Page 77 of The Falcon Laird
“From what I heard there, they are alive and well, my lord, though confined,” she said. He drew in a breath of relief and listened as she told him what she knew, some of which was new to him—cages for two of the women, confinement for the others; the sweeping excommunication of many, and King Edward’s continued insistence that the Scottish women were outlaws. She told him briefly of her illness and how she came back to Kilglassie—once again married to an English knight.
“Gavin Faulkener,” Robert said, nodding. “I know the name. A tall man, blond. The Angel, some called him when we were young knights at Edward’s court. I had heard he was exiled after Berwick, though became an ambassador later. Some of our Scottish nobles traveled to France last year to seek aid from the French king, and spoke with Faulkener there. Wallace was among them. I heard that Faulkener had more sympathy for the Scots than the English. How is it he has come to Kilglassie?”
“Edward gave him Kilglassie, and custody of me. He is my husband. And I will say that he rescued me from that cage, my lord. He did not wait upon Edward while the king dallied over the orders.”
“I see. From what I know of him, you are in fine hands, though he is English.” She nodded, knowing how true that was. “Tell me your other news.”
Christian looked at Fergus. The priest leaned forward. “We are private here, my lord king? Good. The word we have is that the English mean to lure you out into the open to fight full combat. Your Highland mountain goat methods are muckle frustrating to them.” Robert smiled a little as Fergus continued. “The English king is furious, and his ire makes him ill. Some say he’ll not live long. He pressures his commanders to drive you south where their troops are thickest. They mean to engage you and your men in formal battle and wipe you out by sheer numbers and the strength of horse and armor.”
“They would have the clear advantage over us in that case. That is why we keep to the mountains and engage in small skirmishes, avoiding larger scenes.”
“My lord, there is a man, a carpenter from Kilglassie, who has been among your men.”
“A distant cousin of mine. What of him?”
Fergus softened his voice to explain what he and Christian had overheard. “Be wary, my lord.”
“I surely will.” Robert snapped a little twig in his hands. “Now, one other thing. Christian—what of the gold? Have the English found it? They have been persistent for a few years without success.”
She shook her head. “Henry tore the castle apart looking. And since I burned it down, we have been rebuilding—and still naught has been found. I do not know where else to look. Thefire must have destroyed it, or perhaps, sire, it never existed. Perhaps it was just legend all along.”
“If we cannot make use of that gold, it is well the English cannot either. So be it.” Robert sighed, and then smiled at her. “I very much appreciate your loyalty, my dear. I know how hard it was for you to burn your home. Harder still to be caged like a beast. Dear God, Cousin, I am glad to see you so well. And I am heartened to hear that my wife and daughter, my sisters, and my cousin may yet survive.”
He laid a large, strong hand on her arm. She saw his eyes mist over. “So many of my friends and family have endured pain and come to grief because of my decision to take my place as king of Scots,” he said softly. “So many have died. My friends—my brothers, gone now but for Edward, who is yet one of my most loyal men.” He paused as if he could not speak further. Christian waited.
“Robert, my lord king. We all do this because we know it is worth our lives and our hearts,” she said. “You have our loyalty. You fight from heather and hill and forest and risk your life every day for Scotland and the Scots. This final agony, these last months of hardship, will surely bring us our freedom from the English. You are the truest, bravest king of Scots, my lord cousin. Many trust you, more each day, and the numbers grow. We are seeing it ourselves.”
Robert watched her through eyes gray as thunderclouds. “You lift my heart with your news, and your gift of men, and your loyalty.”
“You are a man who follows his heart and soul, and we follow and trust you always.”
Robert smiled and pressed her hand gently. They sat together silently, all three, while the wind whistled through the heavy, sweeping branches. Drops of icy rain began to spatter onthe stones around them. Christian pulled up her hood against the drizzle.
“You should go,” Bruce said. “Thank you. I sorely needed this. Your love and loyalty mean much to me, as good as sword-arms ready at my back.”
“This icy, miserable weather must be a trial for of you,” Christian said. “How will you fare over the whole of winter?”
He shrugged. “We may need to retreat to the Isles where winter is a bit milder. For now, it has been hard, I admit. And we have little hope of finding good shelter from coming gale like that one there.” He looked toward the gray sky.
“Let me help, my lord cousin,” Christian said. “I will send Fergus’s sons with sacks of barley and more blankets.”
“We have just enough for now,” Robert said. “But there may be another way you could help.”
“Anything, my lord,” Fergus said.
“Christian’s father once told me, years ago, of a sally port through the rock beneath Kilglassie, at the level of the loch. I believe there is a tunnel from the outside that leads to an underground room.”
She nodded. “That tunnel has been closed for years. We use the chamber for storage now.”
“It would be a fine place for a group o’ men to seek shelter from a winter gale,” Fergus said.
“It might,” the king said.
Christian stared at Fergus, then turned to her cousin. “But my husband is an English knight.”
“He need not know,” Robert said. “If there are only a few of you there, as you described, it might do for my group—a dozen or so. A safe place would be appreciated.”
“But the English are patrolling the area. I am not sure it is safe at Kilglassie. Hastings might return with his men.”
