mother all but wailed. "We are going home. To Hungary. Not to that, not to that ..." She swallowed the rest.
"We cannot sail for Hungary, across the Norse Sea, with our vessel damaged as it is. Many oars short. The mast broken. Taking in water. We should never gain the other side. And we cannot wait here while the ship-men affect repairs. William the Norman is only seventy miles away. Less, it may be, by now. He will learn of our presence, nothing more sure. And will come for me. So we cannot, dare not wait. You know how that evil usurper would serve us! Scotland is the nearest, the only secure haven we could reach. We can limp that far north, sixty miles only . . ."
The Princess Agatha buried her face in her hands. "I want to go to Hungary, sweet Hungary," she exclaimed. "Not to that cold and barbarous land. Where they are not even true Christians!"
"Mother!" the Princess Margaret warned, indicating
Maldred. "At least they are offering us shelter and safety. Which is truly Christian."
"I have had enough of exile, of strangers, of war. I am not a young woman any more. I yearn for my father's house, my friends, the sunny land of my birth."
"I do not wish to go to Scotland either," the Princess Christina declared. "It is a rude, heathenish land. Let us put to sea, if William comes. He cannot reach us in the ships. Finish the repairs out in the bay. Then sail for home, when all is secure."
"Think you, girl, that William has no ships, no fleet?" her brother demanded. "You do not know what you say. He could send hundreds of vessels against us. Only the storm spared us from pursuit, I think. Now they will be out looking for us. Malcolm is right. The sooner we are in Scottish waters, the better."
"Besides, Scotland is better for our cause than is Hungary, surely?" Margaret put in. "For Edgar's cause. He will never win the throne of England, from Hungary. But from Scotland he might. That, no doubt, is why this King Malcolm is offering us refuge there. To hold us as a threat against the Norman. Let us be threat, then, God assisting us! Not just flee the scene, and leave all to the wicked usurper."
There was silence for a moment or two as they all stared at the lovely speaker, sitting up amongst the furs and blankets of her couch, in a shift which revealed rather more of her excellent upper parts than that piously modest young woman would be apt to demonstrate to male gaze. Maldred, for one, was lost in admiration. And not only on the physical plane. Clearly this princess had the spirit of the family. Arid shrewdness too, since she had so quickly perceived Malcolm Canmore's advantage in having the Athelings in Scotland.
The monk Oswald spoke, at their back. "What of Bishop Ethelwin and the others, in this, lord Prince?"
"He . . . they are not to come. King Malcolm was very strong on that. They must go . . . elsewhere. I am sorry, but that is his command."
"Go where?"
"I do not know." Testily the other said it. "Perhaps, perhaps to Denmark. Or Norway ..."
"You — you will not leave us?" Agatha Arpad asked the monk, almost pleaded. "Stay with us, in God's mercy. If go we must to this heretical land. Where they do not recognise even the Holy Father in Rome, it is said. We shall need you sorely."
"If my humble services are required, Princess, and if Bishop Ethelwin agrees, I shall be honoured to remain with you ..."
There was a commotion at the low-browed door, and the King himself stooped to stride in unannounced.
"Maldred," he jerked. "I may need more men. When you win back to Dunfermline, have MacDuff of Fife muster another host. Two thousand will serve. To be ready if I send for them. Ready to march with all speed to Cumbria. You have it?" He turned, to glower at the women. "I march within the hour, ladies. You will sail for Scotland so soon as you may. You will be safe there. Maldred mac Melmore will see to it. Until I return. The Prince, here, can go with you, or ride with me — whichever he pleases."
"Edgar — in
"We cannot sail for Hungary, across the Norse Sea, with our vessel damaged as it is. Many oars short. The mast broken. Taking in water. We should never gain the other side. And we cannot wait here while the ship-men affect repairs. William the Norman is only seventy miles away. Less, it may be, by now. He will learn of our presence, nothing more sure. And will come for me. So we cannot, dare not wait. You know how that evil usurper would serve us! Scotland is the nearest, the only secure haven we could reach. We can limp that far north, sixty miles only . . ."
The Princess Agatha buried her face in her hands. "I want to go to Hungary, sweet Hungary," she exclaimed. "Not to that cold and barbarous land. Where they are not even true Christians!"
"Mother!" the Princess Margaret warned, indicating
Maldred. "At least they are offering us shelter and safety. Which is truly Christian."
"I have had enough of exile, of strangers, of war. I am not a young woman any more. I yearn for my father's house, my friends, the sunny land of my birth."
"I do not wish to go to Scotland either," the Princess Christina declared. "It is a rude, heathenish land. Let us put to sea, if William comes. He cannot reach us in the ships. Finish the repairs out in the bay. Then sail for home, when all is secure."
"Think you, girl, that William has no ships, no fleet?" her brother demanded. "You do not know what you say. He could send hundreds of vessels against us. Only the storm spared us from pursuit, I think. Now they will be out looking for us. Malcolm is right. The sooner we are in Scottish waters, the better."
"Besides, Scotland is better for our cause than is Hungary, surely?" Margaret put in. "For Edgar's cause. He will never win the throne of England, from Hungary. But from Scotland he might. That, no doubt, is why this King Malcolm is offering us refuge there. To hold us as a threat against the Norman. Let us be threat, then, God assisting us! Not just flee the scene, and leave all to the wicked usurper."
There was silence for a moment or two as they all stared at the lovely speaker, sitting up amongst the furs and blankets of her couch, in a shift which revealed rather more of her excellent upper parts than that piously modest young woman would be apt to demonstrate to male gaze. Maldred, for one, was lost in admiration. And not only on the physical plane. Clearly this princess had the spirit of the family. Arid shrewdness too, since she had so quickly perceived Malcolm Canmore's advantage in having the Athelings in Scotland.
The monk Oswald spoke, at their back. "What of Bishop Ethelwin and the others, in this, lord Prince?"
"He . . . they are not to come. King Malcolm was very strong on that. They must go . . . elsewhere. I am sorry, but that is his command."
"Go where?"
"I do not know." Testily the other said it. "Perhaps, perhaps to Denmark. Or Norway ..."
"You — you will not leave us?" Agatha Arpad asked the monk, almost pleaded. "Stay with us, in God's mercy. If go we must to this heretical land. Where they do not recognise even the Holy Father in Rome, it is said. We shall need you sorely."
"If my humble services are required, Princess, and if Bishop Ethelwin agrees, I shall be honoured to remain with you ..."
There was a commotion at the low-browed door, and the King himself stooped to stride in unannounced.
"Maldred," he jerked. "I may need more men. When you win back to Dunfermline, have MacDuff of Fife muster another host. Two thousand will serve. To be ready if I send for them. Ready to march with all speed to Cumbria. You have it?" He turned, to glower at the women. "I march within the hour, ladies. You will sail for Scotland so soon as you may. You will be safe there. Maldred mac Melmore will see to it. Until I return. The Prince, here, can go with you, or ride with me — whichever he pleases."
"Edgar — in
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