The Queen From Provence - Plaidy Jean - Страница 56

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When she had walked with Alexander he had tried to comfort her.

‘It will not always be thus,’ he had assured her. ‘It is only because I am not old enough yet to be a proper king and this is a regency.’

Perhaps it would end then. But he had a long time to wait before he would be considered old enough to be a real king.

While she sat disconsolately at the window she saw a party of riders coming towards the castle. She was alert immediately.

She watched them come up the slope and enter through the gateway. She could hear the horses’ hoofs clattering on the cobbles.

She was aware of the tension in the castle, and she knew that something extraordinary was afoot. Any excitement was welcome in this dull life and there was always the hope that the visitors had come from England.

Footsteps on the stone stairs! They were coming up this way.

She stood up as the door opened.

A man came into the room. Matilda de Cantalupe hovered behind him uncertainly.

‘I come on the command of the Queen of England,’ said the man, and Margaret felt as though she were fainting with relief.

‘You are welcome,’ she stammered. ‘How … how fares my mother?’

‘Your mother fares well and is anxious for news of you.’

Oh God, thought Margaret. You have answered my prayers. I knew she would send someone. She would never forget me.

Her melancholy dropped from her. ‘Leave us,’ she said to Matilda.

Matilda replied: ‘I think, my lady …’

The man looked amazed. ‘Madam, did you not hear the command of the Queen of Scotland?’

‘My orders are …’

‘You have just heard your orders from the Queen herself. What I have to say to the Queen I wish to say to her alone.’

There was an air of such authority about the man that Matilda hesitated. Her orders would have been not to allow a messenger from England to be alone with the Queen. She knew that. On the other hand if that was obvious it would create an even worse impression than if the Queen complained of their treatment. She decided to leave them alone together and send a message at once to her masters de Ros and Baliol.

When they were alone Margaret ran to the visitor and gave him her hand.

‘How glad I am to see you. You come from my mother. What messages do you bring? Tell me quickly before we are disturbed.’

‘Your mother has suffered great anxiety about you. She feared all might not be well.’

‘Oh I knew she would. My dearest, dearest mother. She would never desert any of us. My dear father too.’

‘He too is concerned. They have heard nothing from you.’

‘But I have written often. I have heard nothing from them.’

‘This is indeed a conspiracy. They have sent letters to you and received none from you. They must have been intercepted. Your mother wants a report on your health. I am a doctor. You may have heard of me. Reginald of Bath.’

‘But yes,’ cried Margaret excitedly.

‘I have to take back a report on your health and I fear it has been impaired by this place.’

‘I am so tired. I have no appetite. It is so cold and cheerless. I am ill in the winter. Sometimes I feel I want only to lie down and weep. I long to be home again.’

‘I shall report this to your mother. How do you live here?’

‘Like a prisoner. I am only allowed to walk in the castle grounds. I rarely see Alexander, who is treated as I am. My jailers de Ros and Baliol come to see me now and then and ask me many questions about England. It is easy to see that they hate our country. Tell my mother that I am sick with longing for home. If only I could see her and the others and the green fields and forests of Windsor I should be as well as I ever was. I am ill … and my complaint is Scotland. Oh, Doctor Reginald, I want to come home.’

‘I will tell your mother all you have said. I shall stay here but briefly for the Queen is impatient for my report. You may rest assured that when she has it she will take some action. I shall tell her how your health is suffering and I know that she will not allow that to continue.’

They talked awhile and she remembered indignities she had suffered and told him of them and that she was treated like a prisoner.

Matilda had given orders that an apartment be prepared for Reginald and he told her that he would need it only for one night. The next day he intended to return to England where the Queen was eagerly awaiting news of her daughter.

‘It would seem strange,’ he added, ‘that correspondence intended for the Queen of Scotland has never reached her and that which she sent to the King and Queen of England has not come to them.’

‘The roads are treacherous,’ replied Matilda. ‘Messengers are often waylaid and robbed.’

‘Aye,’ was the answer, ‘particularly in Scotland.’

Supper that day was taken in the great hall and Alexander was present, and although her melancholy was lifted, Margaret could eat little through excitement.

Alexander was clearly amazed at this change in their fortunes and Reginald listened intently to the young King’s corroboration of Margaret’s story.

He would certainly have something to report to Queen Eleanor and King Henry.

The next morning he left and shortly after his departure Robert de Ros and John Baliol arrived at the castle. They had come with all speed on receiving Matilda’s communication and were furious because the doctor had already left.

They made Matilda tell them everything that had happened. They realised that she could not have kept him away from Margaret but they deplored the fact that she had not remained with them to hear what was said.

How long had he gone? They must be after him. He must not be allowed to take his report to England.

Reginald, with his small party, was riding south, well pleased with his work. The mission was successful. He had found out what he had come to seek and he would have the royal approval for what he had done.

He had confirmed their suspicions. All was not well in Edinburgh. Some action would have to be taken for it was clear that the treatment Margaret was receiving in Scotland was, as Queen Eleanor had feared, affecting her health.

A day after he had left the castle his party fell in with some travellers on the road who were making their way south. They were pleasant companions and explained that they were frequent travellers along this road and would be delighted to give their English friends the benefit of their experience. They could guide them in the making of short cuts for they could see that their friends were intent on speed.

They came to an alehouse and were received warmly by the landlord. He could as it happened provide them with some good meat and drink and his wife had just baked fresh bread. His home-made ale was renowned throughout the neighbourhood and he would be proud if the distinguished travellers would sample it.

They talked together and during the conversation Reginald somehow revealed that he was a doctor and that he came from Bath. He was a well-known doctor in England, he could not help hinting, and served the great.

The ale was good and after he had drunk well of it he began to feel very sleepy. His bed was a pallet on the floor in the gallery above the alehouse parlour. He slept heavily but awakened in the night feeling rather strange. He was beset by violent pains which his medical knowledge suggested had been brought about by something he had drunk or eaten.

By the morning his friends were alarmed for he could not get up from his pallet. Their new friends who had brought them to the inn departed as they said they must and wished them good speed on their journey.

Before that morning was out Reginald of Bath was dead.

Eleanor, impatiently awaiting news from Scotland, was filled with foreboding. She had come to accept Katharine’s dumbness. The child was so pretty and appealing and she could forget her affliction in her charm.

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