Candace Robb - A Cruel Courtship

He sounded so very weary. ‘Perhaps you should rest, Andrew,’ Margaret suggested.

‘No, I can’t rest yet. I’m as eager to hear more as anyone. I’m better here with you.’

The townsfolk lingered in the square for a long while afterwards, waiting for more troops to arrive, sharing gossip. Suddenly cries rang out and the pounding of men running up the steep street from below echoed against the buildings.

‘It’s a rout!’ a man down towards Bow Street shouted.

As the panting, sweat-soaked men appeared Andrew crossed himself. ‘The guards from below,’ he said.

‘Praise God,’ Ada cried.

A cheer went up as the runners began to collapse and their pursuers arrived, wielding swords. Margaret cried out at the first blow and buried her face in her brother’s shoulder.

‘We’d do more good in prayer,’ he said.

‘Come, all of you,’ Ada commanded.

The women retreated into the house, and without a word Celia and Maus fetched the paternoster beads. By the time they knelt near the fire Matthew, Sandy, John and cook joined them. Soon Alec appeared, ashen faced.

‘They murdered them all,’ he said, ‘right there where they lay.’ Pressing his hand to his mouth, he hurried out the rear door.

‘The killing is hard to stop once it begins,’ said Sandy. ‘I’ve seen it before. We’re no better than them, once it starts.’

They all bowed their heads.

Images of terrible suffering and death filled Margaret’s head. She prayed that it was her imagination and not the Sight. A marsh awash in blood, arms reaching out, imploring, weapons caked in blood and worse, a terrible stench, flies thick on the bodies. Suddenly she straightened with a kenning that drew her to her feet. She was already walking towards the door when the knock came, heavy and insistent. Crossing herself, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

All she saw at first was Fergus, her brother, his head lolling to one side, his eyes unfocused. ‘Dear God in heaven!’ she cried, reaching for him, stroking his bloody cheek. ‘Fergus,’ she moaned, ‘not you. Dear God.’

‘Maggie, step aside. We’ll carry Fergus in,’ someone said.

Behind her, Ada cried out for a pallet by the fire, water and rags.

Andrew gently drew Margaret aside. Two muddy, bloodied men carried Fergus upright towards the fire.

‘His feet are moving,’ Margaret whispered, realising that Fergus was trying to walk. Celia put a cup to her lips. A mouthful of brandywine steadied Margaret.

Moving closer her heart leapt as she recognised James beneath the grime. Free now of Fergus, who had been eased down on to the pallet and was already being tended by Maus and Ada, James approached Margaret, but stopped short of her.

‘I am filthy. Hal found me and together we pulled Fergus from the marsh. If Hal had not seen him fall beneath the English knight’s warhorse-’ James glanced back at the group before the fire.

Andrew was now kneeling beside his brother, making the sign of the cross on his forehead with oil.

Margaret reached for James’s hands and waited until he looked her in the eyes. ‘How serious are his wounds?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Maggie. He’s lost much blood. I think some ribs are broken. He’s not spoken, nor can he walk on his own. But I don’t know the extent of his injuries. All Hal and I thought was to bring him here. I pray we did the right thing.’

He kissed Margaret’s hands. ‘I must sit down.’

‘Of course. I’ll fetch something to drink.’

But Celia was already there with Ada’s flask and cups. Hal had taken a cup and withdrawn to one side of the fire, looking on with dead eyes.

Margaret went to him. ‘Your hair,’ she said, ‘you’ve cut it away from your eyes.’ His straight, fair hair had always fallen down over his eyes. He’d had a habit of speaking down to his shoes, never making eye contact.

He reached to push back what wasn’t there. ‘James said the Wallace wanted to see the eyes of his men.’

Margaret took his hand. ‘God bless you for watching over my brother.’

‘He’d’ve done the same for me, Dame Margaret.’

‘Maggie, call me Maggie,’ she said. ‘And you? Are you injured?’

He shook his head. ‘Bruises, scratches, naught else. I am sorry about your husband.’

‘Much has happened in the month since we parted, Hal. It’s as if a lifetime has gone by.’

‘I know.’

Although it seemed a silly concern when so many men had died, Margaret asked: ‘Where is Mungo?’ He was Fergus’s dog, who’d accompanied him to Aberdeen.

Hal’s eyes warmed. ‘I’ve no doubt that Mungo is eating well down at Cambuskenneth Abbey. We asked the monks if he might stay there during the battle and they were happy to have him. I’ll bring him here if Fergus-’ he dropped his gaze.

‘You’ll feel better if you wash off some of the marsh,’ she suggested, and went to see about hot water for Hal and James, who had nodded off on a bench. It felt better to be in motion.

In the late afternoon Ada drew Margaret aside. ‘I’m not as young as I once was,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you for a while. Fergus will stay here, of course. Hal and James are welcome.’

‘I’ll attend Peter’s requiem with you in the morning.’

Ada kissed her cheek. ‘Bless you.’

Margaret sought out Maus and sent her up to Ada; then she went to sit with Fergus. Celia quietly reviewed his condition.

‘His head is bruised on the right side. He bled from the ear.’

Margaret gently touched the bandage, then the one on his right side. ‘And this?’

‘The ribs feel broken and the bruise beneath the skin is so dark we think he’s bleeding — there was also some blood from his mouth, but his teeth are all there. His right hip also feels different from the left, and he cried out when Maus cleaned it. We’ve sent for Dame Bridget. She must have Archer settled by now.’

Margaret sat down beside Fergus, drawing out her beads.

Much later, after Andrew and Matthew had left for the kirk and James had disappeared, promising to return by dawn, Dame Bridget arrived. Celia took the opportunity to coax Margaret to the backlands for some air, and sat with her beneath the starlit sky, listening to the eerie silence. The air was very welcome.

‘Fergus has always been so full of life,’ Margaret said after a long while. ‘It’s so hard to see him lying there.’

‘He will mend, Mistress,’ Celia said. ‘He is young, strong, and too full of life to let go so easily.’

‘God grant you’re right,’ Margaret said, rising to return to the hall. She found Hal sitting with Fergus, who had begun to snore. Dame Bridget was mixing something over the fire.

‘I’ve never heard a snore from a dying man,’ said Hal. ‘It’s a good sign.’

He made Margaret smile. ‘I miss sitting with you in the stable,’ she said. ‘I did my best thinking there.’

‘I miss Bonny and Agrippa,’ said Hal. They were her uncle’s donkey and cat. ‘But most of all I’ve missed you, Maggie.’

She found him watching her with such intensity she looked away.

‘I know you’re with James Comyn now, but I swore to myself that I’d tell you if I saw you again. I love you, Maggie. Just so you ken that — well, if you- Jesu , I’m a bloody fool.’

Moved by his unexpected declaration, Margaret couldn’t immediately think of a response except, ‘You’re as far from a fool as anyone I’ve ever known.’

He was a good man. He’d always been willing to do whatever she asked, with no reward but a thanks, if that, for he’d been her uncle’s groom, and when she’d taken charge of the inn he’d become her servant. He’d been resourceful, wise and loyal, and she had counted on him time and again. But she’d never considered falling in love with him. He was her age — young, inexperienced. Of course now they had both been forced to mature quickly.