Queen Hereafter by Susan Fraser King Page B

“Saxons,” she said to Cristina.
    “Slaves?” her sister asked as Margaret took her arm, tugging her close as they walked toward the men who were dismounting. Edgar stepped down from his horse, spoke to a groom, and turned to see his sisters. Crying out, Margaret ran forward to hug him, feeling the hard press of steel mesh armor as he embraced her, and then turned to Cristina.
    “Mother will be waiting inside for you by now,” Cristina said. “Come!”
    But Margaret held back, taking Edgar’s arm. “These are Saxons with you,” she said quietly, looking toward the people in the bailey.
    “Aye,” he replied. “We brought them out of England—they are some of the captives and slaves Malcolm took.”
    “So many! What will become of them now?”
    “Some will be placed in royal households here and elsewhere, the rest taken to homes throughout the countryside to serve there. This group was much larger when we first set out,” he said. “Malcolm’s men left one or two at every house we passed, I think. Every little house in Scotland will have its Saxon slave now. It is best,” he added.
    “Best? They should be in England, in their own homes,” Margaret said.
    “If it were possible, but it is not.”
    Seeing Brother Micheil and Father Otto in the bailey blessing those who filled the yard, Margaret stood watching. The Saxon slaves filled the space like a market day crowd, yet they were silent, woebegone, no doubt wondering what would become of them.
    She looked up at Edgar. “I wish I could greet each one of them and wipe the dust of the road from their faces. I wish I could give them drinks, supper, a bed for the night—yet I am not the chatelaine in the king’s household. But Dame Agnes is here now. She will help.”She indicated the woman moving through the throng, followed by servants carrying full leather bladders of what was probably watered ale. “These poor folk have lost their families and friends, have seen their homes and lands destroyed, have witnessed the ravaging of Northumbria—and now they are slaves.”
    “At least they are alive.” Edgar pressed her shoulder. “Dame Agnes and her servants, the priests, too, have the matter well in hand. Let us go greet our mother.”
    She walked with him past servants running by with flasks, buckets of water, and plates of oatcakes as Agnes called out for straw pallets and extra blankets to be laid out in the tower, byres, and bailey. The people would share makeshift beds in groups, but each would have a clean place to rest for the night, and something to eat. Margaret lingered, still wanting to help, but Edgar tugged on her arm to bring her away.
    Inside the great hall, ale and soup were served to the returning knights. When Cristina and Lady Agatha began to closely question Edgar, Margaret hushed them. But Edgar looked up.
    “The king is still in Dun Edin,” he answered. “His orders are that the Saxon slaves be portioned out to as many households as possible before he returns here.”
    “But these are our people, Edgar,” Margaret said. “Your people.”
    He shook his head wearily. “There was no choice. Malcolm ordered this done.”
    The next day, Edgar brought several young female Saxons to meet his mother and sisters, suggesting that they accept the girls as maidservants. Margaret and the others welcomed them warmly, and Dame Agnes found beds for them in the main tower, assigning a few of them to the royal ladies, the others to work in the household and kitchens.
    Margaret fiercely wished that she could set the girls, and the other fugitive Saxons, free to return to England. But she knew that a life of slavery in Scotland was a better fate, even for the girls who seemed well educated, with gentle upbringings. Two of those joined LadyAgatha’s circle as maidservants—Wynne, Margaret learned, was the daughter of a deposed, deceased earl, while Matilda was the widow of a landowning knight. Both quietly accepted their new status,