Chapter Five.html #4
Alexander glanced at Margaret. “Ye’ve forgotten Castle Fyne.”
Padraig glanced at her, as well. “I was being polite.”
Margaret remained unmoving. Robert Bruce was on the march, she thought, with a sense of panic. Was he now unstoppable?
“There’s more,” the boy said, his mouth stuffed. “Red John’s wife, Joan, is now at Berwick. She is begging her brother for aid—she wishes fer an alliance with him—she wishes fer revenge.”
Margaret trembled, feeling for Joan de Valence, whom she knew somewhat.
Red John had married Aymer’s older sister years ago, when Margaret was a small child.
Such unions were commonplace. However, during the reign of King John Balliol, Joan had relinquished most of her ties to her brother, for this was when both the Comyn and MacDougall families had gained so much power in the north of Scotland, and had spent so much time warring against King Edward.
Now, she sought help from her English brother. Now, the Comyn and MacDougall families were united in their ambitions to avenge her husband, Red John, to stop Bruce from stealing the throne, and perhaps even to destroy him.
But what of Sir Guy? Did she dare ask Seoc herself?
“Aymer de Valence will gladly unite with his sister now,” Alexander said thoughtfully. “And if he did not, King Edward would order it.”
Margaret wondered at his tone. He had sounded as if he knew the English king.
Alexander looked at her and asked Seoc, “What of Sir Guy de Valence, his bastard brother?”
Seoc now looked at Margaret, clearly aware of her betrothal. “He has crossed the Firth of Clyde, my lord, and is at Glen Lean.”
Margaret gasped. Sir Guy was but a day or two away!
Alexander was staring at her now. “Have a care, Lady Margaret, yer eagerness to escape my hospitality shows.” Before she could answer—not that she had a reply to make—he turned to the boy. “And his force?”
“He has eleven hundred men, my lord, including two hundred mounted knights.”
Sir Guy outmanned Alexander, Margaret managed to think.
He looked at her again, and slowly, he began to smile. “So we go to battle, then.”
Did he look forward to engaging Sir Guy—when he was outnumbered? Margaret was incredulous.
He turned back to Seoc. “Tomorrow, ye ride to my brother at Dunaverty. Tell Angus all of this news, and that I have taken Castle Fyne. Also tell him to be certain he has provisioned the stronghold for war.”
“Aye, my lord,” Seoc said, no longer eating.
“And ask him for five hundred men—and as many knights as he can spare.”
Seoc nodded again. “If ye wish, I can leave in a moment. I’m not tired, my lord.”
Alexander smiled and clapped his shoulder. “It would please me greatly if ye left tonight.”
Seoc beamed, clearly basking in the Wolf’s approval.
Padraig now approached. “I am proud of ye,” he said. “Can I talk to ye for a moment, afore ye go?”
“Aye, Father.”
Margaret hadn’t realized that they were father and son. Padraig and Seoc stepped aside, moving to the other table, where they sat and began to converse.
“What ails ye, Lady Margaret?”
She stared at Alexander, reminding herself that if she was very fortunate, in a few days Sir Guy would take Castle Fyne, and she would be free of the mighty Wolf of Lochaber. But she remained nervous. “I do not like war, not even when it is for a good cause,” she finally said.
“Sir Guy will never defeat me, lady.”
She inhaled raggedly. “I have heard you have never been defeated in battle—but there is always a first time. And this time, you are outmanned. This time, God is on our side, not yours—as you stole what is mine.”
“I happen to think God would be very pleased with me, for seeking to put Bruce on the throne,” Alexander said.
“Bruce murdered a man on holy ground!”
“He did not deliver the final blows, and he is next in line to be Scotland’s lawful king.”
“I do not care about the destiny of kings,” she cried, meaning it. “I care about this one place, which my mother passed on to me.”
“So if ye have yer wishes come true, I will be defeated, Castle Fyne will be yer portion—and ye will wed in June,” he said, staring closely.
She wanted Castle Fyne back, but if Sir Guy was victorious, they would soon be married.
He said softly, “I canna see ye as an English wife.”
She flinched. “I will never be an English wife—I will be an Englishman’s wife.”
He laughed, but the sound was mirthless. “’Tis the same. If ye wed Sir Guy, ye will become his wife, and ye’ll lose all yer rights—ye’ll be as English as he is, fighting his wars, against me, against Bruce.”
Margaret did not speak, for he had just verbalized her worst fears.
He then hardened. “Do ye really believe he can defeat me?”
Margaret hugged her mantle closer. A terrible battle loomed—in the midst of a terrible war. She was frightened—but there was more than just her fear of the siege to come. She simply couldn’t identify her emotions as she stared at him. “I will pray for your defeat.”
“And will ye pray for my death?”
“I pray for no man’s death,” she said. But hadn’t she once wished him dead, before the siege?
She should wish him dead now—but she simply couldn’t. Shaken, she whispered, “When will Sir Guy attack?”
“He will not attack. I ride out at dawn, lady.”
“What?”
“He will not attack here—I will attack him—at Loch Riddon.”