lad.”
“Yea, ’tis true enough. And a bitter draught to swallow that Bruce’s wife is still held prisoner, though her plight is better than that of his sister.”
“Only a bloody Sassenach would hang women outside castle walls in wooden cages for nigh onto four years.” Robbie drew in a deep breath, his face creased with harsh lines. “He did not even spare Bruce’s twelve-year-old daughter until his own people grew outraged.”
Alex sighed. “When Bruce’s sister was caged on the castle walls of Berwick, no ransom offer he made swayed the English. While Edward yet holds Bruce’s queen, her father is the Earl of Ulster and one of Edward’s staunchest lieutenants. He is too powerful for Edward to risk offending him by treating her harshly. Will Warfield be as obstinate as King Edward?”
Robbie pushed away from the oak beam and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You may well have the lass for a long time, Alex. She is our only bargaining point. Do not forget what Bruce told you….”
“How could I forget.” Alex frowned. “Not that I blame him for it. He has lost so many to this bloody war that the fate of one rebellious lad cannot be allowed to matter.”
“Aye, but the Bruce should be pleased that you have snatched the earl’s daughter from under his very nose. But be forewarned—he might well want to hold her as security for the return of his own women.”
Alex met Robbie’s clear gaze steadily. “I do not thinkRobert Bruce will begrudge me exchanging an English maid for my brother. He knows Jamie is my only family now.”
Robbie shrugged. “I hope you are right. Now, I think we have earned a bit of hot food and pitchers of ale to wash away the taste of English dust from our throats.”
“’Twill take more than ale to wash away the bitter taste that haunts me.”
Robbie’s tawny brows lifted. “How can you be bitter when you have the earl’s own daughter locked in yon tower chamber to await his reply? Few Sassenachs are willing to allow the hand of a Scotsman to sully their daughter. And ’tis a notion you had best plant firmly in Warfield’s mind along with your offer to exchange for Jamie.”
Amused, Alex agreed. “You have the torturous mind of a fiend, Robbie, but I commend you for it. ’Tis too bad you are not consulted as one of Bruce’s advisers. We might well win back Scotland without a drop of bloodshed.”
“Nay, lad, not if I was consulted.” Robbie closed a fist around the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. “I find fighting the English far too entertaining to give it up for blather.”
Alex accompanied Robbie to the hall and called for a pitcher of ale to be brought. It was several pitchers and much later when he thought of Lady Catherine again, ensconced in a chamber in the east tower and safely under lock and key. On the morrow, he would have her make her mark on a letter for Warfield.
A fire blazed in the central hearth, huge logs sending up showers of sparks and emanating warmth in a small circle beyond the blaze. He stretched out his long legs toward the heat, eyes half-closed, a bit bemused with ale and a heavy heart. Jamie … far too young to be at themercy of the English, though his own impulsiveness had caused his plight. But he was the only family left to Alex now. All the others had gone through the years, most slain in battle—save his mother, who had succumbed to childbed fever.
Frowning into his cup, Alex tried to summon his mother’s face from memory. It was so vague, a blur of red-gold hair and light eyes that evoked feelings of warmth without solid image. He had not been much older than Jamie was now when she had borne the babe, dying of it before Alex returned from a skirmish with English border troops. So long ago, yet he still felt the emptiness and anguish at her loss, still recalled the mix of emotions at the birth that had claimed his mother and left behind a healthy, squalling infant. His first resentment of Jamie had long since
“Yea, ’tis true enough. And a bitter draught to swallow that Bruce’s wife is still held prisoner, though her plight is better than that of his sister.”
“Only a bloody Sassenach would hang women outside castle walls in wooden cages for nigh onto four years.” Robbie drew in a deep breath, his face creased with harsh lines. “He did not even spare Bruce’s twelve-year-old daughter until his own people grew outraged.”
Alex sighed. “When Bruce’s sister was caged on the castle walls of Berwick, no ransom offer he made swayed the English. While Edward yet holds Bruce’s queen, her father is the Earl of Ulster and one of Edward’s staunchest lieutenants. He is too powerful for Edward to risk offending him by treating her harshly. Will Warfield be as obstinate as King Edward?”
Robbie pushed away from the oak beam and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You may well have the lass for a long time, Alex. She is our only bargaining point. Do not forget what Bruce told you….”
“How could I forget.” Alex frowned. “Not that I blame him for it. He has lost so many to this bloody war that the fate of one rebellious lad cannot be allowed to matter.”
“Aye, but the Bruce should be pleased that you have snatched the earl’s daughter from under his very nose. But be forewarned—he might well want to hold her as security for the return of his own women.”
Alex met Robbie’s clear gaze steadily. “I do not thinkRobert Bruce will begrudge me exchanging an English maid for my brother. He knows Jamie is my only family now.”
Robbie shrugged. “I hope you are right. Now, I think we have earned a bit of hot food and pitchers of ale to wash away the taste of English dust from our throats.”
“’Twill take more than ale to wash away the bitter taste that haunts me.”
Robbie’s tawny brows lifted. “How can you be bitter when you have the earl’s own daughter locked in yon tower chamber to await his reply? Few Sassenachs are willing to allow the hand of a Scotsman to sully their daughter. And ’tis a notion you had best plant firmly in Warfield’s mind along with your offer to exchange for Jamie.”
Amused, Alex agreed. “You have the torturous mind of a fiend, Robbie, but I commend you for it. ’Tis too bad you are not consulted as one of Bruce’s advisers. We might well win back Scotland without a drop of bloodshed.”
“Nay, lad, not if I was consulted.” Robbie closed a fist around the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. “I find fighting the English far too entertaining to give it up for blather.”
Alex accompanied Robbie to the hall and called for a pitcher of ale to be brought. It was several pitchers and much later when he thought of Lady Catherine again, ensconced in a chamber in the east tower and safely under lock and key. On the morrow, he would have her make her mark on a letter for Warfield.
A fire blazed in the central hearth, huge logs sending up showers of sparks and emanating warmth in a small circle beyond the blaze. He stretched out his long legs toward the heat, eyes half-closed, a bit bemused with ale and a heavy heart. Jamie … far too young to be at themercy of the English, though his own impulsiveness had caused his plight. But he was the only family left to Alex now. All the others had gone through the years, most slain in battle—save his mother, who had succumbed to childbed fever.
Frowning into his cup, Alex tried to summon his mother’s face from memory. It was so vague, a blur of red-gold hair and light eyes that evoked feelings of warmth without solid image. He had not been much older than Jamie was now when she had borne the babe, dying of it before Alex returned from a skirmish with English border troops. So long ago, yet he still felt the emptiness and anguish at her loss, still recalled the mix of emotions at the birth that had claimed his mother and left behind a healthy, squalling infant. His first resentment of Jamie had long since
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