Page 17 of The Refuge

In the sennight that followed, Steinar had more than enough to occupy his days. In addition to sword practice with his fellow guards and the occasional hunt, Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson had given him Ivar’s ship and skilled workmen from their own longship to have it properly fitted out.

Malcolm had told Steinar, “Ivar destroyed Cormac’s ship, so ’tis right you shall claim the Northman’s. My mormaer in the Vale of Leven should have a ship. And, should you not yet know, I have asked Paul and Erlend to find the other women taken from the vale.”

“Catrìona will be happy to hear it,” he had told the king.

Steinar was overjoyed at the news of the ship, but he wondered what Catrìona would think of it. Because the king had sworn him to silence, he did not tell Catrìona why he was the one to oversee the work on the longship and she did not ask. But one of the first things he did was to have the dragonheads on the stems removed and the wood sanded smooth. He would not have her reminded of that terrible day.

Fortunately, the king made Paul and Erlend aware of his plans, whereupon the brothers offered to sail the ship, once re-fitted, to the Vale of Leven with whatever supplies Steinar would need for the hillfort he would build. On the way, they would stop along the coast where they thought Ivar might have left some of his men and the women he had taken from the vale. Since the two brothers from Orkney were to leave when the ship was finished, they had assured him he would see it in the vale ere long.

Catrìona, he had noticed, was occupied with many things, foremost being the queen’s plans for the pilgrims’ ferry and inn.

“Margaret has pilfered much gold from the king’s treasury for all she has planned for the pilgrims,” Catrìona told him one evening. “But then you must know since you account for it.”

“Malcolm does not seem to mind,” Steinar had replied. “When I show him the mounting costs, he just shrugs. Mayhap he thinks ’tis a reasonable penance for his raids into Northumbria.”

“The queen would tell him he should do it for love of God and as a kindness to the pilgrims,” Catrìona had said, “but I think you have the right of it. The king would see it as penance.”

The revelation concerning Rhodri’s origins, about which Steinar teased him much, soon spread to all in Dunfermline. Aware of his noble lineage, the people now stumbled over addressing him as “my lord”, which Steinar found most amusing. If Rhodri must leave Scotland, at least he would leave with honor and acclaim and his choice of bride. Steinar had heard Catrìona and her cousin making plans for the wedding and Rhodri spoke often with the king and Cillyn about an alliance with Wales.

Three days after Rhodri was declared the son of a king, the Mormaer of Blackwell returned to court. The next day, his daughter, Isla, and Domnall were wed. A brief celebration followed and soon thereafter the three left for Ayrshire in the west where the newly married couple planned to sojourn before sailing to Ireland. All at court were glad to see them go, most especially Steinar, who was relieved the Irishman who had acted so dishonorably toward Catrìona was gone from her life.

By the time Domnall left, Colbán was up and about, though not yet swinging a sword with the guards. Audra, Steinar noticed, was equally attentive to the king’s captain as she was to her father, who was managing to move about the hall with more ease each day. Colbán no longer cast possessive glances toward Catrìona. Mayhap he was confident, thinking the king had granted his request for her hand. Steinar did not like to think of it and turned, instead, to the work on what was now his ship .

Rhodri still trained Malcolm’s archers, but now he openly paid court to his betrothed. He and Fia were so happy at times it was difficult to be around them. “Must he look at her like that?” asked Giric one morning as they broke their fast. “’Tis as if he is suffering a spell.”

“Aye, lad, love is like that.” He glanced at Catrìona, sitting a stone’s throw away, and inwardly pined. If Giric could see on Steinar’s face what was hidden in his heart, the boy would think him ill. Indeed, he was sick at heart. It was only a matter of time before the king announced his decision. Steinar dreaded the day.

Another sennight passed when, deep in August, Maerleswein returned to court in a cloud of dust, thundering up the slope to the tower with two of his men. Steinar had just returned from the River Forth where his ship was nearly finished, when the small group of riders pulled rein in front of the tower.

Maerleswein swung his leg over his saddle and dropped to the ground, his two guards doing the same, and handed the reins of his horse, blowing and lathered, to a groom.

With a wave to Steinar, Maerleswein jerked open the tower door and strode into the hall. Steinar followed, curious to know what produced the frowns on the faces of the three and their hurried manner.

“I must see the king at once!” Maerleswein yelled to Nechtan, the steward, who came running.

“Aye, my lord. He is with his Lady. I shall advise him you are here.”

“’Tis urgent!” the former sheriff called out to the steward’s back.

A moment later, Malcolm stomped down the stairs, relaxed until he looked at the men, ruddy cheeked and wiping sweat from their brows. “What brings you from Lothian in such fevered haste?” Before Maerleswein could answer, the king demanded, “What is it?”

“My Lord,” Maerleswein said, not taking time to bow, “William and his army of French knights ride into Scotland. They will cross Lothian tonight if they keep to their pace.”

The king cursed beneath his breath. “What has stirred the nest of Norman vipers, I wonder?”

“William has always seen you as a threat,” replied the stately man who had once been the Sheriff of Lincolnshire. “I am certain he has in mind your raids on Northumbria. ”

“What took the Bastard so long?” asked an exasperated Malcolm, running his hand through his hair as he paced.

“Last year, you will recall, he was taken up with mutilating the prisoners he took at Ely. The first part of this year, I am told he was called to Normandy. Only now is he free to seek revenge on us. Knowing William as I do, I would say he sees you as the last and greatest threat to his crown.”

“Aye, I have known it. ’Tis a shame both Duff and my captain still recover from wounds and my army has been disbanded these last many weeks.”

“There is also the matter of your marriage to Margaret and your aid for Edgar’s claim to the throne. William has not forgotten the rebels who rose in York but two years ago.”

“The ones you led?” Malcolm said, his mouth twitching up in a grin.

“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?”

He cocked his head to one side and raised a brow. “ Mo cridhe? ”

“If you do battle with William, your warriors may send the Normans from our land, but I would risk my husband and the Scots their king. Though he seems to love it, I cannot believe William wants such a war. Scotland is no easy prey. Our warriors are as fierce as the Picts that preceded them. Soon, autumn comes and winter close behind it. His knights would be mired in mud and snow. They do not know the glens like you do.”

“What is it you suggest?”

“If you but seek terms, you may give up little to gain much. Send him from our border with only words to carry home to London.”

Malcolm came to her then and she stood, reaching her hands to his shoulders and looking into his dark eyes.

“Let us have our years together, my love, so that God might give us more sons for Scotland.”

“You would have me negotiate with the Norman Bastard?”

She raised her head as the queen she was, the queen he had made her but a few years before. “Yea, I would. And, if you do this, my ladies and I will fast and pray for all the hours you are gone.”

Malcolm left her and walked to the window, gazing south. She supposed he was seeing in his mind the Normans marching toward them, their numbers too great to count. He was a man of great courage but he cared deeply for his people. She knew it was for their sake he pondered.

When he turned to face her, gone was the warrior whose mind was set on battle. In his place was the wise king she had come to love. “Your counsel is prudent, mo cridhe . I will speak with Duff and Matad. Should they agree, I will seek a meeting with William.” He smiled then and hope rose within her. “He thinks me to be wily, or so I have heard. If there is to be a meeting, I shall not disappoint. Pray God helps me.”

She went into his arms and embraced him, pressing her cheek to his broad chest. His strong arms tightened around her and the babe she carried. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, “I shall, My Lord.”

***

In his camp in Midlothian that night, William stood by the crackling fire outside his tent, gazing north. His back rigid and his smile tight, he was vaguely aware that Eadric, the one called “the Wild”, had come to stand beside him.

“We have no desire for a pitched battle in Lothian, Eadric. Truth be said, we do not consider ourselves in Scotland until we have crossed the Forth.”

“Your orders, then?”

William was unsurprised by Eadric’s lukewarm attitude toward their current endeavor given the Saxon’s history. At the outset, he had joined with his Welsh neighbors to inflict great damage on Herefordshire. He had only become William’s man two years before, and that forcibly. “By the splendor of God, tomorrow our army will cross the Forth near the place they call Strivelyn, east of Dunfermline. We will meet our ships on the Tay, deeper into Scotland than Malcolm will have imagined, and there we will engage the wily Scot.”

Eadric remained silent, but it mattered little to William. The Saxon had no alliance with the Scots and would offer no objection.

“We will yet have all of this island in our grasp,” said William. He could taste the fruit of his ambition. He had not conquered England to lose this northern bit. But, as he reflected on the vastness of this northern land, he thought again, frowning as he stared into the fire. Malcolm Canmore was not a foe so easily conquered as the rest. Even the Romans had feared the Picts.

***

By the time the evening meal arrived, all of Dunfermline had heard of the Conqueror’s march on Scotland. Steinar listened to the men speculating on where the battle would take place and the numbers of Norman knights they would encounter. Fear among the women was tangible, worry etched deep in their faces. He looked often at Catrìona, trying to tell her without words to have faith.

The queen and her ladies were the first to depart the hall that night. Catrìona stole a glance at him as she rose to leave. He gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned. They both knew what lay ahead.

Once the ladies had departed, the steward drove everyone from the hall, save those the king desired to speak with in private council.

Gathered to the king were his closest advisors, the mormaers whose lands were nearest, who had ridden with all haste at the receipt of the king’s summons, bringing a portion of the king’s army with them. Among the highest ranking, Steinar knew Duff and Matad best, but there were others he had seen only once or twice. In addition to his guard, the king had also invited Rhodri and his uncle, Cillyn, to stay for the meeting, presumably because of the Welsh hatred for William and the alliance Malcolm hoped to gain.

They sat at one of the trestle tables, the king in the center and the others around him, some sitting, and some standing. The hall grew quiet; the king had their attention to a man. Steinar was curious to know what Malcolm’s strategy would be.

“I have a proposition to discuss with you,” the king began. “It is my intention to keep William waiting wherever he alights until the rest of our army can reach us. In a day or two, when they have arrived and William, ever impatient, is cursing me beneath his breath, I would send a messenger asking for a meeting to discuss his requests .”

Mumbles echoed around the table as the men considered the king’s plan.

“Do you intend to submit to William or grant him some part of Scotland?” asked a disbelieving Duff, his bushy brows drawn together in a frown, his hazel eyes so like his daughter’s suddenly looking fierce.

“Nay,” said a smiling Malcolm. “I intend to give him naught but a few scraps from my table.”

“What might those be?” asked a serious Matad.

“I have lands in England and others in Cumbria and Northumbria granted me by King Edward. Mayhap William can be satisfied to have authority over those. In truth, I would not oppose granting him such if, in return, I can gain something I want, which is more land.”

“And what about Scotland?” asked the Mormaer of Ross, father of the queen’s lady, Isobel.

“What of it?” the king tossed back. “Do you think I would give that loathsome usurper any part of Alba? Nay, never think it. I will not!”

Steinar listened to the murmuring that was set off by the king’s suggested course of action. All were skeptical, untrusting of the Norman who had stolen Edgar’s crown. But eventually, heads began to nod.

Duff spoke for all of them. “Aye, ’tis worth a try. But I and the army must be at your back, My Lord.”

“You will not ride with me, old friend,” the king said to the Mormaer of Fife. “I would that you heal. Days in the saddle would only slow your progress.”

Duff opened his mouth to protest but the king raised his hand. “Nay and let that be an end to it.” The king shifted his gaze to Colbán. “You, too, shall remain behind, my captain.”

Colbán nodded, his expression showing he was disappointed but resigned .

Steinar spoke up. “I would lead your guard for Colbán, should you desire it, My Lord.”

“And I would lead your army in Duff’s absence,” said Matad.

The king returned them a tight smile. “Then I look only to the one who leads my archers,” said Malcolm. “Rhodri?”

“I am yours to command, My Lord,” said Rhodri, bowing his head.

Cillyn interrupted. “Nay! My nephew will not be a part of this. I have only just found him and would not risk his life when a kingdom awaits him in Wales. Not until my brother, the king, agrees to the alliance shall my nephew fight again with the Scots.”

Rhodri looked to Malcolm.

The king said, “Aye, have it your way, Cillyn. I would not risk an alliance with Wales. But if I am to be deprived of my best archer, I might ask you to suggest another, Rhodri.”

“A name immediately comes to mind, My Lord, though he is young, not yet seventeen summers. But that is the age at which I first commanded my father’s archers. Niall of the Vale of Leven is very good and his arrows always straight and true. The men like him and he would eagerly serve, should you command it. In the ranks of your archers are others who are older and would aid him.”

“So be it!” exclaimed Malcolm. “We will wait till our army is here and then see what can be gained when the Scottish lion seeks a meeting with the French leopard.”

***

Crossing the Forth at a narrow point, William led his army northeast, skirting Dunfermline. He passed Loch Leven without a thought to the monks who dwelled there and rode through lands that some might think possessed great beauty, paying little attention to what surrounded him. He was intent on only one thing: reaching the Tay and there doing battle with his enemy who had harbored the English rebels. Malcolm Canmore was the last obstacle to his dominating all of Britain. William was certain the Scot, who had battled his way to the throne, would not fail to accept the challenge.

The sun was low in the sky over his left shoulder when he reined in his Iberian warhorse, the same stallion he had ridden up Senlac Hill at Hastings, and surveyed the broad River Tay. It was the furthest point north to which fate had brought him. The church tower that rose seventy feet in the air in the village of Abernethy would stand as landmark for the battle to come.

“A fitting place for us to meet, is it not?” he asked Eadric. His men on either side of Eadric nodded their assent, but Eadric remained silent, granting the king he had been forced to serve only a shrug.

***

The next afternoon, Margaret was sewing with her ladies when word came the Normans were camped on the banks of the Tay.

“Will there be a great battle?” Elspeth asked anxiously for the Tay ran through her father’s lands.

“I pray not,” said Margaret, “but I have told the king we will fast and pray for him and his men while they are gone.”

“Steinar is to lead the guard in place of Colbán,” said Catrìona. “And my brother leads the archers.”

“My father will head the king’s army,” said Fia.

Each of her ladies had a man close to her whose life would be risked in the next few days. Margaret had thought to distract them with their stitchery but soon came to realize they had set aside their embroidery for their trembling hands were not up to the task.

She wanted to give them hope but would not mislead. “The king will talk of peace before he resorts to war, but William has thrown down the gauntlet at Malcolm’s very door.”

“Does the Norman think to build timbered castles all over Scotland?” asked Audra.

“’Tis said there are hundreds in England now,” said Cristina, the queen’s sister.

“The people suffer for he has burned crops and salted land to discourage rebellion,” remarked Isobel of Ross.

“Let us not think of England,” said Margaret. “We can thank God we are not there and pray Scotland never sees such a thing come to pass.”

The chamber door opened and Margaret’s maidservant said, “My Lady, the king asks for ye. ”

Margaret rose. “I will return when I have news. The men will not leave for a day or two. As soon as they depart, we will go to the chapel to pray.”

Swiftly, she walked the small distance to her bedchamber. As she opened the door her gaze met Malcolm’s across the room. Light streamed in from the window adding hints of gold to his brown eyes. She saw the excitement in them and realized his course was set and he was eager to be about it.

“William is holed up at Abernethy on the River Tay,” he said. “As soon as I have my army, or all that can be gathered with so little notice, I will go to meet him but first I had to see you.”

She went to him, needing to touch him to draw from his strength. “Abernethy is not far, My Lord. You can feed the Conqueror your few promises and soon return to me.”

“Aye, ’tis interesting he has stopped at the Tay. I wonder if he knows it was once the abode of the Pictish kings and a reminder to us that Scotland has fought off invaders before.”

“I will pray he leaves without a fight, My Lord, beaten by your wisdom.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Aye, mayhap. But he is no easy foe and he comes with knights and ships prepared for battle.” Then fixing her gaze with his dark eyes, he said, “There is one thing he will want above all, mo cridhe , and I think you know what that is.”

She waited, dreading what he would say.

“William will want to make sure he does not again face a challenge for the crown he has seized and defended these last many years. There is only one whose claim to the throne of England is and always has been greater than William’s.”

“Edgar” she breathed out.

“Yea, ’tis Edgar, now old enough to wear the crown and lead the people. At the very least, William will want my vow not to aid him again. Are you prepared for that, mo cridhe ?”

She said nothing, only looked at him, seeing sympathy in his eyes. He knew, as she did, how her brother had longed to take up his legacy.

“When Edgar urged my suit upon you,” he continued, “’twas in part to win my support. ”

“Much has changed since then…”

“Aye, after William’s devastation of York, he and Maerleswein returned with defeat in their eyes. I saw it.”

“Should I speak to Edgar about what may be asked of him?” she asked.

“Nay. If you did, he would willingly give up his claim to spare us the war, but ’tis best if it comes to him. And if it does, we shall see. Edgar is more an exile than any of us, a king denied his throne by one grasping for plunder, lands and power like the Northmen from which the Normans hail.”

***

Catrìona stood in front of the tower, her arms wrapped around her as if she could hold in her anxious thoughts and her many fears.

The queen and the other ladies stood nearby, watching the men depart for Abernethy. The king sat atop his white charger. Beside him was Fia’s father.

Catrìona reached out to take her cousin’s hand.

“At least I do not worry for Rhodri,” Fia said.

It was not the same for Catrìona. This time, all the men she loved rode with Malcolm, mayhap to a bloody battle. Steinar, at the king’s back, led the guard. Niall rode at the front of the line of archers, an older bowman next to him. And Angus rode with Malcolm’s mounted warriors, waving to her as he passed by.

Steinar had come to see her before he departed, telling her not to worry. But how could she not? This time he had not asked for a favor to carry and he did not speak of the future, yet she still harbored hope that one day she would belong to the golden-haired warrior. The words Rhodri had spoken of Fia became the words of Catrìona’s heart. I will have no other.

When the men were gone, the queen called her ladies to her. “We fast and pray until they return.” Not a lady spoke against it, but of one accord, they turned and followed Margaret to the chapel.

***

It was very late in the day when the men returned. Gloaming still colored the sky shades of gray, rose and heather. Having received news of the men’s return, Margaret had dismissed her ladies and now looked down from the window in her chamber that overlooked the front of the tower. At the head of his men, Malcolm wearily swung from his horse and met his young son, Duncan, who had waited in front of the tower for his father’s return.

The words of the dismounting warriors were muffled but Margaret could see there had been no battle. No blood covered their mail and the horses appeared calm.

A few moments later, the door of their chamber swung open and Malcolm stood before her.

She wanted to run to him, to thank God for the war that would not be, yet his forlorn look told her all was not well. “Did you agree on terms, My Lord?”

Running his long fingers through his dark locks, he came to her, kissing her cheek before he slumped into his chair. “Aye, we have agreed on terms, though I like not all of them.”

One hand on her rounded belly, she eased herself onto the bench next to him. “Tell me, my husband.”

“I have secured my lands in Cumbria but allowed William’s authority over them. He is to leave Scotland with no demands on her and no taking of plunder or rapine by his army as they go, though I expect he will allow them free rein once they cross into Northumbria.”

“To agree to his overlordship for your lands that lie so far south of Lothian is not as grievous as it could have been.”

“Aye, mayhap, but the rest of it you will like less well.” His disquieting gaze told her what she would hear would be dark news, indeed. “As I anticipated, Edgar will not have my support again for a try at England’s throne. William would prefer your brother leave my court, but I agreed only to convey that request to Edgar. I refused to demand it of him.”

“I think even Edgar anticipated William’s concern for his crown.”

“Aye. Not all are content with his ruthless domination of England, and well he knows it.”

She sensed from Malcolm’s somber mood there was more. “What else?”

“He required a hostage to seal my bond. ”

“Who?”

“Duncan.”

She gasped. “But you have only just gotten him back and he is but a youth!”

“Aye, mo cridhe, but he is my heir and the Norman Bastard sees only that. If I know William, he thinks to make a Norman of my son. You must set your prayers against it.”

“You and I were both raised in England, My Lord, you away from your beloved Scots and I away from Hungary where I was born. Yet here we are, both in Scotland, committed to her cause. Surely Duncan can spend the rest of his youth in England and return a Scot to lead his people.”

“Remember, mo cridhe , it was pious Edward’s England where you and I spent our youth, I in Cumbria and you in Wessex. The Norman king is not Edward. He is treacherous and will try and deprive me of my eldest son by making him like one of them. I can only warn Duncan of what William no doubt intends and hope the lad’s heart is not turned.”

She took Malcolm’s hand and kissed the back of it, covered in scars from his many battles. A warrior but with a father’s tender heart. “You did what was right, My Lord. This may be a hard ending, but is it not better than war?”

“Aye, that is what I tell myself, though my sword cried to be unsheathed the whole time I listened to the pompous Frenchman spout his demands.”

“When is Duncan to go?”

“Tomorrow. I will take him to the narrow place in the River Forth where the Normans will cross on their way south.”

“My prayers will go with you and Duncan.”

***

A solemn cloud hung over the hall the next morning as Steinar broke his fast with the king and his men. The court ate in silence, all knowing the king would soon leave for the place where Duncan was to be handed over to the Normans. Duncan ate only at the urging of his father.

“You must keep up your strength, my son.”

To Steinar, the youth appeared near tears, but he blinked them back and reached for a piece of bread. It was a dark day for Duncan who was saying goodbye to his Orkney half-brothers as well as his father.

This time, Colbán would lead the guard and Steinar would join them. Duff insisted on riding the short distance to stand with his friend, the king, in his difficult hour and Malcolm had allowed it.

The ride was slow, due to the pace set by Malcolm in respect for Duff’s still healing wound, but Steinar believed it was also because of the reluctance of the king to be about the task at all.

When they reached the bank of the Forth where William waited with his army stretched out behind him, Malcolm dismounted, pulled Duncan from his horse and walked to one side with the youth, away from the Normans but not so far that Steinar, Colbán and Duff could not hear.

“You know I would not ask this of you, son, but standing as hostage spares Scotland a war with these French who have taken over England.”

“Aye, Father. I know.” The youth was the image of his father and just as courageous.

“Not that it will change the result, but I must know. You are willing?”

Duncan, brave through it all, looked up at his father. “I am willing, sir.”

“For my sake, they will treat you well, Duncan. They know should any harm come to you it would mean war, not just any war but one of vengeance such as they have never seen.”

Duncan nodded, seeming to take it in.

“I was your age when I was exiled to England and I returned to reign as King of Scots. Let them educate you, my son; let them teach you your letters and how to fight like a knight. But do not let them poison your mind to their Norman ways. Always remember you are a Scot, the son of a Scots king and the grandson of another, the one for whom you were named. One day you will return to Scotland to rule our people as King Duncan, the second of that name. Learn what you must to prepare for that role and put aside all else the Normans may try and teach you. William would rule all of Alba if he could. May God never allow it.”

“I will remember, Father. ”

Tipping the boy’s chin up, the king said, “I love you, my son. You will always be in my prayers and Margaret’s. And know this. I will raise your brothers, the one that is born and the others who will follow, to know you will reign ahead of them.”

Duncan reached for his father and buried his head in the folds of Malcolm’s tunic, for the king wore no mail this day. Malcolm grasped the boy around the shoulders and held him fast. Steinar saw the tears that filled the king’s eyes, but Malcolm raised his head, calling them back. He was a king first, noble in bearing and manner. But he was also a father.

Steinar’s heart reached out to him, for he had lost his own father to William the Conqueror.

At last, Malcolm set Duncan from him. “Go, my son and Godspeed.”