Prologue

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Cnoc Creige; April of 1314, 3 months before The Battle of Bannockburn

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  “There’s a rider at the gate, My Lady, says he’s a messenger from The King.” One of Ursula’s men informed her. She raised one perfectly arched brow; this was unexpected. Ursula looked to Ardair, her adviser and confidant, who was posing as her uncle to the rest of Cnoc Creige. He gave her a nod, and she told the guard to send him in before turning to Ardair once again with a questioning look.

  His, “Not sure” was quiet, as he looked around the Hall to see who was there, “But it’s best you don’t have some people around who might overhear.” Ursula looked at the far corner to the oversized chairs, disgusted as she watched her husband, The Baron of Cnoc Creige, trying to drink ale but spilling more of it on himself than he managed to get in his mouth. She looked again at Ardair and with a nod said, “Get my fool husband to his chambers. I don’t want this King’s man to see him anyway, but don’t take too long. I need you here.” With that, Ardair was off with a nod.

  Ursula sat at the head table in the nearly empty hall, drumming her fingers. She didn’t like this. A messenger from The King meant this was official, and would most likely be something that would have to be addressed by her husband. She needed to avoid that, or him doing anything that brought attention to them, at all costs. She didn’t like anything that got in the way of her plans, and that is surely what this was about to do. She gave a once-over to the man the guard was bringing in and smiled wickedly; he was little more than a boy, really. Easy prey, she thought.

  Ursula was a very attractive woman, even as she was approaching 40 years of age. Her body was voluptuous, with curves in all the right places. She had a small waist, not as small as it had once been, but still small even after having four daughters. Her skin was very fair, but healthy. Her hair, a rich reddish-brown, fell in curls that framed her heart-shaped face. She had only the hint of a few creases at the corners of her gray-green eyes. Her nose, small and perky, led to bow-shaped lips, with her bottom lip being a little overly large, giving her a pouty, inviting look above her pointed chin. Her cheeks were high and showed only the beginnings of the thinning that comes with age. Time had been much kinder to her looks than her soul.

  As the messenger was brought before her and introduced, he bowed. “I have a missive from The King for Lord Grant, my Lady.” Ursula smiled at him flirtatiously, tilting her head and leaning over toward him enough to show off her ample milky white breasts as she held out her hand. “I’ll take it. My husband is not well.” Without taking his eyes from her chest, the boy handed over the envelope distractedly. Then jolting his eyes up, red-faced, realizing he was staring, added, “The King would like a reply, my Lady.” Through her still smiling teeth she questioned, “Oh?” The boy apologetically replied, “Aye, my lady, the matter is urgent.” Ursula, already thinking, “Not to worry, you will have your reply.”

  After ordering that the boy Owen be fed, Ursula told her daughters and kitchen girls to keep him happy. She then retired to ‘her’ study on the third floor of the tower-house, and yes, it was hers now, to have Ardair read the missive for her. The study was not a very large room, but plenty large enough for a desk with a few chairs and some shelves. The best feature of the room was its south-facing window, which looked out into the courtyard and toward the front gate. This had been used by her husband, Chief Joseph Grant, Baron of Cnoc Creige, whom she had married a year ago now. He no longer had need of it. The fool hardly knew where he was half the time. It was hers now, it and everything else.

  Ursula sat at ‘her’ desk, drumming her fingers impatiently while watching Ardair read. When it seemed he had finished, her, “Well?” was demanding. “The English are sending divisions to the River Forth. Bruce needs reinforcements.” Ursula rolled her eyes. “What the hell do I care?” Ardair added, “The King has asked you, or your husband rather, to send men. Seems he’s asking a lot of clans.” Ursula sat up straighter with her elbows on the desk. “And why would I do something like that? Will he pay me for them or something?”

  Ardair thought carefully for a moment. “No, he won’t pay you per se, but it could gain you favor with him, and The King could create problems for you if you do not. He’s trouble you don’t need, my Lady.” Ursula considered, “But I need the men here until I have things better in hand. All of them! We are so close to having them on our side and where we want them. Everything is coming together.” Ardair nodded. “and The King? You don’t want to have him against you, My Lady, especially if it comes to a case before him.”

  Ursula wrinkled her pretty little nose. “Right! Damn it! But I can’t risk this now. Maybe after I secure the heir, I could spare a few men then, but not now. Isn’t there a way that we could decline without offending him?” Ursula got up and paced the room, thinking: “Maybe, blame it on something else… WAIT! The Munros, will they be there?” Ardair drew his eyebrows together, puzzled. “Aye, I suppose they will be, but what would that have to do with anything?”

  Ursula turned to Ardair, her smile growing as it came together in her mind. “Jo and his annoying rants! He’s always going on about them; he hates them. If they are going to be there, then we can decline, blaming the Munro’s! Saying we won’t fight alongside those barbarians! Everyone knows he hates the Munro’s so no one would suspect a thing!” Ardair nodded, thinking, “That could work… it’s quite brilliant, actually.” Ursula’s smile beamed triumphant!

  Ursula froze at the top of the stairs after sending the carefully worded reply with The King’s messenger. There was a man on the floor. He was struggling with someone, a woman. His, “Hold still, you little idiot, you won’t feel a thing.” Set her blood to boiling! She came up behind him quietly, watching while the bastard was trying to lift her stepdaughter Juliette’s skirts. Ursula, lifting her own skirt, hauled back and gave him a mighty kick right between the legs! His howl was earsplitting as he rolled off Juliette. Ursula then walked up to where he was lying in a ball, still holding up her skirt. She picked up her foot and furiously brought it down on the side of the man’s face!

  She looked to Juliette, who had scurried to the wall and was now cowering against it, looking scared and confused. Her golden hair a mess of tangles, and her smock old, too small and soiled. Ursula wondered for a moment if this would finally make the girl say something, anything. The girl couldn’t speak; she was sure of it. No one could stay silent during the beatings she took, but she knew there had to be something of the girl still in there. Even if she didn’t speak, she could understand some things. Ursula could see it in Juliette’s eyes at times, not always, of course. There were times when Juliette was just not… there… you could yell at her, scream at her, the only thing that seemed to get her attention at all was a good beating, though even then she didn’t make a sound other than a few whimpers. It had been a whole year since her accident and not a single word! It was maddening!

  Ursula gave a small huff through her nose then she kicked the man still laying on the floor once more for good measure, “If I ever see you trying to rape one of MY girls again, I’ll have you hung by your cock in the middle of the yard! Understood?” At his nod, she watched him for a moment, then yelled, “What the hell are you still doing here? Get out of my goddamn keep and don’t let me find you in here again!” The man hurriedly got to his feet and dashed away, holding himself between the legs.

  At Juliette’s shocked look, Ursula smiled sweetly. “What?” She kneeled down in front of Juliette grabbing her roughly by the chin so she could inspect the damage to Juliette’s bloody lip, “I don’t like you Juliette, hell I’ll beat you within an inch of your life myself, but I won’t allow a man to rape you! Not you or any woman!” Then she leaned a little closer, looking into Juliette’s eyes and whispering, “Do you want to know a secret, stupid girl? It’s not as though you could tell anyone.” Her whisper was in a pleasant tone, almost musical. “I may not like you very much, Juliette. In fact, you annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but I hate men! They’re only good for one thing, what you can get from them. Remember that stupid girl, if you can learn anything at all from me; learn that.” At Juliette’s wide eyes, Ursula laughed. “Go play in the fields, or whatever it is that you do with your miserable existence!” then stood and walked on her way without a backward look to Juliette.

  Ursula felt a twinge of guilt for that last, but quickly pushed it away. She told herself; it wasn’t my fault! Dugan is the one who pushed the girl in that ravine! Hell, he didn’t even mean to push her at all! She shouldn’t have run. The little brat shouldn’t have been spying in the first place! And what kind of idiot admits she is going to tell her father that she found his new bride in a compromising position with his captain, his best and most trusted man? Stupid girl should have at least tried to lie, not that we would have believed her. Pity, she was such a lovely thing. Well, at least now she could be sure the girl couldn’t speak. If that didn’t shake something loose, nothing would. She had been trying to find out what the girl had heard while she was spying. No need for her inquiries anymore. She won’t be saying anything now, Ursula thought with a smile.

  Ursula shut the door to her chambers with a sharp crack, still angry. Filthy man! She didn’t abide rape, Ursula’s first time had been rape, and her second, and her third, she had been used badly more times than she wanted to count. Her mother had been a whore, and sold Ursula’s innocence for a pence, before she was even a woman. Ursula thought; I might not be the best mother, but I will NEVER be MY mother.

  Still, after all these years, she could see her mother in her last moments; laying in the nude on her stinking bed, covered in blood. Ursula had come home to find her like that, still alive but barely. She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to sit in any of the blood and looked at her, examining her mother’s wounds with interest but not moving to touch her, “Guess you tried to pilfer from the wrong man this time? No doubt for a hot meal and a cheap drink? That’s the trouble with you mother. You never had any aspirations.” Her mother coughed and gasped, staring wide-eyed at Ursula, “Don’t look at me like that mother, you’re the one who raised me, not that anyone would call what you did mothering.” She stood and as her mother’s panicked eyes followed her, Ursula calmly gathered her things and anything worth taking, which was not much, and headed for the door, “Best I be getting out of here, before you start stinking up the place. Goodbye, mother.”

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