I awoke early to the ringing of prime in the nearby Holyrood chapter house. A cock loudly announced itself in the abbey farmyard. I was tempted to stay in bed to savor Joanna’s warmth and the closeness of her, for I had been away too much the past months, in the north to Inverness to force Iain Mac Dhòmhnuill, Lord of the Isles, to submit to the authority of the king. Afterward, we swept through the north for the royal assize as David gifted lands to some of his followers, especially James of Dalkeith, but even to the heir he so disliked. Perhaps a peace offering. Our return to Edinburgh had been a relief especially when Joanna joined me, though she left our sons in Bothwell. Leaning over her, I breathed in her scent, a combination of rose petals and musk that permeated her hair and sometimes, I thought, her very being.
But the foreboding I had felt the evening before returned. Too much these last months, David had seemed a man settling his affairs for a departure. Why else would he have gifted lands to Robert Stewart—something he had never done before? He had settled the feud between James and Stewart's second son, Robert of Fife, over land James had been given.
He talked time and again about going on a crusade even though the pope had refused the annulment. Perhaps that was why he was thinking of settling his affairs. Like my father, who died crusading against the Moors in Spain, no man could tell whether he would ever return. Yes, his headaches had been more often, leaving him pallid and feverish, but this was nothing new. Thinking about it had made me twitchy, so I softly kissed Joanna's forehead.
Naked, I pushed back the bed curtain, rose from the bed, and padded across the icy floor to the table by the fireplace. A rim of ice had even formed on the inside of the shutters. The room was the largest and most comfortable in the Holyrood Abbey guest house with a bedstead on which we could hang our own curtains if we were staying a while, a table, padded stools, and a fireplace large enough to warm it. I took the screen from the hearth, stirred up the embers, and dropped shavings from a basket on them. After a moment, they flared up, and I dropped some small branches and then a log.
A servant would have done it for me, but I was enjoying the quiet and solitude in the early morning. On campaign, I always relished the dawn before anyone stirred, and all was silent except for a wind in the leaves while blackbirds and thrushes gave their morning chorus. From the edge of the camp would be the stamp of a passing sentry. It was peaceful. I could gather myself and prepare for the exertions to come.
Dipping a washrag in the bowl on the table, I sponged, head to toe, shivering. Some said bathing with cold water was healthy. If so, I had no worries about my health. Later today I might have time to spend an hour at a bathhouse. It would certainly be more soothing to sit and soak in a hot tub of water, sipping on a cup of wine. I did miss the large tub in the bathing room in Bothwell where I did not have to go out to find a hot bath. The maister mason had done a fine job making sure we could bathe in comfort. The thought made me long for Bothwell. But it was the lot of a lord often to be off on some business or fighting.
I was combing my hair when there was a soft knock on the door. Outside in the hall, Jason waited with a young squire in royal livery.
The youth wrung his hands together, moving from one foot to the other. “Sir Archibald, you… you are wanted… needed at the castle. Immediately, they said.” He blinked several times. “ Something has happened, my lord. I dinnae ken what, but it is all whispering, and Bishop de Landallis said you must come.” He blushed. “I mean, if you please, sir.”
“Jason, have our horses saddled. You and Ninian will ride with me.” I found a coin in my scrip and gave it to the lad. Squires were often kept short of money to keep them out of trouble. “You did fine, lad.”
“I will return with you, sir. If I may.”
De Landallis would not have sent for me urgently if it were a minor problem. I hurriedly donned my fur-lined cloak and strode out to the stable. Within minutes, we rode at a canter through the gate to Edinburgh town, past a beggar holding out his bowl to a man on a cart of firewood who had stopped to pay his toll to enter the town. Although the sun was only halfway above the horizon, there were people and carts on the street. Jason rode ahead, shouting to make way at laborers on their way to work, servants out to shop for the day's supplies, a cart stacked with barrels and another with crates. A man shouted a curse when our hooves splattered mud, but I was in too much of a hurry to pause as we hurried past Cowgate and Grassmarket and clattered up Castle Rock into the castle bailey.
One of de Landallis's clerics met me, and we strode, almost at a run, into the keep and up the stairs to David's bedchamber. The bishop knelt next to the bed, praying.
I could not rip my gaze from the still figure in the bed. A jolt of cold expanded from my heart and froze my whole being. I willed myself to step into the room and make the sign of the cross. “How? What happened?”
“When he didnae call for a servant, Lady Agnes came. No one else would enter without his permission, you see.” He crossed himself and stood. “He must have died in his sleep.”
I listened. Church bells were not ringing. “You havenae announced it.” That seemed wrong. The whole world should know that the king was dead. My heart hurt, and I rubbed my chest with the heel of my hand. He had been King of Scots for my whole life, a life in which I had served only him. The earth seemed to shift under my feet.
“I decided we should wait until Robert Stewart arrives.” He looked me in the eye. “King Robert.”
After sucking in a shaky breath, I went to kneel by David's side. “I dinnae understand how he could have just—died.”
De Landallis laid his hand on my shoulder. “He has been more ill than he would admit. His doctor and I took a solemn oath not to reveal it. He was having fevers and chills, and the pains in his head had worsened. The doctor is convinced that it is the arrowhead still lodged there that is the cause. Mayhap, it had moved somehow. I am told such things happen, the body trying to force out what should nae be within it. Or … I dinnae ken what.” He crossed himself again. “But Robert Stewart should be here soon. Then we will announce that the king is dead and that Robert Stewart is the new king.”
David's hand lay atop the coverlet. I laid mine on it. Already it was cold and stiff. My eyes stung, and I blinked to clear them. “He is only 46 years old—” I broke off, afraid my voice would crack. Even his father, after all the trials of his life, had lived longer. “Was 46 years old.” I took a shaky breath and bowed my head, my hand still on David's. “Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.”
When I rose, I tried to smile at the bishop, though it felt more like a grimace. “Thank you for summoning me, Excellency.”
“He would have expected me to. Now wipe your face, my son.”
“My face?” I touched my cheek. The salt I had been tasting was tears. My weakness was best ignored, so I swept them away with my hand and said, “You say you sent word to the High Stewart?”
“Aye, but no one else. But once it is proclaimed, the news will travel like wildfire. When he arrives there are decisions to be made, of course. David must be buried and a coronation arranged.”
But the world had shifted under my feet. Robert Stewart had been my enemy more often than my friend, although I was no longer at odds with his son, the Earl of Fife and Menteith. I hoped my friendship with John Stewart would bring me at least somewhat into the Stewart affinity. But what of the many others who had received lands and favors from David, some of which the Stewarts had coveted? And what about my sometimes enemy, my cousin, the Earl of Douglas? Was he now a friend of the new king?
“We should greet him in the great hall.” My grief had solidified into a feeling of hollow numbness that would allow me to do what must be done. “I will have my men guard the door so his grace isnae disturbed. But it is surely nae fitting to discuss plans over his body.”