber that overlooked the front of the tower. At the head of his men, Malcolm wearily swung from his horse and met his young son, Duncan, who had waited in front of the tower for his father’s return.