Chapter Twenty-Seven

Robert entered Greyfriars Church with Angus, Fraser, and Nigel by his side and his loyal vassals waiting outside the door, mounted and prepared to fight to the death. Elizabeth’s dream of Comyn stabbing him was at the forefront of his mind, and then her face was there, peaceful in sleep as he had last seen her. She would be livid when she awoke, but it had to be this way. He would not risk her.

Comyn turned to him, his eyes widening, the three men with Comyn drawing closer. “I was surprised when yer man said he were coming to Scotland,” he said, his voice uneasy. “I did nae expect to see ye here.”

Robert’s heartbeat increased as the guilt on the man’s face became all too clear. “Where next did ye expect to see me? Tied by hand and foot as Wallace was? Perhaps ye expected to see me with a noose around my neck or my bowels hanging out? Ye have betrayed me,” he ground out. “Ye do nae have any honor.”

Comyn’s hand dropped to the hilt of his dagger as his face mottled red. “Ye dare to accuse me of nae having honor? Ye who is Edward’s own ‘favored son’?”

Robert clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. “Ye know well ye spout lies. I have worked tirelessly toward freeing our people, and ye would have seen me killed and my wife given to another man or sentenced to prison, perhaps.”

Comyn spat at Robert’s feet. “I care naught about yer Irish whore, goddaughter to the king or nae. I may use her myself when ye are gone.”

Robert sprang toward the man, intending to hit him with a fist, but then he saw a flash of steel in the sunlight as Comyn drew his dagger and slashed it toward Robert’s heart.

Robert brought up his own dagger as the man barreled into him, and the blade plunged deep into Comyn’s chest. The man fell to the ground. At once, Comyn’s men and Nigel, Angus, and Fraser were fighting and the sound of clashing swords ran out. To Robert’s left, Nigel plunged a dagger into his opponent’s gut, and the man grabbed at his stomach as he fell forward. Robert threw a spare dagger to his brother, in case more enemies should pour into the room, and then he looked to his right toward Angus. Angus scuttled backward to avoid the man attacking him, but the man’s blade slashed across Angus’s chest, slicing his plaid, but not cutting Angus. With a roar, Angus lunged forward and drove his sword into his opponent’s heart. The man’s mouth parted in a gurgle of death at the same moment Fraser’s sword was knocked out of his hands and clattered to the ground. As the warrior before Fraser swung his sword for a killing blow, Robert struck the man’s sword with his own, relieving his enemy of his weapon, and then Angus knocked the man on the side of the head with the hilt of his dagger. The enemy crumbled before them, and his eyes fluttered shut. Silence once more swallowed the room.

“Christ,” Robert said, looking down at the dead men, his gaze drawn finally to Comyn. “Christ,” he said again, numb with shock that Comyn had tried to kill him exactly as Elizabeth had predicted.

His mind reeled with the implications of killing Comyn, though it was self-defense. He shuddered with worry for his country. He had wanted to unify the people to free themselves, but would this divide them even further? Comyn had enough supporters that if they joined forces and turned against Robert, Scotland would be leaderless still. And what of Lamberton? What would his friend say about the deaths this day on sacred ground? The church would align against Robert unless Lamberton could come to his aid, and the church was a most powerful enemy.

“Robert?” Fraser’s voice broke through Robert’s frenzied thoughts. “What shall we do?”

There was only one thing they could do. “Give word to the trumpeters to sound the horns of battle. Then we ride to Dumfries Castle.”

The castle, which was held by the English, was just up the hill. He and his men had to attack, had to take Dumfries here and now for Scotland, and he had to name himself king. He just prayed the people would support him.

He couldn’t worry on it long, however, as within moments, the horns were blasting and he was riding to war.

Elizabeth awoke with a scream upon her lips. She had dreamed of death, smoke, and battle. Trembling, she dressed quickly and raced into the nearly deserted courtyard, save Niall and Catarine, who were there practicing archery.

“Elizabeth!” Catarine called, lowering her bow and racing across the courtyard after her.

“How long has he been gone?” Elizabeth asked, her heart hammering.

“Since before the sun was even in the sky,” Catarine said, her tone sympathetic. “He said to tell ye he was sorry, that he could nae, would nae, put ye in such danger.”

Her anger toward him bubbled over, and yet she loved him for how he wanted to protect her. She only wanted to do the same for him. “I wish to go to Greyfriars Church. The meeting has to be well over. If Robert is wounded, if he needs me, I must be there for him now.”

Catarine nodded and called to Niall. The man walked over, and Elizabeth said, “I wish to tend Robert if he is wounded.”

Niall scowled. “Ye will need to tend me if I take ye to him, for he will surely try to kill me.”

“Then I will tend you, as well, for I am riding to him. I vow I will stay well away if there is a battle,” she said, recalling her promise to Robert to do so.

When Niall looked as if he would deny Elizabeth’s request, she said, “I will simply ride out alone if you will not take me.”

Catarine hugged Elizabeth. “Nay. I will go with ye.”

Niall groaned. “Ye will nae ride into the battle if one is occurring?”

“I swear I will not,” she said, meaning it. She had given Robert her word, and she would not risk his thoughts being on her and not the battle.

Finally, Niall acquiesced with a sigh.

It did not take long to mount their horses, but the ride to Dumfries took hours. Elizabeth fretted all the way, and by the time they neared the castle, and saw thick smoke rising from the air, she felt as if a sort of madness was descending upon her. It took all of her restraint not to ride straight to the castle to find Robert.

Elizabeth’s heart stuttered in her chest. “War,” she whispered hoarsely, knowing it to be true deep in her bones. “Robert is at war.”

Niall nodded. “Come,” he said, “we can view it from the cliff that overlooks the castle.”

The thought of seeing her husband fight for his life set ice in her heart, but the thought of not knowing was worse. She urged her horse into a gallop and soon was on the cliff that overlooked Dumfries Castle. What she saw below took her breath and shook her courage and resolve yet again not to ride into the battle to aid Robert. A sea of men fought all across the land, and fires raged along the countryside, their thick smoke filling the air. The sound of swords clanking pierced the air with one sharp hum after another. She frantically swept her gaze over the melee, looking for Robert.

And then she saw him on his horse, swinging his sword. He cut down a man to his right, and then an enemy on his left knocked him from his destrier. She screamed as he fell, but when he came up, swung his sword, and plunged it into the gut of the man who had tried to kill him, she wept with relief. Men seemed to swarm him, and she lost him in the crowd once more. It wasn’t until many torturous moments later that she saw him again. He fought side by side with his men, battling the enemy back, until she realized with shock that the enemy had been beaten.

The English knights who remained were now on their knees, and suddenly, Robert was holding up a banner. It was the treasured Lion Rampant, red on gold, the banner of the king of Scotland. Her breath hitched in her chest as the flag fluttered in the wind. She stood there unable to move as her husband swayed, and she feared he would fall from a wound. Then two thoughts clicked in her mind: he needed her, and the battle was over.

She clucked her tongue and urged her horse around. She gave the horse a small kick and off they went, racing down the cliff toward her husband. As Elizabeth drew near, she could hear chanting in the air, but it was not until she was nearly upon him that she could make it out.

Ahead of her, a trumpet sounded and a loud cry went up from all the gathered people. “God save King Robert!”

She dismounted her horse, shoving through the mass of warriors to get to Robert, and as she wedged herself between two more men, she felt Robert’s gaze on her as if the sun had parted the darkness.

Something intense flared in his eyes that made the pit of her stomach tingle. Then he was suddenly looking at her with eagerness and tenderness.

“Are you vexed with me?” she asked as she walked toward him.

He moved to come to her, too, but he staggered a bit. She hurried toward him, slipping her arm about his waist while he waved Angus off. Blood soaked Robert’s shirt, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“You’ve been stabbed,” she said, pressing her hand to the spot with tender care.

“A flesh wound,” he assured her as he put his arm around her and looked down at her. They supported each other as they stood there. “Comyn is dead,” he continued, his wariness and disbelief obvious. “He tried to kill me, so I had to strike.”

“My dream,” she said, shocking herself.

“Aye. I believe ye were correct. Ye had a premonition about the future, I think. I was ready because of ye.”

“You were ready, because you are Robert the Bruce,” she assured him.

He smiled lovingly at her. “I have taken back Dumfries and declared myself king. I fear there will be grave repercussions for killing Comyn on sacred ground, though. I suppose I am an outlaw of sorts now, though I am king. Do ye—”

“What?” she asked, sensing his disquiet.

“Do ye think ye can love an outlaw king?”

She laid her head against his shoulder, swaying slightly with him. Cheering men surrounded them. The noise was great, but as close as they were to each other, she knew Robert would hear her. “I love you as a woman with all my heart, whether you are king or beggar, outlaw or beloved citizen. You are the air I need to breathe, the wine to quench my thirst, the food to nourish my soul.”

He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss to her lips. “And I love ye like a man loves a woman who holds his heart in the palm of her hands—with complete, utter abandon.”

The trumpets sounded again, and this time a new chant filled the air, her heart, and her soul. “God save Queen Elizabeth and King Robert!”

They were free now, and though they would have to fight to stay that way, as long as they had each other, she was sure they would be victorious.