A pleasant-faced man in his late twenties awaited me as I dismounted. I had glimpsed him around the court from time to time, but couldnae recall his name.
He bowed as I tossed my reins to a groom. “Welcome, Sir Archibald. You must have made good time.”
“'Tis nae so far from Annandale to Edinburgh.” I turned to Gil, who had also dismounted. “Once the men are dismissed, go to Holyrood Abbey and secure guest quarters for us.”
James and Carrick with their men had remained in Annandale planning the coming summer campaign soon to be joined by Walter Haliburton and George Dunbar. We had hoped to attack Lochmaben Castle this year since our harrying the English the summer before had gone well. That was before King David sent word for me to return to Edinburgh most urgently. I had no idea why, though the year before had been a year of upheaval. David had come down with wrath on several of the earls, including Robert Stewart as well as the powerful Eòin Mac Dòmhnuill, Lord of the Isles. Both had spent several months confined to royal castles before making peace. Thankfully, throughout, I had been in the king's favor and busy fighting in Annadale or overseeing the work on my new castle of Threave on an island in the River Dee.
George Dunbar had managed to convince the bishops to dissolve his sister's marriage on the grounds of consanguinity. James had looked her way with hope—before she once more caught the eye of the king. A month ago, the bishops of Scotland dissolved the king’s marriage to the former queen, Margaret, on the basis that she had born him no child. I knew he was planning to marry Agnes, but he hardly needed me for that, nor was it urgent, as far as I knew.
King David's new tower now had walls shoulder high. The construction was slow, but he was particular that it must be perfect. It would be an impressive place, and I had taken some ideas from it for my own Threave.
Lyon asked that I follow him to the king as though I did not know my way around Edinburgh Castle, but I managed not to smirk and nodded. We found the king upstairs in the solar. His elbow rested on a table, forehead in his hand. Agnes, as lovely as ever, was rubbing his shoulders.
He lifted his head, his face pallid, when I entered and waved Lyon away.
“Your grace,” I said skipping the usual courtesies, “are you ill?”
“Nae, just another of my cursed headaches.” His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he was clearly in pain, but he had suffered from severe headaches since being struck in the head by two English arrows at the Battle of Neville's Cross. One of the arrowheads was still lodged in his skull. Resting in the dark seemed to be the only thing that relieved the pain when it hit.
“Then allow me to return to you later, sire. Surely whatever you sent for me to do for you can wait.”
“It is nae that bad yet, Archie. Now sit. I have something important for you to do.” He took Agnes' hand as I sank into a padded chair across the table from him. “Have wine brought to us, my dear. And when we are done here, I will rest for a while. I give you my word.”
She curtsied to the king, sending me a soft smile, and left. I heard her giving orders to a servant as the door closed behind her.
David gazed after her for a moment and rubbed his head. “This is…” He sighed. “I almost said a disaster, but it isnae that bad. It can be repaired but I need you to see to it.” He paused while a servant brought a flagon of wine and two goblets.
I dismissed the man and poured for the two of us. “What do you need of me?” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Whatever it is, of course, I will see to it.”
“Five days ago, my former queen crept secretly out of Scotland. She took ship for Avignon, taking with her, I am told, a large sum of money with which to pay bribes.” Splotches of red flared on his pale cheeks. “She means to have our divorced overturned by the Pope!” He jumped to his feet but caught his balance on the back of his chair when he lurched. Steadied, he strode furiously to a window slit and threw open the shutter. “You must hie there as quickly as possible. Tell Pope Urban…” He turned to look at me and came back to stand by the table. “Tell him that if I am assured a wife who can give me an heir, I will join in the crusade that he wants, and all the knights who owe me fealty will follow. Tell him that you will follow me. But the divorce must stand!”
“As you command, sire.” I let out a hard sigh and closed my eyes.
How was I supposed to argue with the Pope? Pope Urban was said to be a very strict man, even living by the rules of the Benedictines amid the wealth of Avignon. If he thought the divorce was wrong, would he even consider an argument to allow it to stand? And it was very possible he would think that. Margaret Drummond had borne a child before her marriage to David, a son still alive. That she had pretended to be able to bear a child was not true. It would take someone accustomed to twisting words to make that argument. “I am nae cleric, my king. Are you sure I am the best person to send? Surely one of the bishops—”
“No!” He slammed his fist on the table. “None of them are fighters who could give an oath to join a crusade himself and give that oath on my behalf as well.”
I would be leaving much undone here. Joanna with child again, our campaign in Annandale stalled, Threave Castle barely started, but I had no choice. “I give you my oath that I will do my best.” My stomach had clinched into a knot with doubt that this was a battle that I could win. “I will give him your oath and mine to join a crusade.” All I could do was pray that I could persuade him.