the moment she saw Alicia doubled over with pain.
"Oh my dear, whatever is it?" Jory asked, rushing to her side.
"It's nothing. Leave me alone!"
"Nothing? But you are in agony—have you been poisoned?" Jory picked up a goblet with dark liquid in the bottom and sniffed it.
"Stop spying on me!" Alicia screamed, holding her belly as if she were in the throes of labor.
Then Jory saw the girl's skirts were soaked with blood. "My God, you're hemorrhaging—let me help you!"
Alicia burst into tears. "Don't tell Lynx, promise me you won't tell him?"
Marjory de Warenne's eyes widened as comprehension dawned. Alicia Bolton was aborting a child! The brownish liquid in the goblet was pennyroyal, a strong abortifacient whose aromatic smell was quite distinctive.
Jory ran to the bed, pulled off a sheet, and tore it into squares of linen. "We have to get this bleeding stopped!" Her heartbeat was drumming inside her ears. God's tears, didn't the woman realize she could die?
"It will stop," Alicia assured her through gritted teeth. "The pain is terrible, but with pennyroyal there is no vomiting or purging of the bowel."
"You've done this before?" Jory asked, horrified. She was shocked at what Alicia had been doing.
It was a revelation to discover that her brother was perfectly capable of siring children. How selfish Alicia had been to deny Lynx his heart's desire; he so desperately wanted a child.
"Come, let me help you to bed," Jory said to Alicia, thinking the woman was her own worst enemy. Didn't she realize that Lynx would marry her in a minute if she bore him a child? Jory 45
was on the verge of telling her this, when she reconsidered. She 's not good enough for him!
"Jory, please, swear you won't betray me?" Alicia begged frantically. "This is punishment enough!"
Though Jory was repulsed by what Alice Bolton had done, she felt compassion for the suffering woman. "I won't betray you, Alicia, but I strongly advise you to confess all to my brother."
Five
AtDumfries, all the Comyn men-at-arms along with their commander had been recalled north to the Scottish city of Scone. John Comyn, Constable of Scotland, was gathering an army as fast as he could. He was the power behind his kinsman King Baliol only because he wanted the crown of Scotland for himself one day. Now at the head of the Scots army he had gathered, Comyn swept down through Annandale on his way to England.
Jock Leslie, Dumfries' steward, was angered when Comyn's men rode through Dumfries and stripped it of its livestock and fodder to feed the army. Jock and his sons, along with the other castle retainers, were gathered in Dumfries' bailey to assess matters.
"Dumfries is owned by the crown, and when King Alexander ruled Scotland and the Bruces were wardens in Annandale, we were paid wages for our services. Since the Comyn clansmen have occupied Dumfries we've seen little coin, but at least until now we had the largest herds of cattle and flocks of sheep to fill our bellies," Jock said with disgust. "Goddamn the bloody Comyns!"
"Ye should be ashamed, the lot of ye," Megotta scolded. "They've gone to fight the English and they can no' do that on empty bellies."
"Christ, woman, only a week ago the Comyns were on the same side as the English. Now they've turned their coats again. I hope to God the Bruces defeat the Comyns and regain Annandale and all their castles. We got paid our wages when the Bruce controlled the western marches!"
47
"The Bruces are the greatest turncoats in Scotland," Megotta accused. "It's their Norman blood."
Jock's lips twitched. He knew she was trying to goad him; in Megotta's eyes, a Celt could do no wrong, and a Norman could do no right.
Alex Leslie spoke up. "In the forge, when they were gettin' their mounts reshod, the soldiers were complainin' that the Earls of Angus and Dunbar refused the call to arms."
"They're not the only ones, I'll warrant. Every clan this side o' the Forth prefers a Bruce to a Comyn."
"Earl
"Oh my dear, whatever is it?" Jory asked, rushing to her side.
"It's nothing. Leave me alone!"
"Nothing? But you are in agony—have you been poisoned?" Jory picked up a goblet with dark liquid in the bottom and sniffed it.
"Stop spying on me!" Alicia screamed, holding her belly as if she were in the throes of labor.
Then Jory saw the girl's skirts were soaked with blood. "My God, you're hemorrhaging—let me help you!"
Alicia burst into tears. "Don't tell Lynx, promise me you won't tell him?"
Marjory de Warenne's eyes widened as comprehension dawned. Alicia Bolton was aborting a child! The brownish liquid in the goblet was pennyroyal, a strong abortifacient whose aromatic smell was quite distinctive.
Jory ran to the bed, pulled off a sheet, and tore it into squares of linen. "We have to get this bleeding stopped!" Her heartbeat was drumming inside her ears. God's tears, didn't the woman realize she could die?
"It will stop," Alicia assured her through gritted teeth. "The pain is terrible, but with pennyroyal there is no vomiting or purging of the bowel."
"You've done this before?" Jory asked, horrified. She was shocked at what Alicia had been doing.
It was a revelation to discover that her brother was perfectly capable of siring children. How selfish Alicia had been to deny Lynx his heart's desire; he so desperately wanted a child.
"Come, let me help you to bed," Jory said to Alicia, thinking the woman was her own worst enemy. Didn't she realize that Lynx would marry her in a minute if she bore him a child? Jory 45
was on the verge of telling her this, when she reconsidered. She 's not good enough for him!
"Jory, please, swear you won't betray me?" Alicia begged frantically. "This is punishment enough!"
Though Jory was repulsed by what Alice Bolton had done, she felt compassion for the suffering woman. "I won't betray you, Alicia, but I strongly advise you to confess all to my brother."
Five
AtDumfries, all the Comyn men-at-arms along with their commander had been recalled north to the Scottish city of Scone. John Comyn, Constable of Scotland, was gathering an army as fast as he could. He was the power behind his kinsman King Baliol only because he wanted the crown of Scotland for himself one day. Now at the head of the Scots army he had gathered, Comyn swept down through Annandale on his way to England.
Jock Leslie, Dumfries' steward, was angered when Comyn's men rode through Dumfries and stripped it of its livestock and fodder to feed the army. Jock and his sons, along with the other castle retainers, were gathered in Dumfries' bailey to assess matters.
"Dumfries is owned by the crown, and when King Alexander ruled Scotland and the Bruces were wardens in Annandale, we were paid wages for our services. Since the Comyn clansmen have occupied Dumfries we've seen little coin, but at least until now we had the largest herds of cattle and flocks of sheep to fill our bellies," Jock said with disgust. "Goddamn the bloody Comyns!"
"Ye should be ashamed, the lot of ye," Megotta scolded. "They've gone to fight the English and they can no' do that on empty bellies."
"Christ, woman, only a week ago the Comyns were on the same side as the English. Now they've turned their coats again. I hope to God the Bruces defeat the Comyns and regain Annandale and all their castles. We got paid our wages when the Bruce controlled the western marches!"
47
"The Bruces are the greatest turncoats in Scotland," Megotta accused. "It's their Norman blood."
Jock's lips twitched. He knew she was trying to goad him; in Megotta's eyes, a Celt could do no wrong, and a Norman could do no right.
Alex Leslie spoke up. "In the forge, when they were gettin' their mounts reshod, the soldiers were complainin' that the Earls of Angus and Dunbar refused the call to arms."
"They're not the only ones, I'll warrant. Every clan this side o' the Forth prefers a Bruce to a Comyn."
"Earl
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