Queen Hereafter Read Online Free PDF Page B

for a little while.”
    “You had planned that for you and your men already,” Margaret said. “But may we hope that Malcolm will harbor so many Saxon fugitives? With all of us here, the Normans have even more reason to attack Scotland. I do wonder if Malcolm will send us away,” she added.
    “He hates the Normans and does not care what they want,” he replied. “Though he was partly raised in Northumbria, he is king in Scotland, and means to defend its perimeters against invaders. He will have sympathy for our plight,” he added, “for he was banished as a child from Scotland when Macbeth killed his father, a king called Duncan.”
    Sympathy was not a quality she expected from Malcolm of Scotland. “We shall see. If he does offer us respite for a bit, that would be most welcome.”
    “I hope for more than respite,” Edgar replied. “Truly, I believe God’s will brought us here with that storm. We have been swept nearly to the king’s doorstep. He and I had agreed to meet farther south at a neutral meeting place. To be brought here to his home seems … fated.”
    Her heart raced. “How so?”
Please
, she thought,
do not speak of marriage
.
    “For the sake of the rebellion, of course,” he said. “His welcome bodes well for the Saxon uprising. With his full support, we can reclaim everything we have lost and more.”
    “He will want repayment for that support, and we have no land, no titles.” But they had royal blood and marriageable princesses, she thought, looking sideways at her brother.
    “We can win England back,” he said only. “Where else can we go?No other place will accept us now. Wherever the royal Saxon fugitives flee, the Normans go in pursuit. But the king of Scotland does not fear them. Indeed, by sheltering us, he sends William a message that he will not be intimidated.”
    “So we must stay here indefinitely?”
    “We have no choice. Look there,” he went on, gesturing toward the grassy dunes that edged the beach. “Cospatric is back—and Malcolm’s men are with him.”
    Increasingly apprehensive, Margaret stood motionless in the whipping wind off the sea as the riders crested the hill. A few men dismounted to walk toward them, and Cospatric strode forward to speak to Edgar while Wilfrid joined Margaret. Some of the Scotsmen were on horses, others on foot, and some wore good mail armor while others had leather. She noticed that many wore patterned cloaks and tunics of the distinctive wool that the fisher-folk had worn, woven of crisscrossing hues. Most wore iron helmets and carried weaponry.
    “Why do they bring weapons to meet shipwreck survivors and women?” she asked Wilfrid.
    “Saxons and Scots will never trust each other,” he said. “My lady, your brother beckons you to come forward.” She did, slowly, Wilfrid walking beside her.
    “These are Malcolm’s elite housecarls,” Cospatric was explaining to Edgar. “The king is not currently at his palace in Dunfermline, as he expected to meet us farther south. We are welcome to wait there for his return.”
    The leader of the Scottish envoy came forward. “This is Sir Robert De Lauder, head of King Malcolm’s elite guard,” Cospatric said in introduction.
    De Lauder bowed his head, showing fine manners, and Margaret smiled politely. He was shorter than she, and wore a long chain mail hauberk with a dropped hood, revealing his dark hair trimmed close, his face clean shaven in foreign fashion. She narrowed her eyes, suspecting that he was not Scottish; the other men were simply dressed and armored, with rough beards and long hair.
    “Welcome to Scotland, sire, my lady,” he said in English, but with a marked French accent. “You and your party are welcome here.”
    “You are Norman?” Margaret asked.
    “I am from Normandy, true. I pledged to King Malcolm’s service many years ago, well before King William came to England.” He turned as a second man joined them. This one was tall and broad, blond and ruddy,