Page 84 of The Refuge

“Aye, we must.”

“Angus will help us,” she said. “Then we can deal with the one who led the raid.”

A look of concern crossed Niall’s face. It was not for lack of courage. “What if he is a relation of the king?”

“I do not believe the king would protect a man who murdered his mormaer.” Then another thought crossed her mind. Turning to the boy, she said, “Giric, do you know the king’s son, the one called Duncan? He would be older than you, mayhap ten or twelve summers, not yet a man.”

“Nay, but if he comes into the hall I can speak to him. What do ye need?”

“I want to know about the girl I saw.”

Giric was eager to help. “I can do it!”

* * *

Margaret stepped through the door of their bedchamber Malcolm opened for her. Afternoon sunlight filled the large space. A dark-haired youth dressed in a tunic of Norse design stood with his back to them looking out the window. He turned and, for the first time, she glimpsed her husband’s eldest son. Duncan was tall for twelve summers and stood very straight, his features finely carved and his eyes dark like Malcolm’s.

“Good day, sir.”

She could see he was trying to play the man for his father.

Malcolm strode to the lad. “I’ll have none of that, son. ’Tis a man’s hug I’ll be having from you.” He reached down to embrace the slim youth. Margaret inwardly smiled. The two had long been separated because of the lad’s fostering and she knew Malcolm had missed him.

When they broke apart, the boy asked, “You are well, Father?”

“Aye, very well, even better now that you are here. I can see I need not ask about you. You have grown like a young oak, sturdy and true. Someday you will make a fine king, Duncan. Did the jarls teach you your letters?”

“A monk taught me both Gaelic and Norse. I can scrive in two languages now,” the youth said proudly. “And I know some Latin and some of the Saxon tongue,” he added with a glance in Margaret’s direction.

Malcolm beamed his approval. “That is good.” Then he turned the lad to face her. “Greet your stepmother, the queen.”

The youth bowed before her. “Greetings, My Lady,” he said in her language.

When he rose, she said, “We welcome you to your home, Duncan. ’Tis time you are with us. You must see your younger brother, Edward. He is a year now and soon,” she said, patting her belly, “there will be another who will be following you around.”

After more questions, father and son filled each other in on the last few years. At times, she heard a Norse word or two. Finally, Duncan said, “Would it be possible to have some food?”

Malcolm laughed. “I have forgotten how hungry I was at your age. Aye, there is food aplenty. Just ask any of the servants in the kitchen to fetch you some and take no scolding for it not being the supper hour.” Margaret smiled when he glanced at her. She did not favor eating all day, but even she made allowances for growing boys.

Duncan raced from their chamber and she went to kiss Malcolm. “I think that went well, My Lord. He is glad to be with you.”

“And I with him,” said Malcolm, drawing her into his arms.

* * *

Torches and candles blazed in the hall that evening as Steinar stood in the shadows, watching Catrìona. Most evenings she came with her cousin to join the queen’s ladies, but tonight she came alone and met Angus, Niall and Giric. ’Twas odd to see the boy since he did not typically eat in the hall in the evening, but given what he had told Steinar, he expected they waited for the king’s guests.

A moment later, all eyes were drawn to the stairs as the king and queen descended with three Northmen and a youth. The Northmen were of fair coloring except for one who was dark. The two who were fair had shorter hair and could have been twins for they looked much alike. All three had mustaches and short beards. The youth had Malcolm’s coloring and his hair was short. A handsome youth, tall and proud in the way he carried his body. Must be Duncan.

The king had his arm draped over the youth’s shoulder. As they headed toward the dais, Steinar heard the king say, “You will sit beside me and the queen, Duncan.”

Steinar turned to see Catrìona. Her face had gone pale and, even from this distance, he could see her expression was hard and her hand gripped the hilt of her knife. Beside her, Angus was reaching for his sword as his eyes narrowed on the Northman with dark coloring.

He is the one! Before Steinar could take a step forward, Catrìona and her companions disappeared through the tower door.

Striding across the hall, he followed outside to see them hurrying in the direction of the harbor where the ships were anchored. Why?

The sun, a golden ball over his right shoulder, would not set for hours. He had plenty of light to follow them down the path to the River Forth. Once his leg had warmed to his forced pace, he gained on them.