Author's note

Well it's been a while, hasn't it! Life has been getting in the way of my writing in the last few months, but I am starting to sit down at my desk more regularly these days, and this update is the result of that.

So glad to have you along as we head towards the end of this story. Thank you so much as always to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited this fic. I always love to hear from you. :)

I'm posting this update with a special dedication to the lovely Yankee Countess, as a late birthday present. Hope you had a wonderful day, my dear!

So, who's been wondering if Sybil and Tom could find a way to be together in this fic? Well, wonder no more! All is about to be revealed. :)

No time has passed since the end of the last chapter...


"Branson, is it? That same Branson who tried to rebel against my father and never achieved anything? Give it up, man, don't you know it's a doomed enterprise?"

Tom sneered. "You are not the warrior your father was, King Edward. And as you can see..." He gestured around him, at the fleeing and dead English soldiers scattered over the battlefield. "I think we have achieved something here today, all of your enemies united by hatred of you and your tyrannical rule."

"I could not have put it better myself, a cáomh", said a voice from behind Tom's shoulder.

Edward's pale face grew even paler at the sight of the man who had just spoken and what he brought with him. The entire baggage train of his mighty army. The wealth of his kingdom. The key to his rule.

"How do you dare to... a common thief, that is all you are. I don't even know your name!"

"Edward de Bruce, the brother of the King of Scotland and, God willing, soon to be the rightful High King of Ireland."

"It's as I said – a common thief. Of gold, of jewels – of realms. But I don't believe you will find it as easy as you think, de Bruce." Edward remained imperious in front of his victorious opponent.

The King of Scots himself was the next to arrive at the scene, a crooked smile on his face.

"I think that counts as the greatest defeat the English Army has ever faced. Scotland's borders will be safe for a thousand years after that!" He turned to the English King. "Time to pay the price for your release."

"What are your conditions for my ransom?"

"I think you already know the first one. Release my wife and family from captivity immediately and send them to me. Second: sign a treaty with me swearing to respect Scotland's freedom and her right to rule herself, and to stay beyond her borders forever. And finally – it will be your choice."

"My choice? What do you mean?"

"I'll require a hostage to show your good faith, to ensure you do not break your oath. But I will allow you to choose that hostage."

"And what are my choices?"

Robert nodded to his brother, who turned on his heel and disappeared. When he returned, he was followed by two cloaked figures.

"You may choose to leave me your baggage train, or your Queen."

The taller figure threw back her hood and it was indeed Sybil, Queen of England, captive of the Scots. The second captive was her faithful maid, Gwen, close by as always.

Piers Mandeville murmured in Edward's ear.

"Your Majesty, you must have your baggage train back. Think of all the traitorous lords who did not join your cause here. What if they were to think of rebelling against you? You must have your wealth to bargain with them." He looked at Sybil indifferently. "You'll be safe enough leaving your Queen with him for a while."

"But what if... this damned rebel does to her what my father did to his sister?"

"That won't happen, your Majesty. Robert de Bruce prides himself on his piety. It would wound that pride to lock a woman in a cage and leave her to the scorn of the people. He will treat her decently."

"Queen Sybil is the mother of the heir to the throne..."

"Yes, which means she knows how to do her duty to you, to England. And she will do it again, this time."

"Perhaps you are right." Edward turned back to the waiting Scots. "My lord, if I have your guarantee that she will be treated well in your custody, I grant you the Queen as hostage."

Sybil's face darkened with rage. "Edward! How could you make that choice, to leave me here with these rebels!"

"My lady, as any subject must, you will obey your King's orders!" her husband snapped. "Who is the monarch here?"

"You are, your Majesty."

"Then do as I command! I will ensure that our son is cared for in a manner that befits his station." He turned away, seeming to consider that an adequate farewell to his Queen.

She bowed her head in submission, and to hide the rising tide of blood in her cheeks as she considered what this decision might mean.

Robert the Bruce looked at his brother. "In your care and custody I leave this royal lady. Treat her with all respect and keep her safe until such time as I send for you again."

"Yes, your Grace." The two men exchanged a look.

"And m..my baggage train?" the defeated ruler stammered.

"You may take it. And much good may it do you," his conqueror snarled. "Do with it as you will, and take it far away from here. Do not ever darken our borders again with an army seeking to subject us to your false rule, because you will suffer the same fate you suffered here today!"

Edward's face was red and he was trembling with shame as he turned to his remaining bannermen. "We ride south, for England, and our Prince!"

The English King rode away, Piers Mandeville by his side, with the tattered remnants of his army and his precious baggage train behind him. Without even a glance back at his Queen.

Edward de Bruce screwed up his face. "Good riddance to a tyrant and a fool. I hope never to lay eyes on him again."

He turned to a faithful friend. "I ask you, Sir Thomas, to take England's Queen to Ireland – far into the west. She will be safe there until such time as King Robert calls for her again."

Tom's eyes were alight as he nodded. "Yes, my lord Edward. You can count on me to take care of the Queen as you and King Robert would expect." Then, he walked up to Sybil and bowed to her, keeping his eyes on her as she did so.

"Your Grace. Do you have what you need to begin our journey?"

"Sir Thomas, is it? If you will grant me a few moments, my maid will gather my things. Then, we can depart."

"Your wish is my command, your Grace." His eyes were blue flame, burning into hers, evoking a response in her entire body that she fought to hide from everyone but him.

"The rest of your possessions will be sent on to you later, my lady," Robert the Bruce said, with a nod of his head at the small wagon her husband had left behind for her. "Take with you only what you need for the journey."

Gwen assembled a bag with some clothes and other necessary items, then returned. "We are ready, your Majesty."

Tom reached out his hand for Sybil's and she took it. He led her to his horse and helped her climb on board, then got into the saddle himself, seated behind her. When his arms came around her to take the reins, she felt herself breathe out.

It was true, they had done it! Without bloodshed, without war, without threat of execution. Her husband had given her up without a fight. Showing his true colours – nothing mattered more to him than his wealth, power and prestige, not even the woman whom he believed to be his loyal wife, his Queen, the mother of his child.

And now she was in the care of the man she had loved for years in secret, without even having to ask for it.

She crossed herself and breathed a quiet prayer – "Ave Maria, gratia plena..."

He heard her and tightened his hold, murmuring in her ear. "Aye, we are blessed indeed. And I swear to you, you will never be apart from me again. I would die rather than give you up."

Then, he kicked his horse's flanks to get it moving, gesturing to his small group of loyal retainers as he started to move away.

"We ride for the coast!"


This journey was different to the other one Sybil and Tom had taken together in Scotland, so long ago now. That time, they had been alone, able to relax and delight in each other's company. This time, they were racing hard, surrounded by others, men loyal to the rebel cause to be sure, but still... she wasn't ready yet for the secret of their love to be revealed.

She had grown practised in deceit during her years at the English court, and those skills stood her in good stead now. Each night she and Gwen shared a tent, guarded by fierce warriors, and each day she rode in Tom's arms, without letting anyone see her feelings for him.

Their journey took them westward, through glens, along the shores of lochs and past mountains to the Firth of Clyde, where a small flotilla of war galleys was waiting to take them to Ireland.

Tom shook the hand of their leader, a huge man with wild red hair and a long beard, bearing many scars of battle on his body.

"Your Grace – this is Iain MacLeòid, trusted counsellor of Angus Òg, the Rìgh Innse Gall. He and his men are allies of Robert the Bruce, and they will help us get to Ireland safely."

"Rìgh Innse Gall?" Sybil stumbled over the unfamiliar words. "I'm sorry, I don't know..."

The red-haired man spoke with an accent so thick she could barely understand him.

"You may know him as Angus, the Lord of the Isles. Apart from your husband and Robert the Bruce, he's the most powerful leader in Britain. King of this part of the world, in all but name."

"Then I thank his Lordship for his care and concern."

Tom was looking out to sea, assessing the weather. "We will be taking the Queen to safety, in my own lands in the west. The wind's running fair – time to set sail."

MacLeòid raised an eyebrow, and his men raced to do his bidding, preparing the fleet for departure. Within half an hour, they were heading for the shores of the Isle of Arran.

They were on their way.


Sybil had never been out on the open ocean before, and she wondered how she would fare so far from land. But when they rounded the Mull of Kintyre and began their journey to Ireland, she felt her heart lift.

Never in her life before had she felt so free.

She was alone one morning, staring out at the rolling blue water, when she caught a glimpse of two dolphins riding the ship's bow wave, leaping for joy as it seemed to her. The same joy she felt as she left Britain behind her.

Tom approached, smiling at the sight of her. "A chomthuigh, you're feeling at home here, I can see."

"Yes, I am. I love it out here. It's so beautiful, so wild. The space, the sky, the water... well, I've only seen anything like it once before."

She smiled into his eyes, seeing he knew exactly what she meant. Then he slid his arm around her waist and turned them to face the railing side by side, so that he could pull her close to him, their embrace hidden under his cloak.

The opportunities for them to touch were rare and she savoured the feel of his body beside hers, leaning her head fall down onto his shoulder.

For a few moments, they stood in silence, listening to the calls of the seabirds wheeling through the sky above them, watching the wind-swollen sails that were driving them onward, savouring the taste of the sea spray that fell on them as they crashed through each wave.

"Where are we going?"

He paused a moment, then spoke softly.

"A good man, a loyal man who fell in the service of Edward de Bruce, and had no heir living. King Robert has asked me to hold his castle for him. It's just past Malin Head, in Donegal, on the northernmost tip of Ireland."

"So that's where I will be held hostage?"

Her tone was playful. He turned towards her to reply in kind, tightening his hold on her waist as he did so.

"For as long as you want to stay there, your Majesty, the castle is yours." He lifted his hand to her face, gently tracing a finger down her cheek, staring into her eyes.

"And its lord?"

"Yours too – heart and soul, pledged forever. You know that." He leaned forward to kiss her.

Sybil pressed herself into Tom's body, closing her eyes, holding on to him as tightly as she could as their kiss deepened. Her heart was racing so fast, she could hear it pounding in her ears.

Oh, it feels like forever since... let us arrive soon!

The next day, a call came to announce that they were nearly at their destination. Tom pointed out an imposing castle on the edge of a high cliff, whipped by ocean winds, grey stone half hidden by a swirl of cloud.

"Welcome, your Grace, to Carraig Brachai. It's been here for hundreds of years but I am certain it has never had a lovelier visitor."

He bent over her hand to kiss it in front of everyone, then looked up at her, his adoration written clearly across his face.

"I never cared about it before – but now, I am glad of it, because it means I have somewhere to bring you, look after you, in a way that will not be beneath you."

"I am sure it will be comfortable, Sir Thomas" she said, her smile sharing more than her words.

Both of them knew that, at last, they were coming home.


The next morning, when Sybil awoke, Tom was there beside her. She leaned over to touch her lips to his, almost not daring to believe he was there, in her bed.

He didn't take long to wake up at her touch and quickly rolled her over onto her back, kissing her fiercely as he pushed inside her again, picking up where he'd left off a few hours earlier.

Their movements were fast, rough, their hands and mouths clawing at each other. As if they were trying to imprint themselves on each other's bodies, to wipe away the pain of separation.

When he pulled her onto her hands and knees, she arched to meet his thrusts, reaching up to brace herself against the head of the bed, which was pounding against the wall relentlessly. In a way that no one else in the castle could fail to hear.

His fingers found her centre, and he began to stroke it gently, in sharp contrast to the fury of their joining. His touch was so exquisite, she wanted it to last forever. And he granted her wish, knowing just how to hold her at the absolute edge of delight for moment after endless moment.

She felt the heat rushing up her spine and through the top of her head as she climaxed, and a groan escaped her as she fell forward to bury her face in the pillow. At the same time, his own orgasm caused him to shout so loudly that she knew that anyone who had failed to hear the bed rattling must now be in no doubt that the Queen of England had not spent the night alone.

He dropped to the bed, moving at the last minute to fall down beside her and pull her to him, their lips and bodies pressed together as their hearts slowed, their sweat cooled.

After several minutes, he broke their kiss and pulled back from her a little, smiling as he slid his hand down to her belly.

"When were you going to tell me about this, Sybil?"

Just like the last time, she hadn't had to tell him of her pregnancy. Even after all this time apart, he knew her body better than she did herself.

He kissed her breasts, then moved down the bed to press his lips to the place where their baby lay, his breath warm on her skin, his hands resting on her hips.

"I promise you, we will never again be parted, not as long as I have breath in my body. If I have to fight the entire English Army alone to protect you and our child, I will."

Then, he moved lower still.


It didn't take them long for them to get settled in. Sybil had her own bedroom, for form's sake, but it soon became an open secret that, each night, the lord of the castle came to her, and didn't leave until morning.

One afternoon, when she was sitting in a windowseat in the great hall, staring out at the grey-green sea, Tom came to her and spoke in a low voice.

"Let us send for our son, so that we can all be together." He sat down beside her, and she felt herself wishing he would pull her onto his lap.

Not yet, we can't risk it...

"Are you sure it will be safe?"

"Your man Sir Henry... he's a Templar knight, isn't he? They have secret networks all over Europe. Let me ask him, my love – I am sure there is a way."

She nodded, and Tom took swift action. Within a couple of weeks, Sir Henry Beaumont was presenting himself before her.

"Your Majesty, how can I be of service?" His eyes stayed on her face, but somehow she knew that he was aware of her current condition. The taciturn knight, she knew, missed nothing.

"Good Sir Henry – I have a task for you as my most trusted adviser. Can you bring the woodburner's son to me here?"

He scratched his beard, his dark grey eyes thoughtful. "Yes, Your Majesty. There is a way. It may take a little while but be patient – I will bring the boy to you. To his mother."

Sybil blushed at his forthright words, but when she looked at him she knew she could trust him.

"Thank you, Sir Henry. More than I can say."

"We will meet again before long." He bowed his head to her, then wrapped his cloak around him as he strode out, already calling for his horse.

Tom came to her, concern on his face.

"You look tired, your Grace. Take some rest, please." Then he whispered - "You have another child to care for now, before our boy arrives."


Sir Henry was as good as his word. Within the month, Sybil was holding her son in her arms again.

But her joy was short-lived. She was still wiping the happy tears from her cheeks when there was a knock on the door of the castle.

A messenger was announced. "My lord, I bring word from Edward de Bruce."

Tom's face changed as he broke the seal on the letter which was handed to him and read it. Then, he screwed it up in his fist and threw it down on the floor. "Tell your lord that I will be within him in Carrickfergus before the new moon. Make haste!" The young man bowed and left as quickly as he could.

Sybil turned to him, astonished. "Tom, what is it? What's happened?"

"I hate to leave you, but... it's war, and I must go."

"War?" she replied. "But surely the victory at Bannockburn has driven Edward back for good?"

"In Scotland, yes. But not in Ireland. I have to see it through, after all these years of struggle. Do you understand? I have no choice."

Already his eyes were distant, staring at a place she could not see. She could feel his thoughts travelling far from her. To battle, to war, to victory.

Sybil realised that, at last, Tom's moment had come. A real chance to fight for the freedom of his own country.

It wasn't over yet.


A/N -

"a cáomh" = my friend, "a chomthuigh" = my darling in Middle Irish, according to the Electronic Dictionary of the Irish Language.

Some historical notes:

Robert the Bruce's wife and family really were held hostage by Edward I, after being betrayed during their escape from the siege of Kildrummy Castle in 1306 by a supporter of a rival claimant to the Scots throne. They were held in harsh conditions for several years. Famously, Robert's sister Mary was imprisoned in a wooden cage erected on the walls of Roxburgh Castle during her imprisonment, while his wife Elizabeth was held under house arrest in various English castles until she was finally reunited with her husband after the Battle of Bannockburn. This real life incident was what gave me the idea for the hostage swap as a way for Sybil and Tom to be together, since as we all know, Edward II is always going to put his wealth and power before almost anything else, even his Queen!

The Lord of the Isles was an actual title for centuries, held by descendants of the part-Viking warlord, Somerled, who seized control of the Isles in 1158. He is still proudly proclaimed as an ancestor by several clans, including MacAlister, MacDonald and MacDougall, and recent genetic studies suggest that he has hundreds of thousands of descendants still alive today! It's also said that the Lord of the Isles at the time this story is set, Angus Òg, Angus the Young (his father was known as Angus Mor, Angus the Great), fought alongside Robert the Bruce at the Battle of Bannockburn, and that as a result the King of Scotland agreed to let him keep virtually untrammeled control of his traditional territories, which included the Hebrides (Inner and Outer) and several peninsulas along the west coast of Scotland.

Sybil and Tom's journey to Ireland has a music cue, although unfortunately it's hard to track down online. The best I can do is suggest you go to you tube, search for the TV show "The World from Above" and watch either the Ireland episode which begins at Mizen Head (music at the start of the show proper, at about 1:27) or the Scotland episode which begins at the Isle of Skye (music that cuts in at about 4:41 when they fly over the Black Cuillin range of mountains). It's a soaring, Gaelic-sounding piece with the violin in the foreground, and somehow every time I listen to it, I'm transported to the kind of landscape our lovers travel through in this chapter. (I've posted links on my Tumblr post for this update too, which may help you find it.)

Sir Henry Beaumont is a Knight of the Order of Solomon's Temple, also known as the Knights Templar, which was founded in 1119 after the first Crusade to protect the pilgrim road to Jerusalem and which quickly became very powerful and wealthy, accountable to none but the Pope in Rome. Their story is a fascinating one - for example, they were the inventors of international banking with their system of credit notes that crusading European nobles could purchase at home before setting sail, and cash in once they reached the Holy Land.

We'll read more about the de Bruce campaign to free Ireland from English rule in the next chapter, which will probably be the last one in this story. :)