by H A CULLEY
The next day the two delegations rode to Leith where they boarded two ships to take them over the sea to France and Flanders respectively. William Keith knew that he was a poor sailor and he started to feel queasy as soon as they headed out across the North Sea. Rollo, on the other hand, was depressingly cheerful, thoroughly enjoying his first voyage on the sea. William was determined not to let Rollo see him chucking up his breakfast so he had to resort to an oak bucket below decks. However, the stench of the bilges and the motion of the ship, without the reassurance of the horizon to look at, made him more nauseous than he might have been on deck.
When they eventually reached the far shore, a galley, which had been sent after them, told them that the need for the delegation had ceased and they were to return. William had been almost desperate to step ashore and the news that they were to turn about and retrace their path over the sea once more nearly caused him to throw himself over the side into the cold embrace of a watery grave. For his part, Rollo was disappointed not to be exploring a foreign country for the first time and so he was morose on the return; something that William welcomed.
~#~
After he had sent the guards out of his room, Peter Spalding sat and contemplated the two youths for a long time. Simon and Edgar wondered what was going on. They had expected to be questioned, even tortured, and then thrown back in the dungeon until first light, when they would be dragged out again and hanged.
Instead Spalding suddenly gave them a friendly smile.
‘I assume that King Robert and his army are headed for Berwick with the intention of taking it this time?’
The two prisoners looked at each other and Simon imperceptibly shook his head at Edgar.
‘Quite right. I admire your loyalty but you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t planning to have a go at recapturing the place again.’
Still the two didn’t say anything.
‘Well, if you’re not going to talk I suppose that I shall have to. Here’s the deal: I’ll make sure that a section of wall is left unguarded one night so Bruce can sneak his assault party into the town to capture the main gate and, in return, he can reward me. Shall we say five hundred marks and a nice manor somewhere in Lothian?’
‘You want to do a deal?’ Simon gasped in amazement. It was completely unexpected.
‘That surprises you? He was bound to want his premier port back at some stage and I have no wish to die nobly defending it for a king I despise and abhor. If your king will set me up for life, I’ll happily betray mine.’
‘I understand. I take it you’ll let us go so we can take your offer to King Robert?’
‘Not quite. I’ll let one of you go and keep the other in the dungeons here as hostage. You had better convince your king to accept or your brother dies. I’ll give you, let’s see; will a week suffice? Yes, if I give you a horse it will. Come.’ He cut Simon free. ‘You get to go and your little brother stays here. The dungeons aren’t very healthy and are crawling with rats, so I wouldn’t dally too long or your brother will be dead anyway.’
Simon rode through that night and practically killed the sedate old nag that Spalding had given him, once he had escorted him through the North Gate personally. Thankfully he found the king was still at Melrose but the sentries took one look at him and his sorry excuse for a horse and laughed at him. He realised that the way he was dressed, like a poor freeman’s son, didn’t help. He practically wept in frustration, thinking of the conditions in which Edgar was being held.
Suddenly he spotted Malcolm Douglas with a few companions staggering out of a tavern just inside the gates of the town.
‘Sir Malcolm, help me. I’ve an important message for King Robert.’
The sentry hit him with his halberd and, in a fit of desperate rage, Simon grabbed the halberd out of the hands of the surprised man-at-arms and, flipping it round, prodded him in his fat stomach with the point.
‘Don’t move any closer,’ he warned the other sentry. ‘Sir Malcolm, it’s me, Simon de Powburn.’
Malcolm had imbibed many more goblets of wine than was wise but Simon’s shouting eventually permeated his befuddled brain.
‘Simon, boy; is it you? My you’ve grown a wee bit since I last saw you.’
‘Yes, yes. I need to see the king or your brother, Lord James, as a matter of urgency.’
Malcolm shook himself trying to clear his head.
‘Do you now? Well, you’d better come with me then.’
Simon threw the halberd back at the fat sentry and swung himself back into the saddle before riding through the gates to follow Malcolm. After watching him take twice as many paces as necessary to cover fifty yards, he dismounted again and heaved Malcolm into the saddle but he kept the reins in his hands. The two now followed a less meandering path up to the house where the king was lodging.
~#~
Peter Spalding wrinkled his nose at the stench coming from the boy who was standing, with some difficulty as he was very weak and malnourished, in front of him. Edgar was caked with mud and his own faeces and his body was covered in rat bites.
‘Well, the deadline for your brother’s return has passed and there’s no sign of him,’ Spalding began. ‘Either he doesn’t love you as much as you thought he did, or your king is too stupid to accept my offer.’
‘He said he will return and he will, with or without King Robert’s acceptance of the traitorous deal you offered him.’
Spalding hit him across the face, cutting his lip.
‘Quiet. I’ll let you know if I want you to speak.’
Just at that moment there was a knock at the door and one of his men opened it to show in an exhausted Simon.
He looked at his brother and his eyes narrowed. He swore to himself at that moment that Spalding was going to die at his hands, and very soon. Dragging his eyes away from Edgar, he forced himself to speak to the captain of the town watch calmly.
‘King Robert accepts your offer. Two nights from now I am to lower a rope ladder from the east wall, halfway between the gate and the southernmost tower. That whole stretch of wall is to be clear of sentries.’
‘And in return?’
‘You’ll get your five hundred marks in silver and the deeds to the manor of Lamberton, a few miles north of the town.’
‘Good. Edgar stays with me as my guest until I get what I want.’
‘That’s not part of our arrangement. He needs urgent care. I’ll take him with me now and return at dusk in two days, or the deal is off.’
Spalding hesitated for a moment or two, then reluctantly nodded and fifteen minutes later he had given Simon and Edgar a pass to get through the gates and they were away, riding double on Simon’s new jennet, not the nag Spalding had given him. Simon took his brother to the first Scots village he came to and paid a woman, who the villagers said was noted for her healing skills, to look after him. Then he rode on to join up with Robert Bruce’s army, which was approaching from the west.
Two days later he rode in through the gates of Berwick again, showing his pass. In his horse’s pannier lay a rope ladder. At midnight the alarm was sounded as the Scots launched a diversionary attack on the north wall. True to his word, Spalding used the attack as an excuse to send all the men bar two to reinforce the north wall.
As soon as they were alone with the two men, Spalding and Simon drew their daggers and cut their throats. Five minutes later Sir Malcolm’s face, now quite sober, appeared in the embrasure from where the ladder was hanging. Once all Malcolm’s men had climbed onto the parapet and they had set off to secure and open the East Gate, Spalding bade Simon a cheery farewell and went to climb onto the ladder. He wasn’t taking the chance of being killed during the sack of the town that was sure to follow its capture.
Simon went over to shake his hand before he started his descent but, once he had grasped his right hand he produced his dagger in his left hand from behind his back and thrust the point into the man’s eye. He fell to the ground fifteen feet below and landed with a sic
kening crunch but he didn’t feel a thing. He was already dead.
~#~
‘You sent for me, Sire?’
‘Yes, I did. Come in Simon. You know my chief scrivener I think?’
Simon did but only by sight. The two nodded at each other and Simon wondered what he was doing here. He was the king’s chief administrator but he didn’t normally concern himself with military matters, which was what Simon assumed the king wanted to see him about. Perhaps it was another spying mission, or he was planning an assault on Berwick Castle, which was still holding out, despite the capture of the town.
‘How is Edgar, by the way?’
‘He’s nearly back to his old self, thank you Sire, though it will take a little more time before his strength is fully restored to what it was.’
‘Good. I’m sorry that Spalding treated him so badly, in spite of our agreement.’ He paused. ‘Even stranger that he should have been found dead under the wall at exactly the point used by Sir Malcolm and his men to climb up your ladder.’
‘Indeed, Sire. Most puzzling.’
Simon was getting a little concerned at the direction that the conversation was taking, then he caught the scrivener with a slight smirk on his face and he realised that the king was playing with him.
‘But I’m sure that you didn’t do me the honour of an audience just to ask after my brother; although it was very kind of you to take an interest in his recovery.’
Robert roared with laughter.
‘Astute and diplomatic as well as being brave and resourceful; you are wasted as a squire Simon.’
‘Sire?’
‘I owe the recapture of Berwick to the bravery of many but none more so than to you and your brother. You have served me well over the years and it is time I rewarded you with more than just words. Tomorrow I propose to knight you; Jamie Douglas will stand as sponsor, so tonight you will need to keep your vigil in the church. No, don’t thank me – yet. I haven’t finished.’
The chief scrivener handed Robert a scroll.
‘These are the deeds to Lamberton manor. It was intended for Peter Spalding but, as he won’t be able to accept them now, I have decided to give Lamberton to you.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Sire.’
‘Then say nothing. You deserve it and I know that I have gained a loyal knight and laird in return.’
Simon took his leave but, just as he was about to go through the door, the scrivener spoke to him for the first time.
‘You will need a squire, I think?
‘I suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it.’
‘Well, now that Edgar is well enough to take up his old duties with Sir William Keith, his temporary replacement, Rollo I think his name is, might be looking for a knight to serve. He is only just thirteen but, unless you have someone else in mind…’
The church was freezing cold but Simon hardly noticed. His mind was on other things, and not the pious contemplation of the vows of knighthood that he was supposed to be concentrating on.
When he left the king, he had gone to Sir William’s room, ostensibly to see how his brother was faring but, in reality, to meet Rollo. He had seen the boy a couple of times but he had never paid any attention to him before. Of course, he also wanted to tell Edgar but he wasn’t certain how his brother would take the news. He was the one who had suffered in that dungeon but it was Simon who had got the reward.
He talked to both of them about inconsequential things for a while before Edgar cut to the chase.
‘Simon, not that it isn’t always great to spend time with you, but you are obviously itching to tell me something.’
‘No fooling you, is there brother? Yes, I have something to tell you but I’m not sure how to do so without it sounding as if I am boasting.’
He paused and drew in a deep breath whilst Edgar made impatient gestures at him, whilst Rollo just looked bemused.
‘The king has decided that I am ready for the accolade and I am to be knighted tomorrow.’
‘What, that’s tremendous news! Why didn’t you tell me straight away. I’m really pleased for you.’
‘I knew you would be but there is more. I have been granted the manor of Lamberton.’
‘Lamberton? Wait, that’s the estate that was promised to that swine Spalding, isn’t it?’
Simon just nodded and looked uncomfortable.
‘But that’s terrific. Why are you looking so miserable; I’d be dancing round the room.’
‘You’re happy for me?’
‘Yes, why didn’t you think I would be?’
‘Well, you did all the suffering and I get the reward.’
Edgar gave his brother a hard look. ‘So you thought that I would resent your good fortune. I suppose I have given you reason to think that in the past but that’s where it stays – in the past. I am truly delighted for you, just as long as you don’t expect me to leave Sir William and become your squire!’
He grinned at Simon to show he was in jest, before asking if he had any one in mind for the role.
‘Well, the king wondered whether Rollo here would want to serve me.’
‘Can I? Be your squire, I mean.’ The boy’s face lit up.
‘Well, you are a trifle young and Sir William would need to release you but I don’t have anyone else in mind.’
He looked the gangling boy up and down. Rollo was obviously eager and Edgar had already told him that he liked him and got on well with him. He was a hard worker but he had an impish sense of humour. Furthermore, as William’s body servant, he had an idea of what was required.
‘Right, well I had better go and find Sir William, I suppose. I’ll also need to ask your father; who is he?’
The boy hung his head. ‘Both my parents are dead. My father used to be the Keith’s steward and so the Lady Margaret, Sir William’s mother took me on as a page when I was ten.’
‘I see. I presume that Sir William is your guardian then?’
‘I suppose so.’
When he eventually found him, William Keith was delighted by Simon’s news and readily agreed to him taking Rollo on as his squire.
‘Truth to tell, it was a bit of an embarrassment having a body servant as well as a squire but I couldn’t send the boy back to my mother as a page. It would have been a complete humiliation for him, so I’m actually grateful to you for coming up with the solution. He’s a good lad, if a little bumptious, and I’m sure he will serve you well.’
Simon eased his stiffened knees on the hard, cold floor in front of the altar and shook his head to try and stay awake. It seemed an age until the first rays of the sun lit up the east window of the church and he could climb unsteadily to his feet and ease his aching legs.
A few minutes later both Edgar and Rollo entered the church, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and proceeded to dress Simon in white robes ready for the ceremony. Next the priest arrived and Simon intoned his vows as a knight to him. The man said nothing , just nodded, and then disappeared back into the vestry. They stood and waited for the church to fill for the first mass of the day. Eventually the king arrived and the priest began the service.
After mass, the king went and stood by the altar with James Douglas at his side. Simon walked forward, knelt and bowed his head, and then stood in front of the king, who took a gauntlet from James and struck Simon across the face with it.
‘That’s to ensure that you remember your knightly vows.’
He smiled at Simon, who was wondering why the king had needed to strike him so hard. His cheek glowed red from the blow.
‘I dub thee knight, Sir Simon. Congratulations.’
James Douglas took the sword being held by Edgar and went forward to buckle it around Sir Simon’s waist, then Rollo knelt and attached golden spurs to his heels. Both were presents from James as his sponsor.
‘Go and see the Marischal later and he will provide you with a courser and a packhorse from my stable. You can keep your jennet for your squire.’ Douglas added with
a rare smile.
Simon followed the king out of the church and they made their way to the nearby refectory for the celebration breakfast. Afterwards Simon would have to visit an armourer and get himself fitted out in chainmail and buy a helmet, shield and lances. He would also need to present Rollo with a dagger to mark his elevation to squire, as well as a packhorse. Luckily he had saved some money but there wouldn’t be a lot left. However, he had been told that his estate at Lamberton produced about sixty marks a year so perhaps he could borrow against that if he needed more..
‘What device do you want on your shield, Sir Simon?’
The newly made knight looked at the armourer blankly. He hadn’t thought about it, and he realised that he would need to get a surcoat made and get a gambeson with his device on it for Rollo. As a landowner, and one who held his land directly from the king, he would wear his own device and not that of his lord. Perhaps he should consult Edgar, as he would probably adopt the same device, or a version of it, when he was knighted.
‘I’ll have to think about it. I’ll let you know tomorrow.
The Marischal ‘s scrivener kept a record of all heraldic devices to ensure that one wasn’t used by two different families but there was no system of armorial grants in place as yet, though it was something that King Robert had thought of introducing.
‘What do you think Edgar?’
‘It’s up to you, Sir Simon.’
‘Don’t get all pompous on me. You don’t have to use the Sir when it’s just the two of us.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry. How does it feel, being called Sir Simon now?’
‘A bit strange but I’m getting used to it.’ Simon grinned at him. ‘So you don’t mind what device I choose?’
Edgar shook his head. ‘I like red though, as the field I mean.’
‘OK, red it is. The device will have to be yellow or white then.’
