Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

“I say as soon as the last lamp is snuffed, we burn them out.”

  William looked back from whence they came. The Douglas cavalry weren’t far behind, but the foot had not yet come into sight. The pikemen provided their greatest muscle. “I say we’ll wait for the infantry to catch up and then we’ll make camp a mile out. It has been a long day. The men will be hungry. They’ll fight better on a full stomach and a good night’s kip.”

  “Are ye daft, man?” Sir Douglas spat. “I say we ride now and burn them out.”

  “Now?” William looked down the length of his nose. “In daylight? Afore the foot have a chance to move into place and after a full day’s march? Ye expect a hundred cavalry men to be victorious against a thousand trained English soldiers?”

  Douglas guffawed. “Ye’re soft.”

  “And ye’re reckless.” Wallace hailed the cavalry men. “Only the patient man succeeds against a stronger foe. We make camp here and rise afore dawn.”

  “Then we set fire to the barns and burn them.”

  Wallace nodded his agreement. “We’ll strike with vengeance as they flee.”

  Sir Douglas looked stunned. “Ye’re planning to let them out?”

  “I woudna kill a man without allowing him a wee chance for a fair fight.”

  “Och, ye’ve a lot to learn about war. I all but lost my head in Berwick—would have if I didna sign Longshanks’ Ragman Roll.”

  Gut roiling, William regarded the knight. “Ye bore false witness to save your head?”

  “Bloody oath I did.” Douglas clamped his hand around his mail-clad throat. “Saved my neck so I could return and murder every last one of them.”

  William dismounted. “Ye’ll have your chance—come the darkest hour.”

  Grumbling something imperceptible, Sir Douglas led his men a good fifty paces away and gathered them together.

  Blair strode up beside William. “I dunna trust a one of them. The man-at-arms wanted to ride clear into the English camp and make a ruckus. That would not have been right—alert the bloody bastards to our presence.”

  Wallace peered toward the Douglas camp. “Inform the watch to keep an eye on them. If we lose the element of surprise, we might as well all run for home.”

  ***

  Dressed in the monk’s habit, Eva waited until the chanting from the sanctuary resounded across the monastery grounds, before she slipped out the front gate, somewhat surprised there was no guard posted to stop her, especially since the monastery had been under attack not long ago.

  She closed the gate behind her and stood back from the curtain wall. When the monastery had been in ruins, there was no sign of the wall’s existence at all. Had the stones been used to build fences for the paddocks that crisscrossed the modern landscape?

  She dug in her satchel for her mobile phone and pushed the “on” button.

  The battery warning immediately flashed. Clicking “ok”, she stood back and snapped a picture. Good. She’d caught the angle of the building from the same place where the modern street would one day be paved—now only a narrow dirt trail.

  After connecting her solar charger, she placed the phone in her satchel with the solar panel hanging out the side. Alone, she wouldn’t need to worry about prying eyes, and she just might snap a few more pictures that would totally blow away Walter, even if she couldn’t use them in a story.

  Hmm. I wonder if the medallion would work in the reverse and send me back to the thirteenth century if I tried to publish pictures from this era. She laughed out loud. I doubt anyone would believe me. They’d all think my pictures were Photoshopped.

  All set with the hood pulled low over her brow, Eva followed the boggy tracks west. On occasion, she’d catch sight of the tail-end of the entourage as it crested a hill, but she dared not move too near. She couldn’t risk having William discover her and do something that might change the course of the battle.

  If her intuition was right, this would be a fight she’d prefer to miss—one she’d like to caution William against.

  The medallion burned hot against her flesh. Stopping, Eva clamped her hand over it. Right. I can change nothing. My job is to observe only. The burning cooled.

  Eva’s feet ached by the time she crested the hill and found the men making camp. The sun glowed orange, low on the horizon. A burn trickled eastward along her path while Eva crept as close as she dared. Two groups set up about a football field apart. The one to the south had fewer men and more horses—that had to be the Douglas contingent.

  She snapped another picture.

  William’s army included the Stewart pikemen, but she was too far away to make out any individuals.

  Next problem. She’d been walking for hours with nothing to eat or drink. Digging in her satchel, she found the granola bars she’d dumped inside a month ago. Her hands shook as she tore the wrapper. As soon as she caught the sweet scent, her salivary glands watered. She shoved half the bar in her mouth and chewed.

  Mm.

  Eating mostly meat with the odd bland oatcake, the honey and chocolate sent her taste buds into overdrive. She crammed the rest of the bar in her mouth and reached in her satchel for another. The sugar hit her blood like relief filling her veins and she strode to the burn, dropping to her knees.

  The water ran clear and swift. Scooping greedy mouthfuls, she drank her fill. No, she mightn’t be able to survive for long on granola bars and water, but her meager meal would see her through till morning. And the woolen monk’s habit she wore over her clothes would help stave off the cold night air.

  Straightening, Eva shook the water from her palms.

  A metallic hiss sounded behind her. “Luck is not with ye today, Friar.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shit. Why couldn’t one of William’s men have found Eva rather than the brute who dragged her into the Douglas camp with her hands tied behind her back? Gripping her elbow, the man thrust her forward.

  “I reckoned I’d found a friar until the wench opened her mouth.” The bastard chuckled. “Thought we might have a bit of sport.”

  “Ye dunna say?” Though it was dark, she recognized Sir Douglas’ voice. He sauntered toward her.

  Eva lowered her gaze while her heart thundered in her ears. Damn it, everything in her life always backfired. Couldn’t God allow her a break?

  Sir Douglas yanked off her hood. “What have we here? The wench Wallace discarded at the monastery come to spy?”

  “Nay.” She dared not let him hear her accent.

  He fingered a lock of her hair and held it to his nose. “Why were ye with the likes of that rebel?”

  She jerked her head away.

  “Ah.” He chuckled. “I like a spirited wench.” He leaned closer and sniffed. “Ye’re too bonny to be roaming these parts alone, even if ye are his whore.”

  “How dare ye?” she spat out.

  “Then what are ye to him and why did Wallace dump ye with the Trinitarians?”

  Eva squared her shoulders. “I’m his chronicler.”

  He threw back his head with a deep belly laugh. “Now that’s the tallest tale I’ve ever heard come from a woman.”

  She stared at him without allowing a modicum of emotion to show on her face. He doesn’t get out much, does he?

  “Now tell me true, lass, what are ye doing dressed in a monk’s habit?”

  She cleared her throat and affected her best Auld Scots. “I canna verra well record historical events locked behind the gates of a monastery.” She twisted her wrists to test her bindings—the thug who’d caught her had tied them a bit hastily. “Now if ye’ll allow me to head over to Wallace’s camp, I need to have a word with him.”

  “I think not.” Douglas rubbed his palms together. “We’ll be keeping ye with us until I find out just what Wallace had in mind leaving ye behind at the monastery.”

  “I can look after the wench,” grunted the vile beast who’d captured her.

  Sir Douglas backhanded the dolt. “Ye’ll nay be touching her. Not yet. We’ve bar
ns to burn first.”

  With a gasp, Eva looked west, the barns were out of sight, but she had no doubt they were there. Another of Blind Harry’s legends with a thread of truth. “Will ye lock the English inside?”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “What say ye? How the bloody hell did ye ken my mind?”

  She shook her head with her shoulders shrugging to her ears. “Fortuitous guess?”

  “Mayhap Wallace discarded ye at the monastery cause ye’re not to be trusted.” He narrowed his gaze and scowled. “Ye talk like ye’re spewing lies.”

  “If ye’d allow me to seek him out, I’m certain William would vouch for my character.” Eva took a deep breath, satisfied with her delivery of that stream of prose.

  “Ye’ll remain here.” He pointed to the guard. “Bind her feet and silence her beguiling mouth.”

  “But—” As she began to speak, someone gagged her with a dirty cloth.

  Sir Douglas sliced his hand through the air. “I’ll not have a woman’s squealing alert the English to our plan.”

  After they’d bound her, Eva sat on the damp grass and watched the Douglas men fan out and creep over the crest of the hill. Odd, the cavalrymen left their horses hobbled. Over her shoulder, the Wallace camp remained quiet. Why wouldn’t they attack together? She sniffed. Unless Sir Douglas plans to undermine William’s authority.

  Tugging her wrist against her bindings, the rope gave a bit. She tucked in her thumb and made her hand as narrow as possible. Slowly twisting back-and-forth against the coarse rope, her skin burned. Teeth clenched she tugged, but her hand stuck. Jeez, only a fraction more and her palm would slip free. Stars crossed Eva’s vision as she pulled harder, biting into her gag as the grating rope tore her flesh.

  When unable to force her hand further, Eva stopped and sucked a reviving breath through her nostrils.

  Wrenched behind her back, her arms ached. But she had to warn William. Gathering her strength, she bore down and heaved. With a sudden jolt, her hand tore free—along with a layer of skin. Hissing at the pain, she quickly untied her gag and then released her ankles.

  Now all she needed to do was to find William and not end up in the clutches of an overzealous guard in the process.

  ***

  A light sleeper, especially before a battle, William’s eyes flashed open at the faint rustle of brushing grass. Lying on his side, the sound came from behind. He tightened his grip on the dirk cradled in the upper crux of his arm. Then a footfall lightly crunched the grass, closer this time.

  “William,” a voice whispered.

  His muscles tensed. Was this friend or foe? With the price on his head, he couldn’t be sure. Remaining still, he shifted his eyes. The intruder was so close, Wallace could sense him now.

  “William,” the whisper came again.

  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to wait.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

  Now.

  With an abrupt turn of his head William seized the brigand’s wrist. Twisting his hand, he flipped the cur onto his back and he leveled the point of his dirk against the scoundrel’s neck.

  “No!” Eva squeaked in a high-pitched whisper.

  With a sharp twist to his gut, he focused on the whites of her eyes. “What the bloody hell are ye doing here?”

  Shirking away from his blade, she gasped, taking in short inhales. “I-I-I…” She waved her finger up over her head. “They-they—Sir Douglas and his men—”

  “God’s teeth.” William released his grasp. Eva didn’t need say another word. The western sky glowed with flickering amber. A sickly chill spread across his skin. Only one thing lit up the sky like that. He sprang to his feet. “Everyone up! Sir Douglas has moved without us.”

  Eva clambered up beside him. “What can I do to help?”

  He flashed a narrow-eyed glare. “’Tis looking as if ye willna listen to me no matter what I say.”

  “That’s not true. I refuse to remain left behind, but otherwise, I’m quite good at following orders.”

  “That’s yet to be seen.” He pointed. “Stay close to Brother Bartholomew and keep out of trouble. I canna be dragged away from every fight to save your arse.”

  She nodded, muttering something that started with “ungrateful”.

  He sauntered close, jutting his face down to hers to make his point. “How many times do I have to tell ye a battle is no place for a woman?”

  Craning her neck, her sharp stare challenged him. “But—”

  “Hide.” Damnation, he shook her shoulders. “Ye’re a blessed female. Do ye ken what the English will do if they find ye?”

  She bit her bottom lip, the corners of her lips cringing as if reality finally set in.

  But William was about to leave it there. Oh no, she needed a good tongue lashing—and mayhap a whipping when this day was over. “I’ve seen their hospitality to Scotland’s women and none of them have lived to tell about it.” He grabbed her arm and squeezed. “I reckon that’s God’s blessing, because if a woman lived through that sort of plunder and defilement, she’d be a lunatic for the rest of her days.”

  By Eva’s shudder, William may have actually made his point this time.

  Blair stepped beside them. “Ye ready?”

  William held his finger under Eva’s nose. “Stay hidden.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He nodded to Blair. “Let’s away.”

  “Where did she come from?” asked the warrior priest.

  “Fail—where else?”

  Blair threw up his hands. “God on the cross, she’ll be a thorn in your side until she ends up on the wrong end of an English pike.”

  Wallace hastened the pace. “Shut your gob and tell me why the watch didn’t see Sir Douglas slip away without us.”

  Cresting the hill, William’s gut churned before Blair had a chance to answer. Screams of men being burned alive howled from within the barn’s walls.

  The roof was ablaze. Hammering and pounding came from the men inside, attacking the timbers with weapons. Sir Douglas had sealed the doors before he lit the fires—just like he said he would.

  “Lord have mercy on their souls,” Blair growled, keeping pace beside him.

  “Amen.” William would opt for a fair fight any day—so would Blair. But now the fires had been lit, saving the bastards made not a lick of sense. His men would only be forced to cut them down as they gasped for air.

  In the forefront of the fire, Sir Douglas was an easy mark, laughing and hollering taunts as if the shrieks of the men and horses inside were more entertaining than a minstrel’s display. Aye, William relished a good fight, and had killed many an English enemy, but locking them in a barn and burning them alive went against every grain in his body.

  “Douglas,” he bellowed.

  The knight faced him, sword in hand—a deadly mistake. “’Tis about time ye showed up for the fete.” The man made an exaggerated bow. “Watch them burn!”

  William planted his feet wide, his hackles standing on end. “Made it easy on yourself, did ye now?”

  “Why should I not?”

  “Because we are not murderers. We are warriors.”

  The man raised his sword—a reckless risk. “I’ve killed men for less insolence.” Surging forward, Douglas lunged with a stab of sword.

  Spinning away, Wallace snatched his dirk and faced the cur.

  Every sinew in his body clamped taut as the two men circled.

  “Ye’re soft. Just like ye were with that redheaded vixen. Ye told her to stay put, but she followed ye—and now she’ll be my whore.” Douglas swiped his blade.

  William hollowed his stomach, scooting back from the hissing iron. “What are ye on about?”

  “My guard found her spying—followed us all the way from Fail.” Douglas darted in.

  William hopped aside and the knight stumbled forward with the momentum of his thrust. “Ye’re bloody daft.” William slapped Sir Douglas in the backside with the flat edge of
his blade. “And I’ll not stand for it.”

  The spineless maggot brandished his weapon over his head. “Who do ye think ye are?”

  “I am your commander, by order of the High Steward of Scotland—and now I ken why.”

  When Sir Douglas swung, William caught his sword arm and spun the blackguard into his body, leveling his dirk against the man’s neck. “Ye’ll not be usurping me again. If ye try, I’ll not act so kindly next time.” He pressed his lips against the varlet’s ear. “And ye’d best curb your tongue when ye’re speaking about my woman. I, too, have killed for less. Ye ken?”

  William pushed the bastard to the ground and backed away. “I call an end to our quarrel. All of Scotland must stand together to drive the English back to their own soil. I canna stomach drawing a sword against one of my own.”

  Sir Douglas sat up and shook his head. But it wasn’t until William walked away that the coward cleared his throat. “I still think ye’re soft.”

  Sheathing his dirk, Wallace kept going. If he crosses me again, he’ll not survive the length of time it takes him to draw his sword.

  After joining Blair, he crossed his arms and regarded the burning barns. Heat from the blaze scorched his eyes. And now the only sound was the rush and crackle of the fire. The men within had all perished, their cries whisked away with the breeze blowing the black smoke eastward.

  Together, William and his men walked back over the hill toward the violet and orange hues of dawn. The events of the morning weighing heavily on his shoulders, William looked forward to seeing only one face. Perhaps he could find a role for Eva. She’d made herself useful in Leglen Wood—could be as handy as Brother Bartholomew if William allowed it—if they could keep the woman safe from the enemy.

  And then he spotted her standing at the crest of the hill, wringing her hands.

  He had no doubt she’d seen all that had happened. That’s what she continued to say she wanted. Though now she might have a change of mind—especially if she’d heard the horrific cries resounding from the barns.

  Wallace marched up to Eva and grasped her by the elbow. “Come.”

  Her face dazed, she stumbled a bit, but she uttered not a word.