With a silent prayer, Thomas shoved aside the flap, stepped inside, then halted.
Paces away Mistress Alesone stood rigid before their sovereign. The thick fabric scraped closed, and she turned. Her face grew ashen.
What in God’s name was going on? With her presence, whatever had occurred didna concern the Templars. Relived, Thomas stepped forward, bowed. “I am here as you requested, Sire.”
Within the firelight, the king’s troubled gaze met his. He waved him closer, then, glanced toward a stocky, blond nobleman at his side. “Lord Kinlock, I thank you for your haste. We will speak further in the morning.”
“Aye, Your Grace.” Lord Kinlock bowed. He glanced at Alesone, his gaze lingering a moment before shifting to Thomas. Then he departed.
Confused by the stranger’s presence, Thomas moved beside Alesone.
A spark popped to the frozen ground, flared, and then blackened.
Robert the Bruce clenched the arms of his chair. “Sir Thomas, the Earl of Kinlock has brought troubling news this eve. I informed Mistress Alesone of this prior to your arrival.”
That explained her upset appearance as well as the earl’s presence.
“Your Grace,” she said on a shaky whisper, “I beg of you. There are other alternatives to—”
“’Twill be done as I explained. However much I wish otherwise, we dinna have the luxury of time.”
She gave a curt nod.
The monarch’s eyes shifted to him. “Sir Thomas, I sent for you and your men to train my knights and support my cause. Now an issue of grave importance has arisen, one I entrust to you.”
By the way Alesone had begun to tremble, the reason involved her.
“Time is crucial. I will share essential details, nay more.” The Bruce paused. “What I tell you is in the strictest of confidence.”
He nodded. “Aye, Your Grace.”
“This night I have learned that Mistress Alesone’s father has posted an offer of gold for her capture.”
Her hands fisted at her side.
Gold? God’s teeth, to warrant such ransom, she was far from the common lass he’d believed. More perplexing, with a camp full of trained knights, why would King Robert require the skills of a Templar for the task?
“Your Grace,” she rasped. “The details of the situation are irrelevant.”
Robert the Bruce scowled. “With the amount of coin your father has offered for your return, my concern is the amount may sway the allegiance of one within my ranks, which I canna allow. Few men are as loyal as Sir Thomas. As he will provide your escort, he must know the truth.” The king’s gaze shifted to him. “Sir Thomas, Mistress Alesone’s father is Lord Comyn.”
Through sheer will he kept his face void of shock, but the disclosure reverberated through him with brutal force. The paleness of her skin and the fear in her expression all now made sense. And why wouldna she be shaken? Her father was the Bruce’s enemy, the man their forces were preparing to battle.
More unsettling, the king’s anger wasna at the blood tie, but at Comyn’s offer of ransom, which meant that the Bruce had known her father’s identity from the start. Yet he’d allowed her within camp and offered her protection. Unsure if he was more confused or upset, Thomas focused on their sovereign.
“In secret,” Bruce continued, “Lord Comyn and King Philip have made an alliance. Upon the marriage of Mistress Alesone to one of France’s powerful nobles, King Philip will send gold, men, and arms to support Comyn. A union I canna allow.”
“Why does King Philip care about Scotland?” Thomas asked, damning France’s ruler with his every breath.
“’Twould seem with his coffers refilled,” the Bruce said with disgust, “France’s king has decided to expand his power. The marriage of King Philip’s daughter to King Edward II gives Phillip a powerful ally to our south. With Scotland’s loyalties torn, King Philip intends to take advantage of our weakened state to claim our country as his own.”
The merciless bastard. ’Twould seem his destroying the Knights Templar and the treasure stolen from their temple in Paris had nae sated his hunger for wealth and power. However greedy, France’s monarch had an elemental problem.
“Sire,” Thomas said, “regardless of the marital tie, Edward of Caernarfon holds little interest in seizing Scotland. Any actions that suggest otherwise are due to pressure from his nobles rather than his own desire.”
The king nodded. “On that we agree, but caught up in his own provincial agenda, once the wedding is done, with a pledge of unity forged between King Philip and Lord Comyn, I fear there will be little Edward of Caernarfon can do to stop France’s king. Further, unless the aggressions affect the young sovereign or his soil, I doubt England’s king will care little about Scotland’s plight.” Grave eyes held his. “Now you understand why I canna allow this match to occur.”
Indeed. However much he and the lass didna see eye to eye, he regretted the circumstance that had placed her as a pawn of nobility. Like the Knights Templar, a sacrifice by those in power.
