Chapter Ten.html
CHAPTER TEN
MARGARET GLANCED FURTIVELY into the great hall.
Bruce and his men were finishing up breakfast, everyone eating determinedly, clearly intent upon an early departure.
And Alexander was with them. Like the night before, he and Bruce sat together at the far table, their backs to the wall.
Like the night before, they spoke quietly while eating.
And they were so engrossed in the conversation that neither man ever looked up.
No moment could be better. She quickly rushed past the threshold of the room, expecting Alexander to shout at her to halt, but the command never came. Breathing hard, she raced down the corridor.
She had arisen well before dawn to help the women in the kitchens.
Alexander had yet to summon her, but she knew such a summons would come.
She expected it almost immediately after Bruce and his army left.
In the light of this day, she anticipated far more than a rebuke for her defiance.
And she could imagine how he would punish her—one choice would be to deny her the daily visit with her brother.
Therefore, she must speak with William now, in case such a punishment was inflicted.
She had so much to tell him; she so needed his opinion!
In the south tower, William’s guard was eating a loaf of bread with some cheese. He nodded at her, lumbering to his feet.
“Good morning.” Margaret smiled. The guards changed frequently, but she knew them all. Still, it took her a moment to recall his name. “Duncan.”
“Lady.” He unlocked the door and opened it.
William was pacing, and he turned, clearly surprised to see her at dawn. He did not even greet her. “Bruce came last night—and they are leaving now?”
Aware of the guard in the doorway, who would listen to their every word, she smiled at him. “I was as surprised as you are. He rides on Dumbarton, William. There is a great deal of news.”
He stared for a moment. And then, suddenly, he seized his right side and cried out, collapsing. Margaret started to rush forward, but so did the guard. She let him catch William, and as he did, she turned and emptied the contents of a small vial into his mug of wine.
The action took an instant, and then she was running over to them. “What is it?”
“God, I don’t know!” William now sat down on the pallet, holding his side. “It was a terrible pain. But it is now gone.”
“Ye had better hope so.” Duncan returned to the door. He had dropped his bread, and now, he kicked it across the hall. Having lost the rest of his breakfast, he picked up the mug and drained the wine.
In five more minutes, he would be unconscious. Satisfied, Margaret turned to her brother. “Alexander is garrisoning Castle Fyne with a hundred good men.”
“So he thinks to defend the keep if Sir Guy or Buchan attacks? Damn! Castle Fyne is easily defended with such a garrison. What other news, Meg?” William was hard and intent.
“Bruce has come from Galloway. He has not been able to gain support there.”
William nodded, grim but briefly smiling. “The Gaels will never support him or anyone other than their own.”
Margaret glanced at Duncan and saw him yawn. “I received a letter from our uncle, too.”
William’s eyes widened. He glanced at Duncan. “What did he write?”
“He is preparing for war against Bruce. He is hoping to ransom us, but Alexander has said he will not do so now. He says I am too valuable—even Bruce said as much. William, we will be captives for a lengthy time.”
William gave her a smug look. She was certain he had a plan. “You will always have great value, for any man who weds with you will have a legitimate claim on Castle Fyne, as will his sons.” Then, “Did you meet Bruce?”
She nodded. “He is a very strong man. I did not believe it possible for any man to go up against England and win, but maybe Bruce can do so.”
“No. It will never happen. I won’t allow it—Buchan won’t allow it—King Edward won’t allow it!”
A crash sounded and they turned; Duncan lay on the floor, unconscious. William laughed. “That was well done, Meg!” On his feet, he raced to the door and dragged Duncan inside, then closed the door solidly behind him. He bolted it.
“William! Bruce marches on Scone—to be crowned there!” Margaret cried.
William cursed. “He has always coveted the throne! Just as his father did!”
Margaret seized his sleeve. “He might plan to abduct Isabella. Peg heard him and Alexander discussing it. Apparently the Earl of Fife must play a role in the coronation ceremony, and they cannot get young Ed to attend, obviously. So they are wondering if they might use Isabella, instead. And Bruce asked me about her! I am very worried now. I have not been thinking about escape lately, but we must warn Isabella.”
“I have a plan, and the timing is perfect!” William said.
“How could we possibly escape? I am no longer under guard, but someone is always close by—someone always has an eye upon me—except for now, when I made certain to use the chaos in the hall as an opportunity to see you. And you are under constant guard!”
William walked to the window and gestured. Margaret hurried over and looked out.
Perhaps a hundred knights were now riding out of the barbican and down the forest road, the sun just rising and shedding its bright light.
The day was a clear one, with but a few fluffy white clouds in the sky, and Bruce was clearly visible at their forefront.
Even from this distance, he made a proud, commanding figure, his huge yellow-and-red banner waving overhead in the midst of the cavalcade.
The sight was at once powerful, sobering and frightening.
“The road is naught but a path, and it will take hours for his army to leave here,” William said. “How many men does he have?”
“I don’t know.”
“The Wolf has five hundred men, does he not?”
She looked closely at him. He turned to face her, his back now to the window and the newly rising sun. “He has five hundred men, perhaps more, if his brother sent him an army, too.”
“And he leaves in two more days? The day after tomorrow?”
“No. My understanding is that he leaves tomorrow, but I have not yet spoken with him.” She shivered. She was aware of her dismay as she spoke of Alexander leaving, to go to war with Bruce. “What do you plan?”
“We will leave the castle from the north door. From there, we must only cross a short patch of forest, and we will be on the road. We can slip into his army, where we will never be discovered.”
Every castle had one or more small doors that could admit and expel a man on foot or even one astride, but no more than that. She stared, her mind racing. “You are guarded,” she began.
“Leave the potion with me—I will administer it myself. I will wear my guard’s clothes. You must disguise yourself, as well. As you just said, it was chaos this morning in the hall. It is chaos when the army leaves.”
She trembled, beginning to understand. “Even if you and I can get to the north exit, it is also guarded.”
“That is where Peg can be of value—do you doubt her ability to distract any man?” He smiled.
Could his plan actually work? She was incredulous.
She knew she could slip away in disguise, so reaching the north door would not be difficult.
And Peg could distract the guard at the small north exit.
She would offer her some reward to do so.
And once she left the castle, she could run into the forest.. ..
Then she thought of Alexander and she sobered.
She knew he would be furious if she escaped—and he might even be disappointed.
She reminded herself that she had never given him her word that she would not eventually make such an attempt.
It was her duty to escape, more so now than ever.
Not only was she his prisoner, Bruce was seeking the crown.
Isabella had to be warned, in case Bruce thought to use her against her will—and force her to commit treason.
William’s plan might work. If they could merge into Alexander’s army, they would never be remarked. And once at Dumbarton, they would be able to find friends to help them get to Buchan, if he was still in the south, or to return to Balvenie in the far north.
“What if I cannot bring you another potion? I have reason to believe that Alexander might not allow me to visit you again,” she said slowly.
William shrugged. “I am friends with all my guards. I am no longer weak, but they do not know that. I will strike my guard from behind. I am leaving this place, Margaret, to return to Buchan lands, because we are at war and I must fight!”
In that moment, William reminded her of her father. He was very young—not even twenty—but he was fierce and proud, and so handsome. She felt herself nod. “Then we must decide upon the final details now—because we might not have another chance.”
“He will leave after breakfast,” William said.
“Like Bruce, Alexander and his knights will depart first. You and I will meet two hours after he leaves, exactly, at the north door. Peg will distract the guard, and we will slip from the castle, run into the forest, and join the rest of the army as it is departing.”
Margaret nodded, suddenly hugging herself. Was she dismayed? Wasn’t she thrilled to finally be planning an escape—one that might be successful?
“And Margaret? If one of us fails to escape, the other must go.”
She started. “I do not like the sound of that,” she cried.
He held up his hand. “There is no choice now. We must warn Isabella, we must warn Buchan, and Bruce must be stopped before he ever reaches Scone. We escape tomorrow.”
* * *