by Amy Jarecki
Nonetheless, he sensed her eyes on him. With a heightened sense of awareness, he put everything he could muster into murdering the post—reaching high, chopping his blade downward while dropping to one knee. James gnashed his teeth and brutally attacked. Damnation, the piece of oak didn’t stand a chance.
He imagined himself in the midst of a battlefield, fighting for his life, swallowing down bile as his wound tortured him. Ailish was watching and he’d not be bested by a mere post. He swung his blade from side to side. He darted and spun, wielding the weapon with expert finesse as he’d been trained. And as he worked, he grew stronger and more self-assured. James planted his foot. Holding the sword low, he spun with an upward slice. The tip of the post sailed through the air.
He stopped and chuckled, turning the hilt in his hands. Wiping the sweat from his brow on his sleeve, he glanced back. There she stood, giving him a wee wave and a smile.
Though his arms grew suddenly heavy, he responded with a lopsided grin. He would regain his strength, if not for himself, for her.
The day after James began his recovery, he and Davy began riding on twice-daily patrols. He’d told Ailish they were scouting the lands around the monastery to ensure the Lord Warden’s men were not tracking them and, though he hadn’t lied, his main purpose was to intercept Caelan and the Annandale man. Twice, Ailish had acted against his orders and, though he knew she meant well, he mustn’t allow her to do so again.
“Look yonder,” said Davy as they crested a hill to the south. “And not a day too soon.”
James cued his mount for a canter and met them at the crossing of a trickling burn. “Hello, men, we’ve been expecting you.”
Caelan reined his steed to a stop. “Och, you’re looking a mite better than the last time I saw ye.”
James rubbed his shoulder, just above the tenderness. “I wouldn’t mind living out the rest of my days without succumbing to a firebrand again.”
“I reckon it saved ye,” said Davy.
James nodded to Lachlan. “So, you hail from Annandale?”
“Aye, sir. I was a castle guard for Robert the Bruce until the Prince of Wales laid siege to her walls.”
“We’ll win her back. Mayhap not today, but soon.” James gave his horse’s neck a pat. “What have you found?”
“Lochmaben is crawling with English. I reckon there’s five thousand men or more.”
A tic twitched at the back of James’ jaw. “’Tis worse than I thought.”
“They’re brewing a plan to coax the king out of hiding.”
“What plan?” James asked.
“The only men privy to their scheme are the knights,” said Lachlan. “Definitely not a lowly pikeman like me.”
James nodded. In truth, he hadn’t expected the man to bring back much information about the enemy’s future plans. “And the lad. Have you seen him?”
“Sir Henry Percy has taken Lord Harris under his wing as a squire,” said Caelan, patting his horse’s shoulder.
James took a quick look at Davy. Was this destiny? “Percy, did you say?”
“Aye.”
Not only would he retrieve the boy, he’d have retribution for the attack on the Douglas crofts. “The lad is not in chains and locked in the gaol?”
“Nay. But His Lordship is never out of Percy’s sight.”
“Is he fostering the lad?”
“Aye—weapons, horsemanship, and who kens what else.”
“Fie.” James reined his horse toward the monastery and beckoned the men to follow. Most likely, the boy was enjoying his time away from the priory. His sister may have taught him his letters, numbers, and a bit of Latin, but Ailish was not a swordswoman.
“Did you ever speak to him?” he asked over his shoulder.
“His Lordship?” Lachlan snorted. “I’m a pikeman, ye ken.”
James didn’t like the odds. Thousands of men, and one of Edward’s most trusted knights had taken Lord Harris under his wing—a knight James thirsted to best. Was there a chance? “You mentioned Sir Henry is teaching the lad horsemanship?”
“I reckon so.” Lachlan’s horse tried to nip at Davy’s mount, so the young sentry maneuvered the gelding beside James. “I camped on Castle Loch for nearly a sennight and every morn they rode to the water, then continued around the shore.”
“How far around the loch did they venture? All the way?”
“Nay. Sir Henry is too savvy to risk riding too far from the fortress. I never saw them ride any farther than the copse of trees on the other side.”
“Is there an encampment over there?”
“No, sir. All the men camp either in the fortress or nearby,” said Caelan.
“What sort of horse does Percy ride?” asked James. “A warhorse?”
“A mammoth of a beast,” said Lachlan.
“And Lord Harris?”
“A pony, of course. A wee lad would not be able to handle a destrier or palfry.”
“Agreed.” James looked to Davy. “No matter how much I’d relish a fight, I reckon this is a task for one man.”
“I’ll go,” said the Douglas man, the pain on his face showing too well what he had in mind.
James picked up his reins. “Nay, you’ll return to the monastery and tell Lady Ailish I’ll return on the morrow.”
A pinch formed between Davy’s eyebrows. “Where should I tell her you’ve gone?”
“I didn’t say, did I?” James turned to the others. “Return to Selkirk. I do not want Her Ladyship to ken you’ve been here.”
Lachlan rubbed his palms together. “The men are itching for a fight, sir.”
“Believe me, they’ll have it. But for the time being, we must all stay the course.”
27
It was late afternoon when James examined the tracks on the southwest side of Castle Loch. True to Lachlan’s word, there were several sets of prints, but they had been made by only two beasts—a pony and a warhorse. And they led into a copse of trees.
Not far inside was an ancient standing stone and that’s where the tracks ended. A bit of blue thread was caught in a crag of the rock. James tugged it away and twirled it between his fingers. “Does this belong to you, Lord Harris? Or is it from the blue caparison of Sir Henry’s mount?”
The answer mattered not.
Across the loch, smoke belched from the men’s fires, the largest smokestack most likely coming from a smithy shack. Timber walls surrounded the fort, hiding what lay behind them.
James set his trap, careful to remain out of sight. He camped beneath a thicket where the ground was soggy, the midges feasting on his flesh. Before dawn, he rose, readied his horse, and waited.
And waited.
The camp across the loch had long been bustling with sentries tending their chores when two riders appeared on the far side of the loch. In the still air, a child’s laughter echoed across the water as he skirted the shore, cantering with a knight riding a destrier behind him.
James moved to a crouch, tightening his fist around the rope.
“You’d best kick harder, else I’ll overtake you, lad!” bellowed Sir Henry as if he were a kindly man, and not a vile butcher of Scottish subjects.
James’ chest burned. How dare the murderer of Hew’s wife take the lad and pretend to be his mentor? He wanted to smash his fist in Sir Henry’s face. Challenge him man to man.
But such bravado would bring on the English army.
As Harris entered the copse, the lad slowed his mount, threw out his hand, and touched the standing stone, reining his horse into a turn. Two lengths behind, Sir Henry’s eyes widened as he caught sight of James snapping the rope taut.
Percy’s mouth flew open, but he made no sound as he galloped into the trap, the thick cord slicing into his throat. The knight’s head snapped backward as he flew off his horse and smashed into the ground with a bone-crunching thud.
“Harris!” James boomed.
The lad’s horse skidded as he stopped, his eyes as round as coins. “Sir Jam
es?”
“Haste!” he shouted, snapping a lead line onto the pony’s bridle. Kicking his heels, James demanded a gallop. “There’s no time to explain.”
As they sped away, he caught sight of Sir Henry, flat on the ground and motionless. God willing, the strike had made a clean kill and there was one less tyrant in Edward’s arsenal.
After James’ recovery, Ailish busied herself by helping in any way she could, and today they’d set her to task, kneading bread in the kitchens. The monastery wasn’t as large as an abbey, but fifty-or-so Trinitarian monks resided there, quietly tending to their daily worship and chores which meant the bread oven was never idle.
It was easy to take out her ire on the dough, thrashing, and kneading as if it were Sir James’ face. Of course, she would never try to pummel the knight, but that did not allay the fact that she was fit to be tied. Yesterday, he had ridden off without so much as a goodbye and all Davy would say was that the knight had something of grave importance to attend and he’d return this day.
Where had he gone, and why had he not trusted her enough to tell her? After sitting by his sickbed for days, had she not proved her loyalty?
How could he have ridden off without saying a word after being at death’s door? What if the fever returned and James was now lying unconscious by the wayside?
Moreover, remaining at Fail was far worse than residing behind the walls of Lincluden Priory. At least the nuns hadn’t taken vows of silence. And at the nunnery, she could see Florrie and Coira. And she had her friend Sister Louisa with whom she shared confidences.
Ailish slapped her dough into a ball and draped a piece of linen over it.
“Sister!” cried an unmistakable voice from the direction of the door.
Not believing her ears, she whipped around. “Harris?”
The lad dashed across the floor. No matter how much her hands were caked with flour, she wrapped him in a tight embrace and twirled him in a circle. “How did you find me?”
“’Twas Sir James. He found me.”
The Black Douglas stood in the doorway with an enormous grin on his face. “He has become quite a horseman.”
Ailish didn’t know what to say. On one hand, she was still angry with the man, and even more so because he hadn’t told her he’d set out to rescue her brother. Then again, at last the Earl of Caerlaverock was in her arms. Still staring at James, she set Harris on his feet. “You went to Lochmaben alone?”
“Ah…” His gaze shifted as he tugged on his earlobe. “After I received word from Caelan that the lad took daily rides with Sir Henry, I felt our best chance to recover the lad was to slip in quietly and set a trap.”
“And you did not see fit to tell me your plan?”
The corners of James’ mouth tightened. And there was no question as to why. In his eyes, she had twice disobeyed his orders. He no longer trusted her. And after all she’d done to help him recover. Even after suffering in the Lord Warden’s prison, he was too bull-headed to realize she was one of the few people in all of Christendom whom he could trust.
But her rift with James mattered not at the moment. Harris had been returned and, for that, the man deserved a hero’s praise. “Thank you, sir,” she said, curtsying deeply, while her stomach sank to her toes. It seemed the end of their romance had come. “I am truly grateful for my brother’s return.”
James gave her a questioning look as if he suddenly had no idea what she was on about. “I should leave you to reunite.” He bowed. “I’ll go stable the horses.”
“Are you hungry?” Ailish asked, giving Harris’ shoulder a pat.
“Famished.”
“The evening meal will be served soon, but how about a slice of bread and honey to tide you over?”
Never one to refuse a sweet, the lad licked his lips. “Yes, please.”
She quickly sliced a bit of bread and drizzled on the honey. “You must be beside yourself with shock after your ordeal.”
Harris moved to the table and sat on a bench. “Mayhap I was at first.”
“Only at first?”
“Aye, Uncle Herbert was terribly mean. He made me sleep at the bottom of a windowless turret and said he wanted to feed me to the sharks, but since he had no heir, King Edward refused to allow him to do so.”
Cringing at the sound of the English king’s name, Ailish set the plate in front of the boy, then joined him on the bench. “At least we no longer need to concern ourselves with our vile uncle.”
“Because you killed him?”
“How did you know?”
“Sir Henry told me.”
“Sir Henry?”
“Percy. One of King Edward’s most esteemed knights.” Harris took a big bite of his bread, then continued to speak with his mouth full, “He was training me to be his squire. Said I was the earl now, and his duty was to foster me.”
Ailish shuddered. Henry Percy not only pillaged the Douglas crofts, he was renowned for his merciless attacks on unarmed Scottish folk. It seemed her brother may have not been rescued soon enough. She brushed a bit of flour off his cheek, only managing to smudge it. “I shall write to King Robert and ask him to appoint a Scottish knight to foster you.”
Harris’ eyes grew wide with an expression of utter disbelief. “But the Bruce is an imposter.”
“I am afraid you have been sorely led astray. Sir Henry was only being kind to you because the King of England wants you to do his bidding. He was trying to turn your loyalties just as he turned Uncle Herbert.”
Harris stopped midchew, his face going through a myriad of emotions from disbelief, to deep concern, to realization. “You mean Sir Henry meant to make me as evil as our uncle?”
Ailish hated to oversimplify it, but the boy well knew the devious and despicable nature of their uncle, and that Herbert had not only robbed Harris of his birthright but that he’d joined with Edward to take Caerlaverock Castle and murder their father. “Make no bones about it, the King of England will stop at nothing to annex Scotland to his wicked empire, and cares not who he may hurt.”
Harris pushed the plate away, his bottom lip quivering. “But what you’re saying cannot be true. At least not the part about Sir Henry. He liked me. He was fun, and he rode with me every morning…l-let me groom the horses, too!”
A tear slipped from the lad’s eye, making Ailish’s heart twist in a knot. She pulled him into her embrace. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. But before you were sent to Sir Henry, he burned and pillaged the Douglas—killed many of the families who supported Sir James.”
“Not Sir Henry. He would never do such a thing.”
“If there is anyone in all of Christendom you can believe, it is me. I have done everything to try to protect you, have I not?”
“Aye.”
“And I agree. You must become a squire and learn the ways of knighthood. I will see to it you are trained by one of King Robert’s best.”
“But…he’s a bad person,” Harris whispered.
“Nay, he is the only good thing that has happened to Scotland in a very long time.” Ailish squeezed her brother’s shoulders. “Do you not remember when I went to the king’s coronation to plead that he recognize you as the true earl?”
Harris gave a sorrowful nod.
“He gave me his word that he will fight to reinstate you to Caerlaverock and rid Scotland of Edward’s men.”
“But they’re everywhere. And they hate Robert. They’re riding to Kildrummy to set the castle to fire and sword and take the Bruce’s wife.”
Ailish’s throat closed so tightly, she felt strangled. “Did you mention this to Sir James?”
“N-nay.”
“Do you ken when they’re planning to ride?”
The lad shook his head. “I only overheard Sir Henry speak of it two days past when he was outside the stables with his men.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
“I do not think so.”
“Come.” She grasped his hand and pulled him toward th
e door. “We must inform Sir James straightaway.”
28
James draped the horses’ bridles over a nail where the tack was stowed at the rear of the stables. Ailish had been so happy to see her brother, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her it was time to part ways. The time had come for him to take Her Ladyship and Harris to a safe haven and return to his men. The first place that came to mind was Flanders in France but he had already wasted too much precious time. Unless Bishop Lamberton offered to escort the Maxwells across the channel.
And though his first choice was to head for Saint Andrews, there were many options—the isles seemed to be at relative peace. And Robert had sent his wife and daughter to the north which was also an option. However, traveling to Saint Andrews and gaining an audience with the bishop would be the swiftest.
Weary from hard riding and hungry, James thumped his saddle as he started to leave.
“Sir James!” Ailish rushed toward him with her wide-eyed brother in her wake. He would have preferred it if she’d come alone. He might steal a kiss. But on second thought, stealing kisses would only lead to more heartbreak when he told her it was time to go their separate ways. They both knew as long as the kingdom was in upheaval, they had no hope of marrying.
He stopped and propped his hands on his hips. “Is something amiss?”
“My oath, it is.” She tugged her brother beside her. “Harris tells me the English army kens the queen is at Kildrummy and they’re making plans to sack the castle and take not only Her Grace, but the Bruce’s daughter, Marjorie.”
James knelt to be eye-level with the lad. “Did Sir Henry tell you this?”
“I heard him speaking with his men.”
“Do you ken when they’re planning this raid?”
Harris shook his head. “But they did talk about waiting on the transport of a new siege engine called the Warwulf.”
“Will it be delivered to Lochmaben?” asked Ailish.
The lad shrugged. “I couldn’t hear all that well.”
