A Cruel Courtship (39 page)

‘Then he was a fool,’ said Ada.

Margaret wondered at the turn in the conversation. Her friends seemed to have accepted the change in her and gone on to other concerns. But then she hadn’t told them of her bargain with the Sight. By following it, she had done some good, so she intended to keep her vow to seek out Euphemia when she was free to do so. That would not be received without argument. She expected Ada and Celia to try to persuade her not to take such a radical step. For now she was relieved that they knew, and grateful that they accepted her as she was.

At dawn the noise of men arming and gathering to march woke Andrew and Matthew, though it was not their camp on the move. Word passed through the camps that some infantry had been sent over the bridge. The battle had begun. Andrew soon found himself surrounded by soldiers wanting his blessing. It was not only Sir Francis’s men, but many of those who had stopped him as he moved through the camps a few days earlier with Pete and Will.

‘Do they think your blessing will make the arrows and axes glance off them?’ Matthew asked.

‘For a man who cannot learn his letters, you are a canny one, Matthew,’ Andrew said.

‘I pray they don’t come after us when their comrades are killed,’ said Matthew.

Andrew was finally eating some hard bread soaked in watered ale when Holm arrived, cursing and kicking at anything in his path. The infantry that had been sent over Stirling Bridge had been called back because Surrey had overslept and was furious that someone else had ordered the battle begun. Andrew feared Holm would end up killing one of his own men, but he eventually gained control of himself, though he was anything but calm.

The news was enough to sow panic in the camp. Andrew had never seen men so agitated as the soldiers were now. Rumours abounded – that Wallace had fierce highlanders waiting to pick them off from beneath the bridge, that sea monsters were heading upriver from the firth – and fights broke out as fear frayed tempers.

‘If King Edward were here he’d have Surrey’s head, and ride with it into battle,’ said Sir Francis, already looking spent and anxious. ‘I’ve never known such incompetence. I have a bad feeling about this day, Andrew. Pray for us.’ They had been ordered to the bridge once more, and this time troops seemed to be crossing.

Andrew blessed him, and was choked with sorrow as he watched Sir Francis ride off, leading his men into the chaos. Andrew might be free now,
but he respected Sir Francis and had grown fond of many of the men who had come to him for absolution and guidance. He wished he were ministering to the army of his own cause, but that did not make him hate these men. This was a war begun by a king who had sucked the heart out of Wales and now intended to do so here in Scotland. It angered Andrew that a king’s lust for power had forced men to take sides against their fellows with whom they had no personal argument. He prayed that Sir Francis, his men, and all the men he had met here might pass this day unharmed, but he did not have much hope. There was a witless feel to the movement of the troops.

When they were alone except for servants and camp followers, Andrew and Matthew packed their few belongings, adding some of the dwindling provisions, and headed up the hill to Stirling. He might be surer of escape by heading into the countryside, but he was worried about Maggie. His heart lifted a little with the thought of seeing her. But Matthew was muttering prayers beneath his breath as they climbed.

Andrew tried to distract him with talk about what they’d missed most since leaving Holyrood Abbey.

‘The bed I thought so hard,’ said Matthew.

‘I miss the quiet work of copying out a letter in my best hand,’ said Andrew, surprising himself with fond memories of the cloister.

‘The singing,’ said Matthew. ‘And the food.’

They had eaten well at Holyrood.

‘How will we find Dame Margaret?’ asked Matthew as houses began to appear.

‘Quiet, Matthew,’ said Andrew, catching sight of guards ahead. ‘We’re headed for the kirk. We know no one in the town.’

‘Halt! What do you want in the town?’ one of the men demanded. He looked more frightened than fierce.

‘I am Father Andrew, late of the Hospital of the Trinity on Soutra Hill. My servant and I have been travelling long with the troops and our supplies are gone. We would take communion wafers from the kirk here to the men below, for their blessings before the battle.’

‘How goes it below, Father?’ the other asked.

‘Our men have begun crossing the river. Wallace and Murray will be only now seeing how great a host comes after them.’

The frightened one made a noise that might have been a chuckle. ‘You may go on through,’ he said, ‘but without weapons.’

The other moved forward to search them.

‘We have nothing but our small knives for the table, I assure you.’

The guards stepped aside, letting them pass.

‘Just two of them?’ Matthew whispered as they moved on.

Andrew shook his head. ‘Behind the house there
were more, ready to ambush us at a signal. God is watching over us.’

The streets were almost deserted, and the few folk they encountered averted their eyes when they saw strangers. Andrew headed for the kirk.

An elderly priest greeted them in the nave.

‘We had no word of a priest visiting,’ said Father John. He seemed to be supervising the cleaning of a chantry chapel; it looked as though someone had been living there.

‘Sanctuary?’ Andrew guessed.

The old priest looked uncomfortable.

Andrew quickly explained who he was.

With a sigh of relief, Father John relaxed. ‘Dame Maggie, yes, she is biding with Ada de la Haye.’ He nodded. ‘I can direct you there. But tell me, how did you find your way here? The English surround us.’

‘With care,’ said Andrew, softening the curt answer with a smile. ‘Is there a place my servant and I might stay tonight?’

‘You’ll want to ask Father Piers,’ said John. ‘I am his assistant; I make no decisions.’ He led them across the kirk yard to the rectory where a clerk said that Father Piers was at prayer.

‘I know that,’ said John. ‘Tell him that Father Andrew, Dame Maggie’s brother, is here. He’s made it through the English down below and deserves a welcome.’

Andrew thanked the elderly priest.

The clerk looked interested. ‘You’ve been down there, Father?’

Andrew nodded. ‘And if I lodge here tonight I’ll have a tale or two for you.’

He and Matthew were soon invited to lodge with the priests; once relieved of their things they headed to Ada’s house. Andrew was not yet saying prayers of thanks for deliverance. Not until he was safely beneath Ada’s roof and knew his sister safe.

‘Andrew!’ Maggie cried, running to him as the butler showed him in to the hall. ‘I can’t believe it’s you. I’ve prayed and prayed for you.’ Her hug was fierce, as if she intended never to let him go.

‘I’ve heard about Roger,’ he whispered before they parted. ‘I am sorry, Maggie.’

She stepped away, wiping her eyes, but remembering her duty she welcomed Matthew. ‘Let us sit.’ She led them to some benches away from the fire, where a young man lay on a pallet, but they had little time alone. Indeed, he learned only that their father had returned from Bruges and was lodging at Elcho Nunnery, hoping to win their mother back to the marriage bed.

He was still puzzling over that when Ada entered, and then her maid. Gradually the entire household joined them, wanting to hear of the battle below. They were all disappointed that he’d left the camps before there was any news to tell. Andrew reclaimed a little of their interest by
describing the confusion before the battle and the guards halfway down the hill.

‘Do you think our men have a chance?’ Ada asked.

‘More than a chance,’ said Andrew. ‘Surrey behaves as if he is fighting against idiots, and that his mere presence will send terror through the ranks of his opponents. We all know that isn’t true – and so do the other English commanders.’

‘Then why are you not smiling, Father?’ asked Sandy.

‘Because I have come to know the men I served, and most are good men who will be much mourned, just as those who may be lost to us this day.’

On that dour note the servants dispersed, making excuses about work that needed doing.

‘I should leave you two in peace,’ said Ada to Andrew and Maggie. ‘Matthew, why don’t you come out to the kitchen?’

Suddenly Andrew and Maggie were alone in the hall except for the young man by the fire.

‘Who is he?’ Andrew asked.

‘Archie,’ said Maggie. ‘I’ll explain about him later, after you’ve told me about your time at Soutra and the English camps. You’ve had such an adventure.’

‘I might call it many things, but not adventure, Maggie. Still, it wasn’t so horrible at Soutra.’ He told her about his friendship with Father Obert, and how he had arranged for Andrew’s release.
‘Now it’s your turn, Maggie. How did you come to be here, in the centre of the fighting?’

‘I came as a spy for James Comyn. To find out why his messenger had faltered.’ She nodded towards the young man by the fire.

‘Damn him! Why didn’t Comyn send his own kinswoman into danger – why you?’

Andrew realised he’d said the wrong thing even before Maggie snapped, ‘I chose to come, Andrew.’

What a stubborn lass she was still. ‘Aye, for you didn’t understand what you’d risk.’

‘I’m no one’s fool.’ She said it with a quiet authority.

Andrew, remembering their arguments in Edinburgh, saw how much she had matured. ‘At least you’ve had Ada,’ he said. ‘She’s a one for keeping misfortune at bay.’

But he was playing his old role with her. In truth he was feeling oddly numbed. It seemed as if he’d been moving through a dream since he’d left the camp, and he half believed that he was in the battle down below and was cruelly teasing himself with thoughts of freedom.

‘What is it, Andrew? What’s wrong?’

He tried to describe what he was feeling.

‘I should have guessed,’ said Maggie, ‘after what you said earlier, about them being good men. This is the sort of thing I want to understand, Andrew. This struggle has taken over our lives. I want to understand it.’

‘For that you’d need to talk to Balliol, Bruce and Longshanks.’ All at once Andrew was overcome by the thought of the lives that might be lost by twilight. ‘God help us.’

‘What can I bring you? We have a little ale left, and cheese and–’

Andrew held up his hands to stop her litany. ‘My body is fine, Maggie. We brought some provisions from the camp, and I shall dine with Fathers Piers and John tonight. I understand that food is in short supply in town.’

Maggie smiled at herself, and in that moment she was lovelier than ever. ‘I’m forgetting that you’re no longer the skinny boy who had to be coaxed into sitting still and completing a meal. I’m just so happy you are here. I feared so for you.’

Despite her smile Andrew saw a great sadness in her eyes, and taking her hand he told her again how sorry he was about Roger.

She took a deep breath and bowed her head. ‘I was unkind to him when last I saw him. It’s difficult to forgive myself.’

‘God would have reunited you if that was meant to be, Maggie. You risked your life to find Roger – that required more love than most wives are ever asked to give. Remember that.’ He kissed her hand and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead and holding her tightly for a while as she silently wept.

The moment was interrupted by knocking at the door. The butler emerged from somewhere in the
hall – Andrew wondered how he had managed to be so invisible – and opened the door to a tiny woman.

‘I would sit with my son for a while,’ she said.

Maggie nodded to the butler, ‘Evota is welcome, John.’

As the woman entered the room she noticed Andrew and almost stumbled. While she gazed on him he was struck by the hardness of her eyes, as if she had closed them against intruders. He wondered what had made her so fearful of others.

Ada joined them. ‘Maggie will tell me all you’ve told her, I know, but I must ask how you knew we were here, Andrew.’

‘Sir Simon Montagu had a word with me last night.’

Ada winced at the mention of his name.

‘Simon,’ said Maggie. ‘I hadn’t thought to ask how you knew.’

‘It was he who told me of Roger’s death, suggesting that your son Peter might find Maggie a good match. I don’t mean to insult you, but he made it seem a threat.’

Ada crossed herself. ‘My son.’ She glanced at Maggie questioningly.

‘We’ve not yet spoken of him,’ said Maggie.

Something had both women holding their breath.

‘Has he tried to force the match?’ asked Andrew.

‘Let’s go without, get some air,’ Maggie suggested, nodding towards Evota and Archie, who
were quietly pretending not to listen.

‘Yes,’ said Ada. ‘I have a favour to ask of you, Andrew.’

By now it was early afternoon, and shouts and a steady roar came from down below. The battle must be engaged. Andrew crossed himself and prayed for the souls of those who were falling. Ada and Maggie had paused at the sounds and crossed themselves as well, both bowing to pray. They were all one in this moment, shocked by the nearness of death.