ISABEL
The nuns are here, the one called Sister Constance and the other, Alise. What kind of name is Alise for a nun? One for a nun who thinks herself boldinit and more mighty than the Almighty, thats what kind. Wee Constance is kind enough in her way, though she believes what she is told, of this hoor of Babylon kept in a cage on the walls of Berwick until Hell calls her for a seat at her personal bad fire. The convent they come from is the same one where I was held for ransom by Malenfaunt long years since, but all his charges have been scourged from it I wonder what became of the little oblate, Clothilde? She and all the rest have been replaced, Constance told me primly, by decent, Christian women. Well all but Alise, who is a goad in the hands of one of Satans lesser imps. From woman sprang original sin, she tells me often, and all evil and all suffering and all impurity with a sly little smile that tells me she does not include herself as any kin of Eve in it. Who is without sin? Even an Order Knight would need to live in a desert to obey Gods Law in this kingdom. I said as much to her at first and saw the little cats-arse purse she made of her lips at having been so spoken to, though she could do nothing then. Afterwards, the number of folk allowed into the bailey to gawp seemed to increase for a time, and had been encouraged to jeer until they were stopped by, of all folk, Malise, who does not like his authority over me challenged, never mind by a mere nun. Sister Alise hates being one of those given the task of sleeping across my door each night on a straw pallet, to make sure nothing ungodly happens and no visitor takes advantage. Not unless it is Malise Bellejambe, of course. What does she know of me, this Alise? What do any of them know, slobbering and laughing below me like I am some babery beast? I am Isabel MacDuff and I am loved. My Hal lives yet I would know if he did not and he will come. Miserere nostri. Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla. Pity us. Dreaded day when the universe will be reduced to ashes.
Amen.
CHAPTER TWO
Edinburgh Castle,
Feast of St Fergna of Iona, March 1314
They came up to the glowering rock and the black fortress on it through a haar-haze hung thick as linen, with Hal sore and tired from unaccustomed riding. They passed a huge cart tipped back and weighted so that the trace pole could support the carcass of a hog; the gory butchers paused to look and wave and call out good-natured greetings to Jamie as he passed.
The Good Sir James, Sim said, nudging his mount easily alongside Hal so that he could speak soft. Darling of the host, is the Black Lord of Douglas. A derfly, ramstampit man o main.
Hal met Sims eye, saw the mock in it and managed a smile. He saw, too, the white of Sim Craw he had got used to it now, though it had come as a shock, all that snow on his lintel. It had come to him, when the Dog Boy suggested he brighten himself for the arrival of the Earl of Carrick, that he himself was old each pewter curl that fell from his clipped head, courtesy of the spared girl, Aggie, told of that. And Sim was older by only a handful and a half of years.
Since no one had had much care for the style of a prisoner, wee poor noble or not, Hal had not realized how hed looked until sat in front of the water-waver of a bad mirror and witnessed this apparition with a greasy tangle of grey hair matting its way into a madness of bushed beard.
Only the eyes, grey-blue and blank, could be seen and when Hal looked in them he was dizzied, for it felt as if there was someone else looking back at him, as if his body had been rented like an abandoned house. When his beard vanished, the gaunt lantern-jawed man who appeared was no more familiar.
Aggie, rocking her bairn in a shawl looped across her back while she clipped, tongue between her teeth, eventually announced that she could do no more. The result, Dog Boy announced critically, was suitable and Hal, seven years removed from the gawky youth who had cared only for dogs, was astonished by this new Dog Boy, a muscled, skilled warrior and the shadow of the Black himself. He was even called Aleysandir now, a fine set-up man with a name and the style and wit to know how a wee lord from Lothian should be seen by an earl. Yet he was still Dog Boy to those who knew him well.
Hal had heard some matters of the outside world in his prison, enough to know that he had missed even more, but the arrival of the Earl of Carrick had confused him. He had been expecting the Bruce, but it was the brother who came and Hal cursed himself for a fool.
Had he not been there when the Earl of Carrick became king? Now brother Edward was Earl of Carrick and the last of the brothers, too. The memory of the others, dead and gone in the furtherance of Robert Bruce to the throne, had soured the fête of Edward Bruces arrival at Roxburgh, a day after Hals release.
He and Hal had met once the mummery had been done with: the greetings and fine speeches, the official surrender and promises made. Sir William Fiennes, barely clinging to life, left in a litter with Frixco, uncaring little bachle, trailing after and hugging close to the bier as if the dying brother was a sealed surety for his own safety. Dog Boy saw Aggie hawk and spit pointedly and scornfully as he went; she was clearly bright with the wonderful possibility of being allowed to go where she would and with a sum of money to keep her and the bairn for a time.
Edward had been all delight and grins, his face flushed, fleshy and even broader than it had been, though there were harsh lines at the corner of eye and mouth which spoke of the hardships of the seven years since Hal had last seen him.
Aye, times have changed and for the better, he had growled, handing the fresh-shorn Hal a horn cup of wine. The King wants Edinburgh, Stirling and Roxburgh in his grip by summer. It is an ambitious swoop but, by God, the Black has opened the account well.
As well he chose this yin first, Hal had answered, else I would be in prison still.
Isnt it, though?
Edward had walked to the tent entrance and stood for a moment, shaking a sad head.
A pity, he had said in French. It is a pretty place, Roxburgh, and shame on us for having to tear it down.
Hal knew why: they could not garrison it sufficiently to keep the English out if they came back and Roxburgh, like Edinburgh and Stirling, was a bastion for the English in the Kingdom, a fount of supply and centre of domination. Still, there were others.
Even if they all fall, the English will still have Berwick and Bothwell, hed said and Edward nodded.
Aye, and Dunbar, but none are as brawlie as the great fortalices of Stirling, Edinburgh and here. Besides, taking them throws most of the last garrisons of English out of the Kingdom and sends a sign to English Edwards enemies that, once again, he is the weak son. Not a Longshanks, for all his length of leg.
Aye, and Dunbar, but none are as brawlie as the great fortalices of Stirling, Edinburgh and here. Besides, taking them throws most of the last garrisons of English out of the Kingdom and sends a sign to English Edwards enemies that, once again, he is the weak son. Not a Longshanks, for all his length of leg.
Hed paused, swilled wine in the goblet, frowning at it as if some clegg had flown in.
I know why you speak of Berwick, hed said suddenly and Hal jerked with the gaff of his words. They stared at each other for a moment.
She is there still?
The question hunched itself like a crookback beggar with a hand out and was not answered for a long time. Then, however, Edward had shifted slightly.
Isabel MacDuff is there still. In a cage hung from the inside wall. The King ordered us to try Berwicks castle two years since. Got one of Sim of Leadhouses fancy ladders up and disturbed a dog on the same battlement. It set up a din of howling and barking, so that the guard came to kick its arse and found us.
Hed stopped, shaking his head at the memory of the mad scrambling retreat.
You left her because of a wee dug, Hal had said and it was not a question; it had enough bleak censure in it for Edwards eyes to blaze and his head to snap up.
My sister Mary was in a similar cage Christs Bones, if ye had looked up at any time ye would have seen her hanging on Roxburghs battlements. My other sister Christina is held in a convent. My niece is held in yet another and the Queens whereabouts is not even known. Dye think we do not care, Lord Henry?
Hal saw he had gone too far and with no justice in it, so hed nodded grudgingly.
For the first year they kept me close and mainly in the dark, hed told Edward blankly, and for all the light his tone made of it his eyes were as smoked as the locked dim hed had to endure for so long.
They hourly expected word from English Edward, Hal had gone on, hearing his voice as if it belonged to someone else, conscious of his pathetic attempt to be wry and matter-of-fact, but he was busy dying, so it never came and the son became too busy with his catamite and his annoyed barons. In the end, they brought me out and treated me better but Princess Mary was gone by that time.
Mollified, Edward Bruce had subsided a little, finishing his wine and pouring more.
Aye. Beyond our reach so you know the taking of Roxburgh was not on her account, he had growled.
Nor on mine, Hal had thought grimly to himself, for all Jamie Douglas gave out that it was. When hed said it aloud, Edward had agreed with a curt nod.
So also with Berwick, Edward had added pointedly, which will be taken in the end and the doing of it will be less about Isabel MacDuff and more to deny it to the English.
Hed then thrown himself into a curule chair, draping one leg over the arm.
Yet we care about our womenfolk, Lord Hal. I would not be so free and easy with the King as regards these matters. He is not the man you knew, being fresh to the kingship then.
Hed stared moodily, glassily, into the wine and had spoken almost to himself.
Now he is fixed on securing matters, on ensuring that everyone kens he is king. Nothing else matters but that and you step soft round him these days.
I have read the Declaration of the Clergy, Hal had told him and had back a surprised look.
Have you indeed? They were solicitous of your welfare in the end, to fit you with a copy of that in your cell. Shame we had to poke out Sir Williams best eye, then, for it seems he did not deserve it what did you think of that document?
Hal remembered what that question had raised in him. Aggie, the girl who had served him meals, had brought it and she had plucked it from the kirk door, one of the many expensive and laboriously made copies nailed there. She had wanted to know what was in it but could not read, nor dared take it to anyone in Roxburgh who might.