Page 96 of The Refuge

“Aye, he still fears the queen’s brother. Edgar is popular with the people.”

“As is only right.” The king called for wine and food for the men. The three who had ridden in haste to Dunfermline appeared weary. “I suppose you rode straight through?” inquired the king.

Maerleswein brushed the dust from his tunic. “Aye, I came as soon as I had the news.”

“Sit and eat.” Malcolm looked about the hall and seeing Steinar standing to the side, beckoned him. “I need your scribe services. Join us and bring your quill and parchment.”

Steinar did not need to hear the urgency in the king’s voice to know this was a perilous situation. Hurriedly, he fetched the requested items and took his place beside the two men. The guards who came with Maerleswein sat farther down the table.

A servant set goblets of wine before them and platters of bread, cheese and pears. “How many ride with William?” asked Malcolm who ignored the refreshments.

Maerleswein reached for a goblet and a hunk of cheese. “The reports say he rides with hundreds of mounted knights as well as men-at-arms following on foot. ’Tis the same way he came upon York. But there is more.”

Steinar watched the king, who appeared to be bracing for a storm, his expression dour. “What more?”

“Ships have been sighted off the coast of Lothian heading north toward the Firth of Forth.”

Malcolm cursed and slammed his fist on the table, causing the platter to jump. “Would he sail to my very threshold?”

“Or farther north,” Maerleswein suggested. “If they sail to the Firth of Tay, he would have his ships behind you and his army before you.”

“’Tis just like the Norman invader. He would surround the lion’s very lair.”

“Delay would be our friend just now,” suggested Maerleswein as he gulped down the wine.

“Aye, I must have time to draw my army to me.” Then turning to Steinar whose quill hovered over the parchment, the king said, “The missives you sent before for the raid on Northumbria. We must have them again, only this time, summon only the mormaers who are within a day’s ride. I would have all the men they can gather, not just a tithe. They must ride for Dunfermline with all speed when they get the message. Our future depends upon it.”

Steinar nodded and began to write with fury.

“Will you stay the night?” the king asked Maerleswein.

“Nay, I must return to Lothian. Davina is with child and happily so. I have sent her to safety, but I must join my men and those of her father to see what can be done. Mayhap the Normans do not look to plunder Lothian but we must take all steps to see they do not. I worry our coast is vulnerable.”

“If William’s army rides fast, they may pass quickly through your lands on their way to me,” said Malcolm. “We can pray Lothian will be spared.”

The two men grasped forearms and met each other’s gaze. “Godspeed,” said Maerleswein.

“Godspeed,” echoed the king.

Steinar was still writing when the tower door thumped closed and the king turned to him. “When you have finished, summon my guard. And best include Colbán. He will be offended if I think him too weak to have a role in this fight. I will go and see Duff about what part of my army lies close.”

Steinar stood from his writing and dipped his head. “As you wish, My Lord.” Then he returned to his seat and took up his quill. He would finish and dispatch the missives and then go for the guard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malcolm whip around and head toward the stairs. When the king reached them, he looked up and into the face of his queen.

* * *

Margaret waited until she and Malcolm were in their chamber and the door closed before turning to look into his troubled face. “My Lord?”

Gently, he laid his palm on her belly. “Your time draws near, mo cridhe?”

She stared into his warm brown eyes wondering, with Scotland at stake and the Conqueror at their doors, why he would choose now to ask. “A month, no more.”

He led her to a bench and sat beside her. His shoulders, normally so straight, appeared to sag with the weight of the responsibility for his people. “I would not be at war when the lad is born. This battle must be over soon.”

Rising, he reached for his sword and belted it on, adding to his clothing other weapons he customarily wore, including the long seax he sheathed at his hip. “I’d best keep these with me from now on.”

Her heart sped thinking of his blood being shed again by a Norman sword. She had only one chance to call him back from the brink of death and it was now.

“My Lord, will you not first count the cost?”