Chapter Twenty-Four
They were held at Kildrummy as guarded guests. Though the Scottish nobility had surrendered, and Scotland was considered virtually conquered by Edward, the king was still wary of Robert and ordered him guarded and Elizabeth as well. Robert was now with her, but at the same time, he was not. It was as if he was slowly drifting away. She saw it every day, but she had no notion how to stop it or if he was even aware of it. Time passed, their nights filled with passion, but he stewed during the waking hours. Relentlessly, day after day, he trained with his sword with Dougall, luckily one of the guards assigned to watch them.
While watching Robert as he trained one day, Elizabeth found herself wishing she were Dougall. Robert seemed more at ease with the man he battled than he did with her lately.
That night in bed, she tried once more to talk to him. “Robert?” She laid her palm against his warm, bare chest. “What will you do? Will you continue the rebellion?”
Robert’s answer was to kiss her, but she gently pushed him back, knowing he was avoiding her question. “Robert?”
“What do ye wish me to say?” he asked, agitated. “Shall I say I will continue the rebellion, rouse the people who are still loyal to me, and allow the king to kill Thomas and Alexander and take ye from me? Could I even get away if I wanted to?” She sucked in a sharp breath at the torment she heard in his tone. “Or should I say I will whittle my days away under the king’s thumb, no longer a man but an obedient dog.”
Her heart ached for him. There was no easy path, only ones that led to danger and more death. She was not even entirely certain what she thought he should do. “I’m sorry.”
“Aye.” He sighed. “I know it, lass. I do nae talk of it because I do nae see what to do. Neither choice I have is a good one. Only in yer arms at night, when I lose myself in ye, do I find a moment of peace.”
“Then come,” she whispered. “I will give you refuge for as long as you need it.”
The days passed like this until a summons came from Edward. They were to appear in court to witness the most important members of Scottish nobility pay homage to the king. After receiving the news, Robert rode out to a cliff with Dougall, and they were gone all day. When they returned, tension seemed to vibrate from her husband, and she could feel that a turning point was coming. But neither of his options were ideal. If he stood by and did nothing, he would still protect her and his brothers, yet he would likely grow to resent them and hate himself. Or he could lead the people of Scotland in revolution once more. She thought it likely only he could. Comyn was not well-liked, especially since the terms he had agreed to for Wallace had been made known.
If Robert chose to throw off the cloak of homage and face Edward once more in battle, would her husband change? Would he harden his heart to her completely, and would the Robert she had fallen in love with be lost to her forever? She could not sleep or eat for worry that he would not see the path where he could be king and still allow himself to love. Yes, it would mean he would risk those he loved, but she would rather that than his submission to Edward.
The next day, they rose early to leave Kildrummy for the king’s court, and Catarine was the first person Elizabeth saw as they entered the courtyard where the horses and men were gathered. She paused when they neared Catarine, who stood apart from the English knights, and Robert stopped beside her. She had so much she wanted to say, to thank Catarine for what she’d done. How could she leave her there? Though, at least de Beauchamp would be riding back to the king’s court with them, and the man had stayed well away from Robert, Elizabeth, and Catarine since Robert had taken one of his bollocks.
“What will you do?” Elizabeth asked, fearful for her friend.
Catarine smiled at Elizabeth then looked to Robert. “I will await Robbie’s word that the rebellion has once more begun.”
“Catie,” Robert said, the emotion in his voice making Elizabeth’s own throat tighten.
“Shush, Robbie,” Catarine chided. “Do nae say anything. Ye will come to the right decision. I ken in my heart that ye will.”
“I hope so, Catie, I do,” Robert said with a sigh.
“Bruce!” the guard Dougall called. “We must ride now.”
Robert nodded as Elizabeth hugged Catarine. “I pray you stay safe,” Elizabeth said.
Catarine waved a hand at her. “Dunnae fash yerself for me. I’m very canny. Ye keep yer dagger with ye at all times and remember all I taught ye, aye?”
“I will,” Elizabeth promised, giving her friend one more fierce hug, before Robert’s hand came to her arm and he tugged her away, and helped her into the carriage that she was forced to ride alone in all the way to the king’s court. The journey seemed endless, but every now and again, she would catch a glimpse of Robert on his horse, and she would remind herself that at least they were still together.
When they finally arrived at court, they were ushered immediately from the carriages and horses and to the abbey of Dunfermline. Elizabeth noted that the first person Robert looked at when they entered the abbey was a man with flaming red hair and a ruddy complexion.
“Comyn,” Robert growled, hatred vibrating his voice.
Comyn glared at Robert and Elizabeth as they approached the dais upon which the king sat. She missed a step when she realized Robert’s brothers Thomas and Alexander were lined up behind the king, neither with happy expressions on their faces. They looked so young compared to Robert, and she could well imagine the responsibility he felt for them and their safety. Robert’s fingers curled more tightly around hers. It was almost unbearable to watch him taunted so by the king. Edward knew well that Robert was only still under his control because of his affection for his brothers and his love for her.
“Ah, my boy!” the king crowed as trumpets announced them.
The English court was all gathered in their finest apparel to watch the procession of the Scots being made to humble themselves and admit defeat. Elizabeth felt ill. The tension rippling through Robert made his muscles twitch under her fingertips.
“Come, Robert,” the king said, waving Robert to him. “As you have aided me more than any other to control Scotland, come and sit beside me as these men pay me homage.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught at the king’s lies. She looked to Robert, but whatever he felt at this moment was hidden behind an impenetrable mask. He inclined his head and made his way to the dais, choosing, she noted, to go around the opposite side from where Comyn stood.
“John Comyn, as Guardian of Scotland, you shall go first,” Edward said, his tone near jovial. “Come and yield yourself and Scotland to me.”
The silence in the room was deafening in its absoluteness. Comyn came forward and bowed stiffly. “Let us recall the terms now,” the king said, leaning his elbows on the table as if to have a conversation with an old friend. “For peace between us, I restore to Comyn all his lands.”
The king continued on, but Elizabeth’s attention was diverted to Robert. He’d said nothing about it to her, yet she knew he had known the terms. Cold air hit her teeth from her parted lips. Comyn had surrendered Scotland to regain his lands rather than fight on and risk losing them or Robert gaining control of them if the rebellion continued. She stared at Robert, looking for a sign of how he felt, yet his face revealed nothing.
“I do not see William Wallace here as I demanded,” Edward boomed suddenly, causing Elizabeth to focus on him once more. The king stood and now leaned his hands upon the dais. A menacing smile replaced the congenial one he had been wearing. “Where is Wallace?” Of course, no one answered, and it seemed to enrage the king more. “Where is Wallace?” he roared again and pounded his fist upon the dais. “I vow on this day that I cannot agree to return your lands, Comyn, or keep you and yours in my peace, Bruce, if Wallace is not captured and surrendered to me. And you, Bruce and Comyn, will ride out together, hunt him down, and bring him to me, or I will show you the same mercy I showed your countrymen who dared to rise in rebellion against me.”
Elizabeth stared at Robert, her breath hitched at the king’s horrid command, making it hard to breathe. Robert stood still, staring forward, his eyes dark and fathomless in the blankness of his expression. She was not sure which frightened her more: the king’s pronouncement or her husband’s lack of reaction.
The shock of the defeat he was enduring held Robert immobile. He floundered in a maelstrom of confusion. The king’s command pressed on Robert’s heart like heavy iron, slowly crushing the life from him. He felt Elizabeth’s stare reaching him, demanding he acknowledge her disappointment, her fear, her need for him to open up to her. He could not do it. If he let her close once more, he would be choosing her and his brothers over his country; if he chose his country, he also would be choosing to put her and his brothers in danger.
Behind him, someone put a hand upon his shoulder, and he glanced back to find Fraser looking down at him. His eyes seemed to see and acknowledge Robert’s struggle, and convey a message of belief in him. God’s teeth, he prayed the man’s confidence was not misplaced.
He could see Comyn’s lips moving, accepting the king’s terms without much apparent hesitation. It was Comyn’s continued willingness to hunt down Wallace and to drag Robert into the sin with him—and Edward’s demand that they did so—that made up Robert’s mind for him. He could not turn his back on Scotland. They were in his blood, and he would not be worthy of Elizabeth if he abandoned his people.
He would do all in his power to keep Elizabeth and his brothers from harm, as well. He would need to proceed with the utmost care and choose when to rise in full rebellion wisely. He might even need to make a bargain with Comyn in the end, but he would come to that unpleasant prospect only if it was absolutely necessary to save Scotland.
He sat, enduring hours of his noble countrymen submitting one by one to the king and being shamed. Robert’s own shame should have been growing, but instead, determination sprang within him. It strengthened with each Scot who bent the knee to Edward. This was not the end; he would not allow it to be.
He was so lost in his thoughts that when the king finally called the proceedings to an end, and Robert looked around to find Elizabeth, he discovered she was gone, as was the queen. It was just as well, for what followed was an hour of Edward ensuring that it seemed Robert had done all in his power to aid Edward. Robert sat, teeth clenched and hands fisted, and endured being painted as a turncoat. The reckoning between him and Comyn had to come if Scotland was to survive. Still, Robert feared Comyn would not see the truth.
The king rose. “You two will leave shortly,” he demanded, showing his impatience to secure Wallace with such an unreasonable and dangerous demand. Edward narrowed his eyes upon Robert and Comyn. “You will be accompanied by my commanders to see that you do as I have bidden. Say your farewells, Bruce. If things go poorly, Elizabeth and your brothers may not be here when you return.”
Robert inclined his head, even as he gripped his knees in rage. The king’s threat was not lost on him. Once the king departed, Robert shoved back his chair, his gaze meeting Comyn’s. The man glared at him, and Robert returned the stare with a level one before turning on his heel and making his way out of the room, which was still crowded with the gay, celebrating English court.
At the door, a hooded priest stepped in front of him. “I would give ye a blessing,” the man murmured low.
Robert nodded as his heart hammered against his chest. He could not see the man’s face for the hood, but he recognized Angus’s voice. “I would take the blessing in my chamber momentarily.”
With that, Robert departed, knowing they could do nothing to draw attention to themselves. He made his way quickly up the narrow stairs to his appointed chambers with Elizabeth. Pausing outside the door, he took a breath, hoping he could make her understand that he did not willingly risk her, yet he could not allow a nation of people to suffer. His thoughts strayed for a moment to Angus and how he had come to be here, but he set the questions aside, his worry about Elizabeth needing to be settled first.
The door creaked open, and he saw her turn from the window she had been facing. Two pitch pine torches lit the room in addition to the moonlight flooding in from the sky. Her golden hair glimmered in the glow. The anguish on her face was obvious. “Robert, you cannot desert your people for fear of what will happen to us.”
The love he felt for her in that moment made him tremble. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. Her silky hair brushed his chin as she rested her head against his chest. She smelled of wildflowers, and it soothed him. Her soft curves pressed against him and stirred a desire that there was no time to sate. He stroked a hand through her tresses, feeling at once sure of their future and fearful for it. It was an odd combination of emotions, but he would have to learn to live with it.
“I know, lass. I came to the same conclusion.”
She pulled back and gazed at him with luminous eyes. “I am so very proud of you.”
“Are ye nae afraid for yerself?” he asked her, rubbing his finger over her full lower lip.
“Yes.” She caught his hand and kissed the inside of his palm. “Of course I am, and I also fear that in choosing to continue the rebellion, you will harden your heart even more.”
“I do nae think I can to ye, though I have tried recently.”
“I know well,” she replied, giving him a stern look. “It’s pained me. I think more so than any separation ever could. To be beside you, but so distant, is a special torment.”
“God’s teeth,” he moaned, threading his hands into her thick locks. “How did I nae see that?”
She smirked. “We women often see things you men seem blind to. Robert, there will be risk always to myself, your brothers, and someday our children, if God blesses us with them.”
Bairns. He splayed his hand over her belly. “I would nae wish our children born into a world where they do nae know a free Scotland.”
She rested her small hand over his, her eyes locking on him. “I would not wish it either, my love. What will you do about Wallace?”
“I will hunt for him, as I have been ordered, yet everyone knows Wallace is like a ghost in the woods. His presence is there, but ye can nae see him. I can nae capture a man I can nae see.”
“Ah.” The light of understanding shone in her eyes. “Be careful,” she begged, and he nodded. “The king’s men will report back to Edward if they suspect you are not truly trying to find Wallace.”
“I know it well,” Robert replied. “But the king has given me an opportunity without even realizing it.” She gave him a questioning look so he explained. “The woods are thick, and it would nae be odd to be separated from those he sends to guard me and Comyn. I will use this opportunity to plan when to rise, and how to get ye and hopefully my brothers out from under the king’s thumb. Ye must be prepared to flee at any time, aye?”
She nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
He opened his mouth to tell her about Angus when a knock sounded at the door. Elizabeth’s gaze flew to it. He leaned close to her, seeing the worry in her gaze. “I believe it’s Angus,” he said, keeping his voice low on the chance it was not.
“But how?”
Robert shrugged. “He must have snuck in with the nobility.” He went to the door and opened it, and Angus stood there, still dressed in the priest’s cloak. Upon closer inspection, he looked like a beggarly friar. “Father,” Robert said, keeping up the pretense. “I’ll take my blessing now.”
Angus stepped through the door, and Robert shut it behind him. He gripped his friend’s forearm. “I do nae know how ye managed to get here, but I’m glad to see ye.”
“The king’s men are nae far behind me,” Angus replied, nodding his acknowledgment to Elizabeth. “I’m in contact with Wallace. We suspected the king would order something like this. Niall and I have set up a system in the woods. We will do our best to keep ye one step behind Wallace so that it appears ye are doing all ye can to capture him, and in this—”
“I will regain the king’s trust,” Robert finished for him, impressed. “Ye have been busy.”
“Aye,” Angus said with a grin.
Footsteps sounded outside, prohibiting further conversation, and then a banging came upon the door. “Bruce,” came an English’s guard’s voice. “It’s time to ride.”
Robert drew Elizabeth into his arms and tight against his chest. He breathed in her scent, then captured her mouth with his, not caring that Angus was standing there, though the man had turned away. He gave himself freely to the passion of the moment, and she did, too, with a desperation he tasted and understood. When he pulled away, he cupped her face. “That will nae be the last kiss we share. I vow it.”
“I will take that vow and think on it when I look to the stars at night and think of you.”
The door opened with a bang then, and the king’s guards entered the room. Robert motioned to Angus. “This priest will ride with us. He was Wallace’s priest for a time and knows something of where he might be.”
“Let us make haste to catch the filthy Scot traitor, then,” the guard replied, and Robert nodded. But it seemed impossible to make himself leave Elizabeth. His body did not want to cooperate, but then he thought of the crying child in the forest. He turned away from his wife with one parting glace at her that sent pain ripping through his chest.
Ettrick Forest was blanketed by darkness, but Robert could see a torch just ahead near the river bend where Fraser had said to meet him. There was an old, nearly destroyed cottage, and Wallace and Lamberton would be there, too. It had taken much planning and great risk on Fraser’s part to get the message to Robert that Lamberton wanted to see him. Robert glanced behind him once more to ensure that Comyn had not followed him; the man was truly hunting Wallace, whereas Robert simply pretended to. With Angus’s aid, Wallace had managed to stay one step ahead of Comyn and Robert’s men, who had been appointed to him by the king.
He dismounted his horse and tethered it to a tree near the cottage, then opened the door. Wallace, Lamberton, and Fraser sat around a table. All three turned his way when he entered, each showing signs of weariness in different ways. Lamberton now had streaks of gray in his hair, and Wallace had lost much weight. His face was haggard. Fraser had the look of a man on edge, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, though he smiled when Robert entered.
“I’ve nae much time,” Robert said, pulling out the empty chair and sitting. Robert met Wallace’s eyes first. “I’m sorry.”
The Scot smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Dunnae be sorry. I will survive this. Ye are doing all ye can to aid me, nae truly hunting me, and I ken the risk ye take. I ken the king has yer wife and yer two youngest brothers in his clutches. Dunnae fash yerself, Bruce. I will outwit Comyn and the others.”
Robert’s gut clenched. The man’s words were sure, but his eyes held doubt.
Still, Robert nodded, not wanting to show any doubt himself. “Aye. Just keep moving. Ye take a grave risk as well coming here this night. What is this meeting for?”
Lamberton leaned forward and met Robert’s gaze. “Balliol can nae ever return to the throne. That is over. He does nae have the faith of the Scottish people anymore.”
Robert acknowledged the truth with a nod.
Lamberton inhaled a long breath and continued. “Either ye or Comyn must make a move to be the leader of the rebellion and then rise to take the throne.”
Robert frowned. “My father—”
“Yer father is dying. Ye know this. I have come from seeing him, in point of fact, and he dunnae have long. He has withered to nothing.”
Deep sadness washed over Robert. He and his father had been estranged for a long while now, but there had been a time when he had admired the man and cared for him deeply. Robert realized with a start that he still cared, even though his father had shown him nothing but displeasure for so long now. “Go on,” Robert said, his voice scratchy with what he felt.
“I wish to support ye, and so does the church,” Lamberton said. With the church’s support and Lamberton, who was powerful and well loved by the people, he stood a good chance of bringing all of Scotland together under him. “Comyn wants his lands and yers, but he also wants the throne.”
“Aye,” Robert said. “I well know this.”
Lamberton nodded. “When he surrendered as Guardian of Scotland and did nae broker peace terms for Wallace, he lost the support of the many of the Scottish people.”
“He does nae need it as Balliol did. Comyn’s relatives are powerful, and they still support him,” Robert said.
“This is true, which is why I suggest we—ye and I—make him an offer. A bargain, if ye will.”
Robert leaned forward, intrigued. “What sort of bargain?”
“We will offer him terms, which I will write down, and ye both will put yer signatures and seal to, so that it is binding.”
Robert’s curiosity grew. “What sort of terms?”
Lamberton exchanged a look with Wallace and Fraser.
“Ye’ve already told them,” Robert said, shocked. Lamberton had always held Robert in closer confidence than anyone.
Lamberton nodded. “I wanted to hear if they thought ye would be agreeable.”
“Continue then,” Robert said, his mind turning with what Lamberton could possibly say.
“One of ye will get all the land,” Lamberton began, “yer holdings as well as all the holdings of the other, which will make ye the most powerful noble in Scotland. The other one of ye will take the throne as king when the time comes.” Robert exhaled in a rush, and Lamberton’s eyes shone brightly. “What I must know this day, Robbie, before we proceed, is do ye wish for the lands or the throne?”
Robert did not even have to pause to think. He wished for the thing that would put him in the best position to save his people. “The throne,” he replied, to which Lamberton smiled.
“Good choice,” said Wallace, his relief obvious.
“Aye,” Fraser agreed.
“Now,” Robert said, “we have to ask ourselves, what will Comyn want and can we trust him to keep his word? Or will he use any bargain we might strike to crush us?”