Candace Robb: The Fire In The Flint

Jonet stared down at the camp in the glen. ‘So many!’

‘This is but a small camp,’ said James. ‘Parties gather here and are guided to Wallace’s camp further north. Is that why you are certain of our failure, Jonet? You thought there were only a few of us?’

The maid shrugged but she seemed to shrink in on herself.

Margaret wondered at James’s frankness with the maid. ‘Should Jonet see this? Should we not have covered her eyes?’

‘She will not be released to return to her friends in Perth, if that is your worry,’ said James.

He had not mentioned that before. Margaret had thought Jonet would return with her and face her father and her husband. She hid her confusion by gazing out on the camp and saying, ‘I had imagined tents.’ There were none, merely men sitting, standing, pacing amidst scattered plaids and travelling packs.

‘Tents would slow us down,’ James said.

Although there were campfires, none were lit. A few game carcasses hung upside down from a low branch by one of the fire circles, too little for so many men as spread out before her.

Their guides led them among the clusters of men. Margaret bowed her head, certain they could see some sign on her that branded her as the daughter of the woman who had betrayed their comrades.

She recognised William Wallace standing at the centre of a circle of men, the late-afternoon sunlight burnishing his coppery hair. He stood taller than the rest, but that was not what most set him apart. It was rather the respectful distance the men kept from him. Though they pressed together to hear what was said, no one crowded the Wallace, no one so much as touched him with their garments.

Someone must have commented on their approach, for Wallace turned towards them. He nodded at James and began to smile, then his eyes were drawn to Margaret and she thought the smile faded.

The men drew back to let the newcomers through.

‘I hoped to see you before I returned to Kinclaven camp, James,’ said Wallace. ‘Is this the supporter of whom you have spoken so warmly?’

James gave a little bow. ‘This is Margaret Kerr. Margaret, William Wallace.’

‘I am honoured to meet you, sir,’ Margaret said, bowing her head.

‘Dame Margaret, you are most welcome. And is this your handmaid?’

‘She was,’ said Margaret, ‘but no more. She has consorted with the English to spy on my family.’

‘We have brought her in the hope that she may have information of use to you,’ said James.

‘And what of her mother,’ Jonet demanded, looking at Margaret, ‘who favours the English with her visionary warnings?’

A murmur rose among the men. Wallace silenced them with a gesture and then led the newcomers to a fire circle sheltered in a rocky outcropping. It faced the others but was a few yards removed. A young man made room for them, lit a small fire, and offered them water.

It was clear and cold. Margaret rinsed the bad taste from her mouth, then drank her fill and splashed some on her face.

All this while she had kept her eyes averted from those around her. Wallace and James were quietly talking to Jonet. It seemed that the sight of so many men willing to risk their lives for their king had convinced her to cooperate, and she was providing names and activities without hesitation. Margaret leaned back against a sun-warmed rock and closed her eyes. Her turn would come, and she hoped to be calm for it.

Waking from a doze, Fergus found his injured eye swollen shut.

‘It hurts me to look at you, son,’ said Malcolm from a chair beside the bed. He leaned close. ‘But your good eye is clear?’

‘I can see you,’ said Fergus. ‘Where’s Maggie?’

Malcolm shrugged. ‘Heaven knows. Gone out the window, with that devoted maid of hers.’ He handed Fergus a cup. ‘This is the physick they left for you.’

The liquid was bitter, and though Fergus did not drink much he guessed he would not be awake long, for he’d not had much earlier. But it numbed his bruised side and shoulder nicely and he saw no reason to deny himself that comfort. ‘I’m to return to the Wallace and carry a message to Murray near Aberdeen. I’ll have a guide. You won’t stop me.’

Malcolm grunted. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. Abandon our business now and you’ll have no inheritance. You wouldn’t be so foolish.’

‘There’s no trade.’

‘There will be. I trow we’ll chase those bastards back to the border and our ships will sail once more, with Dundee and Perth making up for our loss of Berwick.’

‘I want Maggie.’

‘I told you, she left by her chamber window and Sinclair cannot find her. We’re off to Elcho at dark to seek her.’

‘What of me?’

‘Dame Ada came asking about you. She is sending one of her servants to bide with you the night.’

‘Why would Maggie be at Elcho?’

‘You don’t need to hear of that now, lad. Rest. I’ll sit by you a while longer.’

I’ll go to Aberdeen with or without your blessing , Fergus swore silently, his mouth unable to form the words. Not that it mattered. He knew his father would not listen. The bitter herbs pulled him back down into sleep.

The soft cadence and courtesy of Wallace’s speech and the warmth of the rock had lulled Margaret into a doze. She awoke with a start, her mouth dry. Jonet was nowhere in sight, and another cup of water sat by Margaret. James and Wallace were talking quietly. Loath to call attention to herself, she lifted the cup and drank, thankful again for the soothing coolness. She wondered why James still wore the habit.

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘You’re awake.’

‘Where’s Jonet?’ Margaret asked.

‘She’s no longer your concern,’ said Wallace. He motioned to her to come closer.

They made a small circle of three.

‘I see by your ease that you understand you are among friends, Dame Margaret,’ said Wallace. ‘I am glad of that, for I count on you to confide in me.’ He smiled kindly when she blushed at the allusion to her nap.

He was perhaps her brother Andrew’s age, but as so many of her countrymen did now, he had the eyes of an older man who had put aside the conceits and games of youth. Strange that he should so trust James, the devoted play-actor.

‘I’ll tell you anything that might be of help to our king, sir,’ she said.

‘Be assured that I do not hold you responsible for the activities of your parents,’ he said. ‘James says you have heard about Kinnoull Hill.’

Margaret glanced at James, who gave her an encouraging nod. ‘I have,’ she said.

‘Two more of our men have died from their wounds,’ said Wallace. ‘It is best you hear it from me. Death is expected on such a mission. Our men brought death to theirs. They returned the violence. At the end of every mission I thank God for sparing me this time.’

Margaret bowed her head, seeing no need for words.

‘James has told you of your brother Andrew’s courageous help. Now I want your brother Fergus to carry a message to Murray near Aberdeen. He has a letter of invitation from his uncle the shipbuilder, so he has a good chance of being released if he is caught. His youthfulness will also help — he seems younger than his years.’ Wallace smiled when he said that. ‘Is this acceptable to you?’

‘I shall be proud of my brother if he accepts the mission,’ said Margaret, ‘but it is for Fergus to decide.’

Wallace nodded. ‘Your father and your husband are of interest to me. I doubt that surprises you. Would you tell me what you know of their activities regarding our English troubles?’

Margaret turned to James. ‘You have not told him what you know?’

‘Not what I learned today,’ said James. ‘I thought you would wish to.’