Nothing had gone right since that day. The possibility of what might be happening to him in some dark French prison haunted her dreams; every morning when she awoke her first thoughts were for him. She could only find consolation in taking charge of his castles and his affairs so that they should not suffer from his absence.

Wark Castle was on the south bank of the Tweed and being immediately on the border between England and Scotland could scarcely be in a more vulnerable position. So far it had been too formidable a fortress to have come under attack; and it probably never would have if Catharine’s brother-in-law, Edward Montacute, had not disconcerted the Scots by getting the better of them after one of their raids on English territory.

Since the return of David the Bruce these forays were becoming more frequent. The Scots were particularly suited to this kind of warfare, travelling as they did on small sure-footed horses very different from the magnificent creatures which the English rode into battle; but they were very well suited to the rough country. Each man carried a small griddle and a bag of oatmeal so that he could feed himself for long periods at a stretch even if he could not augment this with the spoils snatched from the villages which they ransacked. It gave them a great advantage. They could lie low for days unhindered by the need to look for food. And there was no doubt that these raids were having a great effect on the English inhabitants. They never knew when they would occur; Catharine realized that in the past many of them had made pacts with the Scots simply because they could not bear to go on living in uncertainty.

When recently there had been a big Scottish raid on Durham and Edward Montacute had had warning of this, he had taken a band of men from Wark Castle and lain in wait for the enemy. The Scots came to rest in a wood; they were weary with travelling; and they had brought with them the valuable articles which they had stolen from the town.

While they were sleeping, Edward Montacute and his men suddenly appeared among them, taking them completely off their guard. It had been a successful raid. Two hundred Scots were killed for the loss of one or two English and Montacute rode back to Wark with twelve horses laden with Durham spoils.

It was hardly to be supposed that the Scots would forgive such an attack.

A few days passed. Nothing happened and Edward Montacute was called away on the King’s business. Two days after he had gone the Scottish army arrived at Wark and were at this time camped in the surrounding fields.

The siege had begun.

Catharine was determined to hold the castle for her husband, but although after the raid she had made certain preparations, she soon began to see that she was in a vulnerable position.

She needed help. The King was in the neighbourhood. When she had last heard he had been in Berwick; and in fact that was the town which he had always made his headquarters. If she could get a message to him she was sure he would send help.

Her eldest son was eager to see if he could break out of the castle but she was reluctant to allow him to try. Young William however had strong determination and she rather feared that if she forbade him to go he would all the same. He had his father’s spirit and was determined to break out and get help. He had heard that there were jokes being circulated in the Scottish camp about his mother. It was being said that she—so far-famed for her beauty—would be more of a prize than the castle. Their King David, who had an eye for women, would appreciate her; and the fact that her reputation for virtue was as great as that for beauty would make the matter doubly amusing.

Young William had made up his mind and at night under cover of darkness, knowing the secret doors and passage ways of the castle, he managed to escape unseen. It was not difficult to acquire a horse, for those in the neighbourhood had benefited often from the goodness of the countess and were ready to help. Very soon he was on his way to Berwick.


* * *

Riding at the head of his army Edward saw the grim towers of Wark in the distance. He thought it would be a simple matter to rout the Scots. And when he returned to Westminster he would renew his attempts to get William Montacute released.

In the meantime there was the Countess to think of. Edward knew how William loved his wife. They had compared their wives so often. Two virtuous women, two women who loved them. He would rescue Catharine Montacute for William. Edward laughed aloud when the Scottish camps came into sight. Enough to frighten a lady alone in a castle perhaps. He would make short work of them. One of his men suggested that they rest before the attack but Edward would hear nothing of that.

‘There is a lady waiting eagerly to be released,’ he said. ‘It would be churlish to let her remain so one second longer than is necessary.’

So the attack began and as Edward had anticipated it did not last long. The English were vastly superior in arms and numbers, and in a short time the Scots had been routed and were flying in disorder.

Seeing the approach of the English, Catharine’s first impulse was to give thanks to God. So her son had made his way to the King for there fluttering in the breeze was the royal standard so she knew who her deliverer was.

The relief was intense. The Scots would have no chance against him. Briefly she let herself think of what might have happened to her. The humiliation of being taken prisoner by the uncouth Scots. She had heard rumours of the King’s profligate ways; she knew that there had been obscene talk about her in the Scottish ranks and in her heart that was what she had feared more than anything, although until now when release seemed certain she had not allowed herself to think about it.

The King would be victorious. So certain was she of this that she went to the kitchens and told them to prepare what food was left and do their very best for she believed that before the end of the day the King would be eating at their table.

They must wear their best livery. They must make a brave show. They were no longer the besieged. There must be adequate celebration of victory.

She went to her bedchamber and commanded her women to bring out her finest garments. Her hair was combed and displayed in all its rippling golden glory, her close-fitting jacket of golden-coloured velvet revealed her small elegant waist and over it she wore her spangled surcoat with its fashionable long hanging sleeves.

Then she went to a turret window to watch.

It was as she had known it would be as soon as she had seen the royal standard approaching.

The Scots were fleeing in disorder and the King was ready to enter the castle.

She gave orders that the drawbridge should be lowered; and as he rode across it she was waiting to greet him.

He dismounted and came towards her.

She made a deep curtsey and lifted her grateful eyes to his. ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘welcome. My heart is too full to give you thanks just now.’

The King did not speak. He continued to look at her. His eyes were intensely blue she noticed; he was more handsome than hearsay had made him.

She stood up and their eyes met. Still he did not speak. He seemed bemused. She repeated her thanks.

Then he said slowly : ‘Lady, I am at your service ... now ... and always. Never in my life did I see a lady as beautiful as you.’

‘My lord is gracious,’ she answered. ‘May I conduct you into the castle which your timely rescue has saved for my husband.’

He did not seem to hear her and she walked beside him into the castle.

Edward, bemused, dazzled, told himself that having seen this perfect woman nothing could ever be the same for him again.


* * *

Wark was not the finest of the country’s castles. It was indeed primitive compared with the grandeur of those to which Edward was accustomed. But he was not aware of it. He could only think of the beautiful Countess. Her fine abundant hair, the contours of her face, the small waist, the dignity of her walk, her elegance.

The Countess was uneasy. She had been afraid of capture and what would happen to her at the hands of the rough Scots, but now a new fear had come to her. She realized what had happened more quickly than Edward did, for she had aroused similar emotions many times before. When ‘William was with her, he could protect her, but William was now a prisoner in Europe and this was the King.

‘My lord,’ she said, ‘I fear we cannot entertain you here at Wark in the manner to which you are accustomed.’

‘There is nowhere I would rather be at this time than in Wark,’ he answered.

He did not notice that the place was little more than a fortress. He knew these buildings, hardly worthy of the name of castle. They had been built by the Normans nearly three hundred years ago and never been improved on since. There was the hall with its high vaulted roof and the rooms were small cell-like places set along the outer walls.

‘I will conduct you to the room I have hastily had prepared for you. It is small, I fear, but the best in the house. You will not find it unbearably cold I trust ...’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘that I shall find it to my liking.’

‘My husband will want to thank you for what you have done for us this day.’

He did not answer. She saw the slight frown on his brow which increased her dismay.

‘My lord, if you will give me permission to leave you I will go to the kitchens to make sure that the best we can offer is laid before you.’