Chapter Seventeen.html #5
Margaret slid to her feet, too, filled with tension. “I never made any such accusation.”
“But you have been thinking it. Even though you changed your loyalties, and there are some who think you are a spy. It is the reason our friendship has been so strained.”
“So we will speak openly now?”
“I think it is best.”
“I haven’t known what to think.... He was a loyal ally and a friend of Buchan’s for a great many years.”
Marjorie said slowly, “We hate the English. We always have. It was unnatural, becoming allied with King Edward.”
Marjorie did hate the English, of that, Margaret had no doubt. And, until the past year, when King Edward had forced a truce upon the land, Atholl had been fighting the English—as had her uncle, Buchan. They had all despised the English and King Edward, until so recently.
“It wasn’t easy,” Marjorie said tersely, “having supper with your uncle and Ingram and the others that night. We had already gone over to Bruce.”
Margaret wanted to believe her. “I hated betraying my uncle, too. And now, I am here at the queen of Scotland’s court, while my brother and my uncle ride with King Edward, making war upon us.”
Marjorie came to her and hesitantly took her hand. “And you thought you would become Alexander’s wife.”
The aching inside her chest intensified. “He will not marry me now. My dowry is gone. I thought he would still have some affection, that he would protect me in these dangerous times, but I must be sensible now. If he wished to do so, he would have sent some message by now.”
“I am sorry. I thought you would marry him, too. But maybe you should not give up all hope. This war will end one day. The Wolf could attack Castle Fyne then, or Bruce might let him do so sooner.”
Margaret did not want to be enslaved by hope. If Alexander cared for her, he would have signaled it. “I have given up my family in a time of war. I have changed my politics.”
“Do you wish you had not done so?”
“I worry I have done it for nothing.”
“Alexander is a fool if he has decided to let you go! I am very sorry, Margaret, that you are so alone, but we will keep you safe, John and I.” Her stare was determined.
Margaret trembled, disbelieving. “You would do such a thing? When I have had such grave doubts about you?”
“We have known each other for most of our lives, and John has known you since you were a small child. Yes, we would do such a thing.”
Margaret hesitated, for her suspicions about John had been allayed—but they had not been vanquished. But still, the two women hugged.
Marjorie pulled away first. “It was good, to speak openly,” she said. “And at least we have restored our friendship.”
Margaret smiled. As long as Atholl was not a spy, they had restored their friendship. But there was still a chance Marjorie could not be trusted. “I am glad we spoke as we did.”
Marjorie took her hand and they went down to dine.
* * *
THE DEVASTATING NEWS came within days: Aymer de Valence had occupied the great city of Perth.
The enemy was within striking distance of Kildrummy Castle.
“Why does he leave us here?” Isabella asked, ashen.
Margaret took her hand. There was hardly any conversation in the hall that morning.
How could there be? Ever since they had heard that de Valence’s great army was in Perth, an army of thousands upon thousands of well-trained soldiers and knights, the court had become stricken.
And the queen was not present. She was behind closed doors with Sir Nigel, his other foremost knights, Marjorie and Bruce’s sisters. Clearly a great discussion was afoot.
The court was going to have to flee, Margaret thought uneasily. They could not remain there, with so few stores left, awaiting an attack from de Valence.
She had little doubt that Sir Guy remained one of Aymer’s commanders. Just as she felt certain he was chafing to be let loose upon Kildrummy—upon her.
“You are so quiet!” Isabella accused. “Can you not at least pretend to be confident of our fates?”
Margaret trembled, a scant instant from screaming at her.
Instead, she said calmly, “It is time to grow up. We are in grave danger and I have no desire to pretend otherwise. There are fifty knights here to defend us. Aymer de Valence has an army of six thousand men. His knights are the best in the land. And—” she paused, now perspiring “—Sir Guy is with him. I am certain. And if we are captured, he will seek me out.”
Isabella gasped. “I am so thoughtless!” She embraced her, hard. “God, he will punish you for leaving him. But perhaps he doesn’t know you had an affair with Alexander?”
Margaret closed her eyes. Perhaps Alexander’s having left her would save her from Sir Guy’s rage in the end. But she did not think so.
Suddenly the doors to the hall burst open, as if rammed by a siege engine. Several women screamed. Sir Neil ran inside, followed by five of his men. He was ashen.
Margaret lifted her skirts and began running to him. “What has happened?”
He had been racing toward the doors at the room’s other end, beyond which were the queen and Sir Nigel. He reversed course and ran directly to her, seizing her by both arms. “Bruce’s army has been massacred!”
Margaret felt the room tilt wildly. “What?”
“There has been a terrible massacre at Methven,” Sir Neil was shouting.
And in that moment, all she could think of was, had Alexander survived?
The women began crying out, shouting questions, someone even screaming that Bruce was dead! Margaret looked into Sir Neil’s panicked eyes as the doors behind them opened. She heard the queen, the women, and Sir Nigel racing to them.
“What has happened?” Christina cried. “Is Rob dead?”
“The king lives!” Sir Neil shouted over the pandemonium. He appeared ready to weep. “But he was ambushed at Methven and there, his army was slaughtered like sleeping sheep!”
Margaret could not breathe as Sir Neil released her, panting in distress. Sir Nigel took his arm. “Calm yourself and tell me what has happened.”
Sir Neil nodded, a tear now sliding down his face.
“Bruce arrived at Perth and rode directly to the city gates, where he challenged Aymer de Valence. He demanded that Aymer either come out and fight or surrender. De Valence said it was too late to go to battle then, but they would begin the fight the next morning.”
Sir Nigel nodded grimly. The queen was stiff and unmoving, as were her ladies. No one in the hall was moving—the tension and fear were too great.
Sir Neil swiped at the single tear upon his face. “Bruce retired his army to Methven for the night. Some of his men were sent to forage for fodder, others told to cook, others had disarmed and were sleeping. And then the English army descended upon them.”
Christina choked. Mary put her arm around her, as ashen.
“They were ambushed, and a terrible melee ensued,” Sir Neil said. “They were mostly asleep, mostly unarmed, and outnumbered. Bruce was unhorsed three times! Sir Christopher saved him from capture.” He looked at Christina briefly. Then he turned to Sir Nigel. “A massacre ensued.”
Sir Nigel was as white as everyone else. “But the king survived?”
“Atholl, your brother Edward and Neil Campbell managed to defend him. They escaped into the forest.”
“Oh, my God,” Christina said. “What of the others?”
“Most were murdered. A few were captured in the field—but Sir Christopher escaped.”
Christina began to cry. Mary held her tight, upright. She was crying, too. Marjorie was white.
“What of Alexander?” Margaret whispered.
Sir Neil whirled. “I do not know if he was captured, if he escaped or if he is one of the dead.”
Margaret began to shake so badly, she knew she might collapse. Isabella took her hand.
Sir Nigel was so stricken, his nose was red. “Are you telling us that Bruce’s entire army was slaughtered? That over four thousand men are dead?”
“Perhaps a hundred men escaped into the forests.”
Margaret staggered blindly away. It was over—and Alexander could be dead.
Her fists clenched. But hadn’t she known that Robert Bruce could not go up against England and win? Yet he had dragged Alexander into the damned war, and now Bruce lived, but she did not know if Alexander did!
“There is more, Sir Nigel,” Sir Neil said hoarsely.
How could there be more? Margaret turned back to them and saw that the queen, who was so stoic all of the time, was as stricken as everyone else. Elisabeth was fighting the same tears of horror and anguish as everyone else.
“King Edward has issued a royal proclamation.” Sir Neil cleared his throat. “Every wife and every sister, every daughter amongst us, is as guilty of treason as we are.”
Gasps sounded.
“They must be hunted down,” he continued, now sounding shaken as he glanced at Margaret, “but the punishment will not be hanging.”
The queen cried out. Marjorie and Christina seized her, to keep her from collapsing. Margaret gasped, “How will King Edward punish us?”
“By royal decree, any man may now rob, rape and murder you.”