‘A year ago today the death of King Alexander III was publicised’ I exclaimed. Every month each Scottish family was to remember the King. It could be reciting a prayer, having a special dinner. As we finish I walk over to the living area and sit, da comes through and lights the fire.
Just then Alex ran in, panting for breath. “Brother, calm yourself, sit next to ma.” I said with a gentle tone. “Okay Natty do you have your special story?” Alex said excitedly. “Well, I’m sure if you come and sit here, you would find out.” Ma said softly Alex ambled across the room sitting and cuddling into Ma with his head huddled into her, “Where shall I begin?” I question Alex, “My favourite bit! When he just gets off the boat!” Da says with a warm intonation, this perplexes me as his voice usually sounds sterner. Father works for the Nobles, who bicker over who should be next to rule Scotland after Margaret, Maid of Norway died. She must have felt terrible, going to rule a whole country, getting married, throwing her life away all at 14. “Well Natalia, the floor is yours, start when you’re ready” Mother said, giving me the go ahead with a smile. “As the King got off the boat in Queensferry, the winds were screaming, rain smashed against the ground, King Alexander was struggling to mount his horse with the thunder battling against him, he dropped his chainmail and tied his tunic. He thought, ‘I am King of Scotland, I will make a journey home to my lover, Yolanda.’ As lighting strikes his horse speeds quickly down the steep, uneven path of the cliff. As the King screams he jumps off his horse. Barely making it, someone grabs him. He sees the face of King Edward, just as Edward lets go- ” As soon as I say that I redden, I shouldn’t have said that, that’s not the right ending, well it is but not the one they want us to tell. I glance around, to make sure no one outside is listening. “Natty, you got the story wrong?, he falls, not get pushed!” Alex pointed out innocently, he’s not aware that one mistake may cost me my life. The English are listening. I cannot afford another mistake. As I climb in bed I realise how tired I am, I don’t get to think before I fall asleep. With the Succession Crisis, I forgot the comfort of sleep. The safety. I stroll through town, this usually relaxes me, but it doesn’t. Suddenly everyone’s watching me. All eyes are the English, the last eyes I’ll look into. I walk through the emptiest part of the town, 3 carriages come through, each with 2 men wearing the English tunic. They stop behind me and I black out. I wake up in a cell, with the English flag draped across every wall. I try to move but I cannot. “You’ve finally arrived, Margaret, Maid of Norway.”

Yasmine Zourdani