Chapter 2, Fate's Arrangement

Berwick Castle, Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Scotland

      Earl Raegenhere Auenel stood on the eastern parapet of his castle  and leaned against the wall, looking out over the town below. His dark  blond hair, sprinkled with gray, brushed his shoulders in the breeze.  His steel gray eyes shimmered in the mid-morning sun like the surface of  the River Tweed that ran along the town. He smoothed his short beard as  he watched the Comyn family gather in the nearby church graveyard to  bury their fourteen-year-old son. Eni Comyn had taken a poisoned arrow  in the thigh during the last battle with Northumberland three weeks  before and had finally succumbed to the infection.
     Raegenhere  shook his head. Too young. How much more blood would be spilled before  the war was over? At least no more of Berwick’s men would be lost, but  the peace treaty would not bring back the Comyn’s son, nor the thousands  of other sons killed over Scotland and England’s fifty-year war.
      The Comyns surrounded a modest wood coffin and bowed their heads with  the priest. Raegenhere bowed his with them as footsteps approached from  behind.
     “My Lord, a letter has just arrived.”
     Raegenhere  held up his hand, his head still bowed but his eyes trained on the  priest. When the priest had made the sign of the cross, Raegenhere  turned to face his army marshal.
     “Thank you, Hereric. Who is it from?” He held out his hand.
     “King David.” Hereric gave him the letter. He looked over the wall at the funeral. “One of our men?”
     “Eni Comyn.”
     Hereric shook his head. “How many does he make?”
      “One hundred, thirty-seven. Far too many. I pray I never have to be  responsible for another of these funerals as long as I live.” Raegenhere  slipped his thumb under the fold of the parchment and broke the wax  seal.

     Earl Raegenhere Auenel,

     I have received  your letter conveying the details of the peace agreement you have  reached with Earl Edmund Garrard III, and you have my blessing to  proceed. The sooner this war is over the better. This move may prove  greatly advantageous to us in more ways than one. I understand Earl  Garrard has no sons, only this one daughter. Upon the Earl’s eventual  death, Northumberland could easily be brought into our nation, but that  will be a discussion for a later time. For now, I wish you the best of  luck in your upcoming nuptials, and I commend you for your valiant  efforts to establish peace and independence for Scotland.

     King David II

     Raegenhere refolded the letter.
     “My Lord, is it good news?”
      Raegenhere pinched the edges of the letter. “King David approves of  the peace agreement and expresses hope that we might absorb  Northumberland into Scotland’s borders.
     “That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? More land and resources for our own country.”
      Raegenhere looked over his shoulder at the graveyard. The service  was over, the priest gone, but the family lingered as the groundskeeper  shoveled dirt over the coffin.

      “It might also cause more bloodshed. England would not cede so much  as an inch of land to her enemy.” He leaned against the wall and  surveyed the town. “Tell me, Hereric, what makes us noblemen so hungry  for power, land, and wealth? What makes any man, for that matter, desire  more than he needs at the expense of others?”
     Hereric shrugged. “Want of a better life, more happiness?”
      Raegenhere shook his head. “If that were true, I would be a thousand  times happier than that family.” He pointed to the Comyns. “No, I think  a lack of fulfillment, and a lack of knowledge of how to gain it is  what causes it. Constantly chasing something, thinking That’s what I  need. We believe if we accumulate enough land and riches it will fill a  hole in us, but it never does.”
     “Why do you include yourself?  I’ve known you my entire life, and I’ve never known you to thirst after  power and wealth. I see no emptiness in you.”
     Raegenhere turned  to face Hereric. “You have never known me to give up those things  either. The more I accumulate, the more detached I feel from the people I  care about. You know that little hunting cottage I have in the woods  just south of Kirkbale?”
     Hereric nodded.
     “When I’m in  that tiny house, no servants, only my own hands to get by, I’m the  happiest I’ve ever been. Yet I still come back here. For what?”
     “Your people depend on you for leadership.”
      “I could easily transfer my responsibilities to you, cousin. No,  there is something I want, and somehow I have made myself believe this  lifestyle will give it to me.”
     “Well, there is one thing you don’t have. Do you ever think a wife is that missing piece?”
      “A woman who has been trained to bend to my every whim and have no  thoughts of her own? Trust me, that is not it. Why do you think I’ve  never married? Our women—noblewomen, I mean—have no minds of their own.  They learn to embroider cushions, play music, draw, and dance for our  entertainment. They are boring. Unfortunately, I seem to be coming into  possession of one of those too.” Raegenhere rubbed his brow. “If it  wasn’t so ridiculous, I might prefer a peasant for my wife. At least she  might have some modicum of independent thought and a sense of humor.”
      Hereric shook his head. “You must be the only man I know who  actually wants a free-thinking woman. You would probably get a thrill if  this Lady Cristiana told you to drown yourself in the river.”
      Raegenhere grinned. “I might.” He sighed. “But I doubt I’ll have that  luxury. She is probably like all the other noblewomen. How are  preparations for our trip to Northumberland?”
     “We are waiting  for Immin and Osfrid to arrive. According to yesterday’s letter, they  left King David two days ago. We can expect them tomorrow, and we will  leave at dawn the following morning. We should arrive that afternoon if  we waste no time.”
     “Good. Make sure we take only the strongest steeds.” Raegenhere walked toward the southeast tower. “Come with me.”
      Hereric followed Raegenhere down the tower stairs to Raegenhere’s  private chambers. Raegenhere swung the door open and strode to his  ebony-lacquered oak desk that sat in the center of his living hall.  Rolls of blank parchment sat atop it in a neat pile beside a goose  feather quill and ink well. He unrolled a sheet of parchment and dipped  the quill.

      To Earl Edmund Garrard III,

       This letter is to confirm that I and my party will be arriving in  Alnwick on the 14th of June, and to inform you that King David of  Scotland has approved our treaty.

      Earl Raegenhere Auenel

      Raegenhere folded and sealed the letter before he handed it to  Hereric. “Have this delivered to Northumberland straight away.”
     “Of course.” Hereric bowed and departed.
      When the door had closed, Raegenhere entered his bedchamber. His  traveling case was already packed. There was only one thing more he  needed. The ring. At the foot of his bed sat a large carved trunk. He  opened it and removed a smaller gold chest. He opened the lid and peered  in. His mother’s jewels were exactly as she had left them upon her  death ten years ago, and atop the rubies, emeralds, and intricately  woven chains of gold sat a gold ring tied to a silk pillow that had  yellowed with age. At the center of the ring sat a diamond flanked on  either side by a row of sapphires descending in size as they extended  out from the diamond.
     In the front room, the chamber door  opened. Raegenhere clutched the ring and stood as a short, plump woman  with gray hair knotted on top of her head entered the bedroom. Her arms  wrapped around a basket of fresh linens.
     “I’m sorry, milord. I did not know you were in here. I can come back later,” she said.
     “Nonsense, Muriel. Come. I could use some cheering up.” Raegenhere leaned against a bedpost.
      Muriel pulled the sheets from the bed and piled them on the floor.  “And how might I cheer you up?” She cast a knowing glance at him.
     Raegenhere grinned. “Marry me.”
     Muriel shook her head. “And deprive your betrothed of the most eligible bachelor in Scotland? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
      “Come now. You would make a wonderful wife. You speak your mind,  thanks to your late husband, you’ve already been a wife, so I would not  have to train you, and you  have a wonderful sense of humor.”
     “I’m too old for you.” Muriel flung a new sheet over the bed.
     “Age is all in the mind. What do you say?” Raegenhere wrapped his arms around her matronly waist.
     She whipped a pillowcase at him. “Hands off, you foolish boy.”
     Raegenhere laughed and let go. “Foolish boy? You sound like an old aunt scolding her nephew.”  
      Muriel stuffed a pillow into the case, never taking her eyes from  him. “Old aunt? Well, you best keep your hands to yourself in  Northumberland. You’ll harass the wrong woman and she will either die of  fright or plant her fist in that devilish grin of yours.”
      “Don’t be so concerned. You are the only woman I’ve ever harassed, and  that is only because I know I can get away with it. So will you marry  me?”
     Muriel rolled her eyes and replaced the pillow on the bed. “No.”
     “That is your loss, then.” Raegenhere held out the ring.
     Muriel stared at it. “Your mother’s ring.”
     “Aye.”
     “She wanted you to give that ring to the woman you love.”
     “She did. But that woman has failed to make her appearance.”
      Muriel stuffed the other pillows into their new pillowcases. “Won’t  you give Lady Cristiana a different ring? Save that one for your heir to  give to his bride, or if you have a girl, give it to her as an  heirloom.”
      Raegenhere pulled a ribbon and silk swatch from the  chest. He wrapped the ring up tight and concealed it in a hidden pocket  of his traveling case. “I had thought of it, but I will not deprive my  wife, no matter who she may be, of the ring my mother wished to see me  give to my bride. Lady Cristiana deserves at least that much. Besides, I  doubt she is pleased with this arrangement. The least I can do is show  her that I think of our marriage as if it were one based on mutual  affection.”
     “Aye, she should appreciate that.” Muriel tossed the  dirty linens into her basket. “Well, I hope Lady Cristiana is  everything you ever hoped for in a wife. Tomorrow is my day off, so if I  do not see you, travel safe, milord.” She bowed and left.
      Raegenhere sat on the bed. He rubbed his brow. Perhaps Lady Cristiana  Garrard would be a wife he could love. If not, then at least he would  have someone to give him children.