The Honor Due a King by N. Gemini Sasson Read Free Book Online Page A

primary source of income. I continued on past the north transept and the outer door to the cellar, then through a gate between two dormitories and on into the arcaded cloister.
    There, Walter Stewart stood before me at the edge of the tile covered walkway, one hand slack against the base of a stone column as if to steady himself, the other palm-flat against his abdomen.
    “Walter, come, come.” I motioned him to me, since his feet seemed moored in place on the cobble walkway.
    He swept back the hood of his cloak, dipped his head in a slight bow and approached almost hesitantly.
    “I came as quickly as I could, my lord.” He rubbed at his chin nervously. Although he hadn’t shaven since we arrived at Melrose, his whiskers were still so sparse they cast no shadow. “Is there, perhaps, some mission you wish to send me on? An errand you require?”
    “No, Walter. Nothing so urgent. Much more important, though.” The boy was eagerly obedient, if nothing else. “Your father was a good man, Walter. Wise, honest ... loyal to Scotland, to my family. Willing to gamble his holdings, his life even, on what he believed in.”
    He sniffed and rubbed two fingers beneath his nose. Pale of face, his nose and eyes were perpetually red, as if he had a cold he could never rid himself of. “He was, my lord. I am honored to be his son.”
    “Would you be as honored to be mine?”
    He blinked several times. “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t understand.”
    “Are you aware, Walter, that your father and I had an agreement?”
    Biting his lip, he gazed down at his feet. “I am n-n-not ... not certain, my lord.”
    “Once, long ago, when you were but a small boy, I came to visit at Rothesay. Your father and I made a pact. In my time of direst need, he aided me. Kept his word. Provided galleys so I could escape my pursuers, men to fight for me, and supplies to keep us armed and alive. I believe in keeping my word, as well. Even to a man who no longer lives.”
    Walter jerked at the sound of footsteps. Behind him, a young monk with soot-smeared cheeks appeared at the narrow passageway separating church and chapter house. Shifting the bundle of kindling on his shoulder, the monk nodded at us and shuffled across the open area of the cloister toward the warming house.
    “Our agreement,” I went on, “was that if he assisted me in my fight to free Scotland of Longshanks’ rule and win the crown, that I ...” – I grasped his thin shoulders, waiting until he raised his eyes to meet mine – “would give my daughter Marjorie to you.”
    Again, he blinked. His jaw unhinged. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile so large it threatened to split his face. “ Your daughter? Lady Marjorie?”
    “She’s the only daughter I have.”
    The smile drooped. He pulled his chin back and squinted at me questioningly. “To be ... my wife?”
    “Was I not clear? What else would I give her to you for? You will agree to it – to have her as your wife? I won’t force her upon you if –”
    “No, no ... I mean aye. Nothing would please me more, my lord.”
    “Good. It’s settled then. Say nothing of it yet to anyone else, though. I must impart the news to her first. She’s not been home long, but she assures me she thinks most highly of you. Tells me you have impeccable manners and are exceedingly kind. You’re a good man, Walter. Every bit your father’s son. And a fitting husband for my dear daughter.” I gave him my hand to seal the bargain. He clasped it so fiercely I feared he would break the bones. When he finally let go, I flexed my fingers until the blood returned. “Now, I need to find Marjorie. Have you seen her this morning?”
    “Indeed, I have. Although I don’t think she saw me. Not long ago. Entering on the other side at the door to the south transept.”
    I bid the smiling Walter a good day and left him.
    Sidestepping puddles of slush, I climbed the stone steps into the north aisle of the nave and went through