one I entrust to you.”
By the way Alesone had begun to tremble, the reason involved her.
“Time is crucial. I will share essential details, nay more.” The Bruce paused. “What I tell you is in the strictest of confidence.”
He nodded. “Aye, Your Grace.”
“This night I have learned that Mistress Alesone’s father has posted an offer of gold for her capture.”
Her hands fisted at her side.
Gold? God’s teeth, to warrant such ransom, she was far from the common lass he’d believed. More perplexing, with a camp full of trained knights, why would King Robert require the skills of a Templar for the task?
“Your Grace,” she rasped. “The details of the situation are irrelevant.”
Robert the Bruce scowled. “With the amount of coin your father has offered for your return, my concern is the amount may sway the allegiance of one within my ranks, which I canna allow. Few men are as loyal as Sir Thomas. As he will provide your escort, he must know the truth.” The king’s gaze shifted to him. “Sir Thomas, Mistress Alesone’s father is Lord Comyn.”
Through sheer will he kept his face void of shock, but the disclosure reverberated through him with brutal force. The paleness of her skin and the fear in her expression all now made sense. And why wouldna she be shaken? Her father was the Bruce’s enemy, the man their forces were preparing to battle.
More unsettling, the king’s anger wasna at the blood tie, but at Comyn’s offer of ransom, which meant that the Bruce had known her father’s identity from the start. Yet he’d allowed her within camp and offered her protection. Unsure if he was more confused or upset, Thomas focused on their sovereign.
“In secret,” Bruce continued, “Lord Comyn and King Philip have made an alliance. Upon the marriage of Mistress Alesone to one of France’s powerful nobles, King Philip will send gold, men, and arms to support Comyn. A union I canna allow.”
“Why does King Philip care about Scotland?” Thomas asked, damning France’s ruler with his every breath.
“’Twould seem with his coffers refilled,” the Bruce said with disgust, “France’s king has decided to expand his power. The marriage of King Philip’s daughter to King Edward II gives Phillip a powerful ally to our south. With Scotland’s loyalties torn, King Philip intends to take advantage of our weakened state to claim our country as his own.”
The merciless bastard. ’Twould seem his destroying the Knights Templar and the treasure stolen from their temple in Paris had nae sated his hunger for wealth and power. However greedy, France’s monarch had an elemental problem.
“Sire,” Thomas said, “regardless of the marital tie, Edward of Caernarfon holds little interest in seizing Scotland. Any actions that suggest otherwise are due to pressure from his nobles rather than his own desire.”
The king nodded. “On that we agree, but caught up in his own provincial agenda, once the wedding is done, with a pledge of unity forged between King Philip and Lord Comyn, I fear there will be little Edward of Caernarfon can do to stop France’s king. Further, unless the aggressions affect the young sovereign or his soil, I doubt England’s king will care little about Scotland’s plight.” Grave eyes held his. “Now you understand why I canna allow this match to occur.”
Indeed. However much he and the lass didna see eye to eye, he regretted the circumstance that had placed her as a pawn of nobility. Like the Knights Templar, a sacrifice by those in power.
Any concerns of Alesone’s loyalty faded. The Bruce having accepted her within his camp, more so in the position as his healer meant she’d earned his trust, a difficult feat to achieve.
“Your Grace…” Her cheeks grew red. “Given my…heritage, ’tis unfathomable France’s ruler could possibly accept such an arrangement.”
Robert grunted. “Nobles are fickle, more so when gold and power are cast about. With my forces closing in on Comyn’s stronghold, your father understands his castle is in danger. He views the alliance as more than a way to keep his home. With a tie to King Philip, the opportunity exists for him to become Scotland’s king.”
Thomas scoffed. “If Comyn believes King Philip will allow him to rule any portion of Scotland, then he is a fool.”
“Aye,” Robert Bruce agreed, “but Comyn is desperate. And well we know of the acts of desperate men.”
Indeed, ’twas desperation that had King Philip turning on the Knights Templar, men who’d protected him for decades. Earlier this year he’d debased France’s currency to a fraction of its worth to increase his revenue, a move that had incited riots.
For his safety, the Brotherhood had offered him safe haven in the Paris Temple. Instead of gratitude, the valuables within had enticed the king to devise a nefarious plan to destroy the Templars and claim their wealth.
A horrendous act that King Robert despised.
Thomas studied his sovereign, still amazed by the fact that Robert the Bruce was a Knight Templar. However unexpected, he was thankful. King Robert’s religious exclusion, and the Scottish clergy’s refusal to acknowledge his excommunication, had allowed him to offer all Knights Templar entry into his realm with impunity.
These were facts Alesone didna understand, nor ever would.
“Sir Thomas.”
He dragged his mind from the smothering outrage of the French king’s dealings. He couldna change the past, but by God he would do whatever he must to stop King Philip from claiming Scotland. “Aye, Your Grace.”
“You will escort Mistress Alesone to Avalon Castle. Upon your arrival, brief the Earl of Dunsmore on what I explained this night. Inform him that until I send word otherwise, she will remain within his protection.” He paused. “Any questions?”
“Nay, Sire.”
“Mistress Alesone?” the Bruce asked.
“Nay, Your Grace,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and disbelief.
Thomas fisted his hands. The lass was in shock—nae that he, too, wasna staggered by the news of the past few moments.
With a weary sigh, the king leaned back in his chair. “You will depart immediately. Sir Thomas, your mount is ready along with another for Mistress Alesone.” He paused. “Scotland’s freedom lies in your hands.”
Humbled by the king’s trust, Thomas bowed. “Mistress Alesone will be kept safe, that I swear on my life.”
* * *
The thrum of hooves filled the late morning air as Alesone galloped beside Sir Thomas. She understood Robert Bruce’s decision nae to send a large contingent of knights to protect her. The last thing they needed was to draw the enemy’s notice, but she prayed he’d chosen well in giving his trust to this knight. Though fierce, he was but one man.
Her father was a seasoned warrior and a worthy adversary to the Bruce, and now, shamefully, a desperate noble who conspired with France’s king.
They
