Chapter 10 #2
“He feels much like Edward did, so I plan for a male child. We named the first for my father and the king who gave us both sanctuary. How do you feel about the name Edmund for our second? ’Twas my grandfather’s name and he was a king of England.”
Malcolm laughed, a deep belly laugh that told her he was pleased. “My wife who always thinks ahead. Aye, another English name will serve well a son who may one day have English subjects.”
She thought of the time he had been away, of all he must have seen. It had been years since she had been in England and she was curious to hear of it. “Tell me of all that happened while you were away.”
“If you wish to know, I will tell you, but I would see my young Edward ere this day is done. And I must hear of your plans to aid the pilgrims.”
“Very well,” she said, nestling into the curve of his body like a child awaiting a favored story. “You first.”
He launched into a description of his travels, beginning with Lothian. “Maerleswein seems happy with his new bride and your former lady was all aglow.”
“I am glad. I believed he would make a good husband for Davina.”
“Aye, you did and ’twas a wise suggestion you made.”
He began to speak of the raid into Northumbria, his face coming alive as he drew vivid pictures of the archers’ flaming arrows and the fighting that followed at Alnwick.
“That Welshman is a leader of men, a well-trained fighter, too, not just a bowman. God’s blood, some of his shots were like none I have ever seen! ”
The story went on and she listened intently, sensing he was leaving something out. “How did you get the wound?”
She could tell he was reluctant to speak of it, but at her prodding, he said, “Sometime in the course of the fight. I do not recall precisely when, but I was suddenly on the ground with the scribe standing over me, defending me against the edge of a Norman’s blade like an avenging angel.”
A gasp escaped her lips as she imagined Malcolm falling from his horse, vulnerable to the sharp sword of a Norman knight.
He drew her tightly to him and picked up one of her plaits, fingering the pale hair. “ ’Tis over now, mo cridhe, so do not fear for me. My wound is minor. Steinar guarded me well.”
“ ’Twas God’s provision, I’ve no doubt, and an answer to my prayers. I am glad the English scribe rode at your back.”
“For his rescue of his king and for all he has suffered at the hands of William, I have offered Steinar lands in Scotland and the title mormaer. I hope you approve.”
“Oh, I do.” It seemed right to her that it should be so. “An English thegn’s son deserves more than a life as a scribe. He will prove worthy of your trust, I am certain.”
“I ordered the scribe to say nothing of the boon I would give him. I want to decide about Colbán first and announce my actions for both at the same time. ’Twould not do to have the scribe favored before my captain.”
“Where are the lands you would give Steinar?”
“I thought to have him take Cormac’s place.
With Steinar’s intelligence and breeding, he will be able to forge alliances Scotland needs for the future.
The men have come to respect him and willingly follow his command.
I would send some of them with him to rebuild the hillfort and he will soon attract others.
I like it not that the Vale of Leven has remained a great gaping crevice, unguarded since that Norse raid. ’Tis a back door into Scotland.”
“I wish we knew who was responsible for the attack,” she said, remembering the terrifying tale Matad had brought them of the slaughter.
“You recall when Atholl first told us of the murder of his sister and Cormac, I sent inquiries to Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson in the Orkneys. They assured me they had not knowledge of it. I have never known them to lie. After all, they are my own relations and foster my son, Duncan. But mayhap unbeknownst to them, they harbor a villain in their midst.”
“ ’Twas a terrible thing to lose Cormac and his wife like that. Catrìona and her brother were fortunate to have escaped.”
“You remind me,” he said, kissing her forehead. “When I told the English scribe I was granting him lands, he made me laugh, saying very seriously he needed a wife to go with them.”
“Did he?” She smiled, imagining the handsome scribe insisting on a wife. There would be many women at Malcolm’s court who would be proud to accept his suit.
“Aye, he is a bold one. And he was quite certain just who he wanted that wife to be.”
She looked at Malcolm expectantly.
“He asked for the hand of Cormac’s daughter.”
“Catrìona—but why? Because her father’s lands were the ones you would give the scribe?”
“Nay, I think not. The look in his eyes told me ’twas the woman herself he wanted. He would have asked for her if I had given him lands in the north instead of the west.”
Concern trickled through Margaret. She liked Catrìona and wanted her happiness, but after Domnall’s rejection, would Catrìona want any man? “What did you tell him?”
“The truth. I’ve had many offers for her, including most recently—and most importantly—one from Colbán.”
“Your captain wants Catrìona? But is it not Elspeth he favors?”
“The young, silly one? Nay. He may dally with her, but ’tis the redhead he has asked for.”
Margaret pondered a match between Catrìona and the captain, to her mind a rough warrior who would do best with a gentle bride. “Colbán is a good man, but I doubt he knows much of Catrìona’s strength and her spirit. As I recall, he allows no dissent in the men he commands or the women he possesses.”
“That is as it may be, mo cridhe, but he has earned such a prize. For some time, I have been thinking to raise Colbán to a mormaer and award him lands. But I would have him close to Dunfermline, not far to the west. ’Tis also possible Cormac’s daughter has no desire to return to the place where her parents were murdered.
After all, the home she remembers is gone.
If I give her to Colbán, he could have the woman he wants and different lands. ”
Margaret let out a breath. “Oh.”
“What is it, mo cridhe?” He nibbled on her neck sending shivers down her throat, making it difficult to concentrate. “I have yet to speak to the girl’s uncle, which I will do before I give her to anyone.”
Margaret considered the possibilities. She wanted to give Catrìona what she never had herself. “If ’twere possible, and each man is acceptable in your eyes, I would let it be the lady’s choice.”
“Now that would be a bad precedent, Margaret, to let your ladies think they could select their husbands. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue? Nay, ’tis best I choose them.
Besides, since her father’s death, the woman is my ward and her lands mine.
” He nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear.
“Still, you know I always seek your advice.”
Margaret tried not to think of his lips sliding down her neck as she pondered the problem.
An idea came to her. Running her fingers over her husband’s hand now stroking her thigh, she said, “What if ’twere done so that you and I know which man she prefers, but none of the other ladies is aware and the announcement, when it comes, is yours, as always? ”
Malcolm laughed. “You are a marvel, mo cridhe.” He kissed her on the mouth, a long lingering kiss. Then he lifted his head to stare into her eyes. “Aye, ’twould work.” He set her carefully on the bench and stood.
Margaret looked up at him. “I was going to make a trip with Catrìona to the shrine of St. Andrew to select a site for the inn on this side of the Forth and was only waiting for your return. If you agree, I could take both guards with us to observe them with her.” To remind him the building of an inn would cost him much coin, she said, “The scribe would also be helpful in accounting for your gold I intend to spend.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Clever, mo cridhe, but ’tis not the gold I think of.
You know I would not send you even to the shrine of St. Andrew without a contingent of my men for protection, especially with the babe’s birth two months away.
Yea, you can have the two guards and more. Would you take all of your ladies?”
“Nay, only Catrìona and Audra, assuming Audra would be willing to leave her father. Cristina can see that my other ladies are kept busy. My travel to the shrine would also spare Bishop Fothad having to come to Dunfermline to hear my confession.”
“Very well. I regret I must stay here to see to my men and the business of the provinces that has accrued in my absence. As well, I must find a new scribe, mayhap one of the Culdee monks who serve in the chapel. How long might you be gone?”
She could see he was anxious. It was all very well for him to charge off to Northumbria to clash swords with the Normans, but he would not want her to go thirty miles to meet with the bishop at St. Andrew’s shrine.
And she loved him for it. Dropping her gaze to her hands, she said, “We could ride to St. Andrews in but two days’ time, except now that I go by cart, I travel more slowly and we will need to make stops to visit the prospective sites for the new inn.
” She did not look into his eyes until she said, “There and back again might take a fortnight.”
Malcolm frowned but, before he could object, she added hopefully, “Mayhap less.”
One hand was fisted on his hip as he ran the other through his mane of dark hair. “All right, but do not be surprised if I ride to join you for the return. You have been gone too long from my sight.”
Margaret smiled, pleased at her husband’s concession. “I would welcome you joining us, My Lord. And by that time I may have learned which of your two guards Catrìona would prefer as a husband.”
“You can add that to your prayers,” he said with a smile. He loved to tease her about her many hours spent in prayer. “And let us hope whichever man the redhead prefers will be acceptable to the lady’s uncle. Atholl will have his say, you can be sure.”