From the journal of Marjorie Bruce
1st of September, 1306
After weeks and weeks of travelling across the country, we finally made it to the convent that is supposed to imprison me.
It had been a dreary morning, and all I could see was trees after trees after trees. I longed for someone to come and get me. I missed Father, I missed Archibald, I missed Ciaran, and I missed Elizabeth.
Some time ago, Valence had been called away from my carriage and was replaced with a man who seemed much worse than him. His striking features showed evidence of the weariness of age and his battle-hardened soul. There was no point in arguing; if I said one word out of line, I would most likely receive his hand across my face.
I never learnt his name, so I would only know him as “The Man,” and those words w
