by Carmen Caine
The two horsemen were the king and his favorite, Thomas Cochrane.
Julian’s lip curled in disgust.
King James rode a splendid roan with crimson ribbons plaited in its mane. Swathed in a fine ermine-trimmed mantle and wearing boots adorned with silver braid, the monarch looked frail and nervous as he surveyed the clans gathered before him.
But, at his side, the long-faced Thomas Cochrane sat proud, and with a smug smile, swept aside his black-velvet cloak bedecked with precious stones to reveal a silver hunting horn overlaid with gold.
“Aye, James and Thomas bring three hundred while Cameron can summon fifty thousand,” Douglas growled at Julian’s side.
“And just whom are we here to fight?” Julian spat in reply. “I think ye just might know the army, intimately!”
Douglas’ jaw clamped. “You may not understand it, lad, but what I’ve done is for the good of Scotland herself!”
“Burning her villages is for the good of her, aye?” Julian rejoined sarcastically. Nodding toward Thomas Cochrane, he added, “There are other ways to fight the likes of him.”
They watched Thomas dismount and smooth his trimmed, sleek beard. And then his nasal voice could be heard giving the soldiers orders to raise the king’s tent alongside his own.
Still hushed, the Scottish army of clans watched as Thomas’ silken tent was brought forth and raised with cords entwined with silk and gold. And as a matching tent for the king was raised—only slightly larger than Thomas’ own—another small party of silk-clad men arrived.
Julian turned away in disgust as he recognized the king’s other favorites. Among them were his rumored former lovers, the English musician, Roger, and Torfifan the fencing-master. Clearly, these men cared only for pomp and prestige and nothing for the suffering of the honest folk whom they’d plundered to dress themselves in such finery.
“Aye, let’s speak with Cameron,” Douglas muttered at his side.
But, as they made their way to Cameron, rumors began to circle amongst the gathered men, rumors that the king had placed Thomas Cochrane in charge of the cannons after all. And by the time they found Cameron standing before the Lauder Kirk, an old stone building covered in vines, he was surrounded by furious nobles.
“The king was to stay in Edinburgh!” one of them was shouting.
“Along with the treacherous vermin crawling around him!” cursed another.
Catching ahold of Cameron’s arm, Douglas demanded, “Can this be true? Has the king truly placed a mere mason in command of the artillery?” He was so outraged that he’d apparently forgotten his own treachery.
Raising a cool brow, Cameron pointed toward the stone kirk. “Let us gather within to discuss these matters, for the defense of our country is at stake.”
His calm order had the desired effect, and falling silent, the men obediently filed into the building.
Joining them, Julian cast a backward glance to where James and Thomas spoke with Roger and Torfifan. ‘Twas hard to fathom. Even now, the king surrounded himself with lowborn favorites and focused more on matters of love than the protection of his own country.
Drawing his lips in a line of disgust, Julian ducked into the kirk and closed the wide wooden doors behind him.
As soon as the heavy doors shut, the nobles burst into heated conversation.
For the most part, Julian ignored them, he was fair exhausted.
Propping his booted feet upon a pew, he leaned back and closed his eyes for a time, but as the minutes passed, their repetitive bickering grated on his nerves.
At a sudden lull in the debate, he gave a dry laugh. “Ach, the lot of ye are like the mice in The Tale of the Mice and Cat!” he observed in a derisive tone. “Aye, and the king is nothing but a royal mouse manipulated by the cat, played, of course, by Thomas Cochrane!”
Several of the nobles drew back in insult, but Cameron asked calmly, “And what tale is this, Julian?”
Slowly, Julian sat up to dangle his arms over the back of the pew. “’Tis the one of the mice who met in secret to plan how they would defend themselves against their great enemy, the cat.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Cameron smile as the rest of the lords waited for him to continue.
“Aye, they could never win against the beastie,” Julian continued, thinking the gathered lords before him did indeed have much in common with mice. “The cat prowled so quietly on its paws that once they knew ‘twas there, they’d no time left to run away. Finally, they agreed a bell must be hung upon the cat’s neck to warn them sooner of its approach.”
“And?” Douglas pressed when Julian paused again.
“They failed, and all were eventually killed,” Julian replied sarcastically. “But only because they couldna ever find a mouse courageous enough to fasten the bell.”
There was a stilted silence.
And then Douglas leapt to his feet, and pulling his sword from its sheath, roared, “Aye, I’ll bell the cat!”
Several nobles cheered enthusiastically. Julian rolled his eyes. How could the man forget his own treason so quickly?
But then the massive doors of the kirk creaked open.
“Who goes there?” Cameron called out as they all leaned back to look.
“’Tis I, the Earl of Mar,” came Thomas Cochrane’s nasal reply. Kicking one of the doors back in a gesture of great authority, he stepped inside the kirk.
He’d taken the time to change his clothing and now donned a blue-feathered hat and mantle of crimson satin embroidered with pearls enough for a king. And about his neck, he once again wore the broad gold chain that some claimed was a lover’s gift from James himself.
In less than an instant, Douglas had seized the man, and reaching over, he ripped the gold chain off of Thomas’ neck. “A rope will become yer neck better, ye fool!”
“What is this?!” Thomas’ mouth, at first smiling, suddenly twisted, and his eyes blazed in anger.
“Ye’ve saved us the trouble of seeking ye!” Douglas cried, shoving him forward into the circle of nobles. And snatching the silver hunting horn hanging from the man’s belt, he added, “Ye’ve been the hunter of mischief long enough!"
But Thomas was not easily intimidated. He brushed his sleeves and peered at the men in astonishment. “What cause have ye to subject me to such rough usage? Is this a jest?"
And then Cameron rose slowly to his feet, and the others fell silent.
“This is in good earnest,” Cameron answered in a low voice, and his face was fierce and stern. “Your time is at an end. Now, ye shall receive the reward for your misdeeds. Aye, and ye’ll pay for spilling the blood of Mar and for the pain ye’ve caused many, among them, my own wee Kate.”
At the mention of her name, Thomas paled, and a flicker of genuine fear entered his eyes. Falling down on his knees before Cameron, he raised a pleading hand, and his voice took on a wheedling tone. “Save me! Ye are a kind, just lord! I see that now! Forgive—”
But Cameron cut him short in an even, deadly tone. “Ye are little but a thief, murderer, and traitor. And I’ll see your name erased from history!” Raising an elegant hand, he ordered, “Bind the man! He’ll be taken to Edinburgh to stand trial for his crimes against the people. They have suffered enough in order to fit him into robes made for kings.”
“Aye,” the nobles muttered in agreement.
“Nay! Let us finish this now!” Douglas disagreed with a shout.
The bitterly angry tone in his voice made Julian suddenly wary.
“’Tis time for justice!” Douglas insisted. Grabbing Thomas by the throat, he bodily lifted the man to his feet. “I’ll wait no longer! I’ll see ye hang this night! Ye and the king’s other favorites! Ye’ve stolen from the people of this land for too long!”
As the other nobles took up the cry, Douglas seized Thomas and began to drag him out of the kirk.
“Hold!” Cameron cried. “We’ll have our justice, Douglas. We’ll take him to Edinburgh forthwith!”
&nb
sp; But his words were lost as the other nobles took up Douglas’ words to chant, “Hang him! Hang him on the bridge!”
And then, as Thomas was dragged screaming through the camp towards Lauder Bridge, madness ensued.
Cameron and Julian fought to calm the nobles, but it was too late. They could do little but follow the men as anger raged through the gathered clans and into the nearby village like a wildfire.
They had nearly reached the bridge when a few of the villagers gathered to pelt Thomas with spoiled vegetables and small stones.
“No more Cochrane Plack!” they cried.
“Then, if I must be hanged, hang me with a silken cord from off my tent, as a man of my station deserves!” Thomas Cochrane screamed in a thin, wavering voice that betrayed his fear. “I canna perish like a common thief!”
“Ye deserve no better than a rope of the roughest kind!” Douglas roared in response, the vein on his temple pulsing.
“Aye!” another man cried. “I’ve a rope of horse hair for the likes of ye!”
“Ye canna hang me as a thief!” Thomas wailed. “I’m untouchable! Ye canna do this!”
“There’s not a man who is untouchable!” Douglas cried, and the men about him roared in agreement.
“Save me!” Thomas screamed a high-pitched sound. And then his thin pale eyebrows arched in disbelief as a man stepped forward to place a rough noose about his neck.
Julian watched grimly. It was hard to watch, but it was justice. The man had murdered more than one innocent man and had ravaged the land for his own gain. Aye, it was fair payment for Mar’s death alone. Finally, the king’s youngest brother would see his murder avenged.
It was then that Julian heard Cameron’s quiet words for Thomas. "For the pain ye caused mine, and the harm ye've done to my country, I'll not be saving your worthless head, Thomas Cochrane. I warned ye. Aye, ‘tis justice for Mar and for the people of Scotland.”
He didn’t mention Kate’s suffering, but Julian knew it was ever-present in his mind.
And then the rope drew tight, and Thomas Cochrane’s scream ended abruptly as he was thrown over the bridge.
There was a moment of silence
“May God have mercy on your soul,” Cameron murmured. “For I cannot.”
And then a mighty roar rippled through the gathered clans. But as the sounds grew louder, an even deeper madness seized them as they began to chant, “Hang them all! All of the king’s favorites! Hang them all!”
At that, Cameron and Julian exchanged looks of alarm.
There was no controlling the men surging to where the king’s tent had been newly erected.
Julian and Cameron shoved their way forward but could only see glimpses of the king as he stood behind a fine wooden table laden with silver platters of delicacies. Beside him hovered Roger, the English musician, and Torfifan, the fencing-master, clutching bottles of wine and half-eaten tarts.
“What is the meaning … of this…” The king’s voice started strong but ended in a nervous sputter. Even he could not fail to read the vengeance in the eyes of the men confronting him.
“Why do the royal Stewarts believe so fully that they are immune to danger?” Douglas asked incredulously, pushing his way to the forefront.
The crowd burst into laughter, drowning any words that might have been said in response.
The vein on Douglas’ temple throbbed yet again as he shouted, “Have ye not seen who is even now swinging from Lauder Bridge?”
The king went deadly white.
And then the men surged forward, grabbing Roger and Torfifan and pulling them from the tent, all the while ignoring Cameron’s direct orders to stand down. As the crowd swept back towards Lauder Bridge, the king found Cameron and desperately clawed his sleeve.
“Stop them, Cameron! We command ye to stop them!” the king begged.
But there was no one who could stop the madness that had seized them.
“I command ye!” the king was shouting, and then he abruptly fell silent as his gaze riveted upon Thomas Cochrane’s body still twitching in its death throes on the rope suspended from the bridge.
It was a gruesome sight. And in minutes, Roger and Torfifan had joined the mason.
But as several more of the king’s favorites were bound and gagged, and ropes were being fitted over their necks, Cameron once again raised his voice, commanding the men to stop.
But still, his call went unheeded.
“Douglas is caught in a bloodlust,” Cameron said through thinned lips as he desperately pushed through the crowd in an attempt to reach the red-headed earl. “’Tis not the way it should be done! This madness must stop!”
Shoving the man in front of him aside, Julian unsheathed his dirk, and taking careful aim, launched it towards the red-headed earl.
As it grazed the man’s cheek, he whirled angrily in their direction.
“There will be no more killing this day!” Cameron’s strong voice thundered.
And then Ewan appeared with Ruan MacLeod at his side, and giving a great cry, they raised their swords to beat them against their shields. And as every highlander followed suit, the rhythmic sound of metal clashing upon metal caught the attention of all, until finally it was the only sound that could be heard.
Then Ewan raised his arm, and the beating stopped.
Thanking him with a gracious nod, Cameron’s powerful voice rang out in the ensuing silence. “What great folly is this? Are we no better than the English? The time for killing cowards is done! Now is the time to defend our country. Make ready! We ride to Edinburgh at once!”
By his side, the king gasped and repeated, “Ride to Edinburgh? We’ve given no such orders!”
But Cameron’s face was impassive. Turning to his cousin, he replied, “Ye no longer have the right to give orders, James.”
The king blanched and then clutched his heart. "It was prophesied that the Lion of Scotland would be devoured by its own whelps!” he whispered through white lips. "Ye haven’t the right to subvert the divine right of kingship given by God himself! Ye didn't make us King!"
There was a pregnant pause. One in which every eye turned to Cameron as a slow, scathing smile formed on his lips.
"Aye, I didn’t make ye king, James!” he agreed in a lethal tone. “But I’ve kept ye king. Never forget that! For now, ye’ll be my prisoner, and we ride for Edinburgh afore ye and Albany drown our fair land in rivers of blood!”
Julian glanced up in surprise and voiced the question in everyone’s mind. “But the English?”
“Aye, I dinna fear the English. Gloucester dinna bring the resources to besiege the castle,” Cameron stated calmly. “And after hearing the doings of this night, even Gloucester himself will believe that we want Albany as king. They’ll come running to Edinburgh with haste to put him on the throne. ‘Tis a far better trap then the one that I’d planned.”
“But we outnumber them now, aye?” Douglas pointed out. “Let’s take the fight to them and kill them all!”
Both Julian and Cameron looked upon him with raised brows.
It took the earl a moment to recall the reason for their response. “Ach, what I’ve done, I’ve only done for Scotland!” he swore, pounding his fist in his hand. “And now that Cochrane and his kind are dead and the king in our hand, I belong here, lad, ye know it!”
Cameron eyed him with disdain. “Then bring Albany to Edinburgh and bring him right quickly!” And then raising his hand, he issued a crisp order, “Bind the king. He’ll walk to the village as penance for the neglect of his own country.”
The king balked.
But the gathered clans appeared pleased by this, and as Douglas grabbed a length of rope to tie the king’s hands, they roared in approval.
With the look of a hunted animal, the king fell into step behind them as they lead him into the darkness, through the dale and into the village of Channelkirk.
And as the villagers carrying torches lined the road to watch the bound king stumble past, a mule with a
worn leather saddle was brought to carry him back to Edinburgh.
No one spoke as the king slowly mounted.
Chapter Thirteen – Lady Gray
Julian yawned and stretched, glad to be back in his chamber in Edinburgh Castle once again. With the king now a prisoner, the nobles were in an uproar. Not because they wished to free James. Nay, quite the opposite. Most were seeking his head on a pike.
Aye, Cameron had his hands full. ‘Twould be a miracle if he avoided a war between the angered clans calling for blood.
Yawning again, he wandered to the window.
‘Twas time to hunt down the MacLeans for any tidings of Liselle’s whereabouts. He’d spent far too much time worrying about the wee devil. And even though his mind calmly informed him that she was a highly skilled and trained assassin, his heart refused to listen.
A clatter of hooves sounded outside, breaking into his thoughts. Cocking a brow, he leaned out the window to see a messenger clad in the livery of the House of York, surrounded by Scottish royal guards.
Watching as the man was led away towards the royal apartments, Julian threw on his plaid and left his chamber.
Unable to find Ewan or his men for news of Liselle, he headed across the inner cobblestoned courtyard towards Cameron’s section of the royal apartments to sate his curiosity over the content of the Yorkist message.
The afternoon sun was overly warm, and the shutters of the windows along the passageway were thrown open wide to catch any hint of a cool breeze. Undoing a button of his collar, he ran up the steps two at a time and knocked with a quick rap on Cameron’s door.
It opened almost immediately.
A bright-eyed lassie with amber ringlets and apple cheeks peered up at him. “Come in, my lord!” the child invited with a curtsey.
Julian hesitated as the squealing sound of more children met his ears. He winced and moved back. Opening his mouth, he prepared to excuse himself, but alas, he was too late.