Randall Wallace - Braveheart

“You think he is an honorable man,” Edward said, his eyes questioning

“I have just said that he is a savage. But even savages have their rules.” She added quickly, “I also believed the trip could serve the purposes of the king Nicolette and such small band will most likely travel north completely without the notice of anyone. But should it happen that Wallace ever learned of it. It would seem to him that the royal family in London has accepted his leadership of Scotland and that we anticipate a peaceful future with our neighbors to the north.”

Edward nodded. He wanted to change the subject and looked around for some excuse. “That painting of the lavender fields is beautiful. Who did it for you?”

“I did it, m’Lord.”

“You? I had no idea.”

“Shall I call for refreshment?”

This time he did not protest, and the princess had her servants bring warm ale and bread. The prince joined her beside the fire but did not touch any of the food and made forced conversation about castle construction. He clearly had no interest in the subject. Soon he excused himself and left her alone.

She had the servants clear away the dishes they had brought, and she sat down alone by the fire and stared into the flames. And there she saw it all clearly.

Edward had not come to find a friend. In all his loneliness and pain, he was not seeking an ally, either political or emotional. He had come to learn if she could be trusted. He had come to spy.

Longshanks had sent him.

The princess was glad she had sent Nicolette.

THE RETURN TO SCOTLAND WAS A TRIP LONG AND HARD. ON the way south to fight the enemy, the Scottish warriors had been difficult to hold back; now they were difficult to move forward. Villages along the side routes were tempting targets for many of the Highland clans that made up the Scottish army. Used to making independent decisions and feeling their obligations to the army as a whole were over, now that it was withdrawing victorious, they began to dart off at will to rustle sheep and ransack villages. No one within Wallace’s inner circle, including Wallace himself, had any great desire to discourage this; the Scots had suffered so much in the past that it seemed to them only right that the English should feel the same pains. Rape was another matter; when Wallace learned of it happening, he halted the march of his army, had the offenders tried before an assembly of the clan chieftans, and hanged.

The boredom and frustration of the retreat were shattered on a cold, dull day that began like every other day on the long march home. There was a commotion at the rear of the army, guarded by a clan of wild but unbreakable Highlanders led by Seorus, a friend of old Campbell. Seorus sent a runner forward to his friend. Wondering at the message he received, Campbell sent a mounted rider back for confirmation. In a few minutes the rider galloped back and conferred with Campbell, who the spurred his horse up to Wallace at the head of the column.

Wallace, having noticed the running and riding back and forth, had grown edgy and ready to fight. “What is it?” he asked with excitement. “Is there a force to our rear?”

“Aye,” old Campbell said, frowning, “but none to attack us. It’s more of those Frenchmen — but only a few. And they say there’s a woman with them.”

Leaving Campbell at the head of the column, Wallace took Hamish and rode to the rear.

There they found Seorus and his clansmen, who had taken the trailing position from the outset of the march home, protecting the army from any attack from the rear. Now the Highlanders had stopped and were turned to face the road along which they had just come. Barely a stone’s throw down that same road was a small clump of riders in French blue. Their horses were lathered and filthy as if they had ridden long, and hard, but they sat erect, doing nothing but waiting. Seeing Wallace ride up, Seorus trotted to him and said, “There’s a woman with ’em.”

“You walked out to see them?” Wallace asked.

“Oh, aye. The woman is dressed like they are, in a man’s cape. She tried to keep her face turned from me, but I ran around among ’em like a sniffin’ dog. Tried to talk to ’em. But I don’t talk their language, and they don’ talk mine. They just sat there on their horses and said, “Wallace.”

With Hamish, Seorus, and three more of the High-landers, Wallace advanced halfway to the group of riders. Wallace and Hamish dismounted. The French guards opened their ranks, and from their midst, the smallest of their party rode forward, reached the Scots, and dismounted.

Wallace saw that it was the handmaiden who had accompanied the princess. Nicolette was tired; her pretty face was pale with fatigue and caked with the dust and sweat of her journey, and yet her dark eyes flashed with the excitement of her adventure. “I have a message for William Wallace,” she said in French. “For him and him only.”

“I trust these men with my life,” Wallace answered.

“It is not your life along that is at stake here.”

In Gaelic, Wallace said to his men, “She has something to tell me. And she won’t do it with the rest of you standing here.”

Nicolette watched as Hamish and the Highlanders, keeping in sharp eye on the French escort, pulled back out of earshot. Then she glanced behind her to be sure that the guards, too, had kept their distance. Even with no one else close by, she did not speak above a whisper. “She says she’s sorry for the king’s cowardice.”

“Who says?”

“She.” Nicolette stared at Wallace. He knew exactly who she meant. “And she says something else. Nicolette paused and lowered her voice even more. “What I am telling you could get me hung. Do you understand?”

It seemed to Wallace that this girl was enjoying the drama. He nodded.

“She says the king will attack you from the rear with a combined army of English troops ferried over from France and Welsh bowmen brought up along the west coast.”

Wallace listened, dead still. The girl had not exaggerated the seriousness of her secret; giving this information to an enemy of the king was treason.

Nicolette had memorized this message she was delivering and she frowned, intent on reciting it exactly: ” The recent avowals of a desire for peace were but a pretext, meant to lure you off your guard. She who sent me did not know this at the time those avowals were made —”

“So why does she tell me now?” Wallace interrupted.

Nicolette’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment; her lips curled slightly, almost but not quite smiling.

“Ah, monsieur,” she said, “why does she tell you now? That is for you to answer.” The flirty and brave little handmaiden went back to her recitation. “The attack against you will come soon. There is little time to waste. You must choose your own course — whether flight or compromise. But fighting is foolish.”

“Then she knows already that I am a fool.”

“Please! You interrupt, monsieur, and I must tell you this exactly. Where was I? Let’s see… Little time… choose your own course… Fighting foolish… Ah, yes! Here is the rest: Crossbows are coming from Holland. Overland from Dover. At least a thousand.” Nicolette smiled, curtsied, and moved to her horse, holding out her hand in Wallace’s direction. Taking the hint, he tossed her up onto the saddle. She nodded her thanks, then looked into Wallace’s eyes one last time, As if she had been instructed to take in every detail of him to discuss with her mistress later.

“By the way,” she added, “should it become known that you and I have talked, I will say that I was intercepted on my way to Castle Bonchamps, to which I have been dispatched on an architectural survey for my mistress, the castle’s owner. I will say that I was interrogated, found to be peaceful, and released. I suggest you tell your men the same story — since it is true.”