A Kingdom's Cost, a Historical Novel of Scotland

by J. R. Tomlin

  "Ah, it's good to see you, Thomas. It's good to be home--even if it is in secret."

  "You've been gone too long. I never thought to see the day a Douglas would have to sneak into the dale. But get you out of that wet cloak and beside the fire. We'll talk."

  "Let me get my man first." James ran out through the sleet whilst Thomas held the door open. As they went in, he stepped out to walk around the house. James smiled. Thomas was always a cautious man and in these foul days, that was a good thing. Once Thomas returned, he dropped a thick wooden bar across the door. The room was snug with a fire burning on the hearth and stools to pull in its warmth. Water dripped from their hair as Thomas took their cloaks to hang.

  Soon the three of them were sitting with ale and James gave a profound sigh. The house had a scent of a sweet wood fire and fresh bread.

  "This is the best thing I've felt in many days, my old friend," he said. "In spite of how I came here."

  Thomas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "They said you were wi' Bruce. But none knew if you still lived."

  "I was with him at Scone when Bishop Wishart crowned him and then Isabella MacDuff put the crown on his head again. And afterward until two days ago when I swore to him there were loyal men in my Douglasdale. I came to find them."

  "So it's true then. He's making a fight of it? After so many died at Methven and after, I feared. The English said he'd fled to Ireland."

  "A lie. We never left but were in the North Isles. He'll make a fight of it. And we've learned what we needed to from our defeat there and from Wallace. We can't beat the English in the field. But we can beat them." James stood and walked to the fire. He turned to face Thomas. "We mean to."

  Thomas's face was flushed with excitement. "And you're to claim Douglasdale? As your father's son?"

  "That I am. It is mine. The king has sworn to restore it to me though I'll have to fight for it."

  "A Douglas. Returned. Take my oath then. We need you, Jamie." His face split into a broad smile. "My lord of Douglas."

  If only his father were here to see him receive his first oath-- Thomas knelt and put his hands between James's and swore to be his man and James swore to protect him. So simple, but now they had a duty to each other. James sat back and looked into the dancing flames of the fire. It was a duty that he feared might cost them both much.

  Thomas stood. "I've saved something against this day. Something for you." He went to a chest under a window and opened it, pulling out some blue cloth. Holding it out he said, "I took your father's pennon the day he was taken prisoner."

  James' chest squeezed tight. He took it and ran his fingers over one of the white stars. "Thomas." He stared at the silky cloth so the man wouldn't see tears start in his eyes. "I thank you."

  Thomas busied himself at a shelf getting down bread and cheese for them. "What am I thinking? My lord in my house and I've not offered him food."

  James took a deep breath and took a slice of bread and hunk of soft yellow cheese. But one hand slid over something that his father had touched.

  "How has it been in Douglasdale?" James asked after a few minutes. He told Thomas what he'd found on their way.

  "Bad enough. After it was noised that you were with King Robert, my cousin Iain was hanged for no more reason than to warn us. Two of the smith's sons hanged. Thom Miller. Iain of Lannock. Women have been savaged." His mouth twisted in pain. "The commander does nothing or less than nothing. Of a mercy, the priest has been careful, mayhap too much so but I cannot blame him."

  James thought on that for a while. "Thomas, how many men does Lord Clifford have holding the castle?"

  "It's a small garrison, my lord." Thomas's eyes sparked with delight at the title and James had to chuckle. But James hadn't felt much different when Bruce became his liege lord, now that he thought of it.

  "Thirty and a handful of servants," Thomas said.

  "So can I gather enough men to play a little game with these thirty Sassenach?"

  "What game did you think of playing?" Wat had kept quiet sipping his ale and eyes going back and forth between the two men.

  "That I've yet to decide. But I'm sure we can think of one. If I could take my castle, I'd couldn't see no English ever sat in it again. But at the least, I'd like to give them a good lesson." His voice hardened. "There's a Douglas once more in his own lands."

  A sly smile slid across Thomas'sface. "I know men who will rise for you. And I may know a way to get at the English. Palm Sunday is only a few days away. The commander sees that his men attend holy day services. By the saints, they're godly men to rape of one day and pray on the next. But none dare abide wi' out attending the kirk." He gave a bark of laughter. "On Epiphany Day they left the keep unguarded so all could go to their prayers."

  James leaned back and stretched his legs out. "Did they indeed?" He smiled into the fire as he sipped his ale.

  James wanted to curl up in front of the fire to sleep, but Thomas wouldn't have it. His lord had to take his bed. The house was a large one for the village, with three rooms and the unusual luxury of a wide hearth and chimney. A gift from James's father for Thomas's service. Thomas showed him to his own bed on the other side of the hearth.

  Under the bearskin coverlet, James sank into the feather mattress. After days of weary travel, sleep came easy. The sight of Isabella hanging from an oak tree, a rope digging deep into her white neck jerked him awake. He was on his feet, panting and his heart racing. He lay back down and threw his arm across his eyes. He wouldn't see that. Thinking on it would destroy him. Hours later, he slept again.

  Bars of sunlight in his eyes awoke him the next morning. He jerked upright in bed. How late had he slept? Padding into the main room in bare feet, he found himself face-to-face with a young woman who looked him up and down. He blinked in confusion before he remembered that Thomas Dickson had a daughter, and a fair one now it seemed. Alycie had been but a nuisance when he'd last seen her, always following her father, asking questions, and getting underfoot.

  Her hair had the color and sheen of cornsilk piled atop her head and her face and neck were creamy and smooth. Her simple blue kirtle was modest, but still shapely enough to give him pause.

  He bowed slightly. "Forgive me."

  She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Her blue eyes had exactly that same hint of laughter as her father's. "Have you not changed at all, Jamie Douglas?"

  He shook his head, smiling. "Mayhap a bit, Alycie. I've grown a taller." He looked down at her. "And you've grown fairer."

  Her father came in carrying an armful of logs and bringing a scent of fresh pine with him. "Lass, show a little respect to Lord Douglas."

  James threw his arms wide. "Here I am in my bare feet, Thomas. I don't blame her for thinking I look a careless lad."

  "No, my lord. Father is right. You just seem so like you did when you were a lad. I'm more glad than you can know that you've returned." She tilted her head to look at him. "More glad than you can know."

  "Being a fine lord hasn't been my lot lately, but I can do better than this. I'm pleased to see you here. I suppose I thought you'd be wed and in your own house." In truth, he hadn't thought of it at all, but he wouldn't say so.

  The laugher in her eyes faded with her smile. "There have been things that happened." She shook her head and picked up a pitcher to pour him a mug of ale. "You'll have a long morning. There's bread and cheese to break your fast. I'm sorry I teased you. It's hard to remember we're not children any more."

  He took the mug and tilted her chin up with a finger. "I've fond memories of being a lad here, Alycie. I don't mind being teased. But you were a troublesome lass and always underfoot." He winked at her and then took a drink of the ale. He hid a smile when she blushed.

  James sat the mug on the table and broke off a hunk of bread. "Thomas, I'll try to make myself look more like the Lord of Douglas. But she's aright that there's much to be done. I want to meet with our men."

  "Aye, my lord. I sent Will to three
I trust. I fear if too many come of a time, it might be noticed."

  Wat looked up from where he sat cleaning his armor. "That's a wise thought."

  James swallowed a mouthful of bread and motioned with the rest in his hand. "The luxury of breaking my fast is welcome, but I can't be slothful. Here's Wat hard at work and I'm still idle." He picked up his mug of ale and took it with him. His hauberk was rust specked from the rain. With a sigh, he took a cloth out and a bit of grease to do something about it. It would take tumbling it with sand to get it truly clean. He remembered thinking as a lad thinking he'd have a squire for such tasks, as his father had. Now that he remembered, he'd spent much time polishing his father's armor. James's sword was in better case but the edge could be sharper. The whetstone was making a comforting whisk as he ran it down the blade when he heard voices in the outer room.

  Buckling his belt and checking the hang of the sword, he stepped in to see four men had joined them. They stared at him, looking him up and down.

  "God's wounds," one of them said in a low voice. "I didn't truly believe you, Will."

  Alycie clanged the lid down on the steaming pot she was stirring that hung over the hearth. She stood up straight to glare at the man. "I'll thank you not to use such language in my father's house, Gib."

  The leathery-faced man shook his head. "Sorry, lass. But I'd given up hope of seeing a Douglas back where he belongs. I put this lad on his first pony."

  Recognition hit James. Gib had been his father's stable master. "I remember. It's past time I was back." One by one, they gave him their oaths and he promised them protection. So small a start but one that meant much.

  James sat down and motioned for the men to join him and Alycie sat down as well, a bit of sewing in her had.

  "Thomas told you our plans for Sunday?"

  Thomas frowned at his daughter. "Alycie, this is men's business. Best you take your sewing to your room, lass."

  She stood, crumpling the cloth in her hand, and started to the door but stopped. Whirling, she faced them. "Was it man's business when the English ravished me? Was it when Maggie was left a widow? When we suffer as much, why is it only men's business?"

  "I'm sorry, lass." Thomas'svoice softened. "But it's best."

  James frowned. There was truth to what she said. War left women weeping for the men they'd lost, or raped and dead in a village, or locked in a cage. He stood and went to look down into the flames of the little fire on the hearth. "Let her stay if she wants, Thomas. Women in Scotland have more--"

  Alycie tilted her chin up and sniffed. "Thank you, my lord, but I'll be in my room until it's time to carry the water." She closed the door so quietly behind her that it was better than a slam.

  "She always was a stubborn lass and what happened--I can't bear to think on it. Forgive her rudeness. I should beat her for it, but I haven't the heart."

  James could all too easily guess what had been done to her. "By the saints, don't. I'd punish the English instead. And mean to."

  "Aye, my lord, that's what I want to hear about," Gib said.

  "Only thirty of them. Thomas, how many men can I count on?"

  Thomas grimaced. "Your father could raise a thousand claymores, my lord. But--I fear at best seventy who are fit to fight and can be trusted."

  "With seventy we can do it. But we must see that the women stay away." He chewed his lip. "Will they notice no women in the kirk of a Palm Sunday morning?"

  "They don't really look at us except to take what's ours," Gib said. "It's like we're cattle in the field. I think they'd forbid us the kirk if they could."

  "That's good, though. If they don't look, they won't notice a couple of extra men--though to be cautious mayhap Wat and I should come in last."

  Thomas beamed. "If you come in last then we'll have them trapped."

  "Weapons. In a close fight, I've found dirks do as well as any other, sometimes better. But do all the men have them?"

  "For any who don't, we can use threshers' flails. Those we have in plenty. A blow with a flail is as good as a mace."

  "Good." James leaned back and looked them in the eye, one by one. "You know the danger. Some of us may die, but so will the English. Have the men come to me after dusk tonight and tomorrow. I'll have their oaths and give them mine."

  "I'll be off for the fields, my lord. These days I'm no more than a serf and grateful to be left that much. But it'll give me the chance to talk to those I trust." Thomas stood. "Mind you, men, keep your mouths shut. One word in the wrong ear would be disaster."

  "Wait, Thomas. There's something else I'd say."

  "What's that, my lord?"

  "If the village is to be safe from revenge after--" He took a deep breath. "--none of the English can live."

  The men all exchanged looks and nodded. Mayhap they had known that.

  "What of you? Afterward you return to the king?"

  James tapped a finger on the mantel. He'd given it much thought but couldn't see any way to decide until after they'd attacked here. "From the Clyde, from within Ettrick Forest, I could wait with men who are willing to follow and mayhap do more before I go. And I've sworn to take any who will to the king. But we'll talk on that after."

  As the men left, Thomas turned to James. "Bar the door after us, my lord, and mind you and Wat stay indoors and out of sight. At dusk, I'll return with others."

  James did so and walked around the house. It felt strange to be locked inside. He loathed being idle. For a time, he sat to finish sharpening his weapons but both his dirks were sharp enough to have shaved with which made him think of trimming his beard. He hated when it got long and he didn't like his cheeks covered with hair. He smiled remembering that Boyd laughed and said he was vain. Of a fact, he knew he was no fair knight as poor Nigel had been.

  Wat was snoring in a corner. James sighed and walked around again. He couldn't even open the shutters to look out.

  Alycie... He kept putting her out of his mind and she kept popping back in. Thinking of what must have been done to her made him grind his teeth in frustration. Another debt to pay.

  When he couldn't stand it any more he knocked on her door.

  She opened it, and he leaned against the doorjamb, smiling at her. "Would you keep me company?"

  She sniffed. "You're sure there's nae men's business to conduct?"

  "Lass, I didn't say for you to go. I'm like to drive myself mad with only my own company and nothing to do."

  Finally, she relented and smiled. "I need to stir our supper anyway and carry some to my father."

  "Take it out? Is that safe?" How could she go out where he'd seen all they were doing.

  "I keep as far from them as I can. I can't always stay inside, can I? Like you, I'd go mad." She lifted the lid off the pot and the savory onion smell came up on a wave of steam. Moving it off the heat, she smiled. "From the way you sniffed, I take it you're hungry?"

  He laughed. "No, it's early yet. But you don't know how long it's been since I've eaten a meal that smelled so good. In our camp, we do well to roast a half-burn a rump of venison over an open fire."

  She sat down, arranging her skirts around her legs, and motioned for him to join her. "May I ask you something?"

  He sat, smiling. "Of a certainty."

  "What is he like? The king, I mean."

  "I--I'm sworn to him." James didn't know how to put it into words and fumbled for them. "I'd die for him."

  Her eyes were laughing at him. "But that tells me about you and not him."

  James frowned, realizing that he'd never put his thoughts about Bruce into words even to himself. "There's something inside him--it's hard to explain, except that God gave him to us to be king. It's what he is. And yet--"

  She was frowning, listening, and nodded for him to go on.

  "I've seen him in battle, seen him kill with a blow. I'm no weakling, but I couldn't match him on the field. He's born a warrior. Yet, there's something kind inside him. A kindness." James shrugged. "He'll be a king for us." />
  "You love him."

  James looked away into the fire for a moment. "I'd die for him. And gladly if it would get him the throne and get us quit of the English."

  Alycie touched his arm but then pulled her hand back. "I hope you don't die for him."

  He grinned. "I don't mean to if I can help it."

  She dropped her eyes and blushed. "But you're still not married?"

  "No. I think my father had talked with my uncle the Stewart about it before he died. Mayhap they'd planned something, but then everything changed. And there's been no time to think of it." He tilted his head looking at her. Why was someone so beautiful still unmarried? Surely, her father had thought of a match for her. Any man would want her. So he asked.

  Her blush deepened and she twisted her fingers together. "He talked of it. But things have been hard. They sent me to Elgin to St. Mary's Convent when you were sent away. Father didn't think it was safe here. Later, I didn't want to take vows. I'd be a poor nun. So I came home and then--" She looked away. "I don't want to tell you what happened. It makes me ashamed."

  James shook his head. "I can guess and it's no shame to you." He would have liked to offer her some comfort but feared it would be an offense. "It was men of the castle who hurt you?" His voice was soft, but he had to know.

  She looked into the fire. "The commander knew that my father is the leader of the village. It was a warning what they'd do to us if we helped you. There were three of them from the castle." Her voice choked. "I tell myself I'm lucky they didn't kill me. That my father and brother were gone so they didn't try to stop it."

  He rose and stood behind her and stroked her arm with his fingertips. "They'll pay, sweetling. I promise you."

  She looked up at him and he felt as though he was eating her with his eyes. "I don't care if they pay. But, oh, I want things the way they used to be."

  So did he, and knew it could never be. He looked away, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. Stilling his hand on Alycie's arm, he fixed Isabella's face in his mind. "They'll pay for you and all the others. And to protect my people."

  She stretched up. Her lips were soft on his cheek. "I must take my father his noonday meal." He stared into the fire until she was gone.