Colban sees Maud

Colban found Maud in her garden, as Sigefrith had guessed. His young godson and the little Princess Emma played in the grass at her feet.

At the sight of him, the little boy came charging up the path waving a short stick, crying something that sounded like “Halt, halt!” or “Hot, hot!” But before he could take a swing at his legs, Colban reached down and swept him up, holding him at arms’ length far above his head. Delighted, the boy dropped his stick and laughed, and Colban laughed with him.

“I should toss you in the air, you little devil,” Colban told him in Gaelic, “but your mother might mind.”

“Good morning, go riding!” the boy responded, using two of his favorite Gaelic phrases that young Malcolm had taught him.

Colban laughed again, and tucked him under his arm to carry him back to his mother. Maud sat looking modestly down into her lap.

“Be kind to your sister and I shall take you riding later,” he told the boy as he sat him on the grass again. “My son has been teaching him Gaelic,” he said to Maud.

She looked up at him with frightened eyes.

“At least the important words. ‘Good morning, go riding,’ says he.”

She smiled slightly.

“May I sit beside Your Majesty?” She waved at the bench, and he sat. “He is bolder than his father was at his age. Malcolm would never have come to a stranger as he did me last night.”

“Perhaps he saw your son in your arms. He follows young Malcolm everywhere.”

Colban chuckled. “Then he shall grow to be like his father, for I find my son to resemble in mind Malcolm more than he does me. He’s a canny lad, and mind, I should no care to trust him farther than I can throw him, and that shall be a shorter space with every passing year.”

“I am very fond of your son.”

“He loves you well. You have an ally among the Scots.”

She looked out at the pond, but saw her hands were squeezed into little fists.

“I last saw Malcolm at Easter. He was with the King at Stirling a month ago. No more I know. He is always away now.” He waited for a response, but she did not move. “I believe he means to fight until he dies.” The little fists shook. “He goes wherever they are at fighting, and little cares whether they both allies or enemies be. I have told him he does wrong to his wife, and wrong to his son if he dies, but he listens like a stone.”

Still she said nothing.

“You have done what I asked,” he said after a moment, and she looked up at him, her eyes questioning. “You have made my brother again what he was. I had never forgiven you for calling him a brute when I saw you last, for it was you who made him so. But I forgive you now. Perhaps the Lord has made you wise.”

“I have prayed that He might.”

“Has He taught you not to hate me?”

“Hate you?”

“When I saw you last you said you did.”

“I did?”

“Aye.”

She looked around in confusion. “I don’t remember. I don’t believe I hate anyone now.”

“That is a blessing. You have gained in grace as well as wisdom.”

“Emma, don’t put those in your mouth, darling,” Maud said suddenly. Colban had been bringing the baby flowers.

“He wants his ride,” Colban chuckled. “A canny lad.” She smiled faintly again, and he asked her, “Is there anything you want me to tell Malcolm about the boy?”

“Tell Malcolm?” she repeated vaguely. Colban wondered suddenly whether she were not growing slightly daft. She was not the bitter, scheming, sneering woman he had left a year ago – now she constantly wore the dazed expression of a man who has been hit over the head with a club.

“Aye. He will want to know. I shall tell him what I have seen, but if there is anything you would like to tell him about his son, I shall do this for you.”

She looked down at the boy, who looked back up at the two of them to ensure his godfather was watching as he carried another flower to his little sister. He grinned at her, and she smiled at him fondly before turning to Colban to say, “One thing. Tell Malcolm he dreams of horses.”