The Mark of Salvation (16 page)

While Orelia and the other women pulled handfuls of the sorted wool through a coarse metal comb, Ceallach prepared the large loom with warp threads. There was sufficient yarn from last year to weave a good amount of cloth. The weaving hut filled with the women's chatter and Ceallach discovered with some surprise that he enjoyed their company.

When Fergus hadn't returned within three days time, Ceallach worried that Edward of England had returned or some other calamity had befallen Scotland's king. Ceallach would have to go to Stirling himself. But late the afternoon of the fourth day Fergus rode into the bailey.

Everyone gathered around to hear what he had to say. The poor man barely had time to dismount from his horse before the questions started.

Ceallach waded into the group. “What delayed you, Fergus?”

“Nothing serious, but it will take some telling. May I have a drink for my parched throat before I begin the tale?”

“Of course,” Ceallach said, relieved that at least war hadn't broken out again.

They sat at a table in the main hall. Morrigan brought bread and drink and then sat beside Fergus as he explained his delay. “When I arrived at Stirling, they were beginning to tear down the castle. I learned that Bruce had moved his headquarters to Dunfermline Abbey and so I had to ride there.”

Ceallach nodded in agreement with Bruce's choice. “The abbey has accommodations fit for a king.”

Fergus set down his mug. “And a queen. Bruce is anticipating the arrival of his wife—he asked you to come to Dunfermline.”

“What of the Englishwoman? Is she to go with me?”

“Aye. Bruce expects to exchange the prisoners any day.”

Ceallach, Orelia, Morrigan and Fergus left Dunstruan the next day and set out for Dunfermline Abbey, a dozen or so miles east of Bannockburn. The abbey had ample accommodations for royalty and guests, having been used as an occasional royal residence since the days of Malcolm Canmore, three centuries past.

The trip was uneventful and when they arrived at the abbey, Ceallach escorted Orelia to her chamber. Knowing she would be anxious for news, he said, “I will return as soon as I can. You should probably rest.”

“I'll try.”

He left her, not at all sure how he felt about leaving her for good. One thing he did know—he would miss her company.

Fergus and Morrigan had gone off to see about purchasing some horses, and Ceallach went to find Bruce.

“Ceallach, welcome. It's good to see you again. How are things at Dunstruan?”

“Your Majesty.” Ceallach bowed. “Dunstruan is doing well. I brought the Englishwoman with me. Fergus said you'd arranged for her release?”

Bruce's face clouded. “So I thought. I have only just received a letter from Edward of England.” Bruce held a piece of parchment aloft and shook it in the air. “Not only is the wretch ungrateful that I returned his shield and seal, he refuses to agree to terms for peace. And he has reneged on the agreement to exchange the prisoners.”

Robert stopped and stood very still, obviously on the verge of completely loosing his temper and taking his frustration out on his guest.

Into the quiet Ceallach softly said, “I am sorry to hear that, my laird. Especially about the queen.”

Bruce pinched his forehead with the fingers of his left hand and bowed his head, eyes closed. “Eight years. He's held my wife prisoner for eight years, Ceallach.”

Ceallach wondered what it must be like, to miss a woman so. It was just as well that he would never know, for the blessing of love could easily turn to a curse. Bruce lifted his head and pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I'm done with patience, Ceallach. If this is how Edward reacts to my gesture of conciliation, then he and his people shall taste my anger.”

“You will invade England?”

“Aye. I've sent for Douglas and Bryan. We are going to harass the northern English towns—Edward's subjects will pay for his arrogance. They will know the displeasure of the king of Scotland.”

Ceallach said nothing as he considered the wisdom of taking part in these forays into English territory. “How far south will you go, my laird?”

“Not far enough, in truth. If we want to hit Edward where it would do the most damage to him, we would need to go as far south as London. The northern provinces don't have the population or political clout of London and its surrounding shires.”

“But you can't get to him there without risk of capture, so you think that if we strike hard enough and often enough in the north we can still get Edward's attention?”

“Aye. The northlands are poorly defended—we'll be able to plunder at will as long as we stay away from the garrison at Carlisle.”

Ceallach nodded. It could work. Aside from the goods and beasts they would capture, they might put enough political pressure on Edward to force him to let Bruce's women go.

“You needn't worry about capture, Ceallach. We'll ride fast, strike quickly and be gone before the English army can ride north to respond.”

Ceallach thought of the work that needed to be done at Dunstruan. But Devyn and the others were more than capable of handling it while Ceallach was gone. “I'll send Fergus and the women back to Dunstruan. I wouldn't mind tugging at Edward's nose, so long as he is far away.”

“You still have a price on your head, Ceallach. I would understand if you didn't want to do this.”

Ceallach grinned. “So when do we leave?”

Bruce clapped him on the back and laughed. “As soon as Bryan gets here.”

Bryan Mackintosh arrived two days later and Bruce immediately called a meeting with his lieutenants. Ceallach, Bryan, and Douglas stood in the king's solar.

“We will leave in two days' time. Ceallach will see to the horses— make sure they are in good health. Douglas, I need you to oversee provisioning, and Bryan will see to the weapons.”

Bryan said, “Are you planning to go with us, Your Majesty?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I?”

“Much as I hate to deprive you of the fun of sleeping on the ground and eating cold oat cakes, it might be best if you stayed here,” Bryan said.

Bruce was scowling in a way that clearly said he wouldn't entertain an argument on the subject. But Bryan forged ahead anyway, and Ceallach suppressed a chuckle. Robert's son took after him in many ways, and just now the younger man's tenacity probably wasn't appreciated.

“Explain yourself, stripling.”

Undeterred by the king's obvious displeasure, Bryan explained. “Our purpose is to gain Edward's attention and focus it on the plight of his Scottish prisoners. If you are not party to these raids, then when Edward complains to you of them, you can promise to punish the culprits.”

Bruce stared at him a moment. “I can claim the raids weren't sanctioned, in other words.”

“Aye, and promise there will be no more raids if he releases your queen.”

Ceallach saw the wisdom in this. “If Edward still refuses to negotiate Elizabeth's release, we can continue raiding. You could even lead the next raid to make your point.”

“Your suggestion is a good one, Bryan. Since I don't know anything about this planned raid, you may leave whenever you are ready. And be careful.”

That last sounded more like a concerned father than a king, and Ceallach thought again of the price Bruce and his family had paid for his crown.

Three days later Ceallach, Bryan, Douglas, and a group of about sixty men set off for England, entering the country at Norham castle, just south of the border. As they skirted around the imposing keep, Bryan said, “Kathryn was held prisoner there earlier this year.”

“I'd heard something to that affect. How did you get her out?”

“We were lucky—her kidnapper moved her and I was able to ambush them and free her.”

They camped that night north of Newburn, and Bryan called all the men together. “I want to be sure that the objectives of our raiding are clear to all of you. We will burn crops, destroy settlements, and steal livestock. Whatever we can't carry off to Scotland is to be destroyed.”

Ceallach asked, “What if we are offered a ransom to leave a place in peace?”

Bryan grinned. “We will gladly accept cash donations to the King of Scotland's treasury.”

The men laughed and Bryan continued. “There will be no looting or robbery once a ransom is paid. The English won't pay if they can't trust us to keep the truce they pay for. Is that understood?”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“We will stay clear of castles—they will have trained men at arms who could make life difficult for us. Instead we'll visit manors, villages, and monasteries.”

The next day they rode south to Newburn and stayed there three days, unhindered by English soldiers. From there Bryan led them to Newcastle where he offered to leave the town alone for a ransom payment. When the town leaders refused, Bryan ordered the men to burn buildings and crops and intimidate the town just as William Wallace had done in 1297.

Ceallach enjoyed being on campaign, especially as it became increasingly clear that the English could not put up any sort of defense. And even more because there was no loss of life. He and the rest of the Scottish marauders continued south to Durham where the residents wisely paid Bryan not to destroy their crops and buildings.

Following the old Roman road, they swept through the valleys and carried off cattle. Ceallach had a few anxious moments as they neared Carlisle's garrison of trained troops, but the Scots were able to relieve the garrison of sixteen fine horses before heading north and burning the towns of Brough, Appleby, and Kirkoswald. Returning home they trampled crops along the way with the stolen cattle and horses.

Upon their return to Scotland, Robert congratulated them on a job well done. Ceallach helped distribute the livestock and other goods he and the others brought back.

Anxious for the return of his wife, Bruce sent an envoy to Edward, demanding terms. Ceallach and all of Scotland were well aware that the longer Robert and Elizabeth were separated, the longer it would be until they produced a male heir. Now that she was a mature woman, her childbearing days were dwindling and the monarchy lay in peril.

WHILE THE KING AWAITED WORD from England, Ceallach headed back to Dunstruan. He'd been gone more than three weeks and Ceallach's impatience grew as his horse trotted around the last bend in the rough track leading to the castle. Dunstruan came into view and Ceallach halted the horse. There was nothing extraordinary about the fortress. It looked much the same as many others—curtain walls surrounding a stone keep.

Yet his heart stirred at the sight. When had this pile of stones come to feel like a home? Dangerous thoughts for a man who wanted to leave when his time as Orelia's warden was finished. Ceallach had not been given a definite date for Orelia's return to England, but both their departures from Dunstruan could not be far off. The thought did not cheer him.

He rode into the bailey and the usual chaos of greeting and homecoming prevailed. He smiled and searched the crowd for Orelia. Since the day she'd seen his scars—and the night she'd calmed him after his nightmare—she was often on Ceallach's mind. He needed to know she was well.

He would have to tell her that he didn't know when she'd be released from Dunstruan. He finally saw Orelia standing off to one side, not really a part of the castle folk—a guest, not a resident. She appeared to be in good health, to his relief.

From across the crowd Orelia questioned him with a lift of her brows. He shook his head—he would have to give her the details later. For now his silent message told her that her visit had been extended. Orelia disappeared inside, no doubt wanting time to absorb her disappointment.

While he took refreshment, Morrigan and Fergus sat down with him. “Devyn says the corn is ready to harvest so there is no need to delay,” Fergus said.

Morrigan grinned. “In fact, we've been making preparations while you were gone. The harvest will begin in the morning. Keifer can barely stand it, he's so excited.”

Harvest. Ceallach could remember watching his father's workers bringing in the corn and everyone enjoying the games and festivities afterward. The idea of such a celebration at Dunstruan appealed greatly. “Lucky for us that Devyn saw to the planting this spring or we'd have no reason to celebrate. Tomorrow we harvest!”

When he'd finished talking with Morrigan and Fergus, Ceallach went in search of Orelia. He found her in the chapel, a small, plain room that Ceallach had not visited in his time at Dunstruan. A tiny window high on the wall and two candles provided light. There were no benches—just the stone floor and a kneeling pad along the rail. Orelia knelt there in front of the altar.

His foot scraped the floor as he turned to leave, and she looked up as if startled.

“Ceallach?”

He hesitated. “I did not mean to disturb your prayers.”

She smiled, and he would swear that the room brightened. He must stop thinking such foolish thoughts, especially about a woman just two months widowed who carried proof of her husband's love. An Englishwoman who must leave to claim her child's inheritance.

“You didn't frighten me. I was praying for you, and you appeared as if conjured from my petition. Come. Kneel with me for a while.”

He drew a deep breath. “Praying for lost causes, are you?”

She glanced down to where her fingers clasped the necklace she always wore. When she looked back at Ceallach she said, “Perhaps. But you are only lost because you refuse to listen to the shepherd's call. I seem to remember your telling Keifer that sheep are stubborn.”

He rubbed the scar on his neck. “I believe I also mentioned they are docile and not too bright.”

Her expression was that of an exasperated mother to a wayward child. But she smiled and stood. “You have news for me?”

“Our raids went well, but there is still no definite date for the exchange of prisoners.”