"Aye, ye are fit to lead this country, though I'd not let ye touch my horse. Ye may not give him back." William's quip gained no response from his cousin. "Come now, man," he chided. "'Tis a setback, that's all. Ye must pull yourself together and then pull us together for that is what a king does." William allowed his voice to grow increasingly sharp and that, finally, had the desired effect.
Robert raised his head and nodded briefly. "Aye. You're right." The king pushed himself to his feet and carefully straightened his spine.
"O' course I'm right," William replied. "That's what ye hate about me. I'm always right. Now help me stand. I canna feel my toes."
Sometime later, wounds washed and bound as well as possible, thirst assuaged and hunger abated by a recently caught and roasted hare, William broached the subject of the attack.
"Have ye figured out what happened?"
Robert glanced quickly at him, then returned his gaze to the small fire.
"Aye."
"Well?"
"We were attacked."
William waited for him to say more and then prodded. "I was there, I know we were attacked. How did they find us? You had scouts out looking for them since we left Perth?"
"We were betrayed."
"Clearly. By whom?"
Robert paused again and William frowned. He was about to urge the king on when Robert answered on his own. "By Clan Innes."
"What? How can-why would Clan Innes betray you?" William's head reeled with the thought. Surely Meghan had been furious with him, but to betray them to the English? Meghan hated the English more than she hated him, didn't she?
"All I know is that one of my scouts has learned that Lennox Innes has been promised lands in England and a guarantee of safety for the clan holdings here."
William gripped his head in his hands, trying to stop the whirlwind of thoughts. "And his niece? Meghan? Have ye heard aught of her role?"
"She and her men traveled with us. They must have left a trail for the English. Perhaps they sent a signal that we were not on guard."
“I can't believe it," William whispered.
"Believe it. Had I to do it over again, I'd have strangled her myself when she begged me to intercede on her father's behalf. Paugh!" Robert spat. "Oengus Innes got off too easily if ye ask me!"
William nodded in agreement while a cold fury worked its way through his veins. Meghan's betrayal cut the king, aye, but he knew its barb was intended for him. That his only worry during the battle had been for her safety! That he had nearly killed himself trying to make sure the English did not get their filthy hands on her! That he had loved her, that he had thought to marry her, that he had wanted nothing more than to cherish her for the rest of their lives made her treachery all the more bitter.
Too angered to sit any longer, William stood and began pacing. She must have planned to betray them when he proposed marriage! How she must have laughed at him. The thought burned through his veins, cleansing him of any lingering feelings of tenderness, girding him to feel nothing but hatred for her.
"I'll go after them," he finally said.
"What?"
"Hamish and I will go after them and kill them both."
"What good will that do?" Robert asked, frowning. "I'll not regain the confidence of the clan leaders."
"Aye, ye will. Especially when they see what happens to traitors. Especially when they hear that even in defeat, your strength lashes out to those who betray you. Aye, you will regain their confidence and their support."
Robert studied his cousin for several moments and then nodded. "Very well," he said. "Kill them.
Chapter 19
Meghan awoke with a neck stiff from sleeping upright and hands numb and chafed from being tied behind her. Her back was to the tent's center pole and the hard ground upon which she sat was not cushioned by so much as a horse blanket.
"Ach, and now yer awake, are ye lassie?" her uncle asked as he entered the tent, looking freshly washed and shaved.
Meghan only glared at him.
"Come now, niece, ye left me no choice," he said, as he knelt to cut her bindings. Meghan tried to push herself to her feet, but her arms tingled in painful protest at being pinned behind her for hours. She scrambled awkwardly to a standing position anyway.
"'Twas not enough that you tried to escape twice, but did ye have to unman yer guard? The poor lad still canna stand upright."
Meghan smiled in grim appreciation at her sturdy boot.
Lennox turned and clapped his hands. A servant immediately entered bearing a tray laden with bread, hard cheeses and cold meat. While the servant set the food on a low table, Lennox poured two goblets of wine and then indicated that Meghan should join him at the meal as if she had not spent the night bound like a common prisoner.
She glared at Lennox, anger at him and his betrayal warring with a ravenous appetite. She'd not eaten since yesterday when she and her clan had armored up. Hunger won out temporarily and she snatched up a handful of food, refusing, at least, to sit with her traitorous uncle.
"Come now, niece," Lennox coaxed. "We are no barbarians. Even out here in the field we may observe the niceties of civilization."
Meghan stopped chewing, amazed at the man's words. Who was this suave courtier? Where was the affable, slightly bumbling uncle who had been her one source of comfort and affection since the death of her mother and brothers? Tears suddenly filled Meghan's eyes and she sat abruptly, though not from a desire to observe the niceties of civilization. Her legs suddenly had no will to keep her standing. The world swam before her eyes, topsy-turvy.
She tried to speak and found she could not. Taking a sip of wine, she tried again. "Why did you do it, uncle?"
"Do what?" Lennox looked up from his food in surprise. "Oh, o' course." He popped another slice of meat in his mouth and chewed it carefully before answering. "It all comes down to what is best for the clan, does it no? Yer father may have intended for you to be his heir, but he never intended for you to be the laird of Clan Innes."
"He never meant for you to be laird either!" she said hotly.
Lennox shrugged. "Maybe yes and maybe no, but I wager he'd choose me over you to-"
"'Tis no true!" she cried.
He dropped his food as if suddenly ill. "Well it doesna matter now, does it? I've done as I see best for Clan Innes. We'd have had nothing did we support the Bruce. Yer father thought he was a villain, and I ken he's no man enough to hold Scotland. He may be king now, but 'tis only a matter of time 'til Edward slaps him down. Better we should look ahead to that day and prepare ourselves to make the most of our loyalties."
"What do you know of loyalties?" Meghan hissed. "Ye only seek to line yer pockets with English gold at the expense of Scottish blood! Ye care not who is in power, as long as it profits you and ye only waited for the opportunity to steal my birthright from me!"
Lennox slowly wiped his hands on his sleeve and stood. "Ye'll no talk to me like that. I've saved yer life and guaranteed the safety of our clan!"
Stepping forward, he caught her hands and quickly bound them together. He pushed her to sit on a trunk and then tied her hands to its study handle.
"Think on what I've done, Meghan. Think on it and ye will realize 'tis best." He ruffled her hair as he'd done when she was a child. "Ye always were a smart lass."
With that, he turned and left. As the tent flap slapped closed, the angry rigidity left Meghan's spine and she hunched over, allowing angry, frustrated tears to spill from her eyes. She would not, however, allow her guards to hear her fearful sobs. She buried her face in her arms and gave vent to her fear and hurt.
Later, her tears exhausted, she lifted her head and began her next escape attempt. She pulled, tugged, and tore at the leather bonds around her wrists, but her uncle had knotted them tightly. They would have to be cut.
Glancing around the tent in search of a knife, she was surprised at the luxury of her surroundings. A pile of rugs and pillows rested in one corner of the tent, half-hidd
en behind a brightly painted folding screen. Many carved wooden chests such as the one to which she was tied lined the canvas walls and bore heavy candelabra with rich beeswax candles. The low table at which Lennox ate was inlaid with mother-of-pearl in an intricate floral pattern and his chair was heavily upholstered.
Meghan shook her head. They scarcely had this lavishness at Innesbrook and here Lennox was camping with such luxuries? He must have cut quite an impressive deal with Edward, she realized bitterly.
Resolving to escape at any cost, she stood and tried to open the trunk to which she was tied. It was full of rich fabrics and furs. The rope about her wrists gave her but a hand's breadth of room to move but she pawed through the contents using her fingers, foot, and teeth. Several minutes later she sank back on her heels, surrounded by a tangled mess of cloth and furs. Nothing.
She turned her attention to the other trunks. They were placed too far away for her to reach even with her outstretched toes. Grasping the leather bindings in both hands, she tugged the heavy chest. It slid a few inches and she took a deep breath, throwing all her weight into her pull, ignoring the painful burn of the leather as it bit into her sore wrists. Several agonizing tugs later, she was able to reach the closest trunk. She tried to lift the lid and it stuck fast, secured with a massive lock. Ignoring the frantic frustration that threatened to destroy her resolve, she made her way to the next trunk. Locked as well.
What was wrong with the English? Did they not trust their own men? She leaned over to wipe the sweat from her brow. More like it was her uncle who did not trust that his ill-gotten gains would remain safe.
Meghan was suddenly thirsty and her stomach demanded more than the few bites she'd eaten. With a resigned sigh, she forced her sore muscles and aching wrists to drag the trunk back to the center of the tent where the low table sat with the remains of Lennox's meal.
Her thirst and hunger quenched, she tried to decide her next course of action but for once she was at a loss. She didn't even know what time it was, only that it was daylight. The sounds of a busy camp filtered in, but they were indistinct and told her nothing of where they were. Meghan's eyes fluttered shut and she forced them open again. She could ill afford to sleep-she needed to plan, to work on her escape. If only she weren't so tired. She sank to the ground and pulled a fur from the pile at her feet to cushion the hard trunk. She would rest but a moment. Her eyes closed and she slept.
***
She awoke disoriented. She could tell night had fallen for the gap at the edges of the tent was dark. But a soft glow illuminated the inside of the pavilion. She must have slid to the floor during her nap for she sat on the ground while her head rested on her arms upon the trunk. Meghan lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. She noticed abstractly that her hands were swollen from the tight leather bonds.
Glancing around, she found that servants had attended her whilst she slept.
The remains of her meal had been cleared away, replaced with a full flagon of wine and a platter of sugary wafers. A single lantern illuminated the tent. A fur had been tucked about her, keeping her warm and cushioning her from the hard ground.
Though she had clearly slept the day away, she still felt groggy and displaced. She had no better idea how she would escape than she did before her nap. If only William were here.
Meghan straightened her spine and chastised herself. She had called William many horrible names, accused him of betrayal. Now thanks to her uncle, it was Clan Innes who bore that shameful title. Nay, she could not expect help from William. Still, she could easily imagine him here, his strong arms supporting her as he helped her escape as they had weeks before in London...
The tent flap rustled and William stepped inside.
Meghan blinked, convinced her sanity had fled, that she was only imagining his handsome face, that hopeful grin.
“William?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
He glanced at the fine furnishings and his smile turned bitter, his eyes hardened, as if remembering something unpleasant.
“Nay, ‘tis the angel of vengeance,” he said, his voice low and taut.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still half-believing that she was hallucinating.
“I’ve come to show ye what happens to people who betray Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland.”
“Betray? I didna—“
”Don’t think to placate me with lies!” he spat and Meghan recoiled from the fury in his eyes. “I’ll no be yer pawn again.”
“My...pawn?”
“Aye, ‘tis time I check your victory plans. Or,” he paused dramatically. “Since ye’ll no be escapin’, perhaps I should say checkmate.”
“What are you talking about?” Meghan asked, thoroughly confused.
William allowed a short, sharp laugh. “Ye play the part well, I’ll grant ye that,” he said. “But I believe I’ll be the one askin’ questions.”
“Like?”
“Like if ye had planned to betray Robert back when ye asked him for help, or if it was only your anger at me for not saving your father that made ye choose treason?”
“Treason?” Meghan whispered, “In what way did I commit treason?”
William narrowed his eyes as if he could not believe her answer. “Let me think,” he snarled. “Perhaps ‘twas when ye sold our position to the English. Tell me, did ye even think twice about the lives of the Scotsmen ye condemned to death with your treachery? Or was gettin’ back at me worth it?”
“You think I told the English where we were?” Meghan’s eyes widened until they hurt. Lennox had proven himself a traitor, aye, but William thought she went along willingly? Did he not know her at all? The realization that he could so easily believe the worst of her hurt more deeply than even the loss of her father or her uncle’s betrayal. William did not love her, and never had.
“I know ye told the English our position, know that yer uncle received a sweet reward—a manor and title in England, assurance of Innesbrook’s safety in Scotland.”
“My uncle, aye!” Meghan said, getting her feet under her. “My uncle received a reward, not me!”
“Jealous are ye? Is he no sharing his new found wealth with ye? Are ye no wrapped in furs, enjoying the English king’s hospitality?”
Meghan pushed the furs off of her and stood, lifting the heavy trunk in her fury to dangle like a jewel on a bracelet.
“Nay, I am not enjoying Edward’s hospitality!” she hissed. “Were I not shackled like a dog, I would show you the wounds I received fighting the English when they swarmed over us like so many ants!” She thrust her swollen, bruised hands forward, her arms trembling with the weight of the trunk, tears running unheeded down her face. “Were my hands not crippled from trying to escape my bonds, I would kill you for your accusation!”
Meghan let her wrists drop and the trunk hit the ground with a thud. She glared at him through her tears. His surprise gave way to what she could only hope was mortification.
They stared at each other for a long moment and then William rushed forward and grabbed her to him, pressing kisses into her tangled hair. Unable to return the embrace, she allowed herself to sag against him, glad to share her burdens. Releasing her, he quickly drew his dirk and sliced through her bindings.
Meghan gingerly rubbed her abused hands and then drew her arm back and slapped William across the face.
He jerked back and glared at her. "Why in the blessed Virgin's name did ye do that?"
“How dare ye accuse me of such treachery!" she hissed.
"But-"
"I keep my vows, Black William, though some I could name do not."
William frowned at her insinuation that he had never intended to save her father. He was about to suggest he replace her bonds and leave when the sound of her uncle's voice carried through the tent walls.
"Tell His Grace my niece and I will attend him shortly. She'll need no small time to clean up."
"Behind the screen," Meghan hissed.
William snatch
ed up the leather thong and thrust it at her before diving behind the carved wooden screen that hid a fur-covered bed. Meghan wrapped her wrists as well as she could and prayed her uncle would not choose now to release her-he'd know she'd not cut the bonds herself.
"Feelin' a bit more yerself now, are ye?" he said as soon as he entered the tent.
"Aye," she said, her back to him as she sought to wind the cut bits of leather more tightly.
"Good, good," Lennox said approvingly. "His Grace is much interested in meeting the warrior lass of Clan Innes."
"I've no wish to meet him," she said, finally turning to face him.
"But lassie, King Edward has a special surprise for ye."
"What? Is he dying of the bloody flux? 'Twould be the only surprise from him I'd welcome!"
"Tsk, tsk," he said as he gestured for the servant at the door to enter. He relieved the boy of the flagon of wine and poured himself a generous cupful.
As the boy lit the lamps, Lennox noticed the disarray of the furs and fabrics.
"Did ye find anything to suit yer fancy? Edward has been most generous, has he no?"
"Indeed. I wonder which Scots keep surrendered up these treasures at his request."
"Well, 'twas not Innesbrook, so why should ye worry yerself about it?" he asked, setting down his empty goblet.
"Does it not gall ye a bit that all of Scotland will call ye traitor?" Meghan asked, still dumbfounded that her harmless uncle could have been hiding such perfidy from her.
"I'm no the first Scot to be called such and I'll certainly no be the last. We're a practical breed, lassie, dinna forget that. 'Tis no practical to stand against so great a power as Edward's England. How much the better to profit by standin' with it?
The King's Rebel Page 19
