The Honor Due a King by N. Gemini Sasson

Author:N. Gemini Sasson [Sasson, N. Gemini]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Scotland, Historical Fiction, England
ISBN: 978-0982715871
Publisher: Cader Idris Press
Published: 2014-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

Ch. 14

James Douglas – Berwick, 1318

“Dare you trust an Englishwoman, James?” Walter whispered into my ear as he bent over me. “I think you hazard too much in one stroke.”

“And if we take Berwick?” I crouched in the thicket, listening for any slight sound that might rise above the murmur of the stream before us. “We’ve crawled too many miles to fall one inch short. Aye, it’s a risk we take and men, Scottish men, may fall. Fear is something we all carry in our hearts, Walter. I fear to trust this woman. I fear the next foe I meet may be stronger and swifter than me. But fear lasts only a short while. Victory lasts forever.”

“So does death,” he said morosely.

For hours we watched from the densely wooded bank, waited in the damp, clinging mist, until at last a mysterious lady approached like some courier of the hereafter on her ash-gray palfrey with a nervous, slant-shouldered escort riding at her side.

The stream we hovered beside fed into the Tweed two miles away. The riders had come from the direction of its source: Berwick. The place of this clandestine meeting was hidden to any who did not already know it. The hour: precisely midnight. Exactly as penned in her letter to me.

She sat on her horse, immobile in the argent light of a half moon, thin wisps of fog drifting and curling around her. The hood of her gray cloak was pulled far forward, concealing her face in deep shadows.

Walter tapped my shoulder. “The man with her –”

“Is Peter Spalding,” Boyd confirmed, squinting.

“How can you be sure?” Randolph, ever skeptical, folded his arms.

Boyd sank down to his haunches with a grunt, opened his flask and rinsed his mouth out with ale. “Fourteen years ago I was at his wedding. Married a Scottish woman from Dunbar where he did business sometimes. Took her back to Berwick. I doubt the English have been overly kind to either him or his wife. The world knows if you marry a Scot you become one.”

I glanced at Walter, his eyes straining to search in the darkness. Reflexively, I reached over my left shoulder, searching for the quiver of arrows that I no longer kept there. I had never quite regained full strength in my one arm after the fight with Neville and so had given up the bow that had been an extension of me for so many years. I forced my hand down to my hip, touched the hilt of my sword for reassurance.

“Aye, by God’s eyes,” Boyd muttered as he stood again, feet planted wide, “that is him. Plain enough. And they came alone. Brave fools.” He took another swig, dropped his empty flask, and pulled out his sword with a dangerous, silent strength.

“Put it away, Boyd. They come unarmed.” I motioned for him to follow me on foot.

We skidded down the embankment, grasping at tufts of grass to steady our descent, then waded through the rushes crowding the stream’s edge.

The lady stayed her companion with a flip of her hand.

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