Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  She craned her neck so her green eyes shimmered with the sunlight—pure artistry. “My father is a knight and he is an ambassador abroad.”

  “Is?” He puzzled. “Ye mean to say he’s still alive?”

  Her gaze drifted down as if William’s simple question troubled her. “Not exactly alive.”

  “Ye dunna make a lick of sense.” He dug in his heels, requesting a trot. Why must she be so baffling when talking about her past? “I’ll hear no fabrications. Ye promised to always tell the truth.”

  “And I have—it’s just that you won’t listen.” She crossed her arms tight against her body. “All right, then. I’ll make it easier for you to understand. I can honestly say I have no family—not a single relation living at this point in time.”

  William let out a labored sigh. If there was one thing he’d change about Eva it would be her cryptic past—or her reluctance to talk about it. But he did believe she had no living kin, else she wouldn’t be riding with the likes of him.

  Moreover, he cared for her deeply, as she did him. She’d asked William to live in the now, and with so much death and war around them, he agreed with her perspective. Their souls craved each other like the flowers of spring needed rain.

  He bowed his head and nuzzled into her slender neck. “Ye needn’t worry about your care whilst ye’re with me. On that ye have my promise.”

  ***

  As they rode onto Ellerslie lands, Eva pressed her hands to her abdomen. She’d enjoyed their time alone so much, ending it made her stomach clench. Who knew when she’d have William to herself again and if they’d ever be able to speak so candidly?

  Men sprawled everywhere around the barn and house.

  “It looks like Father Blair beat us here,” she said.

  “’Tis a good thing. We’ll take our nooning and then be off.”

  “How can your mother feed all these people?”

  “With luck Blair has already set meat to turning on a spit.”

  “He’s a good man.” Though he doesn’t trust me.

  William purred against her ear. “None better.”

  Robbie and Lachlan raced toward them, shoving each other as if there were a prize at the finish line. But Robert Boyd arrived a step ahead of the other orphan. “Where have ye been? Ye had a good head start and we were forced to ride at a snail’s pace to allow for the footmen.”

  A hundred excuses warred in Eva’s head, but William pulled his mount to a stop and tossed Robbie the reins. “Feed and water my horse, then go saddle an old gelding for Miss Eva. Tell the troops not to make themselves comfortable, we’ll be setting out right after we’ve et.”

  Robbie threw back his shoulders, hanging on William’s every word. “Yes, sir.”

  After they dismounted, the lad led the horse away with Lachlan on his heels.

  Eva nudged William with her elbow. “You didn’t answer his question.”

  “’Twas none of his affair. Had he asked again I would have given him a firm rap to the side of his head.”

  “You’re serious? Jeez, if you did that where I come from, you’d be arrested for child abuse.”

  He stopped. “Edinburgh grows odder and odder to hear ye tell tale of it.”

  She raised her chin and eyed him. Things would be a lot easier if he’d have believed her story in the first place. How much more convincing could she have been? Even the picture of his seal hadn’t swayed his stubbornness. But William’s stern stare told her it wasn’t wise to argue. She huffed. “Never mind.”

  He chuckled. “Come, I’ll wager my mother will pour us a tankard of warm cider.”

  Before they reached the door, Wynda opened it wide with a gaping grin. “Master Willy, ye’ve arrived, and with Miss Eva.” She opened her arms and gave him a warm hug, then turned to Eva. “I’m surprised to see ye, lass.”

  Her mouth twisted. “I’m a bit surprised to still be here.”

  Wynda led them into the cottage. Wearing black from head to toe, William’s mother stood. But her mourning clothes did not prevent her from smiling. “’Tis good to see ye, son.”

  He pulled her into his embrace. “How are ye, Ma?”

  “Well enough.” She held him at arm’s length. “News has come telling of your rebellion. Is this true?”

  “Aye, mother. Ye ken it is.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “But why do ye have to be in the center of it?” She clutched her hand over her heart. “I’ve just lost a husband and I’m not ready to lose a son.”

  “We’ve been over this afore. I’ll not stop until we drive Longshanks out of Scotland. If I tucked my tail now, I would dishonor Da’s memory.” He gestured toward Eva. “Do ye remember Miss Eva MacKay?”

  “Aye, though we were not properly introduced the last time she was here.” Mrs. Wallace stepped forward and grasped Eva’s hand. “’Tis lovely to make your acquaintance.”

  “Miss Eva is the daughter of a knight,” said Wynda.

  “Truly?” Mrs. Wallace regarded her with intelligence reflected in her careworn eyes.

  Eva smiled. “Yes ma’am.”

  “And where do ye hail from?”

  “Edinburgh, and abroad,” William answered, moving toward the table. “Do ye have a cup of cider for us? The trail gives a man a thirst.”

  Mrs. Wallace motioned to Wynda, then took a seat on the bench across from them. “And I reckon ye’re not intending to stay?”

  William helped Eva to sit on the end, then climbed over and sat beside her. “Aye. We’ll take our nooning and then head to Renfrew.”

  Eva eyed a pewter plate of oatcakes sitting in the middle of the table.

  Mrs. Wallace picked up the cakes and offered them to her. “Pray tell me, why is the daughter of a knight riding with my son?”

  “Um…” Eva accepted the treat and clipped a bit with her teeth. “I’m his chronicler.”

  William snatched two oatcakes from the plate. “Bah. She’s a seer and learning to be a healer under Brother Bartholomew’s tutelage.”

  Eva shoved some more of the bland biscuit in her mouth. Of course she should have thought before she said anything. As a woman, a seer and healer made far more sense than a chronicler.

  Mrs. Wallace arched an eyebrow and appraised Eva’s gown. “Have ye nothing nicer to wear? Something more in line with your station?”

  Wynda set three steaming tankards on the table. “Och, Willy, ye should have taken Miss Eva to a tailor.”

  William passed a tankard to Eva, then took one for himself. “There hasna been time.”

  Selecting an oatcake for herself, Mrs. Wallace pursed her lips. “If ye’re heading to Renfrew, ye’ll not want to be presented to his lordship in a servant’s gown.”

  Eva glanced down at the gown she’d been wearing for nearly a month now. Though back home she dressed well, she hadn’t thought much about the style of her gown, and no one at the cave had commented one way or the other. As far as she knew, she blended in well enough—way better than when she’d arrived in her jeans.

  William grumbled under his breath. “I’ll see to it Miss Eva sees a tailor once we reach Renfrew afore she meets the High Steward.” He turned his lips to her ear. “That ought to keep ye out of trouble whilst I meet with his lordship.”

  Eva coughed into her cup, peeking up to see if Mrs. Wallace had caught William’s whisper. The woman frowned as Wynda placed trenchers of cold meat and bread in front of them. “What business have ye with Lord Stewart?”

  “We need troops.” William broke the bread in half. “I’ve a plan to drive the English garrisons out of Scotland’s villages one by one and John Stewart has the ear of the nobles. With him behind me, I’ll be able to grow an army—and feed them as well.”

  Ma drew her palms to her cheeks. “Ye mean to say ye’re taking your feud beyond Ayrshire?”

  “I did that when I struck in Lanark.”

  Eva pointed to William’s eating knife. “Can I borrow that?”

  “Again?” He grinned at her, t
hen cut a slice of meat and dropped it on her plate.

  Mrs. Wallace frowned, then reached across and placed her palm over Eva’s hand. “Ye see to it my son doesna forget his ma.”

  Eva gulped down a bite of cold mutton. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t smile. The worst of her warring thoughts? She knew far too much about William’s future to be able to make any promises to his mother. She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers around the woman’s palm. “Och aye, Mrs. Wallace. One thing is for certain. A man never forgets his mother, especially one who loves her son as much as you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thank goodness Robbie had selected an old sorrel gelding for Eva to ride. The horse even had grey peppering his muzzle. Yes, riding double with William had been fun, but they couldn’t do it for long. Though Wallace was a hearty warrior, Eva was five-foot-eleven with hips like a female to match. She imagined his thighs grew awfully sore by the end of the day.

  Though her nag ambled along at a snail’s pace, the last thing Eva could handle was a spirited mount. Horses were so darned enormous and nowhere near as predictable as a car.

  When the tower of a church came into view, a commotion rose with the clang of the bells and a blast from a ram’s horn. Eva turned to Robbie and Lachlan, still riding double. “Where are we?”

  “Kilmarnock.” Robbie thumped his chest. “My family lands are here.”

  She had to bite her tongue. It seemed like eons ago when she’d done some touring before joining the dig team. One of her stops was in Kilmarnock to visit Dean Castle, built on lands Robbie would be granted for his service to Robert the Bruce. In the near future, the lad’s holdings would grow exponentially, but she dared not speak of it.

  Before they crossed the bridge over the River Irvine, townsfolk came running, flinging fern branches and petals onto the pathway. A chant of “Wallace, Wallace, Wallace!” rose over the throng. Eva’s heart soared. How unbelievably fantastic to be a part of his rise to fame.

  A man ran in and grasped William’s bridle. “Ye’re a hero to us all.” His grin split his face wide. “We kent ye’d be riding this way. I’ve been watching out for ye all day.”

  William glanced at Eva.

  She waggled her brows. “They’re lining the streets to see you.”

  He grinned—God, she always had a fit of butterflies when he smiled. “Then let us not disappoint.”

  Waving and greeting everyone as they continued on, William led the retinue through the city gates and into the town square. He dismounted and handed a boy his reins. “Will ye mind my warhorse, lad?”

  The young fellow beamed. “Aye. I’ll hold him throughout the eve if ye want me to.”

  Head and shoulders above the crowd, William marched up the stairs of the stone platform while people reached out to touch him. At the top he turned, raising his hands to request silence. “’Tis good to see my countrymen filled with vitality and hope.”

  A deafening roar rose. Still mounted, Eva looked at the faces with her mouth agape. The mob was as frenzied as a mosh pit at a rock concert and they all shouted “Wallace” at the top of their lungs. Goosebumps tickled her outer arms.

  It took William ages to get them to quiet down enough for him to speak, but he showed no sign of upset. He grinned beneath his auburn beard, nodding at his adoring fans, holding his hands out as if welcoming every one of them. “We have only begun,” he finally shouted. “This will be a long road, but we will drive out the oppressor and fight for our freedom!”

  As William thrust his fist into the air, the crowd again launched into a boisterous chant, but this time, Wallace quieted them easily by pushing his palms down to request silence. “The English have committed unconscionable crimes against our families—good men, women, and innocent children have perished for no sound reason. And I refuse—” He stopped and panned his gaze across the crowd of hopeful faces. “I refuse to stand aside and watch England strip away Scotland’s liberty.”

  Another roar filled the square. Eva laughed. William commanded a natural presence with a crowd and they adored him.

  He planted his fists on his hips, looking like a born leader. “We will be victorious. Scotland needs every man who can wield a sword, brandish a pike, or shoot arrows.” He eyed their faces as if he were intimately speaking to each soul. “And for those of ye who are not able to fight, we need food. Spread the word throughout the kingdom: Feed Scotland’s sons and starve the English. As a nation we must join together and stand against Longshanks and his tyranny. Without food they will be weak. Without food they will be unable to fight!”

  The uplifting shouts grew deafening. Even Eva’s old nag stutter stepped, sending her heart flying to her throat. Relaxing her seat as she’d been taught, she smoothed her hand down the horse’s neck. “Easy boy.”

  William pointed directly into the crowd. “Who among ye is Kilmarnock’s crier?”

  A man stepped forward with his bonnet in hand. “I am, sir.”

  “Go forth and spread the word. Scotland’s sons and daughters will no longer tolerate the yoke of tyranny. Not for another day!”

  The frenzied crowd parted as Wallace descended the stairs.

  Tears welled in Eva’s eyes. Wow. They love him. Undoubtedly, William could win the hearts of a gathering of multitudes.

  “Long live the king!” William shouted and boldly strode to his horse. He gave the lad who’d been holding the reins a coin and hopped aboard in one fluid motion.

  Eva watched in awe. Lone Ranger, eat your heart out.

  The retinue marched north in a whirlwind of excitement, picking up countless recruits. Onward they headed to Paisley, where outside the abbey, William and his men were met with the same fervent support. By the time they reached Renfrew, their numbers had tripled.

  Riding at a pace to match the foot soldiers, Eva stayed beside William with Robbie and Lachlan right behind. She glanced over her shoulder and chuckled at the sea of men. “I hope Lord Stewart will be able to feed them all.”

  William gave her a pointed look from beneath his helm. “As do I.”

  ***

  The ride to Renfrew sped past quickly, and once inside the city gates, William left Eva with the tailor and made his way to the keep where he requested an audience with Lord Stewart. The valet told him to wait in the hall, but William hadn’t a mind to pull up a bench and drum his fingers.

  The valet regarded him over his shoulder. “I bid ye to sit and await his lordship’s summons.”

  “Aye?” William asked. “A man could wither away whilst he waits. I’ll see him forthwith.”

  “Oh no.” The valet shook his head, though he continued up the stairwell. “’Tis improper to barge into his lordship’s apartments demanding to see him.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  At the landing, the valet held up his palm and frowned. “Wait here.”

  William stopped for a moment just to appease the beetle-eyed weasel. Then he watched the man open the same solar door William had entered sennights ago.

  “M’lord, William Wallace has requested an audience.”

  William strode forward and planted his palm against the door. “We’ve near enough to a thousand mouths to feed, though it could be closer to fifteen hundred. Men are flocking to the rebellion by hill and glen.”

  “Sir!” the valet admonished.

  Lord Stewart dropped his parchment on the table and stood. “That many?”

  William pushed into the solar, grinning like a lad. “Och, aye.”

  The valet wrung his hands. “I shall summon the guard at once for this impertinence.”

  “Nay,” Lord Stewart dismissed the little man with a flick of his wrist. “Go to the kitchens and tell them to start cooking.”

  William pulled out a chair and sat. “Ayr was a massacre.”

  Lord Stewart also took his seat, a sharp arch of his brow the only indication that William’s brash behavior annoyed him. “From the report I received, Ayr was exactly what we neede
d on the heels of Lanark.”

  “I agree, but Sir Douglas is raving mad. His tactics are as reprehensible as Longshanks’.”

  “I don’t disagree there.”

  “I dunna trust him. He undermined me and turned backstabber. He’s out for his own glory, that one.”

  “What man isna?”

  “Ye’re serious? I, for one, put the needs of Scotland above my own. I expect everyone under me to do the same.” William pounded his fist on the table. “Douglas is a cold-blooded killer. After watching him pillage in Ayr, I reckon the man is excited more by the opportunity to murder—and not only the English. He’d kill his own kin if he didna need their muscle behind him.”

  Lord Stewart reached for a flagon and poured two tots of whisky. “As ye said, he has good men supporting him—cavalry.”

  “Aye, but if the Douglas willna adhere to the plan, his men are worthless to me.” William picked up the cup and drank. “The people of Scotland are ready for battle. I saw it on their faces as we traveled from Kilmarnock to Renfrew today. I canna risk losing momentum because of a backstabber.”

  “I’ve heard report of the same.” Lord Stewart narrowed his gaze. “If I agree to have a word with Sir Douglas, where will ye next strike? With Murray growing stronger in the north ye must take the south.”

  William thumped his chest. “Then we should march on Stirling.”

  “Not yet. With so many new recruits, ye couldn’t possibly be ready to take on Edward’s forces in Stirling—’tis the heartbeat of the English garrison. No, no. We can ill afford a misstep.” Lord Stewart stroked his fingers down his long, pointed beard. “I’ve received word of excessive brutality inflicted by Sir Ormsby at Moot Castle in Scone. His atrocities mirror those of Heselrig. Ridding Scotland of yet another of Edward’s high-ranking executioners will further promote the cause of the Patriotic Party.”

  Narrowing his eyes, William leaned back in his chair. “Patriotic Party?”

  Lord Stewart waved a dismissive had through the air. “A term Bishop Wishart and I agreed to with a few other like-minded nobles.”