Page 98 of The Refuge

“And what about Scotland?” asked the Mormaer of Ross, father of the queen’s lady, Isobel.

“What of it?” the king tossed back. “Do you think I would give that loathsome usurper any part of Alba? Nay, never think it. I will not!”

Steinar listened to the murmuring that was set off by the king’s suggested course of action. All were skeptical, untrusting of the Norman who had stolen Edgar’s crown. But eventually, heads began to nod.

Duff spoke for all of them. “Aye, ’tis worth a try. But I and the army must be at your back, My Lord.”

“You will not ride with me, old friend,” the king said to the Mormaer of Fife. “I would that you heal. Days in the saddle would only slow your progress.”

Duff opened his mouth to protest but the king raised his hand. “Nay and let that be an end to it.” The king shifted his gaze to Colbán. “You, too, shall remain behind, my captain.”

Colbán nodded, his expression showing he was disappointed but resigned.

Steinar spoke up. “I would lead your guard for Colbán, should you desire it, My Lord.”

“And I would lead your army in Duff’s absence,” said Matad.

The king returned them a tight smile. “Then I look only to the one who leads my archers,” said Malcolm. “Rhodri?”

“I am yours to command, My Lord,” said Rhodri, bowing his head.

Cillyn interrupted. “Nay! My nephew will not be a part of this. I have only just found him and would not risk his life when a kingdom awaits him in Wales. Not until my brother, the king, agrees to the alliance shall my nephew fight again with the Scots.”

Rhodri looked to Malcolm.

The king said, “Aye, have it your way, Cillyn. I would not risk an alliance with Wales. But if I am to be deprived of my best archer, I might ask you to suggest another, Rhodri.”

“A name immediately comes to mind, My Lord, though he is young, not yet seventeen summers. But that is the age at which I first commanded my father’s archers. Niall of the Vale of Leven is very good and his arrows always straight and true. The men like him and he would eagerly serve, should you command it. In the ranks of your archers are others who are older and would aid him.”

“So be it!” exclaimed Malcolm. “We will wait till our army is here and then see what can be gained when the Scottish lion seeks a meeting with the French leopard.”

* * *

Crossing the Forth at a narrow point, William led his army northeast, skirting Dunfermline. He passed Loch Leven without a thought to the monks who dwelled there and rode through lands that some might think possessed great beauty, paying little attention to what surrounded him. He was intent on only one thing: reaching the Tay and there doing battle with his enemy who had harbored the English rebels. Malcolm Canmore was the last obstacle to his dominating all of Britain. William was certain the Scot, who had battled his way to the throne, would not fail to accept the challenge.

The sun was low in the sky over his left shoulder when he reined in his Iberian warhorse, the same stallion he had ridden up Senlac Hill at Hastings, and surveyed the broad River Tay. It was the furthest point north to which fate had brought him. The church tower that rose seventy feet in the air in the village of Abernethy would stand as landmark for the battle to come.

“A fitting place for us to meet, is it not?” he asked Eadric. His men on either side of Eadric nodded their assent, but Eadric remained silent, granting the king he had been forced to serve only a shrug.

* * *

The next afternoon, Margaret was sewing with her ladies when word came the Normans were camped on the banks of the Tay.

“Will there be a great battle?” Elspeth asked anxiously for the Tay ran through her father’s lands.

“I pray not,” said Margaret, “but I have told the king we will fast and pray for him and his men while they are gone.”

“Steinar is to lead the guard in place of Colbán,” said Catrìona. “And my brother leads the archers.”

“My father will head the king’s army,” said Fia.

Each of her ladies had a man close to her whose life would be risked in the next few days. Margaret had thought to distract them with their stitchery but soon came to realize they had set aside their embroidery for their trembling hands were not up to the task.

She wanted to give them hope but would not mislead. “The king will talk of peace before he resorts to war, but William has thrown down the gauntlet at Malcolm’s very door.”

“Does the Norman think to build timbered castles all over Scotland?” asked Audra.

“’Tis said there are hundreds in England now,” said Cristina, the queen’s sister.