For a long time there was no more news. Nigel sent out scouts daily as the castle remained on full alert, the small garrison constantly at the ready for the sign of Lord Pembroke’s army. But no one came and there was no news.
The days grew hotter as a blue, cloudless sky settled over Scotland, and Kildrummy was shrouded by a heat haze. The first sign that they had not been forgotten by the world came in the shape of a messenger wearing the Pembroke colours. One man alone, the scouts confirmed; there was no army behind him. He brought a letter for Elizabeth from her father, the Earl of Ulster. It informed her that as her husband’s cause was lost she should return to England at once. If she did so, he would intercede with Edward for her. Reading the letter through twice, Elizabeth passed it to Nigel. ‘My father says I should go to him, but my place is with Robert,’ she said. ‘Robert is my husband.’ She eyed Isobel coldly. ‘In spite of what you all think of me, I shall stand by him.’
Nigel looked up at her and she saw the admiration in his eyes. She gave a tight smile. ‘I may not believe in what he has done. But I could not turn my back on him now,’ she added.
The women spent most of their days in the solar in the Snow Tower. The tension was enormous. There was no more news as the sky turned from blue to copper in the heat. Isobel and Elizabeth avoided one another as best they could whilst Kirsty spent her time with her children and Marjorie in the nurseries. Finally another messenger found his way to Mar. Exhausted and badly injured, he had been sent by Neil Campbell, Mary Bruce’s betrothed. He was well, as was Robert, but Sir Christopher Seton, Kirsty’s husband, had been captured on the battlefield. No one knew what had happened to him.
Alone with the nurses and her children, Kirsty wept. Before the other women she tried to keep a brave face, but in the nurseries her mask slipped. She had little hope that she would see Christopher again. How could fate deprive her so soon of two husbands, two men whom she had loved? She had barely got to know Christopher in the short time they had been married; she had borne him no children. But she loved him dearly.
Eleyne understood. She comforted the young woman, knowing her need to keep her grief secret, and knowing in her heart that Kirsty was right. She would never see her husband again.
XVI
One of her ladies shook Eleyne awake. The rainswept night was unusually dark. Eleyne sat up, confused. ‘A messenger has arrived from King Robert, my lady,’ the woman said. ‘He is waiting in the hall. The other ladies and Sir Nigel are being called.’
Eleyne pushed her legs wearily from under the sheets, groping for her velvet slippers. Her heart was thumping with fear. Pulling on her bed gown, she allowed the woman to comb her hair quickly and knot it back with a piece of ribbon, then she grabbed her stick and began to make her painful way downstairs. The others were already in the great hall. The messenger was Gilbert of Annandale and with him were two companions. One had a blood-soaked bandage around his arm.
‘The king and his men are hiding in the hills of Drumalban.’ Gilbert looked round the hushed gathering, pitying the women with their tired anxious faces. He knew how frustrating it was to wait without news. Then for the news to be bad… ‘He has decided that it would be best if you all joined him there.’ He looked first to Nigel and then at Eleyne. ‘The Earl of Pembroke is set on capturing the royal family and no quarter is to be given. I don’t have to tell you the danger. The king feels he can give you more protection in the mountains to the west, where he has men and much support. We should set out at once.’
Eleyne saw Nigel’s face light up with excitement. ‘At last! I have been a nursemaid too long!’ he burst out. Then he glanced embarrassed at Elizabeth and then at Eleyne. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean… it’s just that I want to be with Robert! I want to see some fighting!’
Gilbert gave a grim smile. ‘You’ll see fighting soon enough, Sir Nigel, have no fear,’ he said. ‘More than you want, no doubt.’
XVII
It did not take long for the women to pack their belongings. They were all as eager as the king’s brother to end their self-imposed imprisonment and ride as fast as possible to be with Robert. Only Eleyne did not prepare.
She cornered Kirsty in the nurseries. ‘Leave the children here with me, my dear. Donald’s place is at Kildrummy and they will be safe here. Poor little Marjorie must go to her father, but small children and old ladies would only add to Robert’s worries.’ She smiled wryly. ‘It’s a terrible thing to say, but once you’ve all gone Kildrummy will no longer be in danger.’
Kirsty started to protest, then she looked down at the sleeping children and nodded. ‘You’re right. They’ll be safe with you.’ She hugged Eleyne and then she turned away, not trusting herself even to kiss them goodbye.
Nigel demurred when he heard Eleyne had resolved to stay. ‘I’m not sure you’re right, Lady Eleyne. I am sure the children will be safe but for some reason King Edward harbours grudges towards you. I think Robert would want you with us.’
Eleyne patted him on the arm. ‘Bless you, my boy. It’s nice to think that I’m important. But I’m too old to ride with you. I’ll be all right. No one is interested in an old woman. You go, and God go with you.’
When they had ridden out of sight, she gave the order for the gates to be closed. Then she walked into the chapel. Only the small lamp burning in the sanctuary, and the faintest light from the sky at the east window, lit the blackness. She went to the altar and stood gazing up at the crucifix which hung there, its soft silver carving gleaming.
It was a long time before she realised that she was no longer alone.
He was standing near her. She could feel his presence and his pain. Did he understand her agony and her frustration, the despair of being locked inside the frail body of an old woman when her spirit wanted to ride the wind, to fight, to be beside the king when at last he came into his own?
She opened her eyes. There was no one there. Just the empty chapel, lighter now as the dawn began to colour the east window, its tall narrow lancets inset with stained glass. She was leaning with both hands on the handle of her stick. There were no prayers in her heart. Nothing. She could not marshal her thoughts. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, feel his arms around her, comforting and supporting her. She wanted someone to look after her and take away the misery and the fear which overwhelmed her. But already he had gone and she was again alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I
The dream had returned. The ground was slimy with blood; horses were screaming; men were dying beneath their hooves. In the mist she could see little save the gleam of swords and axes as they cut through bone and fell to the wet mud. Somewhere in the thick of the battle she saw the scarlet lion flag fall to the ground, where it was
