Page 35 of The Refuge

“Do you hope for another son?” asked one woman who held the hand of a small boy.

Margaret smiled. “I will take whatever the Good Lord gives me. But the king would like another son.”

The women smiled their understanding.

As the queen spoke to the women, a group of travelers passing on the road stopped to bid her good day. By their clothing of rough woolen tunics and heavy cloaks and the leather satchels the men carried, Catrìona judged them to be pilgrims.

“From where do you come?” asked Margaret of the man who, leaning on his wooden staff, appeared to be leading the party.

“We come from Dun Edin across the Forth, bound for the shrine of St. Andrew,” said the bearded man. His face was weather-beaten, his dark hair long and tangled.

“Did you have any problem crossing the Forth?” the queen asked.

“Nay but the fare for the crossing was dear,” he replied. Catrìona was aware pilgrims often traveled with little coin and accepted charity where it was offered.

“’Tis a worthy pilgrimage,” Margaret remarked. She stood and walked toward the small party, pressing coins into their hands. “To help you on your way.”

They thanked her profusely and departed for the village where they said they hoped to find lodging for the night before they resumed their journey eastward.

As the pilgrims continued down the road, Margaret resumed her seat on the stone, her gaze following them until they disappeared from sight. Then the queen returned her attention back to the village women. After some conversation, the women made as if to leave.

“Wait,” Margaret cried, holding out a hand to stop them. Rising from the stone bench, she took off her scarlet cloak. To the woman who drew her thin shawl tightly around her, the queen said, “You have no cloak. Take mine.”

“Oh no, My Lady,” the woman said, dismayed by the queen’s generous offer.

But Margaret would not be gainsaid. “I have others and this one I would give to you.”

It was then Catrìona realized several of the village women wore no cloaks.

Audra was the first to follow the lead of their mistress, taking her own cloak from her shoulders and placing it around one of the village women.

Seized by a sudden desire to show kindness to the women, Catrìona took off her cloak. Tears came to her eyes as she walked to one of the women whose height was nearly her own and whose rust-colored tunic was simple and could not be very warm. Two young children clung to her skirts. Handing the green cloak to the woman, she said, “It will look nice on you and it will keep you warm.”

The woman accepted Catrìona’s cloak. “Thank you, my lady. ’Tis very kind.”

Catrìona sensed she had changed as a result of Margaret’s influence, for though she loved her green cloak, another lay in her chest, while this woman had none. What joy it gave her to give to one in need.

The rest of the queen’s ladies removed their cloaks and gave them to the women who had none.

All except for Isla of Blackwell.

Isla drew her beautiful blue cloak more tightly around her and turned her head away. Catrìona remembered Isla’s heated exchange with Audra that morning and what she had said about why she had come.

As the women and their children departed, Margaret resumed her seat on the flat stone and sat back staring toward the River Forth, a distant look in her eyes.

From where they were standing, Catrìona could see a slice of blue water just above the vegetation in the distance. The wide river was not far.

She and the other ladies resumed their seats around Margaret. After some time, the queen beckoned Catrìona to her. She did not hesitate and went to sit beside the queen.

Without her cloak, Catrìona felt the cold of the stone through her gown as she took her seat and knew the queen had to feel it as well. “My Lady?”

Margaret spoke in a soft voice. “I have been thinking about the pilgrims, Catrìona. I would make their way easier as they journey to the shrine of St. Andrew.”

Catrìona waited expectantly for Margaret to explain, not understanding why the queen had singled her out.

“I want you to help me,” added the queen, turning her blue eyes on Catrìona.

She considered it an honor to be asked by the virtuous queen to assist her but still the question rose to her lips. “Me?”