Page 4 of The Scottish Bride
“Seton,” Edward said. “What do you know about the stabbing of John Comyn?”
So that preoccupied the old king. “Happened in a small kirk in Dumfries,” Liam drawled. “Other than that, I know nothing of use. I have said this repeatedly.”
“You were seen there, I hear.”
“Only Bruce and Comyn were inside that church, so only Bruce knows what happened.” He felt filthy, hungry, tired, resolute. What was Edward after here?
Edward turned a page. “We see you applied for a pardon and the return of your castle three years ago in exchange for entering the king’s peace.”
“But you did not honor your promise in return for my oath.”
“You betrayed our trust.” Edward shrugged. “Kin to Christopher Seton, aye?”
Sharp as a knife, the words cut. Liam drew a breath. “Aye.” And proud to admit it.
“You do not want to suffer his fate,” Edward murmured.
Liam did not answer. His cousin, taken in the same skirmish that had landed Liam in Carlisle’s dungeon, had been cruelly executed. But Christopher had been married to Bruce’s sister, Lady Christian, who was herself Edward’s prisoner now. Liam was a compatriot, but not kin. So far, that had spared his life.
Just weeks ago, Bruce’s women—his queen, his young daughter, two sisters and two cousins—had been captured in the Highlands, where Bruce had sent them in hopes of safety. Liam, Christopher, and others had ridden to their rescue to no avail. The women had been taken south. Now Bruce’s queen and his daughter—not yet twelve—and a sister were in English convents; his other sister and a female cousin were confined in iron cages specially constructed for them at the king’s order, displayed at Roxburgh and Berwick. Christopher Seton, as well as Bruce’s brother Neil and other staunch followers, had been publicly and horribly executed. Liam and others had escaped.
Liam felt sick with rage over it. He looked away, nostrils flaring, fists clenched. Standing here wrapped in chains, he felt helpless. But nothing could be done for the dead, or the captured women either, no matter how much he wished he could help.
“Tell me, Seton,” Edward went on, “would you like to regain your castle?”
Silent, Liam slid a flat stare toward him.
“If you want it, then find me the Rhymer’s daughter.”
That surprised him. “Rhymer’s daughter?”
“Thomas the Rhymer. Surely you have heard of him.”
“Dead years now. What of his daughter?”
“She has a book that belonged to her father and I want it. She is called Lady Thomasina Keith. Find her and get that book from her. She would be quite old by now. It should be easy enough.”
Go after an old woman for a book? Edward was losing his mind, as had been rumored for years. “Perhaps if you ask nicely, she will send her wee book along.”
“Insolence does not help you. Fetch the thing and bring it here.”
“Where would I find this old daughter?”
“Dalrinnie.”
So Edward would send him back to his forfeited home to accost an old lady. “You are certain she has this thing?”
“You dare question this?” Edward growled. “Get the book. You might regain Dalrinnie if you come back into king’s peace. We could use your knowledge. But there are conditions and consequences should you refuse.”
He could guess the consequences. “What conditions?”
“God’s wounds, he is as obstinate as the rest of his kind,” Edward muttered. “Be glad you are still alive.”
“I am.”
Edward gestured, and a servant stepped forward to pour a cup of wine, dark red sparkling in the light. The king slurped as he studied parchments. He seemed to have forgotten the prisoner.
“Send a message to this fellow.” Edward handed a page to the clerk. “Tell him I want his best hawk for my next hunt. They sayhis birds are the finest in Scotland. If he refuses, I will have them all.”
