‘Oh ‘tis nothing I would not gladly do again for my country, and my King,’ replied Owen, chest puffed up with pride. His head was clearly turned by Morna, and he was not doing a very good job of hiding his attraction from Cormac, who glowered darkly at him from the head of the table.
Morna was obviously flirting with Owen to get back at Cormac, which would normally have amused Lyall beyond measure, but he was too distracted by Giselle to care. She sat pale and lonely, at the end of the table. He was about to go over to her when Cormac interrupted Morna’s sport.
‘Morna, go and help Ravenna settle Ross for the night.’
Morna went off with a sour look at her brother, and Giselle moved away to the other end of the hall. She must have realised the men wanted to talk alone.
‘Come, Owen, tell us the mood at court,’ asked Cormac. ‘How fares the King, now his adventures in Ireland have come to nought?’
‘Ah, the mood at Stirling is grim, Cormac, for the King grows impatient with the Pope and bids he recognise the legitimacy of his rule. But of course, King Edward still turns the screws on Rome, and will not stand for them conceding to Robert’s demands.’
‘And the English still have the stomach to fight on, no matter how we wound them by striking at the North?’
‘My Lord Douglas’ raids have weakened them, to be sure, though castles such as Wulversmeade were easy pickings, were they not, Lyall?’ said Owen.
Giselle’s looked over at him, so his response was measured.
‘Aye, ‘tis true, it was not well-defended and fell easily. Hugh de Mawpas had grown too sure of himself under King Edward’s protection. The fool should have done the sensible thing and surrendered. He could have spared his people a good deal of suffering, had he done so.’
He glanced at Giselle with an apology in his eyes, but she turned away, mortification pinking her cheeks.
‘Aye, he was arrogant, like all those English bastards, and now he knows the meaning of Scots justice,’ said Owen. ‘The English know what is in store for them and, be assured, Robert will give them no respite from his raids. We will be busy men these coming months, Lyall. The northerners urge Edward to admit defeat, sue for peace, but he cares little for his lands so far removed from London. He digs in his heels and declares he will take back Scotland.’
‘He has no choice,’ said Cormac. ‘His nobles make him do it. If Edward is seen to be weak, they will take his throne. There are rumours of plots against him.’
‘Aye, the Earl of Lancaster for one, his own cousin no less,’ said Owen.
‘The fool certainly does not inspire loyalty,’ said Lyall. ‘but these rumours are no more than that for the present. If they were true, and Lancaster overthrew Edward, it would save us a deal of trouble.’
Cormac leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘Or he may be replaced by someone worse, someone who has a backbone and knows how to wage war. Edward’s weakness in commanding men in the field has worked in our favour, so far. That might not always be so. Don’t forget that there are rumours of plots against King Robert, too.’
It was a sobering thought, and they fell silent, staring into their cups of ale. Lyall noticed that Giselle had moved out of earshot and stood alone before the fireplace.
‘There is a deal of talk about Berwick,’ whispered Owen. ‘Robert will make an assault on it as soon as may be.’
‘Aye, there have been rumours for some time,’ said Cormac. ‘It’s a prize alright, taken from us at great cost in lives and blood all those years ago, and the English squat in it, feeling safe behind their walls. But those walls are not as high as they should be, and such a large town is difficult to hold against a determined siege. Robert can take his time over it, while the English lords bicker with each other.’
‘I believe it is a certainty that, before this year is out, we will be massing for an all-out siege,’ said Lyall, with a glance at Giselle.
What would become of her when he went back off to war? Was her father’s land far enough south, out of reach of Robert’s raiding? He turned back to the others.
‘If we take Berwick, we will regain control of the Marches, and have a harbour through which to trade, and strike back at English ships who would prey on us from the sea,’ said Lyall.
‘Aye, Berwick is the key, and if Robert takes it hostage, he can use it to put the boot to Edward’s throat,’ replied Cormac. ‘Imagine the humiliation of the English King when he has to face his nobles and declare he has lost the largest town in Scotland.’
Morna burst noisily back into the hall and into their conversation. ‘What are you talking of with such gloomy faces, all huddled together like old women? Owen, come and tell me more about your travels. I want to know everything about you.’
Lyall sighed. Owen seemed to melt under Morna’s smile. She had always had plenty of charm, a way of making a person feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to her. Now Owen was basking in her adoration, the poor fool. He had a moment of unease that perhaps Morna did genuinely like Owen, a man who would soon be facing great violence and a swift and bloody end in the next stage of the King’s road to absolute power in Scotland. He did not want to see his lively sister give her heart, only to have it shattered.
He would spare Giselle that pain too, not that he had her heart, or could ever win it. Why should he even care if the lass liked him or loathed him? She was English, his hated enemy. He owed them nothing, not honour, nor kindness, nor forgiveness. And she was one of them.
‘Lyall, Lyall, you are not listening?’
Cormac’s irritation cut through his thoughts.
‘We must make plans to travel to Stirling to meet with the King.’
‘Aye, if you like, but not tonight.’ Lyall got up from the table.