Free Margaret the Queen by Nigel Tranter

said eagerly, at once beginning to edge towards the stairway, Christina with her.
    Malcolm commenced to speak, then closed his lips again, staring at Margaret, head thrust forward. She met his glare fearlessly although not defiantly, indeed managing to smile slightly, whilst the Queen looked from one to the other of them.
    There was a tense hush until, at length, the monarch nodded. "So be it," he said. "Off with you. I will speak with you later." It was only at Margaret that he gazed.
    Thankfully the ladies departed, save for Ingebiorg who sat still. On her, her husband turned.
    "And you!" he jerked. "You will have to learn your place. I would have thought that you would have known it, by now!"
    She rose. "My place, Malcolm, is sure, secure, and known to all. I am the crowned Queen of this realm. And sister to the Earl of Orkney and Zetland and Lord of the Hebrides and Galloway. I urge that you do not forget it."
    "What mean you by that, woman?"
    "I mean that I have borne much from you in the past, of ill-usage and disrespect. I do not intend that I shall bear more."
    "And . . . ?"
    "And I remind Your Scots Highness that I have brothers! That I am Thorfinn Raven Feeder's daughter — in case you have forgot. Brothers who could set all your north and west alight and take Moray and Galloway from you, if so they desired . . ."
    "If so I let them! Your brothers, woman, are weaklings. Made of different stuff from your pirate father! Think you that I care for their puny threat? If they ever mustered the courage to move against me."
    "You cared for their threat sufficiently to wed me, in order to counter it, did you not? Eleven sorry years ago, and I little more than a child. Or why else the marriage? When you had not so much as seen me. It was scarce for love and yearning!"
    "No, by God! I . . . I . . ." The King seemed to realise belatedly that they were not alone in the hall, and pausing, turned to glare around him. "Enough of this. I have work to do. Maldred — have the Chancellor sent for. Have him here from St. Andrews at the earliest, even if the old fool has to ride all night! Aye, and the Treasurer also. I need money, as well as men. . ."
    The Queen swept from the chamber, and thankfully Maldred escaped.
    * * *
    The meal that night was scarcely a happy occasion. Not unnaturally the Athelings elected to eat in their own rooms upstairs; and the Queen sat as far away from her husband, at the long table in the hall, as was possible. This produced an awkward dilemma for their attendants, nobles and courtiers, as to where they should seat themselves. Most, for obvious reasons, decided to sit near Malcolm, however bad his mood; and only a small group took their places at the foot of the table beside the Queen, so that there was a major and most evident gap. Maldred, despite being the King's standard-bearer or esquire, to use the new Norman term, chose a place close to Ingebiorg. Being cousin to them both, he was perhaps in a better position than others to take a more independent point of view.
    Malcolm drank steadily, eating little, morose, mainly silent, so there was little conversation at his end. The Queen, on the other hand, was much more fo rthcoming than normally, evidentl y determined to sustain her access of spirit and to underline her husband's boorishness. Her companions, however, found themselves unable to back up her efforts adequately, especially in view of the scowls from the head of the table, and Ingebiorg's talk took on a somewhat feverish note. Maldred did his best for her, and often the only talk in the hall was in the nature of a dialogue between the two of them, an uncomfortable proceeding.
    Eventually Malcolm had had enough of this — if not of his liquor — and smashed down his hand on the table-top, to make the beakers, flagons and platters jump, and most of the diners with them.
    "You, Maldred — still your lack-wit chatter and fetch me the Atheling," he commanded. "Yes, Highness. Bring him. . . here?"