Chapter Twenty-Nine
Since Alexander’s departure from Dunfermline, a sennight past, Davina and Sibylla had met every day for devotions in the Queen’s Chapel. They had, indeed, prayed together, but they also spent much time talking. For the first time in her life, Davina had a true friend, someone she could trust and confide in. Sibylla was the sister she had always longed for, but their growing friendship endangered them both.
“The princess desires me to sup with her again,” Sibylla said. “I dinna ken how to manage this time without rousing her suspicion.” She bit her lip.
Having run out of credible excuses to avoid it, Sibylla had already dined with the princess twice. On the first occasion, she requested mead instead of the wine the princess served. The second time, when she “accidentally” spilled her cup, she replenished it from the same pitcher of wine that the princess drank.
“Can ye plead yer courses?” Davina asked.
“Nae.” Sibylla shook her head. “’Tis the first excuse I used. If only there was some other way to distract her.”
Sibylla gazed once more at the plot she had prepared for the princess’ roses. “Mayhap I could convince her to go back to Haddington for a time? I already told ye that I will need to transplant rose bushes for her garden. Mayhap I could suggest that we transplant something with special significance to honor Prince Henry?”
“Do ye think she would agree?”
“I dinna ken,” Davina said. “But ’tis worth a try.”
“Ye would go with her?” Sibylla asked.
“I would have to,” Davina said sadly. “But ye would be safe.”
“I fear for ye, Davina, if she learns that ye warned me. I wish Alexander would return!” Sibylla said, stifling a sob. “I hate this place!”
“As do I,” Davina said. “Once ye are gone, I will nae remain here. I will return to Haddington Priory.”
“Is that truly yer desire, Davina?” Sibylla asked softly, her green gaze far too probing for Davina’s comfort.
They sat on a turf seat in the shadow of Queen Margaret’s statue. Davina gazed up at her mournful face wondering what her life had been like. She had died grief-stricken by the death of her husband and oldest son. Dunfermline had been Queen Margaret’s favorite palace. Was she happy here? It was hard to imagine anyone being happy here.
Over time, Davina had shared much of her past with Domnall’s sister but, until now, Sibylla had never delved too deeply about Davina’s relationship with Domnall. She still loved him. She would always love him but it would never be more than a wistful yearning for what might have been.
“We canna always have what we desire,” Davina said with a sad sigh. “Sometimes we must teach ourselves to be content.”
Before either could say another word, the air erupted with the clamorous chiming of the cathedral bells.
Davina listened in puzzlement. “’Tis nae the call to prayer. Do ye think they herald ill-tidings?” But the bells did not sound in slow, mournful tones. On the contrary, they were almost jubilant.
“Nae,” Sibylla answered. “I would hazard ’tis good news.” She stood. “Let us go, Sister, and see what we can discover.”
*
That evening, Sibylla was spared the private supper with Princess Adaline. Instead, the king called for a public feast to celebrate the return of Prince Malcolm.
The prince’s homecoming had seemingly worked a miracle on the king who left his bed for the first time in weeks to command his high seat. Although he had full power of his faculties, his body appeared shrunken and his complexion was sallow. His speech was also heavily slurred. Davina had no doubt that the king had not long to live.
The princess was also much changed but in the opposite extreme. She was almost feverishly animated. Davina still worried for her mental state. She had become increasingly volatile and unpredictable. It would do her good to leave this place, but Davina wondered if she could convince her to do so now that Malcolm had returned. Perhaps the prince would be persuaded to accompany his mother to Haddington? The king could hardly object, given their purpose was to create a living memorial to his dead son.
Davina resolved to suggest it as soon as possible to the princess.
The table was laden with all manner of seasoned meats and fish, enormous wheels of cheese and a variety of fruits freshly plucked from the king’s orchards. Wine, mead and strong cider flowed freely from enormous casks that had been brought into the great hall. As they supped, minstrels played in the gallery, plucking their lutes and singing Mirie it is While Sumer Ilast.
Davina was seated at the foot of the table which gave her the advantage of a clear view of everyone who sat at the head. The Earl of Mearns and the king’s High Steward, a man called Fitz Alan, sat to the king’s left, while Prince Malcolm sat on the right in the place of honor, his mother beside him. Alexander and Sibylla were positioned across from one another a few places away from the prince. Speaking for the king, the bishop stood to offer a protracted prayer of thanksgiving for the prince’s safe return.
At the utterance of “Amen”, the bishop yet continued, “And lastly, may God’s bountiful blessings fall upon the man who not only contrived the prince’s safe return to us, but in so doing secured the future of the throne of Scotland…”
Davina looked to Alexander, the hero who had brought the prince home, but the bishop’s eyes were on the Earl of Mearns as he continued. “In reward for his great service to the crown, his majesty has decreed that Eachann, Earl of Mearns, will act as Regent of Scotland in the event his majesty should pass from this earth prior to the prince’s majority.”
Davina swallowed her gasp. How could this be? Had Eachann of Mearns taken credit for Malcolm’s return? Had the villain somehow become the hero?
Davina scanned the faces at the king’s table for their reaction to the proclamation. The prince looked dazed, Fitz Alan, the king’s High Steward, and Hugh de Morville, Constable of Scotland, exchanged a look of surprise. Eachann himself, hid his elation in victory over his rivals with a benign smile.
But the bishop still wasn’t finished. “’Tis also with the greatest joy that the king announces this night Prince Malcolm’s betrothal of marriage to Sibylla of Kilmuir, daughter of Lord William Fitz Duncan.”
Alexander’s face suddenly flushed and his eyes blazed. Sibylla, on the other hand, appeared to go pale with shock. The princess, contrarily, betrayed no reaction at all, which caused Davina the greatest alarm. Was she not worried because she intended to take care of the matter herself? Davina feared it was so.
The rest of the feast was an interminable affair with Davina’s stomach so unsettled that she could not bring herself to eat or drink. Just when she considered slipping away, she saw Sibylla excuse herself. A few minutes later, Alexander did the same, making his exit in the opposite direction Sibylla had taken.
Davina guessed it was a ruse to cover an assignation. She had half a mind to follow them but feared what she might interrupt between the reunited husband and wife. A short time later, Davina also departed the great hall, and retired straight to her bed. She despised living in this tangle of plots and intrigues.
It seemed to her a terrible irony that Dunfermline, the largest place of worship in the land, would also be the most morally corrupt. The longer she stayed, the more desperately she yearned to be free.
*
Just as Davina closed her eyes, a light rap sounded on her chamber door. “Davina, ’tis Sibylla. I must speak with ye.”
Davina bolted from her bed to unlatch the door. “Sibylla! What is amiss?”
“It must be now!” Sibylla whispered. “Too much has happened. Eachann has come into power. He is an evil man with many spies. The danger of discovery has become too great for all of us.”
“But what of yer uncle?” Davina asked.
“He is still a prisoner, but his life is spared!” Sibylla said. “Prince Malcolm has agreed he will be freed upon King David’s death. ’Twas the bargain he made with my brother for his own release.”
So Domnall had negotiated for his uncle’s life after all? Davina was glad of it.
“We must leave this night while most of the palace is drunk with wine,” Sibylla said. “We will ne’er have a better chance. Alexander has a boat only a few miles away at Inverkeithing. We will disguise ourselves as monks and slip away.”
Davina’s heart raced with anticipation and indecision. She wanted to go but what would be waiting for her? “Ye intend to return to Kilmuir?” she asked.
“Nae. Alexander says ’tis unsafe.”
“Then where will ye go?”
“I dinna ken and I dinna care as long as ’tis far away from this place,” Sibylla answered.
“Ye must go without me.”
Although she longed desperately to leave, how could she ever bear being close to Domnall? Davina shut her eyes on a sudden wave of memories—the night-long prayer vigil, the horseback journey to Crailing, the game in the garden, and her single night of passion with Domnall. The recollections were both poignant and painful. They had pledged their hearts to one another. She had waited patiently for him, but he had not come. Domnall had not only broken faith. He had broken her heart.
“Are ye verra certain of this, Davina?” she asked. “My family would welcome ye.”
Davina shook her head sadly. “I wish ye and Alexander great happiness.” She took Sibylla into a tight embrace. “Godspeed to ye, sister of my heart.”
*
After a very sleepless night, Davina resolved to ask the princess’ leave to return to Haddington Priory. Only by returning to the convent would she be able to put all of the past month’s turmoil behind her and find peace in her soul again.
She entered the princess’ chamber as Berthe was brushing her hair. Strangely, the princess looked happier than Davina had seen her in weeks.
“Ye look in exceedingly good spirits today, Highness,” Davina remarked.
“Because she is gone!” the princess pronounced with a smile.
There was no doubt to whom the princess referred, but Davina feigned ignorance with a frown. “Highness?”
“Sibylla! She has disappeared in the night, not that I am sorry for it. Good riddance to her, I say! But the king is in a seething fury over it. Malcolm, however, was appalled when the betrothal was announced. He has no desire to wed and had no prior warning of it, poor lad.”
“Eventually, he must marry,” Davina said.
“Aye,” the princess replied. “And when the time is right, I will find him a bride from suitable stock. Eachann, for some reason I cannot comprehend, is determined to find her and bring her back, but he owes me for supporting him as Malcolm’s regent.”
“I dinna understand. Last eve, ’twas said the earl returned the prince, but I thought Brother Alexander brought him back,” Davina said.
“The details are irrelevant,” the princess declared with a dismissive wave. “The only thing that matters is that Malcolm is safe.”
It seemed Sibylla’s escape had put the princess in a rare good mood. There would be no better time to request a boon.
“Princess,” Davina ventured carefully. “I came here with ye in hope of comforting ye in yer mourning, but I find I dearly miss the priory. I would like to ask yer leave to return.”
The princess eyed her with a frown. “Are you are not content here?”
“I have endeavored to make myself useful,” Davina said. “But ’tis a monastery. I enjoyed more freedom amongst the sisters.”
“Ah, freedom,” the princess sighed. “Is that not what every woman secretly craves? Freedom from the control of men?” She eyed Davina in a long and silent contemplation. “What of my garden?” she asked.
“Early spring is the best time to transplant the roses,” Davina said. “I could bring them to ye then.” Davina watched with bated breath as the princess deliberated her suggestion.
“I suppose that would serve,” the princess answered after a time. “I will miss you, Sister Mary Malachy, but I understand your desire to return to the convent. You may go back to Haddington Priory. I will arrange an escort forthwith.”
*
Three days later, Davina made her final visit to the jail. To her dismay, MacAedh’s conditions hadn’t changed. She was disappointed that Prince Malcolm, knowing MacAedh was the reason for his own release, had made no effort to improve the state of his captivity.
He glanced up at her entry. “’Tis good to see ye again, Sister Mary Malachy.”
His greeting was warm but his eyes were dull and lifeless. He looked very much like a man who had lost all hope. She wished there was something more she could do for him, but she could not remain at Dunfermline for his sake alone.
“I am sorry I have nae come for such a long while,” Davina apologized, “but much has prevented me from coming.”
“Ye are under nae obligation to me,” he said. “But I do count it a blessing every time ye do come,” he added with a soft smile.
There was something disconcertingly familiar in his eyes, something that reminded her far too much of Domnall. Davina was quick to shake off the thought.
“I come with tidings that I hope will raise yer spirits,” she said. She opened her prayer book and switched to Gaelic as she knelt down beside him. “Ye will be glad to ken that yer niece has left Dunfermline.”
He looked incredulous. “The king released her?”
“Nae. She has eloped with Brother Alexander. They are both gone.”
“Then I am alone here.” His expression grew darker. “Nevertheless, I am glad of it. I wanted them to leave.”
“There is more news. Yer life is spared.”
His gaze narrowed. “What do ye mean?”
“The king does nae ken it, but Prince Malcolm has secretly pledged to release ye when he comes into power.”
“He has? How did this come about?”
“Yer kinsman, Domnall, persuaded him. I dinna ken the details of it but I hope ’twill restore yer faith.” She laid a hand on his arm. “God has nae forsaken ye.”
“I thought He had until He sent ye to me. Ye have, indeed, been a Godsend, Sister. I dinna ken how I will e’er thank ye.”
He gazed at her with a softness that touched her heart, but also made it all the more difficult for Davina to tell him that she would not be coming back. At least she had given him some good news with which to soften the blow.
“I dinna expect gratitude,” she said. “’Twas my desire to lessen the suffering of those who are imprisoned.”
“’Twas?” His brows arched.
“Aye,” she replied with a sad sigh. “I am also leaving Dunfermline soon.”
“Is there a particular reason for it?” he asked.
“There is,” she confessed. “I feel myself changing. I am nae the person I was and I fear that if I stay I will simply wither away.”
“I ken verra well the feeling,” he replied. “And I am glad that ye go. I only regret that I am nae the one to take ye away from here.”
His answer took her aback.
Her surprise must have shown on her face. “Do I offend ye?” he asked.
“Nae,” she answered. “Perhaps I dinna correctly understand yer meaning.”
“I think ye do,” he answered, his dark gaze growing intense. “My nephew was a bluidy fool to have let ye slip away.”
“He had nae choice,” Davina replied softly. “His life was endangered.”
“Do ye still love him?” MacAedh asked.
“I do,” she replied. “And I will ne’er love anyone else.”
“Ne’er is a verra long time,” he replied. “And ye are yet a young lass. Mayhap another man will prove himself worthy of ye one day.”
“I must go now,” Davina said. She murmured the Lord’s Prayer for the benefit of the guards and then stood to depart. “I will be back in the spring with rose bushes for the princess’ garden. I will come and visit ye then.”
He inclined his head with a smile. “Ye have given me something to look forward to.”
*
Two days later, Davina was escorted to the stables by one of the king’s knights.
“Sister,” he greeted her with a great show of reverence. “I am Guilbert Champernon and this is my squire, Jacot.” He introduced a pimply-faced youth of about fourteen years who held three horses by the reins. “It is our privilege to conduct ye to Haddington Priory.”
“Guilbert Champernon?” Davina repeated dumbly.
She had not seen or heard of him since her arrival at Carlisle all those years ago. He had matured a great deal from the adolescent squire she had known. Was she also so changed that he didn’t recognize her?
“I am recently returned from Normandy, where I have been fighting in the service of Henry Fitz Empress.” He returned her quizzical look. “Have we met before, Sister?”
“As a matter of fact, we have,” she replied. “’Twas long before I became a nun. Ye were among the men who found me at Crailing.”
She almost laughed as his jaw dropped. “You are the lass, Davina?”
“I was,” she corrected. “But now I am Sister Mary Malachy.”
“Do you ride, Sister?” he asked.
“It has been many years,” she answered. “But I believe I still ken how to sit a horse.”
He nodded to his squire. “Then let us depart.”