Chapter 16
"Here. Try this," Maeve suggested, adjusting the strap around the newly recruited soldier's back.
This man, like many of those who had volunteered to join the assault on McNair Castle—or, as they'd heard the False King was calling it, the Sloe Stronghold—had been one of the refugees.
Now that Patty and the other healers had managed to bring him back to health, he was eager to give back to the rebellion.
"Thank ye," the young man told her, smiling. "It feels much more secure now. I'm sure me sword will be held well by it."
Maeve smiled back at him then waved him on, moving along to the next person.
The courtyard of Bruce Castle was buzzing with activity as they prepared for the two-day march that would lead to the most significant victory of the rebellion so far—or so Maeve hoped, anyway.
She had been rushing around all day, interacting with all of her friends and allies amongst the rebels, trying to help prepare in any way she could.
Now, she was helping with the weapons, but earlier she had been helping Patty prepare the food, Ferda design the maps and plans, and even diligently following Ben and Lillian's instructions to bulk prepare food and supplies.
"Yer Majesty? Yer Majesty?"
It took a few times before Maeve realized that the voice was trying to get her attention. It felt strange to her; she had grown used to some of the new members of the rebellion referring to Cailean in such a way, but she wasn't sure she'd ever be certain about it for herself.
Nevertheless, she turned to see who was talking.
At first, she thought it was a young boy, but after a moment, she realized it was actually a girl with her hair cut short wearing a boy's clothing.
The girl looked around eleven or twelve years old, and her wide blue-gray eyes sparkled with determination.
Maeve recognized her after a moment, though the last time she'd seen the young refugee girl, her hair had gone down nearly to her waist and she'd been wearing a pretty dress.
"Yer Majesty, may I speak tae ye?" the girl asked.
"Call me Maeve. Apart from anythin', I'm nae a queen yet," Maeve told her gently. "And yer name is…" She searched in her memory. "Marsaili, aye?"
Marsaili's expression clearly showed shock. "How–how did ye remember me name? And how did ye even recognize me? I thought me disguise was good."
Maeve hid her smile. "I try tae remember everyone's name. It's only polite." She paused, then added, "And yer disguise was very convincin'. If I hadnae already met ye, I'd have been sure ye were a wee lad. But why are ye dressed as a boy?"
If the girl said she was more comfortable in those clothes, Maeve would not make a fuss.
Plenty of the girls, especially at Marsaili's age, preferred to run around in boy's clothing.
It made things easier to play and train, and for those who had been forced onto the road before finding sanctuary here at Bruce Castle, it was, sadly, much safer for girls.
However, Maeve suspected that was not the reason.
Sure enough, Marsaili blushed, her eyes darting away. "I–I wanted tae join the march," she mumbled. "I wanted tae help."
Maeve considered her for a moment, then crouched a little so that she could meet the girl face to face. She gently touched her shoulder. "Ye must stay here."
Scowling, Marsaili met her eyes once more. "Why? Because I'm a lassie?"
"Nay. I'm a lassie, as are many of the other warriors and scouts and healers who'll be accompanyin' us. Ye must stay here because ye're a bairn yet, Marsaili." She held up her free hand to prevent the protest she knew was coming. "Ye are. Ye're what, eleven?"
"I'll be twelve in a few months," Marsaili protested. "And they all say I'm big for me age. I can fight as well as any lad, I swear it. Please, Yer Ma–Maeve."
Maeve shook her head firmly. "Nae lad yer age is welcome tae join us either.
Cailean and I, and the rest of the rebels, are fightin' for a free Scotland for ye.
We're tryin' tae bring this country back tae rights so that ye and others yer age will be able tae live without havin' tae fight tae be free. "
Tears welled in Marsaili's eyes. "But–but I want tae help."
"I ken. And ye can," Maeve assured her. She glanced over her shoulder, watching the crowded courtyard prepare for the journey for a moment.
Ben, hobbling around and cheerfully giving orders as the cooks handed out ration packs.
Ferda, whose arm was still in a sling but who insisted she was well enough to come along, in a spirited debate with the horsemaster about how well she'd be able to ride.
Ewan and Hamish, who had once called McNair Castle their home as well, in a low conversation with Senan.
"How? How can I help from here? I've nae learned anythin' from the healers. I cannae cook. I cannae defend if we're attacked," Marsaili said miserably. "I dinnae ken how tae help at all."
Maeve turned back to her. "Brave wee bird," she said, raising a hand to touch her cheek.
She remembered Marsaili's story now. The girl had been among the last group of refugees, she and her older sister the only members of their family to survive an attack that had almost wiped out their village.
The sister, Isla, was fifteen or sixteen, and she resided almost permanently in the healer's rooms. There was nothing physically wrong with her as far as Maeve knew, but she no longer spoke, only stared at the wall and occasionally wept.
Nobody knew exactly what had happened to Isla.
The only time she ever smiled at all was when her sister visited the rooms.
"Ye must stay here with yer sister," Maeve told her softly. "And dinnae underestimate the power of that. Every voice, every heart, is essential tae our rebellion. Tae our country. Yer family is the most important part."
"But Isla may never get better. Even Patty says so," Marsaili replied, her bottom lip wobbling. "What if she never speaks tae me again? What if I cannae save her?"
Maeve sighed. "I have a sister who needs me help, and I've nae always been able tae give it. It takes a brave soul like ye tae make the choice tae be there, even when it's hard or seems impossible."
"Ye mean Miss Breana?"
"Nay." Maeve's heart clenched. "I have another sister.
Her name is Nessa, and she's younger than me.
She's with our father now, and it seems on the side of the False King.
But I… I saw her recently, and I think maybe, just maybe, if I could have stayed by her side, things could have been different.
I think maybe I could have saved her, even though… " she trailed off.
Marsaili took her hand and squeezed it. "I want tae be like ye when I grow up, Maeve," she told her. "And so I'll do it. I'll stay here and look after Isla, and I believe she'll get better. And one day, I ken it, ye'll get yer other sister back too."
Maeve smiled. Something about the girl's raw earnestness wiped away the cloud that had descended when she thought of Nessa.
"Tell ye what. I ken that many of the refugees will stay here at Bruce Castle, and many will choose that, but if ye do a good job protectin' Isla, then I'll make sure that ye and yer sister are among those who join us at McNair Castle. "
Beaming, Marsaili exclaimed, "Ye promise?"
Maeve nodded. The little girl hugged her, and Maeve hugged her back, putting all sorts of emotion into it.
She spoke with the girl for a while longer, then sent her off toward the healing rooms. Maeve watched her go, then, when she had disappeared into the crowd, turned to find the next person she could support in their preparations.
Instead, she saw three people approaching the raised platform in the middle of the courtyard, and a warm serenity flooded through her.
Even with all of the chaos, just seeing Cailean was enough to buoy her.
She made her way toward the platform where he, Kier Bruce, and Lady Flora McKenzie were taking their places.
Cailean spotted her and grinned, holding out a hand to help her up to join them.
As people began to notice the small group, a cheer rippled across the crowded courtyard. People were happy to see their king, Maeve primary among them. Nearby, Darren's unmistakable voice called out, "Give us a speech, Yer Majesty!"
Cailean rolled his eyes, laughing at his friend's teasing, but Maeve wasn't surprised when Darren's request was echoed by many, and soon there were many people entreating their leader to speak before they undertook this mission.
Perhaps out of habit, Cailean glanced at Kier. The older man grinned, and winked at Maeve before addressing Cailean.
"They want tae hear what ye have tae say, son," Kier said, clapping Cailean on the shoulder. "Ye've earned their place as their leader. Now lead."
Cailean nodded, resolution spreading across his face. He turned to face the crowd, then paused. The whole courtyard fell silent, waiting for his words.
But instead of speaking, he put his hand gently on the small of Maeve's back and moved her to the front.
"Friends," he announced. "Yer future queen will address ye. Lend her yer ear."
Another cheer went up as Maeve whipped her head around in shock. Her? She could speak to small groups—she had done so before—but this? This was maybe the most important rallying cry of the rebellion, and Cailean wanted to leave it to her?
"I…" she stammered, turning back to the expectant crowd. "I…"
Then she saw Lady McKenzie's understanding smile and Kier's firm nod.
She saw Darren and Fergus, Ferda and Patty, and so many others watching her with smiles from the crowd.
She saw Senan, her mentor, giving a supportive gesture as he grinned.
And, most importantly, she felt Cailean's supportive touch, steadying her and making sure she knew she was on course.
She could do this. She would do this.