Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  Blair squinted. “She’s a harlot.”

  Clenching his fists, William leaned even closer. “Ye took an oath of celibacy and now your cods are aching. Is that it?”

  Blair took the first swing—a fisted jab, aimed at the temple.

  William blocked and thrust an undercut into John’s gut. Best friend or nay, Wallace wouldn’t stand for Blair or anyone spewing foul words against Eva. Locking arms, they wrestled to the ground.

  William shoved the heel of his hand in the priest’s face. Straining through his teeth, he growled, “She’s done nothing but work her fingers to the bone since she’s been here.”

  Blair’s palm squished Willy’s nose to the side. “And keep your miserable bed warm at night ye swiving bastard!”

  William swung back with his fist.

  “God’s teeth, Willy.” Malcolm grabbed William’s right elbow from behind with John latching on to his left. “What the bloody hell have ye been doing whilst I’ve been away?”

  Arching his back, Wallace struggled to break free. “I’ve been training an army to fight the rebellion, ye beef-witted swine.”

  From his back, Blair grunted and took a dirty swing, connecting with William’s jaw. “Aye, but ’tis time to leave the wench be and let her find another bed that’s not so important to our cause. God bless it, William. Ye fight with the power of six mace bearers. We canna afford to have your mind anywhere but on your duty to Scotland.”

  The blow could have been harder, but regardless, William didn’t care to be hogtied by his brothers while his best friend tried to knock some sense into him. “Eva is no one’s business but my own.” It was one thing for him to question her presence, but that’s as far as it went. She’d earned her keep as far as William was concerned.

  Blair squirmed out from under Wallace and stood. “She doesna belong here.”

  William wrenched his arms away and glanced at Eddy. “Ye’re being quiet all the sudden. What say ye, Little?”

  He shrugged. “Not certain. She’s been a help, but if ye canna fight because of the likes of her, I’d sooner run the lassie through.”

  Blair clasped his hands together like as if he were ready to say a few prayers now he’d had the last swing. “We’re going to Fail—’tis where ye found her, no?”

  William rubbed his aching jaw. “Aye.”

  “Well then, why not leave her there?” Eddy reasoned. “One of the Trinitarians ought to recognize her, otherwise how else would she have ended up inside when ye found her?”

  Malcolm tapped a finger to his lips. “Unless the marauding English brought her in.”

  “Nay.” Rubbing his jaw, William opened and closed his mouth to ensure it hadn’t been knocked out of place. “One of the bastards was trying to kill her when we arrived.”

  Blair chuckled. “Now that’s a quandary. I pegged her as a spy and the English want to kill her?”

  William blinked then looked each man square in the eye.

  Eva’s prediction about his meeting with Lord James Stewart weighed on his mind. He hadn’t told anyone—more for her protection than anything. But it was time these men knew. “Ye breathe a word of this outside this circle and I’ll slit your throat myself. Eva’s a seer. She kens things—says she sought me out.”

  Eddy shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So then what was she doing at the monastery?”

  “Trying not to get herself killed.” William slapped him on the back. “Never mind that. I’ll be the one to decide what is to be done with her.”

  Everyone seemed satisfied with William’s answer except Blair. “Ye ken she’s been up here swinging a stick around as if she thinks she’s going to march into battle with us?”

  “Aye?” William puzzled. “That makes no sense. She’s afraid of sharp weapons.”

  “Another good reason to leave her in the hands of the monks at Fail,” Malcolm said.

  “Enough about the woman.” William sliced his hand through the air. “I said I’d determine what to do with her. And in the meantime, I’ll appreciate it if ye leave her be. Now, we’ve a battle to plan.”

  He pointed to his brother. “Malcolm, I want ye to steer our uncle clear of the English garrison.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Wallace crouched down and drew a map in the dirt. “Stewart’s missive said the English are hunting for the giant who killed Heselrig. I reckon we should make sure they meet their end with no doubt of exactly who I am.”

  ***

  After a downpour started, too many smelly bodies crammed into the cave. Eva sat in her usual place beside Robbie and now Lachlan. The lad hadn’t left her side since she’d stitched his arm.

  Robbie reclined on his fur, holding a tankard of freshly brewed ale, his eyelids drooping. “I hope the rain stops afore the morrow.”

  Now that he’d swilled the flagon of whisky and joined with his partner in crime, Lachlan grinned with a glassy look to his eyes. “It has to. I’m ready to face the English.”

  “I’m afraid you’re on injured reserve.” Eva would do anything to keep the lads from picking up weapons and facing grown men—trained soldiers, no less.

  “Wha-d-ye mean?” Lachlan flexed a scrawny arm. “I’m ready.”

  Eva gave him a mothering stare. “Aw, come on lad, even a grown man knows it is madness to run into battle with a wound as grave as yours.”

  “But I feel fine.”

  She pointed at the flagon. “Aye—because you’ve had a wee bit too much to drink, I’ll say.”

  Lachlan hiccupped. “I’m fair to middling.”

  Robbie sat up and thumped his chest. “Too right, we’ve both been practicing for days. We’re ready. Lachlan isna about to let a wee scratch keep him from skewering the English.”

  Eva clamped her lips together and glanced at William, holding court across the fire. The man hadn’t so much as glanced her way after he’d come down from his secret meeting up on the hill. Nor had any of them said where they’d be off to come dawn. She rifled through her memory, but couldn’t tie anything to June, 1297. If she knew where they were headed, she might be able to figure out what they’d be facing.

  Eva pinched the bridge of her nose. After Lanark, William’s next battle of record is in Scone—and I figure that should occur within the next three to six weeks. What happens leading up to that is a quandary—unless it was detailed in the cryptic writings of Blind Harry.

  She forced her mind to clear, but nothing came.

  “Ye look like ye’re in pain, Miss Eva,” Lachlan said.

  “What?” She regarded the boy and ran her hand over his tangled hair. “You should try to get some sleep. Doubtless, with all the marching, tomorrow will be a tiring day.”

  “Aw, I can go for days without sleep.”

  “Really?” Eva didn’t believe it for a second. The boy looked like he wouldn’t last another hour. “Let us hope you’re not sore in the head as well as your wing on the morrow.”

  “Ye worry more than my nursemaid used to,” Robbie said.

  “Well, someone should be worried about you lads. You’re not really old enough to be out on your own.”

  “Says who?” Lachlan asked.

  “Me.” Eva stood. “The pair of you might be ready to swill ale all night, but I’m heading to my pallet.”

  Once sitting cross-legged in the alcove, Eva struck a flint to light the tallow candle, pleased with herself for the progress she’d made surviving in the wood with all the mosquitoes and midges and men wilder than Alaskan lumberjacks.

  She reached for a piece of vellum and recorded the day’s events, including her trouble recalling what was on the horizon in the next few days:

  …News of Wallace’s actions in Lanark has most certainly spread like wildfire, evidenced by the new troops arriving at the campsite every day, and by the growing interest from the nobility. Things will become unsettled and tumultuous in the coming weeks and months. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  She blew on the ink
as she read, then rolled it with her other pages and secured them in place with a leather thong.

  The furs parted. William stooped and crawled up beside her. “Do ye ken what will happen on the morrow?”

  “This isn’t one of your bigger battles. Where are we heading?”

  His eyes shifted sideways, then he picked at the fur beneath. “We’ll be meeting up with more men at Fail Monastery.”

  A shiver tickled up her spine. Four thousand strong that night did lodge in Ayr, and in the bloody barns without the town[1]. The verse from Blind Harry’s poem came to mind with the force of a lightning flash. She blinked in succession. “Are the English taking their ‘peacekeeping’ demonstration to Ayr?”

  When he looked up with that acute intensity reflected in his eyes, Eva knew he’d never be able to lie to her. “Aye.”

  “You’ll come upon them after dark—holed up in the barns on the outskirts of town.” The medallion against her chest burned, but Eva wasn’t ready to hold her tongue. Not yet. “Who are you meeting at Fail?”

  “Lord Stewart is sending an army.” Those eyes shifted again.

  “Who else?” she pushed.

  “Douglas—Le Hardi.”

  “And so it begins.” Eva smoothed her fingers along William’s forearm. “Watch out for that man. He’s as vain and barbarous as they come.”

  “That I ken. His reputation was bad afore he lost Berwick. What more can ye tell me?”

  She shifted the medallion to the side, but it burned like a branding iron against her skin. “All I can say is there will be fire and death.”

  I hope it is the English who will be dying and not my men.

  Eva couldn’t look him in the eye. “Oh, yes.” If Blind Harry’s account was accurate.

  William adjusted his seat and then did it again. “I want ye to remain at the monastery.”

  A gasp caught in the back of her throat. “Will you return for me?”

  “I plan to.” This time he didn’t meet her gaze.

  She leaned toward him. “Where will Brother Bartholomew and the lads be?”

  “They’ll come along to tend the injured—but I’ll ensure they remain at a safe distance.”

  A fire ignited beneath Eva’s skin—this was so unfair. “So it is all right for clerics and children to follow you into battle, but not me?”

  William inclined his head against the wall and looked at the low ceiling as he let out a deep sigh. “I canna in good conscious allow ye to stay with us. I’ve thought about our arrangement and it is selfish of me to keep ye as my leman even if ye are a seer. The monks at Fail will help ye find a husband.”

  Eva groaned loudly. Wallace didn’t understand anything about her. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m here only because of you?” She scooted away from him. “I refuse stay behind at the monastery—and there is no way you will be able to force me.”

  “Aye? I could hogtie ye and tell the monks not to release ye for a sennight.”

  “Oh, right.” She crossed her arms. “That would be a humane thing to do.”

  “Humane?”

  “Nice, thoughtful, genuine, caring.” She took a deep breath. “Chivalrous.”

  “Ye will never cease to befuddle my mind.” He stretched out his long arm and stroked her shoulder. “By leaving ye at the monastery, I am being all those things, especially chivalrous.”

  She swatted his hand away. “No. You are being callous and demeaning and…and thoughtless.”

  “But ye’ll be safer there.”

  “Oh? Was I safe when you found me?”

  He swiped his hand through the air. “That was different.”

  She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Men are all the same no matter the century. They argue points only to the extent that they benefit their case—all other sides are superfluous even if they are relevant to an informed decision.”

  “Och, your babble is making my head swim.” His eyebrows slanted over his angry glare. “I’ve a great deal on my mind and I dunna need a harpy addling my thoughts.”

  “Is that so?” Eva pointed to the fur curtain. “Well, why don’t you go out there with your mates and sleep with them for the night?”

  “All right then.” He scooted toward the exit. “I’d thought we could have spent one last night together, but if ye’d prefer to end it now…”

  “Go.” She waved him off. Bloody hell, his heart could be as callous as his hate for the English. “Find a ewe to keep your bed warm if that’s what you want.”

  He paused and stared at her almost as if he were fuming enough to take a swing. But with a groan, he just shook his head and turned.

  Eva pushed her back against the far wall and watched William’s enormous form retreat. She clutched her arms tightly against her body. How in God’s name could she make that man understand? Talk about a generation gap. Holy hell.

  Do I mean nothing to him?

  Her shoulders slumped. Just leave me behind at a monastery because I’m a woman? Who the hell has worked her tail off to fit in to this miserable mob of rebels?

  Damn him!

  He cannot leave me. I won’t stand for it.

  The back of her eyes stung and she buried her face in her palms. Dammit. I am not in love with him. I cannot be. Even if I was, just a little, it wouldn’t matter. I still have to go home eventually…but not now. Not when he is only beginning to rise to greatness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The men roused early as the clatter of weapons began before dawn. Regretting the stupid argument from the night before, Eva wasn’t sure if she’d actually slept. Her head throbbed. Oh to have a heavenly cup of coffee today.

  Before leaving the sanctity of her alcove, Eva pushed away the boulder hiding her stuff. She slid her roll of notes into her satchel, brushed her hair and smoothed wonderfully minty toothpaste over her teeth. William could be damned if he expected her to leave her things behind, and knowing a little about what lay ahead, she couldn’t be sure if she’d ever return.

  After securing the satchel over her shoulder, she took one last look at the alcove and chuckled. “Never in a hundred years will I forget the passion shared in this tiny haven.”

  She blew out the candle and placed it in her bag along with the flint.

  The cave hummed with a flurry of activity. Men rolled up the furs and tied them with leather thongs. Brother Bartholomew lumbered across the uneven ground with his arms laden with pots and baskets. Eva hurried over to him. “How can I help?”

  He inclined his head toward the back of the cave. “There’re parcels of oatcakes and bully beef. Fetch them and meet me by the pack mule. Miserable heathens didna give me enough time to prepare. I fear we’ll all starve.”

  Wallace’s resourcefulness was one thing she didn’t doubt. “If I know William, he’ll find a way to feed everyone.”

  “Dunna be so certain. He has more mouths to feed than ever before, lassie. Sooner or later, there’ll be too many.”

  Eva chuckled and headed to retrieve the food. Brother Bartholomew has no idea exactly how large this army will grow.

  After collecting all she could carry, she headed outside. A horse sped toward her at a brisk canter. Eva dodged aside nearly dropping her armload of food. “Watch where you’re going.” Straightening her bundles, she looked both ways before taking another step. Though mud squished beneath her boots, only wispy clouds sailed above.

  The entire clearing aflutter, shoulder-to-shoulder the men worked, helping each other tie their weapons and possessions to their backs or waists. She spotted the monk with the pack mule already laden with parcels. Brother Bartholomew beckoned her. “Come, lass. We’ve no time to dawdle.”

  Eva huffed. In no way had she been wasting time. “Where is William?”

  Bartholomew took the parcels from her arms. “How should I ken? He’s probably preparing to set out like all the others.”

  She scanned the tops of the heads for Wallace’s exceptional height. “Will most of the men be marching, the
n?”

  “They’re not fixing to crawl.” With a hearty shove, the monk stuffed the parcels of food into a cooking pot, somehow defying gravity as it hung precariously strapped to the side of the mule’s harness. “At least God has seen fit to hold the rain at bay for today’s march.”

  “Thank goodness for that.”

  “Hello, Miss Eva,” Robbie called from his horse. Lachlan rode double behind him and waved.

  “Lachlan, how are your stitches?”

  He pointed to the patch she’d sewn on his shirt. “They’re itching a bit, but not so bad it’ll keep me from fighting the English.”

  She vigorously shook her finger. “You mustn’t do anything to tear the sutures or else it will take forever to heal.”

  “Not to worry, Miss Eva.” He patted Robbie’s shoulder. “That’s why I’m riding today. It’ll help my skin grow back together.”

  “Ha.” She sounded more like her mother every day. “The only thing that will set you to rights is time.”

  “Och, dunna worry about him.” Robbie grinned. “He’s tougher than a badger.”

  Eva strode toward them, noticing the quality of the youngster’s gelding for the first time. “You have a nice horse, Robbie. Where did you find him?”

  He patted the bay’s neck. “This Galloway was me da’s.”

  “You’re lucky to have a mount.”

  The lad nodded. “I’ll be leading the cavalry soon.”

  Eva gave him a wink. “Perhaps once your voice changes.”

  “Och, I’m the chieftain of my clan now. Ye mustn’t continue to treat me as a child.”

  Lachlan planted his fists on his hips. “Right. We’re old enough to carry a sword. We’re old enough to fight.”

  Eva bit her bottom lip. Arguing with them would only encourage their misplaced ambitions and possibly make them do something stupid. So far, William had been good about keeping them away from the real danger. She had to trust that he’d continue to do so—especially since she knew Robbie would grow up to be the First Lord of Kilmarnock. He must survive this.