There they found Seorus and his clansmen, who had taken the trailing position from the outset of the march home, protecting the army from any attack from the rear. Now the Highlanders had stopped and were turned to face the road along which they had just come. Barely a stone’s throw down that same road was a small clump of riders in French blue. Their horses were lathered and filthy as if they had ridden long, and hard, but they sat erect, doing nothing but waiting. Seeing Wallace ride up, Seorus trotted to him and said, “There’s a woman with ’em.”
“You walked out to see them?” Wallace asked.
“Oh, aye. The woman is dressed like they are, in a man’s cape. She tried to keep her face turned from me, but I ran around among ’em like a sniffin’ dog. Tried to talk to ’em. But I don’t talk their language, and they don’ talk mine. They just sat there on their horses and said, “Wallace.”
With Hamish, Seorus, and three more of the High-landers, Wallace advanced halfway to the group of riders. Wallace and Hamish dismounted. The French guards opened their ranks, and from their midst, the smallest of their party rode forward, reached the Scots, and dismounted.
Wallace saw that it was the handmaiden who had accompanied the princess. Nicolette was tired; her pretty face was pale with fatigue and caked with the dust and sweat of her journey, and yet her dark eyes flashed with the excitement of her adventure. “I have a message for William Wallace,” she said in French. “For him and him only.”
“I trust these men with my life,” Wallace answered.
“It is not your life along that is at stake here.”
In Gaelic, Wallace said to his men, “She has something to tell me. And she won’t do it with the rest of you standing here.”
Nicolette watched as Hamish and the Highlanders, keeping in sharp eye on the French escort, pulled back out of earshot. Then she glanced behind her to be sure that the guards, too, had kept their distance. Even with no one else close by, she did not speak above a whisper. “She says she’s sorry for the king’s cowardice.”
“Who says?”
“She.” Nicolette stared at Wallace. He knew exactly who she meant. “And she says something else. Nicolette paused and lowered her voice even more. “What I am telling you could get me hung. Do you understand?”
It seemed to Wallace that this girl was enjoying the drama. He nodded.
“She says the king will attack you from the rear with a combined army of English troops ferried over from France and Welsh bowmen brought up along the west coast.”
Wallace listened, dead still. The girl had not exaggerated the seriousness of her secret; giving this information to an enemy of the king was treason.
Nicolette had memorized this message she was delivering and she frowned, intent on reciting it exactly: ” The recent avowals of a desire for peace were but a pretext, meant to lure you off your guard. She who sent me did not know this at the time those avowals were made —”
“So why does she tell me now?” Wallace interrupted.
Nicolette’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment; her lips curled slightly, almost but not quite smiling.
“Ah, monsieur,” she said, “why does she tell you now? That is for you to answer.” The flirty and brave little handmaiden went back to her recitation. “The attack against you will come soon. There is little time to waste. You must choose your own course — whether flight or compromise. But fighting is foolish.”
“Then she knows already that I am a fool.”
“Please! You interrupt, monsieur, and I must tell you this exactly. Where was I? Let’s see… Little time… choose your own course… Fighting foolish… Ah, yes! Here is the rest: Crossbows are coming from Holland. Overland from Dover. At least a thousand.” Nicolette smiled, curtsied, and moved to her horse, holding out her hand in Wallace’s direction. Taking the hint, he tossed her up onto the saddle. She nodded her thanks, then looked into Wallace’s eyes one last time, As if she had been instructed to take in every detail of him to discuss with her mistress later.
“By the way,” she added, “should it become known that you and I have talked, I will say that I was intercepted on my way to Castle Bonchamps, to which I have been dispatched on an architectural survey for my mistress, the castle’s owner. I will say that I was interrogated, found to be peaceful, and released. I suggest you tell your men the same story — since it is true.”
She reined her horse back to the French guards, who surrounded her quickly and galloped away without looking back.
Wallace watched them go and thought of her who sent them.
Then he turned and walked quickly back to join Hamish and the others. “I need Stephen,” Wallace said, “as quickly as you can find him.”
42
THE PRINCESS SAT AT THE WINDOW SEAT OR A PALACE room. Her fingers held half-finished embroidery; she was looking distractedly at the dark, cold winter day outside. Across the room, Longshanks was at his worktable, discussing logistics with his advisors. Edward sat sullenly at the table with them. His father had demanded that he attend but insisted that the princess be there also, telling his son it was clear he could never rule without his wife to help him. ("The woman has fire in her,” Longshanks had told his advisors. “She is the only hope that my line will continue when I am gone.")
So now the prince sat, his eyes glazed and only half alive, as Longshanks stormed at his advisors. “Why am I the only one who sees how simple this is?! Our army needs food! They can’t fight without it, for the Scots will burn everything, even their own food, rather than let us have it. The Vikings have fish. They lack wool. We have wool. So trade them our wool for the fish, you fools!”
None of the advisors responded. But young Edward perked up. He knew the reason the advisors were silent. They didn’t wish to be the bearers of unpleasant news. Edward, on the other hand, couldn’t wait. He placed his delicate hand before his mouth to hide the smirk there. “The Viking traders have just informed us that the Scots have promised to sell them wool,” Edward said, “at a lower price than ours.”
“The Scots have no ships to deliver wool to the Vikings!” Longshanks said.
“The Vikings provide the ships,” Edward said.
“What do the Scots get from the Vikings in return for the wool?” Longshanks demanded to know.
“Lumber — for building ships,” Edward said. “Apparently, someone in Scotland intends to establish it as a trading nation. And…”—Edward drew this out, savoring the moment — “since the Scots have never pursued trade so aggressively before, it is only reasonable to suppose the originator of this effort is some new character among their leaders. Someone like… William Wallace, perhaps.”
Prince Edward failed to conceal his satisfaction at seeing his father bested. Longshanks flushed with anger — whether more at Wallace or at his son, it was impossible to tell.
By the window, the princess looked down at her sewing, so that no one could see her smile.
43
EASTERN SCOTLAND LAY BENEATH THE SAME GRAY, COLD sky as did London. Inside Edinburgh Castle, Wallace paced a room full of merchants, seamen, and landowners, all summoned to discuss Scotland’s daily trade. Wallace told them about the arrangements with the Vikings of Norway. He spoke to them about the need to establish independence of trade and told them of the pact he had just made with the merchants of France to trade whiskey for wine.
One of the farmers laughed and said, “We don’t drink wine!”
“No, but the Danes do,” Wallace said. “And they will swap for pottery and tar. Some we keep. Some we trade with Spain for their sour fruits. Then all our children will have solid teeth and straight bones.”