Free The Renegade: A Tale of Robert the Bruce by Jack Whyte Page B

with one fingertip. “Nothing is likely to change that. And yet things change and are altered constantly. That is the way of life, the bishops like to tell us. Let us both hope, then, that you are never forced to consider otherwise.”
    “Lord Robert! A word with you, if you please.” The voice was Alexander’s, calling from across the room.
    “You’ll pardon me, my lord, but I am summoned.” The earl dipped his head to Marjorie. “My dear, permit me.”
    On the point of turning back to Angus Mohr, she saw Murdo standing by the doorway, trying to catch her eye. She hesitated, but Angus Mohr had followed her glance and seen Murdo, too.
    “That’s your factor, is it not?”
    “It is. Murdo. I expect he’ll be wanting to talk to me about supper.”
    “Then go you and talk to him, Countess, and have no concerns about me. I will not cause you grief, here in your own house. Nicol here will share another cup of mead with me and we’ll be fine, the two of us. Away you go.”
    She threaded her way among the groups of guests to where Murdo stood waiting. She was scanning the factor’s eyes and stanceas she drew near him, looking for signs that he was troubled, and she felt her heart lighten when he caught sight of her and smiled.
    “Is all well, Murdo?”
    “Aye, Countess, it is. The boys came home more than an hour ago and I sent them to eat in the kitchens, for I jaloused ye wouldna want them in here wi’ a’ the grand folk. They were tired out and wearin’ half the dust an’ dirt o’ Carrick on them. Allie will see them to their beds. But she sent me to ask what time ye’ll be wantin’ to sit down to sup, for she wouldna want the food to be less than perfectly hot. D’ye know?”
    “No, I don’t. What hour is it now? I confess I’ve lost track o’ the time.”
    “Late afternoon … about fower, I’d guess. I hinna checked. But on any ordinary day we’d serve supper about two hours frae now.”
    “Aye, that sounds right.” Marjorie checked over her shoulder, and her guests seemed content to be as they were for a while. “We’ll gie it another hour or so here, to let the serving folk get the rest o’ the tents ready for the lords, and then we’ll send them to their tents for an hour longer while the hall is made ready for supper. Two hours will be about right, then, so ye can tell Allie to be ready when she would on any other day. Away ye go now, and thank ye for seein’ to the boys.”
    Every table was filled at dinner in the hall that night, and the food was tasty and plentiful, and welcomed by everyone. The only unexpected event of the evening came at the end of the meal, when the platters had been pushed away and the assembly had settled down to drink at length and to enjoy the remaining entertainment. A sudden stir at the entrance marked the arrival of the sergeant of the guard, followed by a pair of guards shepherding a dishevelled, travelstained, and tired-looking courier between them. They marched directly to the head table, where the sergeant announced to King Alexander that the man between them had ridden up to the gates a short time earlier carrying dispatches that he had refused to surrender for proper delivery. He had dispatches for King Edward, he said, andhis duty would not be complete until he had placed them directly into the hands of the King himself.
    King Alexander nodded to the English King, and Edward returned the gesture and extended his hand to the courier, beckoning him to come forward and deliver his packet. The man shrugged free of the guards’ hands and stepped towards the table, opening the thick bag slung across his shoulders and pulling out a bulky, waxcoated packet, which he placed on Edward’s outstretched hand. It was sealed with a wax stamp and marked in its lower left corner with a large red dot. Edward hefted it gently.
    “I thank you,” he said. “How long have you been on the road?”
    The courier straightened his shoulders and thumped his right fist