A King Ensnared, A Historical Novel of Scotland (The Stewart Chronicles Book 1)

by Tomlin, J. R.

  “Gallop!” Orkney shouted.

  Screams roiled on the wind. James slammed his heels into his horse’s flanks.

  His dirk was in his hand, though he didn’t remember drawing it. He’d die before he let them take him. Better dead than captured. He leaned forward in the saddle, urging the horse to a gallop between Lauder and the guard. The guardsman grunted. A lance stuck out from his back. He toppled slowly from the saddle.

  James turned his dancing mount, raising his dirk, as the knight yanked his sword free from its scabbard. The man towered over him. The sword drew back in a lazy arc. James tried to take a last breath, his sight blurry, and the slash of his short dirk falling far short. Behind them were curses and shouts of pursuit.

  In front of him, Orkney jerked his reins, and his horse gave a fierce kick with its hind legs. The Douglas knight’s horse screamed, the blow raking its neck. As the man fought his mount, Orkney hacked the man’s arm through the elbow with a downward chop. “On!” Orkney yelled. The man-at-arms rode close, Orkney drawing up the rear as the trees closed around them. “Ride! Before more reach us.”

  They plunged into the stand of pines. A quick peek behind showed a horseman still hard on their heels.

  “Faster,” James yelled to his mount.

  Orkney jumped a fallen oak and spurred between two pines and up a gentle slope. Their horses were laboring, hooves slipping in the dead leaves and ice. James was breathing almost as hard as his horse.

  An armored hand clamped on his rein, and he slashed at it with the dirk he still clutched.

  “Help me!” he shrieked as the man jerked on his reins.

  His horse reared and came down hard. James catapulted out of the saddle. Dark sky, tree branches and Lauder hacking at the enemy knight somersaulted in his vision in a jumble. He managed to tuck his head by instinct. The ground smacked him hard, and a stone dug into his side. Winded and coughing, he rolled and scrambled away from thrashing hooves.

  “Hell mend you!” Lauder shouted, above him.

  The knight landed across James’ legs and blood, warm and thick, splattered. James kicked, trying to free himself from the weight. He didn’t recall Orkney dismounting, but the earl kicked the body off him and hauled him to his feet with both hands. “In one piece, lad?” he asked.

  He took a deep breath as things settled, chest heaving, dizzy from the somersault, but nothing hurt worse than a fall in the practice yard. “Aye.”

  So Orkney boosted him back into the saddle, and Lauder grabbed the reins of the dead man’s courser. James’s side and arm throbbed from the fall, but he’d rather ride aching than wait for another of their pursuers. It was black as hell, and sleet pounded steadily on the canopy of branches, muffling the hoof beats and dripping icily down the backs of their necks. Orkney said they were heading east, although James wasn’t sure how he could tell in the overcast night.

  Once they were well away from the dead knight, the earl, in the lead, slowed to a walk along a meandering path. Lauder’s horse stepped into a hole and went down on its haunches, Lauder cursing under his breath. He checked the horse’s leg. They’d been lucky, and it wasn’t lamed. James rode between Lauder and the nameless man-at-arms with Haliburton bringing up the rear. They were all expert horsemen, but the ground was icy and treacherous. A wolf howled in the distance, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Occasionally, he looked over his shoulder expecting to see their pursuers, but there was only the murk.

  The Douglases were still seeking him, though, he knew. They must have spread out through the woods, but such a small party would not be easy to find. The sleet and rain might erase the trace of their passing.

  After what seemed like hours, Orkney said, “If we are lucky, they’ll think we headed west toward Glasgow and seek that way.”

  But they would be seeking. James never doubted it. If they catch me, they will kill the others and throw me in a dungeon, he thought, and then they will starve me to death as they did my brother. That way they could claim that he had not died at their hands. They were all kin. But a blade wasn’t required to kill.

  When they came to a narrow stream under the dark canopy of the forest, Orkney turned his horse’s head and led them off the narrow rail to follow the water. The black night smelled of pine and river and cold. James sucked in his breath as the frigid water splashed onto his feet. He pulled his wet cloak closer around him, for all the good that did. The sleet had stopped. It started again when they came to another trail and climbed up the bank, scree spraying from under the horse’s hooves.

  Orkney scrubbed at his face before he said, “We’ll rest the horses for a few minutes and water them before we move on.”

  James could have wept at the relief of sliding from the saddle. Shivering, he leaned his head on his horse’s withers, warm and scratchy under his cheek.

  Orkney patted his shoulder. “Braw lad.” He put a flask into James’s hands.

  “Thank you.” James took a drink and leaned his head back as the wine went warmly down his throat and curled in his stomach.

  “It’s nae so far to the coast.” Lauder sank onto his haunches. “At Canty Bay, I keep a boat to reach the castle. They cannot touch you once we’re there. It would need a larger army than even the Earl of Douglas has to take my fortress.”

  “They…” James cleared his throat. “They killed Sir David.”

  James couldn’t make out Orkney’s face in the gloom, but the earl bent his head with a long pause. “He was a good man.”

  “He died because he was helping me escape.”

  Orkney gave a deep sigh. “It’s nae so simple as that, Prince James. He was behind Lord Percy fleeing, helped him out of Scotland. That made him an enemy of the Douglas.” He shrugged. “He was doing his duty. Now I shall do mine, and we shall make it to Bass Rock.”

  “But we’ll be trapped there.”

  Lauder snorted. “Wi’ the wide sea for a bolt-hole? First, we must send word to William Giffart to bring the ship to us there, but you must not worry anent that. Leave it to us. You’ll need your strength on the way, lad, so drink a wee bit more of that, and we’ll rest for a short while.”

  “I wish we could build a fire.” There was a hint of whine in James’s voice, but he couldn’t help it. He was cold, weary, and his empty stomach grumbled. He took another swallow of the wine before he handed the flask back to the earl.

  The four of them sat, James drawing his legs up to his chest to wrap his arms around them. This was wrong, to be pursued only because he was the son of the king, for men to die for no reason except his uncle’s greed. He laid his head on his knees and let his eyes close. When Orkney shook his shoulder, James realized he had drifted to sleep.

  With a grunt, he used Orkney’s hands to pull himself to his feet. A bruised body wouldn’t keep him from riding. He climbed into the saddle and realized that the sleet had stopped. Perhaps at least they would dry as they rode.

  The ground was thick with pine needles and leaves, a carpet of brown still wet from the rains. It squelched beneath the horses’ hooves. Masses of pines and beeches that were bare of their leaves rose all around them.

  The narrow, crooked path through the woods kept their pace to a walk. James couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, wondering when the Douglas and his men would catch them. Something burst out of the branches of a pine. James ducked and grabbed for his dirk as a gray owl swooped over their heads. Haliburton gave him a wry smile and they rode on.

  “We’re nae far from Canty Bay,” Lauder said. The trees were growing more widely spaced, and the ground slanted down to the sea. “It won’t be safe until we are across the Forth so close to Tantallon Castle. So we should come up the coast from the south, as they’re not like to spot us there.”

  Orkney grunted in agreement, and when they at last rode out of the trees into a pale sun-washed noonday, he turned his horse’s head south. They rode past moss-covered rocky outcroppings and crossed wave-swept strands. The air smelled of salt and seaw
eed, and James’s stomach was so empty he was feared he would shame himself and throw up. All of their food had been on the lost pack horses.

  It was black night with a sliver of moon and winking stars lighting the water as they clopped across the sand. The waters of the Forth rolled with slow thunder beside them onto the beach. The little village of Canty Bay was a line of black humps in the night.

  “Whisht,” Lauder said softly when they were a short walk from the first dark cot, too small to be even called a cottage. “Wait here.” He swung from the saddle and strode along the beach and out of sight behind one of the cots.

  Orkney moved in his saddle, leather creaking. Haliburton sighed softly. His mount snorted. James listened to the rumble of the waves. Then there were heavy footsteps, and Lauder strode back into sight with a brawny, dark shape behind him.

  “Can they give me a meal and a corner for a few hours rest before I go?” Haliburton asked. “I’m in no fit state for my journey.”

  James frowned. “You’re nae going wi’ us?”

  His uncle squeezed his shoulder. “Someone must take word to Giffart to bring the ship here.”

  “Oh.” His heart thudded. It wasn’t as though he often saw his uncle, but… soon there would be no one left whom he knew. And he would be alone. “I wish you could come,” he whispered.

  His uncle pulled him close in a brief hug against his barrel chest and released him. “We do wha’ we must, my prince.”

  James blinked back the burning in his eyes.

  Lauder pointed out onto the water. “There.” A small craft was bobbing toward them.

  “Come wi’ me, my lord,” the man with Lauder said and motioned to Lauder and the man-at-arms, who gathered up the reins to all their horses. Sir Walter clasped James to him one last time.

  Two of the men in the boat were dragging it close upon the sands. Lauder clapped one on the shoulder and hurried them all through the surf. James was clambering over the gunwale when one of the men, stringy but strong, grasped his arms and hoisted him aboard. Lauder hefted himself beside James, and Orkney followed as though he were mounting a horse. James grabbed the edge as the boat lifted with a long roller. His stomach lurched.

  He held on with a two-handed grasp hard enough that the wood cut into his fingers. Endless swells of black sea stretched beyond them. James swallowed, trying to still his racing heart. The four sailors pushed the boat back further into the water and leapt in. The ten-foot swells tossed them up before they swept down again. The four men pulled on their oars with a low chant. James was glad of a sturdy stomach, but the lurches in the dark left him dizzy. At the top of a swell, Lauder shouted, “There it is!”

  James gaped at the monstrous knob of rock towering above the white foam of crashing seas. Tiny flickers of light at the top showed the watchtowers of the castle, home to the Lauders for time out of mind. James wanted to ask how in the name of the Holy Rood they would reach the top, but he was too busy holding on to be sure he wasn’t thrown into the roiling sea. He hadn’t breath for the question. Besides, the crash of the rollers was deafening.

  The rowers took them past an outthrust spit of rock. They turned the bow of their tossing craft into a nook. The dizzying lift and drop of the rollers lessened, and after a minute the boat hit a bank. Again the two men in front jumped into the water and hauled. The pewter light of the moon lit a rocky shelf no more than two arm spans across. Lauder hopped off and turned. James realized, as he forced himself to his feet, that his legs were trembling. The two remaining sailors had him under his arms before he could protest and tossed him as though he were a bairn to Lauder, who lowered his feet onto the rock.

  Orkney hopped out onto the narrow shelf with a quick laugh. “I’d nae care to do that every day.”

  Lauder’s teeth gleamed in the faint light when he grinned. “Nae many do.” He nodded to the sailor who blew a long note and then three short ones. A long answer from high above echoed off the rocks. “If you are nae expected, our greeting is a rain of stones.”

  “Should we wait for daylight to make the climb?” Orkney asked, sounding worried.

  Lauder thrust his chin toward the eastern sky. Splashes of gold and a tint of rose had washed over the edge of the horizon. “We have light enough. I’ll nae chance being caught in the open so close to safety.”

  James looked up. Directly above, outlined in dawn’s light, he could see the bulk of Bass Rock Castle. It couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet above them. From below, it looked white, but then a flock of birds took flight—a rustling cloud. Their harsh, grating krokkrok-krokkrok-krok-krok drowned out the wash of the sea—and exposed the brown of the stone castle. He flinched as a hundred of the birds swept close overhead. Before James was a tumble of boulders and stones and a defile so narrow only one man at a time could squeeze past.

  The fishermen had already pushed off and were rowing once more into the towering rollers. Lauder led them through and up. The way was steep, littered with stones. It made a sharp turn onto a narrow ledge. He could see the tiny shelf where they’d landed and the sea straight below. An enemy intent on capturing the Bass Rock Castle would have to land a few men at a time and fight their way up whilst rocks poured down on them.

  The day was growing light, the sun a golden coin half hidden by the horizon. James had never had a fear of heights, but his eyes kept closing. He jerked them open and shook his head hard. Scree slipped under his feet as he numbly followed Lauder, Orkney behind him. Lauder clambered over rocks that had fallen into the path and paused as James did the same. As they got higher, sharp gusts of wind tugged at his cloak and tossed his hair into his face. The trip now seemed to have stretched forever, and he felt that it might never end. Perhaps he would never again sleep more than a snatched nap on cold ground. His feet slipped on the loose rock. He gasped and threw his hand out. It smacked hard against the chill, rough stone.

  Orkney caught him from behind. “Stay awake, lad.”

  James nodded. The drop on the other side was no more than a foot away. Had he been walking asleep, he wondered? He could have fallen over the edge to be smashed on the rock. He could see the Forth below them and the boulders where its huge swells crashed, tossing foam high into the air.

  Lauder turned and smiled wearily. “Almost there.” He held out his hand and pulled James onto the top of the precipice.

  James took a deep breath at the sight of the castle perching on the edge of the cliff, but then he was coughing, a foul stink like nothing he’d ever smelled before burning his nose. His eyes watered. He hacked and hacked again. “Wha’ is that?”

  Lauder snorted a chuckle. “Bird shite. More gannets are here than a’ the rest of Scotland together.”

  “Well, it stinks,” James grumbled.

  Lauder put his hand over his eyes and started laughing. After a moment, Orkney was laughing, too. James frowned at them, offended. Why were they laughing at him? But Lauder shook his head.

  “Thanks be to the Virgin and the saints you’re alive to smell the stink, lad.” He gave James’s shoulder a little push, and they trudged toward the open gate of the castle. “You’ll become used to it.”

  Beyond the castle, cliffs rose another two hundred feet, seething with life, covered with a dense mat of birds—gannets and puffins and cormorants and more kinds of seabird than James had ever seen. But all James wanted was the castle, a crackling fire, and a bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  One of the dozen or so of Lauder’s men at the castle stood atop the gatehouse and waved as James sauntered out the gate. The March wind was chill, but James didn’t mind because the sun was bright in the pale morning sky, with there was only a single wisp of thin cloud. He huffed. Four weeks they had waited for news of a ship and heard nothing except when young Robert Lauder, the elder Lauder’s heir, brought news that his uncle had reached Glasgow and returned to his own house. Lothian crawled with the Earl of Douglas’s men seeking him, but here he was safe and a climb up the cliffs called, as it did every day
that a gale didn’t blow. Then Orkney said the prince was not allowed to risk breaking his mucky neck, but he smiled when he said it.

  “Hoy, Prince James,” Robert called from the bailey yard. “Are you going up the rock?”

  “Aye.” He thrust his chin at the castle. “They do nothing but throw dice. How can they sit a’ day like that?”

  Robert grinned. “Mind if I join you?” He was a young man only four or five years James’s elder, blue-eyed and handsome and slender as a blade. Like James, he had changed to scuffed boots and plain hodden-grey breeches and tunic after he’d arrived the day before. In fact, James wore clothes outgrown by young Lauder since all he had left was the armor he’d worn in his flight. Even had James had others, fine clothing was wasted on the remote isle. Robert said he never bothered.

  Lifting the bow he carried in his left hand, Robert grinned. “I want to see if the sheep have dropped any lambs, but with luck I can bring down a bird. They’re nae bad eating. We’ll roast it over a campfire. Keep us out of the way of the auld uns.”

  James held up a bag of oats he’d slung over his back. “We can make a bannock. Let’s pick up some eggs from a nest. We’ll have a right feast.” With a whoop, he darted toward the zigzag climb, it couldn’t really be called a path so steep and narrow it was—that led to the dizzying summit of Bass Rock. He clambered up the broken, crumbling, widely-spaced steps carved into the cliff, Robert on his heels.

  Near the top, he snagged four bird eggs and dropped them into the bag with the oats. At the crest, James knelt for a moment and couldn’t help smiling at the grassy smell. The peak of the rock was four or five acres of windblown grass and heather. A dozen sheep were grazing in the lee of an outcropping. They lifted their heads to look at the two of them before going back to chomping on the rich grass. A clump of thyme was sending up a sweet scent. James’s hair blew in the early spring breeze, and his heart twisted a bit. He knew it was no place for a prince to learn what he must, but it would be a fine place to grow up for a lad who liked climbing and watching the birds and the clouds.