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Robbie curled one corner of his lip in a disparaging sneer before crouching to wipe his blade clean again on The Fenwick’s blood-stained plaid. Then he turned his back on the dying man. He was done with him.
With aching gentleness, Robbie lifted Kat from the cart. He steadied her when she would have stumbled.
“Can ye walk, d’ye think? The horses are no’ too far away.”
She clutched his arm and nodded. “I want to go home.”
It was mid-morning the next day by the time they approached Stirling. The hour had been somewhat late to start the return journey the previous evening, though neither Robbie nor James was averse to travelling at night. But, despite her assertion that she was fine, it was obvious that Kat was exhausted and badly bruised from her ordeal. They agreed to make camp and sleep for a few hours before setting off.
Their progress had been slow at first because of the eight prisoners on foot behind them, but eventually Robbie, James, and Katherine, accompanied by most of their men, had left the limping and bedraggled Fenwicks in the care of half a dozen guards and gone on ahead.
James spotted the approaching force first. “Who is that?” he muttered, standing in his stirrups to peer into the distance. “I do not recognise those colours. They are not Scots.”
A large force came into view, headed towards them. All were mounted, approaching at a swift canter. Robbie estimated perhaps a hundred armed men, led by two knights in full armour.
“I dinnae—” he began.
“Those are the Otterburn colours,” Kat cried. “’Tis Stephen.”
“Otterburn? The marquis?” James looked to Robbie. “It seems your ally has responded to your call for aid.”
“Aye,” Robbie replied, raising his hand to hail the new arrivals. “I knew he would. Come, let us go and greet him.”
In contrast to their first encounter, on this occasion Robbie was delighted to see his brother-by-marriage. He clasped the marquis’s gauntlet-clad hand warmly. “’Tis a pleasure tae see ye, Stephen, And ye, too, Your Grace.” He greeted the Duke of Whitleigh with equal enthusiasm. “May I present His Majesty, James, of Scotland?”
The English knights dismounted and bowed to the monarch. They were not his subjects, but protocol required that suitable courtesy be afforded.
James accepted it as his due but extended his hand to each man in turn. “Welcome to Scotland. my lords. It is my great pleasure to meet you both.”
“We came with all haste when we received your news, my lord,” Stephen said, addressing his words to Robbie. “But I see you have accomplished a rescue without our assistance.” He smiled up at Katherine, still perched on the back of Robbie’s stallion.
Robbie held up his hands to help her down. The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed to hug both Stephen and Richard. “I had no idea Robbie sent for you.”
“It was right that he should.” Stephen flung an arm over her shoulders. “We are allies, after all. And brothers.” He shot a sideways glance in Robbie’s direction. “Flora sends her regards, by the way.”
“Is she well?” Robbie enquired.
“I would say she fares better than your wife at the moment.” Stephen grimaced when he studied Katherine’s battered features. “I trust the whoreson who did this has been dealt with?”
“Amply,” Robbie ground out. “He is dead and met his end in a fitting manner.”
Stephen gave a brisk nod. “In that case, it would appear that our presence on Scottish soil has become superfluous to requirements. We shall take our leave.” He bowed again to James. “Your Majesty.”
“Surely you need not abandon us so soon, my lords.” James replied. “Since you are here, the least we can do to thank you for your timely and prompt support is to entertain you at Holyrood.”
“You honour us, Your Majesty,” Stephen began, “but we could not presume…”
James waved away his protests. “The honour will be ours. Let us feast together, to cement our new and fortuitous unity. ’Twill be a grand occasion. We have much to celebrate.”
Stephen bowed again. “In that case, Your Majesty, it will be our pleasure. I am sure my wife would love to be reunited with her kin. May I send for her?”
“Of course, of course. I have not seen Flora for far too long, and I have yet to meet your son, my lord. Might we expect to see your duchess, also, Your Grace?”
Richard had remained silent thus far, but he quirked his lip in amusement. “I am sure Frances would be delighted to join us, but I should warn Your Majesty that she may well bring our offspring with her. I cannot guarantee that this alliance will survive such an onslaught.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
The table groaned under the weight of the platters and bowls covering every inch of the surface. They bore succulent roasted meats and fowl, accompanied by every type of vegetable Katherine could think of and several she was hard put to name. Aromatic stews and spicy pottages, delicious steaming puddings, cakes, and dried fruits had been laid out to tempt those with a taste for sweetness, not to mention the copious mugs of ale and goblets of wine which were replenished at frequent intervals by James Stuart’s army of servants. She was grateful not to have been the one overseeing this lavish hospitality.
