Free Queen Hereafter by Susan Fraser King Page B

now a lovely creature with a shining talent. Visitors came away from Elgin’s hall praising the young female bard of the Moray court, a rarity for her gender in that calling, as well as for her uncommon beauty and skillful music.
    Gruadh sighed and returned to Ruari, who waited silent and patiently. He was her opposite in some ways and her blessed match in so many others, though she had never told him so. He knew, she felt sure of that. He was strong, brown, and as sturdy as a rock. She needed him. As she approached, he stretched out his hand to her and she took it.
    “Some say that Eva, the girl-bard of Moray, plays music with the power to enchant,” she said. Ruari inclined his head, listening, waiting. “Not a rumor to encourage, that, though there may be some truth to it.”
    “So you will send her to court after all?”
    “Perhaps. We can delay through the winter.” She looked down at the folded letter again. “Eva is young for that fox’s den, but she is strong and clever, and as you say, she could be a help to us there. Let Malcolm wait until spring to please his guests. Let us see what else he offers for the privilege of Eva’s music.”
    “Do not think to trust him,” Ruari reminded her.
    “Only when he was a pup, but after that—never. Ruari, whether or not we obey this order from Malcolm, I want you to send word to the men of Moray to be on guard for a summons from us, should we need their support in arms and might.”
    He looked at her steadily. “If the Saxon rebellion fails, and Malcolmfails, too, and if the Normans come up into Scotland—we may have to marshal our forces and pull away from lower Scotland.”
    “Just so,” she said quietly. “The day may come when my grandson will rule the north while another king rules in the south. Macbeth did that for a time—but Malcolm was not content and made sure of his death.” She sighed.
    “We will spread the word to be ready should the Normans set foot in any part of Scotland. Rue, there is something more to consider. Drostan mentioned a rumor that Malcolm has ordered a history to be written in which Macbeth’s rule is described in Malcolm’s terms rather than the whole truth of the matter. Drostan does not know which scriptorium has been commissioned to create the book. It was not his own workshop at Loch Leven.”
    “If Malcolm dictates the contents, neither Macbeth nor Lulach would fare well.”
    “Nor any of us. But if Eva could learn the whereabouts of that book by going to court, we could find it, even destroy it so that it could never be read or copied, or taken as truth in future.”
    “If I could but hold that book in my hands, I would correct the entries quick enough myself.” Crumpling the king’s letter, Gruadh tossed it into the fire basket, where it caught flame, burned bright, vanished.

    MARGARET WAS NOT USED to much merriment at Christmastide, which was a string of lighthearted days at Dunfermline. The air was filled with the fragrance of pine swags over doorways for protection from spirits, while music, good food and drink, and cheerful camaraderie swelled in the king’s hall.
    She laughed once, watching the fun at supper, and was pinched for it by her mother. “It is not seemly,” Lady Agatha scolded her. “This is a time of reflection and charity, not a time to act foolish!”
    In Hungary, Yuletide had been marked by fasting, prayer, incense, and the sheen of Byzantine gold; King Edward’s Christmas court hadbeen somber despite his queen’s generosity with small gifts. In Scotland, Lady Agatha admonished Margaret and her siblings to keep apart from any pagan folly. They said extra prayers and fasted, while Margaret watched the celebrations with fascination, smiling to herself, bouncing to the music, then sobering if she caught her mother’s shrewd gaze.
    Winter brought bone-chilling damp, sleet, and snow, and Margaret sat in bright nooks with the women as they all tucked in to sewing and stitchery. Suppers were