Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce Chapter 13.1-3

                                                                                                       I

Scotland

Kildrummy Castle

February 1303

Isa, dear heart,

Norway seems a world away, when the days are long and dark. I wish we could talk and laugh and ponder life's mysteries together, as once we did. Who knows if we shall ever meet again?

Kirsty

                                                                                                       II

Norway

Bergen

March 1303

My dear Kirsty,

I miss you as well. Have you fared well with the passage of time? I am now of an age where a wimple is most welcome to keep out the chills and hide those wiry, hearth hairs, as Gundred calls them, which appear overnight.

But none can hold back time. Certainly not poor Fearghas! Bethoc nursed him, but today he breathed his last. Now, the old captain sails his galley o'er the River Styx.

Your loving sister

Isa

                                                                                                                III

Scotland

Kildrummy Castle

April 1303

Isa, dear heart,

From outside my window comes the infernal drip, drip of melting ice and snow. Down in the orchard, buds unfurl on our precious fruiting trees. It is a relief to know we have survived another winter but I wonder how our country will fare as this year unfolds.

King Edward's truce expired in November last. He sent three brigades of knights north. Soon the English force drew close to Roslin. Our men under Comyn and Fraser rode through the night. Next morning, they attacked one of the brigades capturing many. A buoyant feeling surrounds us all with these small successes.

A letter arrived from Robert regards his visit to Cambridge. When he saw Alexander after so many years, Rob barely recognised him, but the warmth of his welcome was real enough. Stocky in build, Alexander is now quite tall though shorter still than Rob. He sports the same earnest expression he always wore as a child. With great pride, Robert gave the traditional feast at his inception into Master of Arts. Robert Mannyng, a Lincolnshire canon with a talent for poetry, applauded Alexander's acumen and ability as the best student who had ever read Arts at Cambridge; high praise indeed! Do you recall when Alexander tried to discuss logic with Grandfather? The old man would bellow that the only logical thought he had was to take the shears to Alexander's hair. This always caused such a furore. Now, Rob declares, those brown locks are neatly trimmed as is Alexander's beard and, befitting his new status as a master, he wears an academic gown over his tunic. I wonder if he still takes himself so seriously.

As Sheriff of Lanark and Ayr and Keeper of the Castle, Rob received an order to call up a thousand men for Edward's summer campaign but it seems our brother means to tarry. A dangerous game for him to play!

As ever

Kirsty