That startled him. He transferred his stare to herself. Then curtly he dismissed the women, and laying the child down came to her side.
I am sorry, lass, he said, his voice sane again.
Forgive me.
He took her hand.
Robert-you must watch your words, she chided, sinking back on her pillow.
You might have let out, before all, your fear, your wicked fear! For that strong woman, there was near-hysteria in her voice.
It is not so, I tell you. This has become a madness with you. Let the evil word once fall from your lips, into the ears of others, and hell itself will engulf Scotland. Hell, I tell you!
Hell, perchance, is here already! he answered grimly. Then he shook his head.
But I will not say the word, Elizabeth my heart.
Content you. God forgive me-if He has any forgiveness for such as Robert Bruce-I will act this out, keep silent. And thereby, it may be, further burden my soul. With others smitten, perhaps, from me.
No! No, my dear-it cannot be so. Do not rack yourself so. If you were indeed … unclean, would not I now be so also? I, who share your very bed? Could I have escaped? And are others like to be smitten when I, your wife, am not? I tell you and tell you-your sickness is not what you fear. It is but a scurvy, an affliction of the skin, or some such. It cannot be the evil thing. You have been better these past months. Much better…
The redness is still there. I still sweat…
Yes. But in yourself you are stronger. More as you were. Think you I do not watch you? You cannot deny that you are better.
Could it be so if it was what you dread?
I do not know. I am no physician. But those that I saw in Ireland were just as am I. He looked towards the cot.
And the child was born dead. Flatly, tonelessly, he said it.
And are not other children born dead, Robert, and their sires in good health? Your own sister Mary bore one such. And my brother Richard. Oh, my dear-I am sorry, sorry for this death. Your son. Our son.
After so long. She was panting with exhaustion.
But there was no mark on the child? No flaw? Was there? The women said it.
No, he admitted.
No mark.
You must see that you are wrong, my dear. Our daughters-they are both well. Perfect. Fine children. Yet they both were born since you have had this sickness. I pray you, put it from you. This fear … Her voice tailed off, and her eyes closed, wearily.
He looked down on those heavy-lidded, blue-circled eyes, with sudden great compassion, and kneeled there beside her bed.
Oh, lassie, lassie, he said.
Here I cark and lament-while you suffer.
You are worn, done, my sweet, needing my help, my strength. And I but make moan! Forgive, Elizabeth …
I … I am not done, Robert, she whispered.
Not yet. Her hand came out to touch his hair.
I will give you a son, yet-God willing. A living son. You will
see
James Douglas and Thomas of Moray failed to conform to orders by exactly one week-which was accounted for by the vast amount of booty they brought back with them from Yorkshire, which had delayed them. Apart from that, they could claim that the expedition had been a success, indeed a triumph-even though they had not managed to capture Queen Isabella.
She escaped us by a single day, Douglas told his monarch, who had come out to meet his friends at the foot of the palace hill.
She was warned, and fled to Nottingham from York. He glanced sidelong.
I have not charged my lord Earl with sending the warning -but who knows!
Moray was not much of a smiler, but he at least raised his eyebrows.
My lord of Douglas was inconsolable, he said.
Yet, from all accounts, he should thank me. The lady would have devoured him quite, so tender a morsel!
Despite their differences of character and outlook, these two were good friends, and the most able and effective joint commanders in Christendom.
Yet Berwick was saved? Bruce said, an arm linked with each, as they climbed the hill.
Walter Stewart sent me word, ten days back, that the siege was raised and King Edward gone.
Yes. Perhaps the Chapter was even more effective a draw than his Queen! Douglas suggested.
The Chapter …?
Aye, Sire-we have been keeping strange company since we parted from you. You mind the convocation you told us of? At York? We were constrained to take some part. Douglas chuckled.
We made debate with their spiritual lordships and eminences!
They are naming it, we heard, the Chapter of Myton! A plague on
you, man! the King cried.
Enough of this-or I will have you both clapped in the pit on charge of lise majestie! Out with it? What happened?
Heed him not, Uncle, Moray advised.
As I do not. He has been deranged since his disappointment over the English Queen!
The matter is simple. King Edward having scoured the North of England
for soldiers to take to Berwick, there were none left at York to oppose
us. Save churchmen and their soft levies. The Archbishop, at least,
did not flee, with the Queen. He is a man, that-if something of a
fool in the matter of warfare! He raised a motley host of clerks
bishops abbots, monks, priests, acolytes and the like, with their
servants, and sallied out to contest our passage. At a place called Myton-on-Swale, east of Boroughbridge, they sought to give battle.
William of Melton, did that? He chose to fight? Fight the two most redoubtable captains in these islands!
Aye, Sire-he might almost have been a Scots bishop!
Douglas put in.
Only, had he been so, he would have known better how to fight, I swear! His flock were as sheep to the slaughter.
Save us-did you have to do it? Slaughter them? It was at Moray that Bruce looked.
We had little choice. There were great thousands of them-and more dangerous in their flight than in their fight! They streamed across a bridge, to our side of the river-and then quickly decided that they were better back on their own side. Some of our people had set some stacks of hay afire, and the smoke confused them …
You would have thought that priests would have been at home in smoke, incense! the irrepressible Douglas asserted.
Naught would do but that they all should be back across the river. The bridge would not take them-since I held it-so they must needs swim! In future, clerks should learn to swim!
I think you make more of this than you ought, Jamie? the King said.
Is it your conscience troubling you?
Conscience, Sire? Why, we were picking them out on our lance points Never have I seen such urge to the water. Nor such panic. The Gaderene Swine were not to be compared with the priests of York! More drowned than died in fight-but more still died of fright, I do believe! Of stopped clerkly hearts! It was a sight to be seen. Andwe loaded a thousand horses with their spoil. It seems that they thought to fight more with golden crucifixes and croziers than with swords!
The Queen, almost recovered, met them at the palace entrance.
Welcome back, my heroes! she greeted.
I have missed you both.
As has His Grace. Did all go well?
Your heroes have been distinguishing themselves by slaying priests.
Not one, or two, but a host, it seems. A shameful massacre.
God knows what they were at!
We spared all we could, Douglas protested.
They died like flies in a frost. There was no stopping them.
Bruce shook his head over his friends.
How many? How many died?
Douglas glanced over at Moray.