Chapter Twenty-Three
As the days and weeks turned into months, Agnes’s belly grew.
She loved the feeling of her wee one kicking inside her.
Well, except when they kicked her ribs. That part she did not care for so much.
William’s mother and Old Nan quarreled endlessly over what Agnes should eat or how often she should rest. Truly the most peace she achieved was on a daily stroll through the garden.
There she talked to her little one and told stories of faeries and sea monsters and promised to share them all again once she was born.
For Agnes was convinced she carried a wee lassie as sure as she drew breath.
William had cited no preference, for he looked at her each day she grew larger with a wide, wonderous expression.
Not much could remove the smile from her face these days.
Her time in the cabin felt like a bad dream she’d once had.
Occasionally, she was surprised by an eerie feeling creeping over her, a little voice in the back of her mind telling her she would never be safe, and it was only a matter of time before she was abandoned again.
Thoughts of protecting her daughter kept those intrusions from doing any great harm.
She was usually able to quell them and lock them into a box in her mind.
Her nights were filled with pleasure in the arms of the most incredible man she’d ever been blessed to know.
William was doting and loving and perfect.
This life they’d carved between them would surely provide them with many wee ones who would thrive and fill this place with laughter and love.
Agnes sat on the bench William’s mother usually occupied but could be found in less and less these days. She stared at the stone that had been somewhat worn from the many times a hand had rested there.
“She has been so good to me,” Agnes found herself saying. “I hope my bairn will give her purpose. And I hope William and I will always love one another the way you both did. It was a sight to behold watching her come here to you all those times.”
The wind picked up then, and some late-blooming rose petals loose from the bush separated and drifted to land at her feet.
Agnes could not help but smile at the thought of William’s father actually being connected to this exact spot.
Perhaps his mother had been right all along. The thought warmed her heart.
Footsteps behind her drew her attention. She turned to find William wearing a solemn expression. Unease washed over her.
“Come, we should see you inside,” he said as he approached.
“What is it? What’s happened?” she asked.
“All is well. We are in no danger, but I have news you will wish to hear.”
Agnes didn’t know if she wanted to hear it or not. She accepted William’s hand and followed him to the hall to where his mother and Neville waited.
“Where are the boys?” William asked.
“I have sent them to their chamber until we address this. They do not need to be a part of this vile business,” his mother said.
“Mother, we should be grateful we have been asked our opinion. That was not required.”
She stood and placed her hands flat on the table. Agnes had never seen the woman look so formidable. “You are correct, William. We should not have been asked. There is only one path forward and the king knows it. The decision should not be placed on us.”
“Mother, I don’t believe that is what this is about.”
Agnes could take no more. “Will someone please tell me what this is all about?”
Neville stepped forward and pulled back a chair for her. He too had been quite doting on her and she’d grown to trust him as she had everyone else in the hall.
“I have heard from the king.” William said.
“Aye, I gathered that much. And that it has to do with my uncle and your sister.”
One did not need to be scholarly to glean what might upset them all so much.
“They have been captured. All three. They were found attempting to board a ship to Ireland in Prestwick.”
“That is good news,” Agnes said. The suspense was eating her alive. “So what has you all so riled?”
“They have been tried and found guilty of abduction and arson, both of which are treasonable offences and punishable by beheading.”
Agnes was aware of that. Truth be told it had crossed her mind once or twice during her own captivity. “And?”
“The king is sensitive to the family relationship of all three and so asked our opinion of whether or not to carry out that sentence, or to instead imprison them at Edinburgh Castle.”
Agnes sat back for a moment. From what his mother said, it would appear she was not pleased with the question either or its implications.
She supposed having the decision to, or even voicing an opinion on such a matter, made oneself somewhat accountable.
Never in her life had she considered someone else’s life would be placed in her hands.
Never mind how careless they’d been with her life.
She was not like them.
What right did she have to give someone life or take it away? Agnes placed her hand on her belly and rubbed up and down. She was put on this earth to create life. If she were to take it away from someone else, this beautiful miracle that grew within her would be somehow tainted.
But did they deserve life?
Even a cold rotten existence in Edinburgh dungeon was still life and the question remained: did they deserve even that?
Considering the condition they’d left her in, a prison would be fitting.
She’d been left to find pots and pans to relieve herself in for five days.
No wonder William had covered his nose after he’d broken down the door.
She had been overjoyed to be saved but horrified to have been found by him in such a state.
If she ever had any doubt about his love and devotion, it was forever eliminated in that moment.
They wanted her to decide.
Agnes stood and pushed in her chair. She had been asked the most difficult question of her life and she would answer it. She had worked too hard to quell her fears over the past months and let only joy replace former anguish and darkness.
She would not let the dark in again.
“There is only one conclusion I can come to with such a request. The king, while making decisions like these as part of his role, must understand how difficult this is for us.”
“I believe he surely does, Agnes,” William said quietly as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
She placed her hand on his and smiled at him with all the love in her heart.
She had no room left for evil. And she knew her place as a countess, a soon-to-be mother, and as a wife.
At some point she would tell this story, together with William, to their children.
She would have to look them in the face and be proud of the words she chose so carefully now.
Agnes was finally, after all this time, at peace.
“I do not believe any one person in this room possesses the authority to claim the life of another. The king has only been bestowed that right by the grace of God. You will write to his majesty and inform him that the duty to decide sentencing and the fate of Elspeth and Connor Munroe, and John Sinclair rests with him. We shall remain loyal servants to Their Majesties and respect this and future decisions he makes per his station as our sovereign.”
She waited for debate. For one of them to disagree with her inherent belief that this decision had no place at this table and in either of their hands. It would forever connect them to this business and for her sake and the sake of all of them, she wanted to move on from this darkness.
William wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tight. “I have never been prouder of you or any other person in my life,” he said.
And that right there was how she would tell the conclusion of their incredible tale.
*
Sealing the missive, he passed it to Neville who nodded and slipped it inside his tunic.
“Is this truly over?” William asked him.
“I believe it is,” Neville said. “You have married the strongest woman in all of Scotland. You know that, aye?”
“I do.”
William might have eventually come to that conclusion but was impressed with the clarity of mind displayed by his wife.
Even his mother had no other opinion once Agnes had spoken her piece.
And she was right. They did not have the right to make that choice, nor should they be burdened with the decision.
His newfound respect for his wife also extended to his king who, apart from a small council of aides, made these decisions alone, and he would not wish that for all the power in the world.
Perhaps the grand balls the king threw were a way to temper the enormity of running a kingdom and facing impossible decisions like this every day.
William left his solar in search of his wife. When he found her, he reached for her hand.
“Come with me.”
He led her to the gates of the castle. “Open them,” he ordered the guards.
When the deed was done, he turned to Agnes. “They shall remain that way from now on.”
She looked at the gates and back to him, beaming. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “William, I am so very grateful for you. For what we will build here together.”
William placed a hand on her round belly. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, as if that act helped his own mind convince him all this was real. The bairn kicked, which William could only describe as a delightful sensation!
“He approves!”
“He?”
“You do not think ’tis a he?”
“I do not,” she said and pinched his hand.
“What makes you think so?”
He didn’t mind. He’d have a hundred wee lassies if they could.
“What do you think the king will decide?” she asked quietly.
“I confess, I do not know. I suspect he grappled with that himself which might be why he sought our counsel.”
“I didn’t think a king would ask such a question.”
William shrugged. “He asks for input of his closest allies from time to time as a good king should. But the final decision rests with him.”