Skye stood next to her mother and watched as William rode away.
Isabelle watched until she could no longer see the man she loved. Then she sighed. "I think I am dying," she whispered. "My heart is being torn from my body and I can do nothing about it."
"I fear I shall never see him as a free man again," Skye said softly. She was standing ram rod straight with a hard light in her eyes. She stood there for a long moment, then she turned and hurried from the room. There wasn't a moment for her to loose.
"Here he comes!"
Robert the Bruce, the 17th Earl of the Bruce, turned. He was the most powerful many in Scotland and was to be King of Scotland. He hurried over to the window. Astonishment glowed in his dark brown eyes. "He comes alone and unarmed. My God, he is a brave heart."
William dismounted and watched as Robert the Bruce and another Scottish noble came down the steps.
Robert smiled. "Welcome, William Wallace."
William nodded to him, unsmiling. But inside, he was satisfied. This man would be good for his daughter. "I hear ye have got yourself engaged to a fine Princess."
"The Duchess Skye is a beautiful woman. And she has given me a most priceless gift. I have given much for the love of a Princess." Robert smiled slightly as he thought of Skye.
"I hear tell she's a good lass."
Robert suddenly frowned and then rage dashed across his face.
William turned, just as a fist crashed into his face.
"No!" shouted Robert as English soldiers swarmed out of their hiding places.
The other noble grabbed him but Robert shoved him away.
Just then, Skye galloped her stallion through the gates. She gasped in shock. "Halt!" Her sharp voice rang out through the courtyard.
Instantly the soldiers stopped beating Robert and William.
The other noble grabbed Robert's arm and dragged him away.
Skye was frozen as she stared at the bloodied face of her bethroded and then her Father on the ground.
Robert turned on his friend, James. "What the hell have you done!" he shouted, his words echoing across the silent courtyard.
"It was the only way to achieve peace!" James looked at Skye. "That was Longshanks price."
Robert turned, his chest heaving with anger. He looked at William for a long moment and then at Skye.
Skye looked at the soldiers. "Unhand him!"
The captain stepped forward. "My Lady, I'm sorry but I cannot do that. I must take this man to England."
Skye looked at William and opened her mouth.
William shook his head. "This is how it was meant to be, lass," he said quietly.
"You will treat this man with respect or you will answer to me," Skye said with a maddeningly calm.
Robert watched as William was marched out of the courtyard.
Skye dismounted and stood before him. "I hope, my lord, that you had nothing to do with this. For if you did…" Her words trailed off. she couldn't trust herself to say anything else or she would burst into tears.
Robert looked at her for a long moment. Suddenly he clasped her hand in his enormous hands. He looked deep into her eyes.
Skye didn't move even though she felt extreme power going through the hands that held her head. And she knew that with one small move, Robert could crush her head.
"Damn it!" Robert let go of her. "Father!" He bounded up the steps and into the castle. "Damn him to hell!"
Skye lifted her skirts and hurried after him. "Robert!"
But she was ignored as the young Earl ran down the halls and up winding steps until he came to a small door. He threw it open with such force a crack appeared in the thick wood.
Skye came to the door and gasped. She clamped a black leather gloved hand over her mouth. "Mary, mother of God!"
Robert had cornered a leper and was standing over him. "You! You did this! How could you!"
"I did what needed to be done!" shouted the old man. He looked past Robert and saw Skye standing in the doorway. "Who is she?"
Robert turned. He strode over to Skye and dragged her into the room. He shook her. "This…This is Lady Skye, a Princess of Spain and England. My betrothed wife." He looked at her for a long moment and as he stared into her eyes, he saw…he saw William Wallace. He saw the fierce determination and same deep loyalty. "My God!"
Skye knew he had figured it out. She looked at the old man. "Be glad you are dying," she said quietly. "I care not that you are the Father of my betrothed." Tears filled her eyes. "I stood there today and watched as my Father was arrested. You…you made a sacrifice for your son. For Scotland." A single tear fell down her fair cheek. "Be glad you are dying, old man. For if you weren't, I would surely kill you where you stood." She turned and swept from the room in a swirl of her black ridding habit.
Robert stared at his Father, hate in his eyes. Raw hate.
The old man nodded. "So at last…you have learned to hate. Good."
"No," said Robert. "No. I will not stoop to your level. My hate…will die with you." And Robert the Bruce turned and left the room. He never saw his Father again.