nor my constant scrutiny could prevent it from happening again. We were not long in Lintalee before a dark-haired lass not a day past sixteen, who gave her name as Jenny, appeared before me one chill evening, poorly clad and with a soot-smeared face, asking for Archibald as she stroked her swollen belly. He even spoke of marriage to her. A notion which I quickly vanquished by dispatching her to a nunnery in Caithness for the birthing, far from Archibald’s pining heart, with a charitable pension to live on afterwards.
As I drew back my axe and readied to split another log, it was Archibald, still surly and sulking days after I had sent his bursting lover along, who came to me and laid his hand on my arm, pointing along the low trail to an approaching party.
The company consisted of a dozen men on horseback, most sufficiently armed to lend the arrival some air of importance. At their head was the Bishop of St. Andrews, William Lamberton, who had shed his vestments for more practical riding gear. With a bearing as saint-like as any pontiff of Rome, he rode into the clearing and came down from his horse. I laid down my axe, knelt in the slop within the circle of jagged stumps and kissed his ring.
Lamberton nodded in approval. “When I fetched you from that dusty school in Paris, it must have been God directing me.” He turned his hand over and helped me to my feet, embracing me with the lightest touch, then thrusting me to arm’s length. “You’ve served your king with devotion. You said you would. You also said you wanted your lands back from the English. Yet I find you here ...” He surveyed the site thoughtfully, a narrow flat strip tucked deep in the hills, with its swaying pines and teeming wildlife. “Far from courtiers and clergy.”
“Surely you’ve heard of my quick hand in battle, your grace?”
“Ah, yes, to think I tried to make you into a man of the Church. How wrong I was. But you are what you are, James Douglas, every bit your father’s son.”
I motioned to Archibald, who was hanging back shyly. “Your grace, this is my youngest brother Archibald and that one over there ...” – I pointed Hugh out, as he slung his axe and cleaved a log in one brutish sweep – “that is the middle Douglas, Hugh. They both fought at Bannockburn with me, alongside King Robert.” I made mention of it to boost Archibald’s pride and at once he grew taller. “I’m curious, though, as to what brings you here?”
He cast a glance at the stout framing that was going up. “You couldn’t have hidden it any better, especially with the mist that was about this morning.” Lamberton smiled wanly. His squire came forth and offered him a drink from a flask. He wetted his lips, then handed it back. “Envoys from the pope are expected soon in Edinburgh. The king will want you there to hear them.”
“What has any of that to do with me? I’ve a home to build. Tell Robert to call on Randolph. Between us, he is the diplomat, not I.” The first buds were on the trees. Given a stretch, I could have the place habitable by fall. Jumping back and forth to Edinburgh would put that goal at a greater distance. Not to mention the little problem of whom I might run into there.
Lamberton arched a dove-gray eyebrow at me. “Have you taken to doling out orders to your liege, then? The Earl of Moray is with Edward Bruce in Ireland, as you know. I think you best come, James. Aside from the correspondence from the pope, there is another matter the king wishes to settle.”
I plucked up my axe again, as if I had no intention of leaving and would return to my work. “That being?”
“The naming of a guardian for his forthcoming heir. With things in Ireland being as precarious as they are and Edward Bruce being gone – for now, perhaps for some time – King Robert wishes to establish an order.”
Sweet Jesus, I hardly wanted to go back to Edinburgh just now. I had not gone a day without thinking of her. Going there at this
As I drew back my axe and readied to split another log, it was Archibald, still surly and sulking days after I had sent his bursting lover along, who came to me and laid his hand on my arm, pointing along the low trail to an approaching party.
The company consisted of a dozen men on horseback, most sufficiently armed to lend the arrival some air of importance. At their head was the Bishop of St. Andrews, William Lamberton, who had shed his vestments for more practical riding gear. With a bearing as saint-like as any pontiff of Rome, he rode into the clearing and came down from his horse. I laid down my axe, knelt in the slop within the circle of jagged stumps and kissed his ring.
Lamberton nodded in approval. “When I fetched you from that dusty school in Paris, it must have been God directing me.” He turned his hand over and helped me to my feet, embracing me with the lightest touch, then thrusting me to arm’s length. “You’ve served your king with devotion. You said you would. You also said you wanted your lands back from the English. Yet I find you here ...” He surveyed the site thoughtfully, a narrow flat strip tucked deep in the hills, with its swaying pines and teeming wildlife. “Far from courtiers and clergy.”
“Surely you’ve heard of my quick hand in battle, your grace?”
“Ah, yes, to think I tried to make you into a man of the Church. How wrong I was. But you are what you are, James Douglas, every bit your father’s son.”
I motioned to Archibald, who was hanging back shyly. “Your grace, this is my youngest brother Archibald and that one over there ...” – I pointed Hugh out, as he slung his axe and cleaved a log in one brutish sweep – “that is the middle Douglas, Hugh. They both fought at Bannockburn with me, alongside King Robert.” I made mention of it to boost Archibald’s pride and at once he grew taller. “I’m curious, though, as to what brings you here?”
He cast a glance at the stout framing that was going up. “You couldn’t have hidden it any better, especially with the mist that was about this morning.” Lamberton smiled wanly. His squire came forth and offered him a drink from a flask. He wetted his lips, then handed it back. “Envoys from the pope are expected soon in Edinburgh. The king will want you there to hear them.”
“What has any of that to do with me? I’ve a home to build. Tell Robert to call on Randolph. Between us, he is the diplomat, not I.” The first buds were on the trees. Given a stretch, I could have the place habitable by fall. Jumping back and forth to Edinburgh would put that goal at a greater distance. Not to mention the little problem of whom I might run into there.
Lamberton arched a dove-gray eyebrow at me. “Have you taken to doling out orders to your liege, then? The Earl of Moray is with Edward Bruce in Ireland, as you know. I think you best come, James. Aside from the correspondence from the pope, there is another matter the king wishes to settle.”
I plucked up my axe again, as if I had no intention of leaving and would return to my work. “That being?”
“The naming of a guardian for his forthcoming heir. With things in Ireland being as precarious as they are and Edward Bruce being gone – for now, perhaps for some time – King Robert wishes to establish an order.”
Sweet Jesus, I hardly wanted to go back to Edinburgh just now. I had not gone a day without thinking of her. Going there at this
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