Queen Hereafter by Susan Fraser King Page A

aware of what Malcolm was doing, what Edgar was witnessing. How could any decent king—any moral man, she thought—raid an almost devastated land to do more harm to people already reduced to nothing, when their own royal family were in his personal protection? She felt profoundly betrayed, so that prayer could not appease her anger.
    One rainy evening a message arrived from Edgar, brought by an exhausted young man. The Saxons and Scottish courtiers gathered in the hall to hear him. “Edgar the Aetheling wishes his lady mother and the princesses to remain in the safety of the Scottish king’s household. The prince will head north soon by order of King Malcolm.”
    Margaret sighed, relieved to hear Edgar was returning, though not pleased to learn that he was following Malcolm’s orders so directly. “Edgar is safe, then. What of King Malcolm? When will this end in the south?”
    “That I cannot answer for you, Lady Margaret—none of us can,” the young man said. “Malcolm still has business in England, due to his cousin’s actions. Cospatric, now earl of Northumbria by William’s favor, wrecked Malcolm’s properties there and retired to his family seat at Bamborough, which he retains through a bargain with King William.”
    “We heard of Cospatric’s betrayal. Where is Malcolm now?” De Lauder asked.
    “The king is back in Northumbria. He has been burning churches, killing women and children and—”
    “Dear God,” Margaret blurted, while her sister and others gasped. Lady Agatha slumped into her seat and crossed herself.
    “—and pregnant women and—”
    “Christ’s mercy!” cried Lady Agatha.
    The messenger nodded. “The Scottish king stole treasures away from Durham, and now he is leading innumerable English people northward into servitude in Scotland.”
    “Slaves! Why must we stay here?” Lady Agatha asked in German. “This man is a monster!”
    “The whole of northern England is torn by war, and thick with the smoke of burning homes and crops. The roads are haunted by thieves and desperate men, and lined with corpses, between the devastations of the Normans and those of the Scots.”
    “Stop,” Lady Agatha said. “We can hear no more of this!”
    “We cannot stay here. Edgar is mad to think so,” Cristina said. “We must find some way to leave if he will not arrange it for us.”
    “Pardon, my lady,” De Lauder said, “but you would be hunted wherever you go by Norman troops under William’s orders.”
    “It is true,” the messenger said. “Thus, Edgar the Aetheling desires his kinswomen to stay safely in the north.” He paused. “He asks that you remember the gratitude and loyalty your party owes to the King of Scots.”
    Margaret shook her head and nearly protested aloud, then turned away. She could not feel grateful to a man so deceitful and cruel as Malcolm.
    THE AIR SMELLED GREEN and earthy in early spring, as crocuses made way for buttery primroses and violets peeked through the grass in shady spots as Margaret, Finola, and Cristina walked back from the hillside chapel. Ahead, Dunfermline’s open gates were crowded with men on horseback and what looked like hundreds of people on foot—so many that some of them lingered outside the palisade gates. As she walked up the hill toward the fortress, she saw one of the riders remove his helmet, his hair shining gold in the cool sunlight.
    She turned toward Cristina. “Edgar has returned!”
    “But who are the others?” her sister asked. Margaret did not answer, picking up her skirt hems to run up the slope.
    Making her way through the crowd, Margaret wondered, too, who the people were—they were not foot soldiers, but older men and women and children, all of them looking gaunt, pale, and weary, a ragged, dirty, and woeful lot. But as some of them gazed up at theking’s tower, she saw relief on their faces, even hope. That sight near broke her heart.
    Then the English language murmured among them told her who they were.