None received encouragement to linger.
Three months had done much for Marjory Bruce, physically.
She has filled out not a little, the hollow cheeks and bent shoulders were largely gone. Indeed she was by no means unattractive.
But the great eyes were still anxious, wary, her whole attitude tense, reserved. Men she obviously distrusted; women she kept at a distance. And she still had grievous coughing bouts.
Walter is attentive, the Queen said, following the direction of her husbands gaze.
Of them all, he is the most… determined, And gaining little
advantage, I fear!
Fear? Would you wish Walter success, then?
Why not? He is young. Honest. And looks well enough. I think he would be kind. And he is already kin. To you, at least. Walter Stewart was indeed Elizabeths cousin, his father, James, the previous High Steward, having had to wife the Lady Eglidia de Burgh, the Earl of Ulsters sister.
She shows no fondness for him.
She shows no fondness for any! Is he ambitious, do you think?
To be more than Steward? Who knows. At least he is loyal, and always has been. And of as good blood as any in Scotland. She paused.
Keith, there. The Marischal. What of him? He also dances
attendance.
A sound man, Bruce acknowledged.
Sober. But older. And less illustrious of lineage. And was not
always my friend. I would prefer young Walter.
And Marjory? Which would she prefer?
Neither, it seems. None, indeed. I fear that if she is to marry, we will have to choose her husband for her. It is strange-the Bruces were ever a lusty race. The Mar blood it must be.
Or the life she has had to lead. You must bear with her, Robert.
Aye-but something must be contrived. I had hoped this adventure would have brought her out.
A shout of acclaim indicated that once again Sir Neil Campbell had won the archery by a clear lead; and none was louder in praise than the Lady Mary Bruce-nor more demonstrative in her wholehearted kiss of approval. Her brother grinned.
There is how Bruce women are apt to behave! Mary, God be thanked, has
made a good recovery. It was certainly scarcely believable that the
haggard, gaunt wreck of a woman of three months before could have been restored to this laughing, lively creature. Thin she still was, and was likely to remain; but vigour and the joy of life had returned.
Mary would compound these last years, I think, Elizabeth said.
Will you let her wed Sir Neil, Robert?
To be sure. He is my very good friend. I have given him all Argyll, on the forfeiture of Lame John MacDougall of Lorn.
Which makes him a very great lord. And a sound support of the crown in the Highland West Such match pleases me well.
I am glad. For they like each other assuredly, and will make a good couple. As, I hope, will Matilda and Sir Hugh. When he is at home!
The King smiled a little.
Aye-Matilda is a born flirt. Young Hugh will have his hands full with that one. But she is not truly wanton, I think. At the test, she will be true.
To be sure. And meanwhile, young Menteith makes haste to test! Hugh Ross was still away with his father and the Lord of the Isles, raiding in their galley fleets the English southern coasts. The Earl of Menteith, not yet of age but the more eager to play the man, was not letting the grass grow.
No harm in that. My sisters can well look after themselves, the saints be praised! And he jerked his head towards where Christian, Lady Seton, erstwhile Countess of Mar, held her own court of slightly older men. Christian had always been a woman who needed men about her, and her years of confinement in the nunnery must have taxed her hard. Now she was making up for lost time.
The Queen smiled.
I think, perhaps, it is some of your young men who need the taking care of! Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell, for instance. How old would you say he was?
Mmm. His father, my friend, was slain at Stirling Bridge. That was in 1297seventeen years ago. That one was a boy of eight, the Court of Norway by the ears! He sighed. I wish that Isabel Mac Duff could so find an interest in men. To take her mind off her hurt. She used to be spirited enough.
Your Christina MacRuarie seems to have taken her under her raven wing!
I wonder why?
The Countess of Buchan, sour-looking, stern, did not so much avoid men
as repel them. She had insisted on coming on this expedition, in her
search for vengeance, that was all; Bruce would have left her behind,
if he decently could, sympathetic as he was towards all that she had
suffered in his cause. She was now sitting a little way apart,
set-faced, eyes part-hooded, while Christina of Garmoran chatted to
Christina is kind in more ways than one! I thought that you would have learned that, my dear. Clearly she feels for Isabel.
Do not we all. But she will not be comforted …
Shouts interrupted her, and turned all heads southwards. From the direction of Otterburn, banners, many banners, were showing above a low grassy ridge. More than rivers were joining in Redesdale that day.
As the heads of men and horses appeared, nodding plumes, gleaming lance-points and tossing manes, it could be seen that three great banners dominated all-those of Bruce, Douglas and Moray. The impression was of a triumphant host.
The King, with Lennox and Hay and a few other lords, strode out a little way to meet the newcomers. Cheering arose from both hosts.
James Douglas flung himself down from his horse, armour notwithstanding, and ran to fall on his knees before the monarch.
Sire, he cried, Greetings! I rejoice to see you. Well met. Your message reached us at Simonburhn. Last night. To our great good cheer.
Aye, Jamie-it is good to have you back. And you, Thomas.
His nephew, Moray, was not far behind Douglas. Edward Bruce remained in his saddle, grinning his mocking smile.
What is this? Another tourney? he exclaimed.
Have you brought all Scotland to meet us, Robert? Call it a
progress, brother. With a purpose. Has all gone well?
Edward shrugged.
Well enough. It would have gone better had our nephew here not interfered.
That is scarce fair, my lord! Douglas protested.
The decision had to be Morays.
He was welcome to decide for his own force. Not mine.
My decision could not but effect both forces, my lord, Moray
conceded.
Yet it fell to me to make it. Mine was the responsibility.
The command was mine…
My friends-I asked if all had gone well, the King cut in, only a
little sharply.
I expected an answer not a dogfight!
Your Graces pardon, Douglas hastened to apologise.
It is a foolish bicker, no more. We won as far south as the Humber. Beverley and Holdemess, on the east. Richmond on the west. Then my lord of Moray, keeping our rear, sent word that the Yorkshire lords were gathering men in great numbers, that he could not much longer promise to hold. our rear secure. He said we must retire.