“Nay, lass. Only minor wounds.”
Angus arrived next to them just then, huffing a little. “What news, Garrick?”
“We are victorious!” he said loudly, which caused the men tromping back into the camp around them to cheer noisily. Though they appeared tired and a bit bedraggled, their spirits were high.
He turned his attention back to Jossalyn. “I must get to the King and tell him of the battle.”
She nodded and turned back toward the Bruce’s tent, but he tugged her back to face him, his voice serious. “We didn’t sustain very many losses, but there are several wounded men who are being helped back to camp as we speak. They will be arriving shortly.”
She swallowed but gave him another nod, steeling herself. This would be her true test. She had already proven herself to the Bruce and the camp of rebels with her healing skills, but now she had to confirm for herself that she was able to be a battlefield healer. In a few minutes, she wouldn’t just be seeing to one man’s toothache or a case of indigestion. She would be responsible for overseeing and tending to all those wounded in battle. She was nervous, but she realized she didn’t want to turn away and flee from such a task. She knew she could help and was honored to be able to lend her skills to aid these brave men.
Garrick took her hand, and they strode quickly toward the Bruce’s tent. Apparently the whistle and the sound of the men filtering back into the camp had roused him, for he had managed to prop himself up when they entered the tent.
Before the Bruce could ask, Garrick said again, “We are victorious.”
The breath rushed from the King in relief even as his eyes lit up with excitement. “What happened?”
“Once we got closer to the Comyn camp, we spread out to flank them. Though they were preparing to move on us, we caught them by surprise. We were able to keep our distance for much of the battle.”
“And that must have allowed our archers to use their training in shooting from cover and in obstructed conditions,” the Bruce said.
Garrick nodded, his face showing traces of his pride. “Aye, the training paid off. We lost very few of our men. We were able to take cover, and their archers were at a loss for how to fire back through the forest. They haven’t let go of the English style of fighting.”
“It worked,” the Bruce said quietly, almost to himself. Turning his attention back to Garrick, he said, “And what of the Comyns? Have they been adequately quelled?”
Garrick sobered slightly. “They took a hit, but they fled when our victory was clear. I doubt this is the last we will see of them. And Robert—a few other clan colors were visible in their midst. Others may be joining the Comyns to oppose you and stand with the English.”
The Bruce’s face darkened. “Then we will have to show them, once and for all, that they cannot crush this rebellion.” He took a breath and schooled his dark features. “But today, we are victorious. We have proven ourselves and our tactics yet again. Any man, English or Scottish, who dares attack our freedom, can challenge us and see for himself what we are capable of!”
Garrick laughed, a sound of relief and joy. Just then, a distant shout went up, and Garrick jerked his head around. “The wounded are arriving. I must see to the men.”
“And so must I,” Jossalyn interjected.
The Bruce waved them away, and they strode out of the tent together. Just as Garrick had said, the wounded from the battle were arriving back at camp, being aided by their fellow warriors. Some hobbled in, leaning on the shoulders of their comrades, while others walked on their own but gripped broken arms or bleeding wounds.
“Bring those with the most serious injuries over here,” Jossalyn shouted to the approaching men. “The remaining can gather over there.” She turned to Angus and Garrick, who were waiting for her word. “Boil as much water as you can. I’ll also need thread and a needle, which should be held over a flame for a full minute. Someone fetch me my satchel!”
She rolled up her sleeves as a man with a serious gash on his calf was brought over to her. Just before she became completely engrossed in her work, a thought flitted across her mind. Not long ago, she had been a scared girl under the control of her cruel brother. Now she was a respected healer for the Scottish rebellion. She was loved by and loved in return a good-hearted, brave, and passionate man, who never tried to restrain her work or deny her skills. She had arrived into the future that she could have only dreamed of a few months earlier.
She brought her attention back to the man with the leg wound. She could contemplate her blessings later. Right now, she was needed.
Epilogue
“Before we get to the joyous events of the evening—”
Garrick felt Jossalyn’s eyes on him, and he gave her a sideways glance, taking her hand in his and giving it a little squeeze.
“—I have some news, and a few things to discuss with you,” the Bruce finished.
Jossalyn began to excuse herself, but the Bruce waved his hand to halt her. “Nay, stay, Lady Jossalyn. This involves you as well. We’ll get this business taken care of, then get on with the real reason you’re here.”
The two of them stood before the Bruce in his tent. He had managed to walk under his own power from his bed to a large chair that was pulled out in front of his desk. It was a major accomplishment—yet another milestone in the King’s recovery. His progress was slow, frustratingly so to the Bruce, but in the week since the battle, Garrick had noticed his color was returning. And though his body was still weak, the Bruce’s mind had resumed its normal sharpness.
The Bruce withdrew a folded piece of paper from the silk vest he wore. “I have received a missive from your brother,” he began.
Garrick felt his eyebrows rise. “Is all well? Lady Alwin and the child and—”
“Aye, aye, all is well. In fact, Robert sends me news that felicitations are due to your cousin Burke.”
“Felicitations? Of what manner?” Jossalyn asked.
“Apparently he has gotten married. It seemed that he beat you two to the punch!” the Bruce replied with a mischievous smile.
“Married! I didn’t even know Burke was looking for a wife!” Jossalyn turned to Garrick for confirmation, her green eyes wide with surprise and joy.
“Nor did I,” Garrick said, just as baffled as Jossalyn. A snippet of conversation with Burke flitted back into his mind. His cousin had said there had been someone special once, but that he had lost his opportunity and didn’t believe to find such happiness again. He hoped Burke had been wrong, that the opportunity had perhaps represented itself and that he could indeed experience happiness in marriage.
The Bruce’s tease about his cousin beating them to wedded bliss finally registered through his surprise at the news of Burke’s marriage. “And how much longer do you suppose it will be before we join my cousin in married life?” Garrick said to the Bruce with a raised eyebrow.
The Bruce roared with laughter at Garrick’s thinly veiled impatience. When the King finally caught his breath and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, he said, “Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a few minutes longer.” He cleared his throat, sobering further. “Your brother also mentioned that the Comyns have been active near Sinclair lands, trying to stir up trouble and recruit others to join their resistance against me.”
Garrick’s mood instantly darkened. Just as he had suspected, the Comyns wouldn’t go quietly. If they had already been moving through the Highlands trying to gain support against the Bruce and the rebellion, then the battle a week ago was only the beginning. Now the Bruce would have to worry about not only Edward II and his English army, but also the resistance of fellow Scotsmen who were allied with the English.
The Bruce was watching him closely. “Edward II’s role remains to be seen. Only time will tell if he will choose to take up the mantle of Hammer of the Scots from his father. But now we’ll need to devote ourselves to winning over our own countrymen,” he said, seeming to read Garrick’s thoughts. “An uphill battle, t
o be sure.”
Garrick raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘winning over’ you mean…”
The Bruce smiled ruefully. “As you well know, Garrick, we are gaining more support by the day. Yet if Laird Sinclair’s report is accurate, and I’m sure it is, our success is only galvanizing those who oppose us. It isn’t just the Comyns anymore. The MacDougalls and Argylls have sided with the Comyns, and the Southerlands and Rosses have only given me a temporary truce. Like many others, they are merely waiting to see who will emerge as the stronger force, and then ally themselves with the victor.”
Garrick ran a hand through his hair. “What do you propose?”
Knowing the Bruce, he would likely have already hatched some stratagem to both hold off the English and confront his Scottish opponents, either forcing them to join him or be met with his guerrilla army of rebels.
“We will continue to battle those who would oppose us within the country. This most recent battle against the Comyns will give them and others much to think about before they stand against us again,” the Bruce said, bringing his hand up to rub his bearded chin. “But we must also secure the Borderlands, both against the English and our Scottish enemies who would collude with them.”
“Isn’t James Douglas already doing just that?” Garrick asked. Douglas was one of the Bruce’s most trusted friends and allies. From what Garrick had heard, Douglas was currently making his way through the Borderlands, razing English-held castles and garrisons so they couldn’t be recaptured and used against the Scottish again.
The loss of heavily fortified castles that could potentially be held by the Scottish rebels was hard to swallow, but Garrick understood the Bruce’s motivations. Too often in this war for independence, the Scots would capture a castle or town, only to have the English recapture it, using their own structures against them.
The English couldn’t hold their location without a large fortress or castle in which to fortify themselves, but the Scottish rebels could. They were learning how to dissolve into the forests, hide in the heather, and take cover in the mountains. This was their home, after all. They would rebuild someday, once their freedom was secure, but for now, the rebels had to use their knowledge of the landscape, paired with the English army’s immobility and need for the protection of a castle, against their enemies.
“Aye, Douglas is making progress in the south,” the Bruce responded. “But he has only been tasked with destroying those castles and fortresses that could be recaptured and used against us. We need a holding of our own.”
This surprised Garrick, as it represented a shift in the Bruce’s tactics. Again, the Bruce seemed to anticipate his thoughts. “Douglas will continue on as before,” he said, “but we will need a base from which to operate if we are to recapture and destroy the more…impervious locations.”
Here the King’s eyes flickered to Jossalyn, trying to gage her reaction, but her brow was furrowed in confusion. Garrick tried to untangle the Bruce’s implied meaning. Then it dawned on him.
“You mean to destroy Dunbraes, and you need a base of operations nearby from which to attack it.”
“Aye.”
Jossalyn’s eyes widened slightly. Her lips parted as she tried to find words, but the only sound was a gust of breath as she exhaled. The Bruce remained silent, watching her closely.
Finally, Jossalyn was able to speak, though her words came haltingly. “I-I don’t know what to say. You are going to raze Dunbraes?”
“Aye, lass,” the Bruce said quietly. “It has been held by the English for years and has never fallen to Scottish attacks. It served Longshanks well as a holding and a launch-point for the English army. Strategically, we must capture it if we hope to stem the flow of English soldiers into the country. And it would be a moral victory for the rebellion as well.”
The Bruce paused for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully before going on. “Taking Dunbraes would also give us the opportunity to deal with your brother. He appears to have been forced to turn back in his search for you and has returned to the Borderlands. My scouts and messengers got word that there is no longer English movement in southwest Scotland, where you said he was hunting you. Raef Warren has brought much death and suffering to Scotland. We cannot simply ignore him. Though he has evaded us several times over the years, we will end this.”
Jossalyn nodded absently, her eyes drifting to the floor. Garrick watched as a barrage of emotions played out on her face. He saw her shame for her brother’s actions, her shock at the thought of her former home being destroyed, and also fear and sadness, likely for the people of the castle and village whom she had come to know and care for.
“We wish only to defeat your brother and the English army, lass,” the Bruce went on. “Our war is not against villagers and farmers. But this is warfare.”
She nodded again, blinking back the tears that had sprung into her eyes. The Bruce’s words seemed to reassure her slightly. “I wish your campaign well,” she said simply.
“Then you do not wish to make a case for your brother?” the Bruce asked carefully.
She didn’t hesitate. “No, I do not. He has brought much suffering into this world. I have managed to survive him, but I know all too well that others have not been so fortunate. He has earned his own fate.”
As she spoke, Garrick took her hand again. He stood in awe of her strength and fortitude. She had been through so much, and yet she still carried herself with grace and integrity.
“Very well, then. I appreciate your honesty, lass, and I give you my word to do right by the people of Dunbraes,” the Bruce said, a light of respect in his eyes.
“Thank you, sire—Robert.”
The Bruce turned back to Garrick. “The last piece of news from Laird Sinclair is regarding your younger brother. Apparently, he has been helping your uncle run his keep these past few years?”
“Aye. My uncle William has been ailing, and his son is but fifteen and unready to take over for his father. Daniel has been helping out in the training of young Will to prepare him to be a Laird.”
“How convenient,” the Bruce said, almost to himself.
“Dare I ask what plan you are hatching now?” Garrick said wryly.
The fire that the Bruce got in his eyes whenever he was strategizing flamed now. “You remember Loch Doon, don’t you?”
“Aye, of course.” When the Bruce and his men had been forced to flee the previous year, first to the western islands and then to Ireland, they had stopped for refuge at Loch Doon Castle for a brief time. It was the Bruce’s family holding. In fact, the Bruce had built the enormous eleven-sided curtain wall by hand with his father. Amazingly, they had built the entire holding on a small island in the middle of the loch. When Garrick had first seen it, he had been stunned by its beauty, then awed by its strategic location. It would be nearly impossible to siege, or even approach unseen. It was exactly the kind of castle that the Bruce would build and reside in.
“Then you’ll remember that it is in the western Lowlands, near the border, and also near Dunbraes.”
The Bruce’s plan began unfolding in Garrick’s mind. “So you hope to take Loch Doon Castle and use it as the base from which to attack Dunbraes.”
“Exactly. Though Loch Doon is mine by birthright, it is currently being held by Laird Gilbert Kennedy. I entrusted the castle to him when I began my campaign, but he was set upon by the English. He allied himself with them rather than have the castle destroyed in a siege, or so he claims.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I’m not sure what to make of the man. Now that we’ve defeated the English three times in the last year, he has sent me a missive proclaiming his unerring loyalty to me despite his formal alliance with the English. I trust him about as far as I can throw him,” the Bruce said, raising an eyebrow sardonically. “But I want Loch Doon back under my control—and in one piece.”
“So you won’t raze it like the other Borderland castles,” Garrick finished.
Jossalyn tapped her index finger against her lips as she, too, pieced together the Bruce’s plan. “But how do you expect to wrest it from this Gilbert Kennedy and hold it while you’re here?”
The Bruce smiled a little. “That is where the third Sinclair brother comes in,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’re sending Daniel?” Garrick realized that after the words were out, his shock sounded more like disapproval. He tried to temper his tone somewhat as he went on. “He’s certainly more than capable of running a castle. He surpassed me in our training to potentially become Laird, and he has handed down that training to our cousin Will. I suppose I’m just surprised that you would select him above all others, Robert.”
“The Sinclairs have stood with me from the beginning, despite the hardships they have endured because of it.” Though he didn’t name him, the Bruce was referring again to Raef Warren and the bloody and costly battle at Roslin he had brought to Sinclair lands.
“Both you and Laird Sinclair have done more than almost anyone else to help the cause. You have both risked your lives and done much for the rebellion, and for that I am grateful. I figured that the youngest Sinclair brother should have an opportunity to prove himself.” The Bruce quirked a smile, but then grew serious once more.
“In truth, I consider it a reward for your family’s loyal service. There is no one I can think of whom I trust more with my ancestral holding at Loch Doon than a Sinclair.”
Garrick’s chest swelled with pride at the Bruce’s words and at the honor that was being bestowed on his younger brother. He could think of no one better for the job of holding the castle against the English, keeping it running smoothly, and setting the stage for a siege against Dunbraes than Daniel.
“Oh, and there is one other reason I’m sending your brother,” the Bruce said, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes. “Laird Sinclair’s missive was in answer to my question regarding whether or not your younger brother is married.”
“He isn’t,” Garrick said cautiously, suddenly unsure again of what the Bruce was plotting.
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