The Renegade: A Tale of Robert the Bruce

  Rob’s eyes went wide with surprise. “No. He made his wishes plain two days ago. He said he wanted to be alone without being bothered by any petty squabbles. I never even thought to go to him. I came to you instead.”

  “Aye, probably just as well … So, what d’you intend to do to make matters right?”

  “About Isabel, you mean?”

  “No, Isabel’s cut and can’t be uncut. We can only hope it’s not too bad and she won’t be disfigured. I meant what do you mean to do about the others, the whole thing?”

  Rob straightened on his stool and shook his head. “I don’t know, Uncle Nicol. I don’t know what to do about anything any more. That’s why I’m here … I hoped you might be able to tell me. Besides, I did nothing to make it wrong in the first place.”

  “That is true,” Nicol agreed, nodding his head slowly. “But wrong it is, nevertheless, would you not agree?” The soft sibilance of his Gaelic speech was comforting to Rob.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “It’s very wrong. Our mother will be weeping in Heaven.”

  A kindly smile lit up Nicol’s face, and he waggled a raised finger. “No, lad, I doubt that. Your mother was never a weeper. She will be watching, though. No doubt in my mind about that. She will be watching to see how you handle matters now, on your own.” He saw his nephew’s baffled look. “It’s the truth. What you are facing here, Nephew, is your first real test of manhood, in the sense of being responsible—the matter of whether or not you are capable of acting as both father and mother to your brothers and sisters.”

  “I’m not, obviously.”

  “Yes, you are. You simply haven’t come to grips with it yet.”.

  Rob frowned at him “Come to grips with it? How would I even begin to do that? I’m a knight, not a nursemaid, and I don’t even know how to begin to be different. That’s why they all hate me.”

  “Och, Robert, there speaks a man who is feeling sorry for himself.” Nicol heaved himself away from the stall door and tightened the belt at his waist, then shrugged mightily and bloused the front of his tunic until it hung comfortably again. “You saw how glad they all were to see you last week. How then could they have come to hate you so quickly? They’re angry at all the world right now, that’s all that ails them. It’s only natural that they’ll strike out at anyone they can rage at. But that will pass quicker than they or you might believe, I swear to you, for they are all young and life goes on, no matter what is lost. What you have to decide, and quickly, is what you can do to help them find their way again. What do they need that you can give them most easily?”

  Rob shook his head. “I don’t know, Nicol.”

  “Well, I know. And I know, too, how easily you’ll do it once you see what’s needed. You’ll give them love, and leadership, strength, and guidance. They all look up to you, as they should. You’re the eldest man in the family now, apart from your father, and you’re grown up, forbye, a knight, fully trained and lacking only the tap of a blade upon your shoulder to complete you. You share their pain and their grief, but you must bear both of those as a man, while they are only boys and little girls.

  “And so tomorrow you will preside at supper in the Lodge and you will do it properly, with the full dignity of your rank and status. You’ll do it naturally and with kindness and you’ll make no mention of today’s debacle. Forget that ever happened, and if any of them should bring it up, dismiss it as forgiven and forgotten, a thing of no significance. I will talk to each of them during the day and make sure that they attend. And I’ll warrant you they will all be feeling as miserable as you are about what happened tonight. I think, though, that it might be wise to have the youngest children sup with their nurse for a few days, until everything settles down again.” He paused, then asked, “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  “I do, I think.” Rob drew in a great breath, and then he sat thinking for a few moments. “You want me to encourage them to talk … And to listen to them rather than to talk to them. Is that right?”

  “Good man. That’s it, exactly. Listen, and encourage them to speak up. Once they start talking about their mother, the relief will act as a poultice. The poison that’s affecting them will drain away like pus from a festering cut.”

  “But how will I get them to start?”

  “By asking questions, lad, and by remembering they all look up to you. Ask them what’s been happening while you were gone. Ask them about your mother, about what she did for them as children, about what they remember most about her. It won’t be difficult, you’ll see. But most of all, don’t be afraid to let them see how much you care yourself—how much you miss her and how much you loved her. Tell them a few of your own favourite memories of her.”

  The beginnings of a smile flickered at Rob’s mouth. “Like the time she raised the big tents to house the Kings and surprised my father so much that he couldn’t show it?”

  “Aye, things like that. Once you make a start, the rest will come naturally, you wait and see. All you have to do is be yourself. Don’t preach at them and don’t talk down to them … So, you can do this, you agree?”

  “Yes. I can do that.”

  “Good, then, beca