Insurrection Read Online Free Page B

marshes that slipped into the vast expanse of the Firth of Forth, which the English called the Scottish Sea. Over that stretch of water, illuminated by muted after-flickers of lightning, were the wooded hills of Fife and the track he must take. Kinghorn, twenty miles away, seemed further than it ever had before. Thinking of the Bishop of St Andrews doom-laden words that when the Day of Judgement came this would certainly be its temperament, Alexander faltered on the bottom step, the rain pelting him. But, then, seeing Adam sprinting towards him, he forced his feet down into the mud, holding in his mind a vision of his young bride waiting for him in a warm bed. There would be spiced wine and firelight.
    ‘My lord, Tom has taken ill,’ called Adam, raising his voice above the gale. He was carrying the king’s travelling cloak.
    ‘Ill?’ Alexander’s brow furrowed as the squire draped the fur-lined garment around his shoulders. Tom, who had served him for over thirty years, always travelled with him. Adam might be capable, but he was the queen’s favourite, having come to Scotland in her retinue last autumn. ‘Tom was well this afternoon. Has the physician seen him?’
    ‘He says there is no need,’ answered Adam, guiding the king across the waterlogged ground. ‘Watch your step here, Sire.’
    There were lanterns burning ahead, the flames inside like caged birds, fluttering and beating at the glass. The whinnies of horses and the calls of men hung on the wind.
    ‘Who will escort me?’
    ‘Tom sent Master Brice in his place.’
    Alexander’s frown deepened as Adam led the way into the stables. The pungent odour of straw and dung clogged his nostrils.
    ‘My lord king,’ greeted the stable-master. He was leading a handsome grey courser. ‘I saddled Winter for you myself, although I could hardly believe it when Master Brice told me you were leaving in this weather.’
    Alexander’s gaze moved to Brice, a taciturn, rather slow-witted man who had been in his service for less than a month, hired to help out Tom who had been stretched looking after the king with a new bride. Alexander had been meaning to ask the steward to find him someone better, but what with the preparations for today’s council he hadn’t found the time. Brice bowed, but said nothing. Grunting his displeasure and feeling suddenly all too sober, Alexander pulled on the riding gloves the stable-master handed to him. As he climbed on to the block and swung into the saddle, his robe hitched up around his hose, already hemmed black with mud. He would have changed had he not been worried about losing what was left of the day. While the stable-master tightened the girth with a firm tug that caused Winter to stamp impatiently, the two squires mounted the horses that had been led out of the stalls for them. Both were palfreys, smaller and lighter than the king’s beast. Adam was on a fresh horse, his own having been spent on the ride to Edinburgh.
    The stable-master’s voice followed them out into the rain. ‘God speed, my lord.’
    Adam led the way through the castle courtyard, the horses sure on the well-worn ground. It was not yet evening, but already there were torches burning in the windows of the gatehouse, the rough dark pushing against the light. The guards hauled open the gates and the three men made their way down the steep track beyond. The gatehouse was soon looming sheer above them on the black rocks, the torchlight turning the windows into amber eyes. As they passed through a second gate in the lower walls, the guards greeted the king with surprise.
    The main street that led through the town was running with rainwater, but empty of people or carts and the king and his squires quickened their pace. The wild wind tore at their cloaks and hair, and by the time they reached the town limits they were soaked and frozen. From here they sped out across the miles of open country towards the Firth of Forth, leaving Edinburgh far behind them.
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