Adam pointed to the bag. “Take only what the beasts can carry. All else will be left behind.”
“What about the wagons?”
“We must travel quickly, my lady. We’ll take no wagons. And we leave at first light.” He gave her a remorseful frown. “I’m sorry, but those are my orders. Please excuse me, I have other preparations to oversee.”
He bowed and left the doorway. Kathryn and Anna stood stunned as his words took hold. Nothing but what they could fit in a saddlebag . . . the castle was filled with treasures from generations gone by . . . treasures that made it what it was . . . home.
Kathryn’s voice quivered. “Even Adam has deserted me. How can I leave it all behind? How can he ask it of me?”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t know, lass. I suppose we should count our blessings this war hasn’t touched us before now. But I don’t understand the rush. The English haven’t begun to march north yet, have they?”
“I’m sure they have. They must reach Stirling by Midsummer’s Day or forfeit the castle.”
A deep sadness enveloped her. “Anna, go pack your own things and get Isobel ready. If we must go in the morning, then I will save the most precious of my belongings. I shall stuff these saddlebags full,” she said with determination.
The women embraced before Anna left Kathryn standing there, agonizing over what to leave behind. She walked to the corner and opened a trunk. Inside were cherished mementos, reminders of her family, now gone. Gently, she fingered a small, smooth stone. Her sister had given it to her after an argument when she was but five. Jean had died of the flux five winters past. The stone wasn’t valuable, but other than a few pieces of her jewelry, it was all Kathryn had of Jean. She placed the stone into a cloth sack along with the necklaces and rings. The sack went into the saddlebag.
Next she fingered a tiny christening gown, lovingly embroidered by her mother. Kathryn and Jean had both worn it, as had Isobel. Kathryn would take it with her in the hope that her other children might wear it one day. If I ever have another child. She folded the precious garment and laid it atop the bag of jewelry, pushing aside any thoughts of children and husbands.
Returning to the contents of the chest, Kathryn retrieved a large, silver crucifix on a sturdy chain. The cross was much too heavy for her to wear—it had been worn by the de Lindsay knight who’d accompanied William the Conqueror to England nearly three hundred years earlier. Her father had worn it every day as a symbol of the God he worshipped. Papa had once told her that without his faith, he would never have survived the death of his wife, her mother. She wrapped the cross in a scarf and laid it in the bag, praying that God would strengthen her own faith amidst this upheaval.
Kathryn filled the rest of the saddlebag with clothing. It made a meager pack, and as her tears fell, she raged silently against the man who had taken her love one day and broken her heart the next.
She blew out the candle and crawled into bed. Anger and grief formed a knot in her stomach and her prayers sounded self-pitying to her own ears. God seemed far away. The sleep that finally found her was shallow and plagued with distressing images.
BRYAN SCOWLED AT THE HUDDLED GROUP before him the following morning in Homelea’s bailey. They’d broken their fast with a cold meal in a cold main hall and now Kathryn, Anna, and Fergus stood beside their horses, awaiting the order to mount. Fergus held his mother close with one arm and wiped Kathryn’s tears with his free hand. Kathryn held Isobel while Anna stood beside her. Bryan heard Fergus murmur, “Hush, lass. All will be well. Perhaps we will return one day. Have hope.”
Bryan pivoted from them and inspected the sling the child would ride in. He’d had a crude frame constructed and a cover of oiled cloth procured for protection. To her credit, Kathryn hadn’t asked him to take a wagon with goods and supplies, nor packed more than her given saddlebags. She hadn’t spoken to him at all, in fact.
Bryan gave the order for them to mount up even as he stifled the urge to shout his frustration. Instead, he held Kathryn’s horse as she mounted. “Be safe, wife.”
Her features were stony as she asked, “Will you see to the welfare of the nuns at St. Mary’s?”
“Aye, they are coming with us.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “To Stirling?”
“Aye.” He was chagrined himself at the admission. Black Bryan Mackintosh, the man who’d vowed to remain unencumbered until Scotland was free, was headed off to war. With a wife, a child, half a dozen nuns, and a village full of peasants.
She might have thanked him for that small favor, but she steered her horse away, her silence lashing his soul like a well-placed punch.
He watched as Kathryn followed the others away from Homelea and all that was familiar. She did not look back until they neared the curve in the road that would end her sight of the castle. Then he saw her twist about for a last despairing look. When she faced forward once more, her shoulders were hunched over.
He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and soothe her, but knew she wouldn’t allow it. The thought chafed him, and he busied himself with the task at hand, pushing thoughts of Kathryn to someplace less painful.
He divided the men, sending some into the village with orders to make sure all the villagers had left with Adam earlier this morning. They would meet up with Bryan at St. Ninian’s kirk near Stirling. A small force, under Bryan’s command, remained to burn the huts and cottages and destroy any grain and food left behind as well as any livestock that may have been overlooked. When Edward passed through here, he would find nothing to supply his troops and their beasts.
Bryan set about the destruction of the castle. Although he’d been determined to travel without wagons, he relented, deciding to take just one with several items that would make life easier for Kathryn in camp. It would travel more slowly than he and Cerin, so he would leave a few men to stay with it on its slower journey while he and the rest rode ahead to catch up with Kathryn. It was a small price to pay for Kathryn’s comfort. And perhaps the gesture would return him to her good graces.
Then instead of burning everything, he ordered the men to remove the tapestries and household furnishings. The furnishings not going to Stirling were hauled a mile from the castle and buried in the pits he’d had the men dig this past week for this very use, then covered with oiled cloth for protection. He didn’t know how long the articles could stay underground and still be usable, but he felt he had to make some effort to preserve them. He had to believe someday they would return to Homelea and live in peace. God willing, Edward would be driven back to England to remain there once and for all.
Bryan watched as his men began the process of tearing down the great castle and the protective curtains of stone surrounding it. His men were more than capable of tearing down the walls without his supervision. Nor did he need to stay while they burned the wooden buildings along the perimeter of the bailey. He mounted Cerin and rode away knowing he’d feel more at ease with Kathryn and the child under his direct protection.
God willing, the Scots would be victorious and Bryan could return and rebuild his home. The village too, could be rebuilt. But for now, Bryan had made sure Scotland’s enemies would find no welcome at Homelea.
BY MIDDAY OF THE SECOND DAY of their journey, Kathryn was miserable. Although she was an excellent horsewoman, she was somewhat out of practice and her body protested with the horse’s every step. She and Anna took turns carrying Isobel, but even so her back ached from the unaccustomed posture.
A shout went up from the men in the rear of their formation and Fergus gave the order to halt.
“What is it, Fergus?”
“Horses approaching. Until we know if they are friend or foe we must take a defensive position.”
But before they could form a circle of protection, word came that the horsemen were Sir Bryan and his men. Within a few minutes her husband rode to where she sat her horse. “Good day, my lady.”
“My laird.” Though part of her was glad to see him aga
in, part of her was still angry. She really had nothing she wished to say to him. They’d said all there was to say at Homelea. Bryan gave the order for the march to continue. With a curt nod to her he rode to the front of the formation. Kathryn and Fergus rode side by side in silence.
Finally she said, “I’m glad you decided to ride with me. I feel as if I’ve been deserted.”
“Ye are surrounded by friends, Kathryn. Any one of these men would lay down his life to protect ye.”
“I don’t want them to die for me. I want someone to talk to and to care about me.” She knew she must sound a very shrew, but she was feeling out of sorts.
“I suggest ye urge your mare forward and ride with yer husband.”
“I don’t wish to speak with him.” Her voice hardened. “He has destroyed my home and all I hold dear.”
Fergus shook his head. “Nay, Kathryn, all ye hold dear travels with ye. Possessions make very poor friends.”
“And soldiers make very poor husbands.”
“I doubt he took much pleasure in his task.” With those cryptic words, he allowed his horse to fall behind, leaving Kathryn to ponder his statement.
She focused her frustration on Bryan. Why hadn’t he pleaded with the king to spare her home? If he loved her, he would have disobeyed such a repulsive order. Despite these thoughts, she remembered the regret in his eyes when he’d told her of Homelea’s fate. Perhaps Fergus was right in saying the knight had taken little pleasure in carrying out the task. She was being childish in taking the knight to task for doing what must be done.
She watched Sir Bryan now, riding ahead of her. He rode the black stallion well, as if one with the powerful animal. She admired Bryan’s long legs and the gentleness of his hands as he guided the horse around obstacles.
Could she ever forgive him? More to the point, could she ever trust him again?
And then she saw clearly—was this how he’d felt when he’d learned about Rodney and Isobel? Betrayed? And yet he’d taken the child into his protection. And not only Isobel, but the nuns and her villagers, too. Would she continue to wallow in self-pity or help him do what must be done to safeguard her loved ones and Homelea’s tenants?
The unanswered questions burdened her heart. So did the sight of yet another burned out village and manor home along the roadside. It was the third such they’d passed since leaving Homelea.
Sir Bryan dropped his stallion back to walk beside her. He looked out at the charred buildings and fields. “Are you all right?” he asked, not unkindly.
“Yes, I am fine.”
He waved his arm toward the destruction. “’Tis distressing to see, isn’t it?”
“Aye,” she admitted.
“Even more distressing to be the agent of such ruin.”
She stared at him, surprised by this admission. “Then why do it?”
“You know as well as I, Kathryn. We cannot give sustenance to Edward and his army. They must be forced to bring all their supplies with them. It makes them slow and unwieldy and limits the length of their stay in Scotland.”
“I’m trying to understand, truly I am. And I can see that mine is not the only sacrifice being made.”
“Indeed not.” They rode for a few minutes before he said, “When this is done, if I am able, I will return to Homelea with you and help to rebuild it.”
“I shall pray for your safekeeping, my laird.”
“I welcome your prayers, my lady.”
After his admission in her garden about his lack of faith, this statement surprised her, and it must have shown on her face. Before she could reply, he said, “I’m not altogether sure you and Adam are right about God caring how this turns out, but I am hopeful that prayer might make it so.”
She smiled at him, unable to remain angry any longer. “Then I shall redouble my efforts on your behalf, my laird.”
He dipped his helmeted head in acknowledgment and the barest of smiles graced his harsh features. “If you or the child need to stop, you need only to signal me or one of the men. I know this forced travel must be difficult.”
He seemed to be offering another olive branch. “Thank you. We’re fine.”
Fergus might have been right after all. All she held dear traveled with her, including, it seemed, this difficult man.
THOUGH THE DAY WAS OVERCAST and chilly, Bryan sweated under his chain mail. The accord he’d just witnessed with Kathryn scared him nearly as much as the thought of the upcoming fight with England. If they were going to dissolve this union after the battle, he would need to keep a much closer rein on his emotions.
He avoided Kathryn as much as possible over the rest of the day. Tomorrow they would reach their destination. Kathryn and the others looked as if they’d give most anything to be rid of their horses and just curl up in a warm, soft bed. But there would be no soft bed or warm hearth to welcome them in an army camp.
Bryan spied the great castle at Stirling early the next morning. It sat atop an outcropping of rock over three hundred feet high that rose vertically above the nearly flat surrounding countryside. The village of Stirling stretched along the hillside of the only accessible face of the rock here on the southeast side.
The fortress commanded a view in all directions, and its control of roads and rivers in the area was absolute. The castle dominated the countryside, effectively severing the highlands to the north and the lowlands to the south.
Bryan knew that whoever commanded Stirling commanded Scotland. Edward of England’s man, Sir Philip Mowbray, still held the castle. In three days, Edward must arrive with his army or forfeit the strategic fortress to Bruce. In three days a battle would be fought, and Scotland would either be free or defeated for good.
They entered the Torwood, a vast forest with rocky outcroppings that lay across the Roman road they traveled on. When the road left the trees and dipped down into the more open valley of the Bannock Burn, Bryan gave strict orders to stay on the road.
Ever curious, Kathryn asked, “What is the danger, Sir Bryan?”
“Looks can be deceiving, Lady Kathryn. In April, we dug knee-deep pits on either side of the road and fitted them with spikes.”
“But I don’t see any sign of them.”
Patiently he replied, “They’ve been covered with brushwood and grass to make them difficult to detect. Once discovered they will deter horsemen from trying to use the grassland to advance on Robert’s troops.”
Kathryn asked no more questions, to Bryan’s relief. He was anxious to get her and his other charges past the army camp and into relative safety with the other camp followers. The English were nowhere to be seen, adding to Bryan’s unease. Why hadn’t they taken up their positions by now as the Scottish army had?
After they forded the swiftly running creek, Bryan led them into the woods of the New Park, a forested royal game preserve.
Scotland’s army of seven thousand was camped here. Tents and temporary shelters of wood and tree boughs dotted the meager clearings throughout the woods.
They passed through the main camp without incident and skirted around Gilles Hill, behind which the camp followers were sheltered. Pages, grooms, musicians, carpenters, blacksmiths, armor craftsmen, and women to cook and wash for the men all set up camp here in the protection of the small valley behind the hill.
Bryan dismounted and then helped Kathryn from her horse. She walked awkwardly about, no doubt trying to work the stiffness from her muscles. Bryan wanted to get the women settled as quickly as possible so that he could take up his soldier’s duties. “Thomas, come here.”
Thomas, several years younger than Bryan, aspired to become a knight, as did most squires. He stood nearly as tall as Bryan and flaming red hair curled from under his helm. He had the delicate skin of a redhead and freckles danced across his face. He walked over and bowed. “My laird.”
Bryan motioned to Kathryn and she joined him, standing at his side. “Thomas, pitch my tent for the women and show Lady Kathryn how to arrange the inside efficiently. Fl
y my pennant over the tent and spread the word that any man who approaches these women had better have good reason or be willing to fight me if he does not.”
“Aye, my laird.” Thomas smiled at her and she dipped her head in recognition.
“I must report to the king. When you have finished here, see to our shelter.” Thomas nodded and moved off to begin setting up the tent.
KATHRYN LISTENED as Sir Bryan gave orders to his squire. When Thomas moved off, the knight turned to her, his face lined with tension, and said, “Thomas and I must stay in the camp with the other knights—you will be safe here with Fergus.”
“All right.”
“I’ve sent the nuns to St. Ninian’s. They’ll be safe enough there. The villagers will camp on the other side of this clearing. I’ll check on you when I can, but Kathryn, there are more men than women in the camp, and some of the women are the sort who make a living by attending to . . . gatherings such as this. I don’t want you or Anna to be mistaken for one of them. Promise me you will not go anywhere without Fergus, not even to fetch water.”
Seeing his obvious agitation and concern, she quickly agreed. “I promise.” She brushed his arm with her fingers. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, then said, “I’m tired and there is much to be done. And truthfully, I wish I could have left you behind. Somewhere safer. I need your assurance that you and Anna will not put yourselves or the child in danger by walking through the camp unescorted.”
“I will tell them.” In a moment of clarity she realized that he was torn between his duty to the king and his duty as a husband, and she sought to reassure him yet again. “Ease your mind, my laird. I understand the importance of obeying you in this.”
He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, eyes that were no longer cold and lacking in emotion. Would that they were, for now his anxiety and the weight of responsibility shone bright. She touched his cheek. “Go with God, Sir Knight.”
The Price of Freedom Page 19
