The Renegade(4)

“Anyway,” she said, “I intend to look my best if we’re to entertain both King and lord. In that, at least, I hae some control.”

Allie busied herself picking up and folding the discarded gown before turning back to her mistress, ready to help her dress again, but Marjorie’s dismissal of her concerns had not put her mind at rest. “My God, though, the expense o’ it,” she breathed, almost silently, as she pulled the back of Marjorie’s gown into place. “What was Earl Robert thinkin’, to invite the King to come here to do somethin’ that ought to be done by rights in Dunfermline?”

“The expense o’ it?” Marjorie twisted to face her, smiling and frowning at the same time as she tugged at the waist of her gown. “Here, see if ye can pull out those creases, smooth them down. I’m getting big again and I’ll soon no’ be able to squeeze into this thing at all, for a while, at least.”

Allie eyed her mistress’s waistline and pursed her lips. “Ye dae no’ bad. Good enough to keep yer man nudgin’ at ye.”

“Aye. That’s why I’m expectin’ again. But the expense o’ it, ye were sayin’, havin’ the King come here instead o’ bidin’ where he belongs?” She smiled. “It’s no’ that great an expense, Allie, when ye consider what Earl Robert will gain by it. The cost wouldna beggar the House o’ Carrick, and ye can be sure it winna make a dint in the coffers o’ the House o’ Bruce. Besides, the cost is no’ important. It’s the King’s dignity that’s at hazard here. Angus Mohr would never set foot in Dunfermline town, it being Alexander’s seat. It’s a matter o’ pride, as such foolish things always are wi’ men. Angus calls himsel’ the Lord o’ Islay, but in his own mind I hae no doubt that when he says ‘Lord’ he thinks ‘King.’ And so for him to go to Dunfermline, he would be lowering himself to meet the King o’ Scots, at least in his own eyes. Alexander understands that full well, I’m sure, but for whatever reason, he has made up his mind that he must meet face to face wi’ Angus Mohr, and must therefore meet him elsewhere than in Dunfermline. Earl Robert knows that, too, and he knows that Turnberry is the perfect place to ease the minds o’ both men. Neither one o’ them can doubt his welcome here, and each o’ them trusts Robert or myself—I should say and myself— Earl Robert because he has proved himself time and again to the King, and me because I’ve known both men, lord and King, since I was a bairn.” She stopped to cock her head, listening, and held up her hand. “Who’s there?”

The door opened a crack and one of the women from the nearby castle town of Turnberry stuck her head timidly into the room, managing, for all her timidity, to scan her eyes from side to side, seeing and noting everything there was to be seen in the countess’s brightly lit dressing chamber. Every woman in the castle town, and most of their men as well, had been conscripted into service for the coming royal visit, and the main building, which was normally tended by a small crew of caretakers, was overrun by more temporary servitors than Marjorie could ever remember seeing at one time.

“Well?” she asked the woman. “It’s Bella, isn’t it? What do you need me for?”

The woman bobbed her head. “Forgi’e me, mileddy, but one o’ Earl Robert’s men just arrived in the kitchens wi’ word for ye.”

“D’ye ken the man?”

“Aye, lady, it’s the big laddie who aey rides wi’ the earl, him wi’ the missin’ ear.”

Marjorie had an instant vision of the youth they called Wee Thomas because of his great size. He was not the cleverest of her husband’s followers, but he numbered high among the most loyal— and fearless. A giant at fourteen, to be sure, but still a mere child in years, he had earned the earl’s undying esteem and gratitude by the selfless ferocity with which he had attacked three men who had sprung from hiding and attacked Earl Robert, having evidently been dispatched to kill him, though by whom no one knew to this day. Armed with only a rusty old dirk, the boy had cut down one of them and wounded another before any of them knew he was among them, and his attack had given Earl Robert the brief time he needed to gather his wits, unsheathe his own weapon, and deal with the remaining attacker. By that time, though, the boy would have been dead had the hard-swung sword stroke that glanced off his skull and severed most of his left ear hit its target, the crown of his head.

She became aware that the woman was still poised in the doorway. “My thanks, Bella. Is he still at the kitchens?” The woman nodded. “Good. Tell him to stay where he is and eat something. I’ll be there directly, as soon as I’m done here.”