Queen Hereafter Read Online Free PDF Page A

women be ready for whatever comes—the bottom of the sea, or the teeth of Scots.”
    UNDER THUNDEROUS SKIES , the Saxons were taken off the foundering ship within the hour by fishermen who appeared as if sent from heaven, having braved the rocking seas in sleek boats to convey the strangers to land. Their saviors were local Scots, Margaret learned, who spoke the native tongue, a lilting language that Cospatric alone understood.
    “These are Fife men, loyal to Malcolm,” he explained, seated in one of the boats with Margaret and several others. “They say their village is not far from one of Malcolm’s royal palaces. They will send word to the king’s men and we will shelter with the fishing families tonight. Soon we will be welcomed by King Malcolm.”
    Shivering in her wet things, Margaret was so grateful to be heading toward blessed land that she almost did not care where it was. Tears stung her eyes as men lifted her from the boat and carried her ashore. Sinking to her knees on the pebbled beach beside her kinswomen and others giving thanks, she closed her eyes in silent prayer.
    Never again, she decided, did she want to travel by sea, never again did she care to feel the powerful surge of bottomless water beneath her. In that moment, she made a vow—a holy, impulsive, impassioned vow, promising heaven that she would stay away from water. Instead, she promised the saints in fervent silence, she would help anyone willing to voyage by ship, but she would gladly deprive herself of sea travel. That would free her from experiencing such fear and danger again.
    As the Scottish fishermen guided the stranded survivors through the rain toward their own homes, Margaret anticipated the heat of a cozy hearth, the feel of dry clothing, and the safety of humble hospitality. She would not think ahead, she told herself, to meeting the Scottish king.
    Turning, she saw Edgar offer to one of the fishermen, a tough and elderly man, a purse of coins. The man shook his head in refusal.
    “You are welcome to what we have. It does not matter to us where you come from or who you are. Best we do not know, eh?”
    A FIRE BLAZED HOT gold within a ring of stones, the rest of the room in shadow as Margaret and the other women gathered around the low central hearth, grasping blankets around their shoulders. Grateful to be warm and dry, Margaret was glad for the simple shift that she now wore while her wet garments dried by the fire. Her sister and mother had grimaced at the plain clothing they had been lent by the fisherman’s wife who had welcomed them to her family’s cottage; and they did not seem pleased with their quarters, a dank and humble seaside cottage belonging to the woman introduced as Mother Annot and her husband, the elderly fisherman who had guided the stranded voyagers away from the storm-tossed beach.
    “I will itch to death in this,” Cristina said to her mother under her breath.
    “We are warm and dry and did not drown,” Margaret said. “And the woman has made us hot soup. We must be sure to thank her.”
    “I would if she spoke a civilized tongue,” Cristina muttered.
    “The generosity of these poor fisher-folk should be praised,” Margaret said.
    “True.” Lady Agatha adjusted her blanket with two fingers as if loath to touch it. “Do you suppose there are fleas in this?”
    Mother Annot, their tall and gaunt hostess, came forward with a large bowl and ladle, offering more soup. Margaret’s stomach felt ill at ease, but she did not want to refuse the kindness and raised her cup, though the soup smelled both salty and fishy.
    Her mother leaned toward her. “No need to eat that. We do not even know what is in it.”
    “It is fish broth,” Cristina said, peering into her cup. “Ugh,” she said, scratching under the woolen blanket. “I do not much like Scotland.”
    Seeing the trusting smile on the Scottish woman’s face, Margaret felt embarrassed on behalf of her kinswomen. She sipped her soup and smiled.