Page 21 of The Scottish Bride
“It may be impossible to find Bruce,” Sir David said. “We have tried.”
“King Edward is in a fury over it. Bruce must be caught. And I will not rest until my cousin’s murder is avenged.”
Campbell turned with a slight smile. “Ah, Lady Tamsin!”
“My lady.” Patrick Siward nodded. He was swarthy in the low light, shorter but brawnier than Comyn, a man she knew to be tough, taciturn, but often sensible.
“Sir Davey.” She inclined her head. “Sir Patrick. And Sir Malise. Welcome.”
“Lady,” Comyn snapped. He turned to Campbell. “We know Bruce was moving freely through Selkirk and Galloway and has managed to take back Dalswinton Castle. We do not know where he may go next.”
“He could be in the area, hiding in the forest or hills,” Siward said.
“Clever and elusive,” Sir David replied. “King in the heather, some call him now.”
“Coward, I call him,” Comyn said. “Murdering my cousin, Sir John Comyn of Badenoch, has increased the conflict, not solved it. We will stop Bruce.Iwill stop him.”
Listening, Tamsin slid her fingers into the dog’s collar. She had heard talk of Bruce among the garrison but had not heard of his latest movements. She frowned.
“Edward thrives on fury. It is in his nature,” Sir David said. “And he will be furious so long as Bruce’s men nip at English heels, ambush king’s men, steal back Scottish castles, erode English hold where they can. But only Bruce’s small circle knows where he is day to day. No military strategy will find him. You cannot outthink unpredictability.”
“We will find him.” Malise dropped one parchment and picked up another.
“Bruce is furious too, especially with the cruel treatment of his women weeks ago.” Now Campbell glanced at Tamsin. “With pardon, my lady.”
“I agree, Sir Davey. Edward’s scheme of caging the ladies is heinous.”
“They are not all shut in cages, you know.” Malise sounded annoyed.
“In the king’s mercy, some were sent to convents,” Sir Patrick pointed out.
“King’s mercy? We can hardly blame King Robert for his anger.”
“King Robert, is it?” Comyn gave her a sharp glance.
“His title, sir, whether or not you think it deserved.”
He tapped the page under his finger and turned to Campbell. “If Bruce is near here, I will find him. That is why the king put me in command of Dalrinnie.”
“Your command?” Tamsin’s heart sank.
“This castle is poorly protected.” Comyn sifted among the parchments on the table. “Where are the castle orders? Ah.” He opened a rolled page. “Here... ‘Sir Malise Comyn is directed to provision Castle Dalrinnie with men and victuals and act with all expedition against the king’s enemies and rebels.’” He gave her a smug smile.
“But Dalrinnie is mine, by my husband’s will,” she argued.
“No longer, madam.”
“Lady Tamsin, it is late,” Sir Patrick said. “Perhaps you should retire.”
“Perhaps join my sister, Lady Edith, who may be anxious this evening.” Sir David’s expression was grim, his hair silvery in the candlelight. He looked weary.
“I will not be sent to bed like a child. I will wait to hear what pertains to me.”
Comyn scowled. “Lady Tamsin, we are discussing important matters here.”
Clutching the dog’s collar as if she could absorb the animal’s calm, Tamsin stifled her reply. She had heard that King Edward regarded Malise Comyn as strong, bold, and loyal. Her late husband said he had distinguished himself as a jousting champion in Edward’s court, and his handsomeness made women swoon. Tamsin found him pretty, yet arrogant and knew that his potential came less from stellar character than from a compulsion to take advantage where he could.
“I will wait,” she repeated.
