Chapter Nineteen.html #3
Alexander sat down next to her. “Is there more?” he asked quietly.
She suddenly realized that his eyes were dark, his expression grim—something dire had happened. She picked up the parchment and read the final two paragraphs, her insides curdling. “Kildrummy has fallen.”
“Aye,” he said.
In horror, she reread what William had written.
“‘Sir Nigel and Sir Neil valiantly defended Kildrummy Castle, but it fell on the tenth of September,’” she read. “‘There was treachery from within the castle, Margaret, otherwise, perhaps they might have triumphed over Aymer.’”
He then changed the topic, inquiring about her well-being, and ended by saying that there was word in Scotland that Bruce would return, and he expected a resumption of the war in the spring.
Margaret was horrified, and she stared at Alexander, mistakenly crumpling the page in her hand, she held it so tightly.
“The women were not there, Margaret.”
She choked in relief. “How is that possible?”
“They never went to Kildrummy. Sir Neil and Sir Nigel were left behind to defend the castle, while the women fled north with Atholl.”
Kildrummy had been besieged, but the queen, Isabella and the other women had not been there. For that, she was thankful. But there was no relief. “Sir Neil? Sir Nigel?”
Alexander hesitated.
They were dead, she thought, suddenly faint.
“They were caught and hanged. Margaret, dinna ask me for the details.” He put his arms around her.
She wanted to weep and scream. Her beautiful Sir Neil had been hanged. And Sir Nigel, Bruce’s handsome, courageous brother, had been hanged with him!
“This is war, Margaret. Men die in war.”
She pulled back and looked up at Alexander, sick with anguish, but furious, too. “If there is more bad news, you must tell me. Now! Is the queen hidden safely? Is Isabella?”
He studied her for a moment, and then he slipped away.
“Alexander!” she screamed, already knowing his answer.
He paced past her and closed the shutters. “It is truly cold in here.”
“What happened to them!”
He slowly faced her. “They sought sanctuary at St. Duthac. They were all captured, Margaret. They are King Edward’s prisoners.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “What will he do to them?” she managed to ask.
“I dinna ken.”
“Liar.”
“Margaret!”
“Tell me the truth!” she cried. “Do you think I haven’t heard how vengeful King Edward has been? I know what he did to Sir Christopher, he was drawn and quartered, Alexander, after he was hanged! What did they do to Sir Neil? To Sir Nigel?” she screamed.
He pulled her into his embrace. “I willna tell ye.”
“I will find out, anyway!”
“Let it rest, Margaret,” he said.
She wept against his chest then. Alexander held her and stroked her hair. And when she had spent a tiny portion of her grief, she looked up. “Where is Isabella? Marjorie? Christina?”
“They were being held at Aberdeen. I dinna ken where they are now.”
She swiped away her tears. “I want to see them. I want to see Isabella.”
“No. I willna allow it.”
As they stared at one another, Margaret realized her demand had been impossible. She and Alexander would be captured if she went to visit her friends.
Her mind raced. Buchan would visit Isabella. Wouldn’t he?
“I must see my uncle, Alexander.”
His eyes widened. “Fer what cause?” Then comprehension covered his face. “So ye can beg him to spare Isabella his wrath? Ye canna do so, Margaret!”
“I must beg him to show her mercy! Buchan is an ally of King Edward. If he wants his wife back, King Edward will surely agree! Please! I must convince my uncle to take Isabella back! She will be better off if he is the one to punish her! God only knows what her fate will be otherwise!”
Alexander shook his head, resigned. “I must be mad—to agree to such madness.”
Kilmory Knap Chapel, Loch Sween—November, 1306
ALEXANDER AND HIS men had gone into the small stone chapel where Margaret was to meet her uncle.
In spite of the promises that had been made, he wished to make certain that they would not suffer an ambush.
After all, the chapel was on MacSween land, and they were allied with the MacDougalls—they had taken up arms against Bruce.
But the meeting had been arranged by Alasdair Og and his wife, Juliana. Everyone had agreed that Juliana would be able to best bring both sides together, as she was a MacDougall by birth, and married to a MacDonald.
For Buchan, such a meeting posed little danger. Although Alasdair Og had managed, through his wife, to obtain the promise of safe passage for them, they were in the midst of the enemy’s territory. Alexander trusted no one. Neither did Margaret.
She shivered, although fur-clad, astride her mount as she waited outside the chapel. It was a frigidly cold day. Snow covered the ground, weighed down the evergreens, and capped the mountain peaks. The loch was as dark as iron as it swept out to the sound.
Alexander came outside, a fur swinging from his broad shoulders. Margaret breathed hard as he strode to her.
He was not happy; his mouth was downturned. “They’re within—waiting fer ye.”
Tension filled her, so much so, she could barely breathe. Somehow she nodded.
Alexander came forward to help her slide down from her mount. “Ye dinna have to meet him, Margaret. ’Tis not too late to turn back.”
“I am not turning back,” she said. If she could, she hoped to be forgiven by her uncle for falling in love with Alexander. For months, she had yearned to explain to him what had happened and how it had happened. But her needs were mostly irrelevant now.
She had one real ambition—to save Isabella.
Alexander guided her forward and they walked along the snow-covered stone path to the chapel’s door. Alexander swung it open for her, but then he made her wait so he could enter first. Margaret only followed when he turned and indicated that it was safe for her to do so.
Margaret stepped inside the century-old stone church. She saw the group of men standing at the end of the knave, which included William and her uncle.
Buchan looked at her, his eyes dark with anger. She cringed.
William ran up the knave, toward her. “Meg!”
Her tension vanished. She could not believe how much he had grown since she had last seen him! He had seemed more of a boy then, but suddenly, she was faced with a grown man. “Will!”
She leapt into his arms and he hugged her, hard, rocking her as he did so. Then he stepped back and stared, amazed. “How beautiful you are!”
She smiled. “You look so well, too. I am happy, Will.” And then she saw him glance at Alexander and she watched the two men whom she loved most in this world exchange long looks. There was a great deal of relief. She understood that both men had come to terms with one another—for her sake.
She glanced at her uncle now. He was so angry with her. Trembling, sick with dread, she slowly walked to him. “Uncle John.”
He was breathing hard. “Ye betrayed me.”
“I did not mean to fall in love with him.”
“Love? Love has nothing to do with marriage!” Buchan said harshly.
“Uncle, I love you, I always have and I always will—but I fell in love with Alexander. I did not mean to. I fought my every emotion.”
“You fought your emotion? You married him.”
“I had to choose.”
“There was no choice to make!” her uncle cried. “I made the choice for you!”
She brushed aside incipient tears. “Is it too much to ask for your forgiveness?”
“You turned your back on us all, on your mother, your father, on your brother, on me!” Buchan said. His nose was red and moisture glistened upon his eyes. “I will never forgive you, Margaret. I disowned you the day you fled Sir Guy—and swore your fealty to Bruce.”
She inhaled, trembling. “I so wish for your forgiveness, but so be it. Just know, Uncle, that I am in grief over losing you.”
He made a harsh, dismissive sound. “Is this why you have asked for a meeting? To seek my forgiveness? If so, you have wasted my time.”
“I had to see you, I had to explain and I had to try to persuade you to forgive me. But there is more.” She paused.
He slowly smiled at her, but it was unpleasant and cold, as if he knew what would come next. “Of course.”
“Uncle, I wish to talk to you about Isabella.”
“Do not bring up her name!”
“Please, forgive Isabella. She is young and foolish, impulsive and reckless. She did not know what they wanted of her—and she did not think it through. Bruce took advantage of her—a young, naive woman. And had she not helped him, he would have forced her.”
He snarled, “She is a whore.”
“She was used by an older, powerful and clever man! You loved her! I know—I saw it, time and again! How can you stop loving her now?”
“I stopped loving her long ago.”
Margaret believed him. But she had never thought their marriage salvageable.
She only wanted to save Isabella’s life.
“This is her time of need. How can you refuse to aid her? I understand why you will not take her back as your wife, even if, in God’s eyes, she will always be your wife.
But do you want to see her hanged? Just aid her, Uncle, just help her escape the king’s rage, help her avoid execution. ”
He was shaking, but he smiled tightly now. “King Edward is not having her executed. How fortunate for Isabella.”
Margaret froze. His smile was so savage that she feared whatever punishment had already been meted out.
“King Edward has ordered her caged.”
“Caged?” Had she misheard?
“She is in a cage at Berwick! She has been caged like an animal, and she has been displayed so anyone, everyone, can see her, taunt her, insult her, condemn her for the treacherous bitch she is! And she will stay in that cage until she dies!”
Margaret stared, stunned.
“God damn her to hell. And God damn you, Margaret,” he choked. “I trusted you!”
“I am sorry,” she managed to say. As they stared at one another, both of them in tears, for an instant she thought he was going to come to her and forgive her after all. But then he whirled and strode through a back door and out of the chapel.