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Torin said, “I was out of m’wits and tis the name I call m’wife, because she is above me in everything as if I were her lowly servant. She rules my heart. She in turn calls me Albannach—”
The king looked at me directly. “Ye are not from Alba, Lady Alexandria?”
“No… oh, yes, I am from Alba, it is just a funny name for him. My father was a Campbell, my brother and I are Scottish through.”
“Good, I hae been fightin’ the English for a long time.”
Douglas said, “England is weak, now is our time tae strike and be victorious… We are nearing the end of the war. We canna show weakness by breakin’ bread with the English nor royals with a claim tae the Scottish throne.”
The king nodded. “Douglas speaks wisely: tis fortunate ye are not a royal relative of Mag Mòr.”
Torin narrowed his eyes. “While I deny that Alexandria is a cousin of Mag Mòr’s, it daena matter much, ye ken, Sire. A cousin is not a descendent. Ye are the king of Scots, the true king of Scots. The throne is yers and will be passed down yer bloodline. If she were a cousin of Mag Mòr she would make a good ally, but not a competitor. But she inna. She haena ever heard it before. Nae one in her family has ever spoken of it. Ye ken, when I married her, if I had been told she was a relative of Mag Mòr, I would hae sworn my love a great deal faster than I did.”
Niall gave a short, careful smile, his scarred hands still on the table. “Och, tis scandalous. Dost ye often speak of yer wife this way?”
I said, “If I believed I was a relative of Mag Mòr I would have demanded Laird Torin give me more jewels and take me on a better honeymoon than a battle at Dunstaffnage castle.”
They all laughed.
Torin said, “Aye, nae matter, royal or nae, ye deserve a better honeymoon than this.”
The king scrubbed his hands down his face. “But this is a good reminder, Laird Torin. I ought not be so suspicious. I hae been fighting against the English for so long that I forget I am wearing the crown. Twas hard won. I was beaten at Methven. I ran from Dalrigh with three men and no cloak. I wintered in the heather like a hunted stag. My brothers are dead. My wife is still in English hands. I hae won Brander. I hae taken Dunstaffnage. That daena make me forget the years I lost, but I am the rightful king.”
Torin raised his glass, shaking a bit on a weak arm. “Tae the rightful King of Scots, Bobby.”
The king chuckled, shaking his head. “Och, Torin, ye praise me in one word and insult me the next.”
Torin shrugged. “Tis my way.”
Niall raised his glass, “Aye, and tae the newly wedded Laird Torin and Lady Alexandria of Clackmannanshire!”
Everyone drank again. I was feeling warm and more relaxed by degrees, but one glance at Torin’s face and I was reminded of the stressfulness of dining with a king: he had taken on a sickly pallor.
The king and Douglas conversed, Niall joined in. Torin’s eyes scanned the room, taking in all the men, pausing on the guards near the door.
I whispered, “What are you looking for?”
“I am tryin’ tae figure out how tae get away, countin’ the guards at the door, how many paces tae the stables.”
“Oh, that sounds… dangerous. You’re in no condition.”
“I still must calculate my exit. When I stand, ye follow.”
“Of course.” My face grew hot when I realized that Niall was staring at me again.
He said, “He had the same look as ye, here in yer visage.” He gestured to his nose and eyes. “I swear ye must be a sibling, or a cousin, who was yer father?”
I said, “Normond.” I chewed my lip — was that safe to say?
Torin added, “He is a proud member of the Campbell clan with a large extended family.” He turned to the King. “Sire, his family is willin’ tae fight for the king’s cause.”
Niall said, “I haena heard of Normond, dost he live in Clackmannanshire as well?”
Torin nodded, popping a bit of bread in his mouth.
“The likeness inna certain, but there is a family resemblance, ye must be cousins…”
Torin said, “We are all clan Campbell, a resemblance is likely, cousins are probable.”
