The Battle for Duncragglin

by Andrew H. Vanderwal

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “Who's the fool now, m'Lord – the one who thinks one can travel to the origin of all thought, or the one who thinks one can travel to the origin of all time?”

  “Be careful who you call a fool, Fool!”

  “No offense intended, m'Lord,” the fool hastened to add. “I, too, have come from a time that has yet to happen.”

  “Don't ye mock me.” Hesselrigge pointed at him. “And hold that tongue of yours if ye wish to see the morrow.”

  A loud rap sounded on the door, and a man burst into the room, clad in an elegant tunic.

  “My good knight, Sir James Barr!” Hesselrigge exclaimed. “What brings ye here?”

  “My apologies for troubling Your Lordship, but word is in from our spies in the countryside,” Sir James announced breathlessly. “William Wallace is planning an assault on the men being sent here by King Edward to help us put down the uprising. The men are but a few hours' ride from here and are headed straight into a trap.”

  “So, the ones who are to help us need our help?” Hesselrigge sneered. “What help is that?”

  “King Edward would be most displeased if his men did not so much as make it here, m'Lord,” Sir James replied. “There is also the matter of the weaponry they bring: good quantities of bows, arrows, spears, shields, armor…. It would no be good for it all to fall into Wallace's hands, m'Lord.”

  “Bah, what idiots!” Hesselrigge roared. “Wallace will gain those weapons at a price. I'm sure King Edward's men will fight back long and hard.”

  “The ambush they ride into will leave them defenseless, m'Lord. It is the Falloch Pass in the Strathlomorand Ridge.”

  “Can we not ambush the ambushers?” Rorie asked suddenly.

  Hesselrigge rubbed his chin. “To ambush King Edward's men at the Falloch Pass, Wallace's men would need to climb Grenochy, would they no? What if a company of our men was already there, lying in wait for them?”

  Rorie smiled. “Excellent idea, m'Lord. They would be caught by surprise and would be at the disadvantage of being downhill from our men. Those who survive would be driven right into the waiting arms of King Edward's men, who would slaughter each and every one.”

  “William Wallace may be among the fallen!” Hesselrigge pounded his fist into his palm. “Nae, he must be among the fallen. James! Take two companies of men under Captains Killenden and Aimsworth and execute this plan.”

  “Two companies?” Sir James recoiled. “Should we leave the castle so poorly manned, m'Lord?”

  “To withstand an attack, this castle needs no more than a handful of men,” Hesselrigge replied. “Tell our spies to be on alert for an assault. Should they learn one is imminent, have your two companies surprise the attackers from the rear. Either way, we get them! Ride out quickly now, while there's still time. A promotion and a bag of silver awaits the man who brings me William Wallace's head.”

  Knight James Barr was not a man to waste time. He bowed quickly and strode from the room. Rorie instructed two of his three henchmen to put extra patrols on the battlements.

  “Now, where were we?” Hesselrigge asked as the door closed behind the departing men. His eyes traveled slowly around the room before fixing upon Alex. “Ah, yes,” he said softly. “We were about to get started.”

  22

  INTERROGATION

  “But, you were not with the antique dealer….” Alex tried to make sense of it all. His head hurt. The flame of a lantern blew low, as if caught in a breeze – or starved for oxygen. Shadows flickered across the heavy oak rack.

  “Think again,” Hesselrigge snapped. “Who was with the antique dealer?”

  “Only his son, the boy who tried to take away a board I'd found. Grant, I think his name was.”

  “Ah, yes, the board … now we're getting somewhere the board with the carving of the bird, the instructions on how to enter the time chamber; the board ye left on the rocks pointing the way into the caves….”

  “How … how do you know all this?”

  “Why would ye presume that everyone who enters the time chamber comes out at the same earlier time? What would happen if someone went slightly farther back?”

  A sudden far-fetched thought reached Alex. He looked at Hesselrigge, straining to see a likeness. “Grant?” he asked uncertainly.

  “The same.” Hesselrigge nodded grimly. “I went through hell after ye laid that trap. My father died a slow death because of those caves. He didn't die of hunger or thirst, although we had nothing to eat or drink for days. Worst of all, he died of madness, being lost in such suffocating darkness. Let me give ye an indication of what it was like.” Hesselrigge bent toward Alex, narrowing his eyes. “Our torches died after only a few hours, leaving us with just matches to see where we were going. My father had trouble breathing and started hearing people laughing – jeering and mocking him. He clutched at me and held me as a shield, but even that didn't help. He stumbled blindly into one cave after another and tried to claw his way through a wall. He even wrote pleas for help in his own blood….”

  Hesselrigge's eyes burned with a deep hatred. “We finally found a way out – alive, but barely so. But escaping the caves didn't help him. He kept shouting gibberish and ranting about demons and ghosts coming to get him. He died a few days later, clutching his covers and staring into nothing.

  “Thirty years!” Hesselrigge shouted, his fists clenched. “Thirty years I have lived here, rising to positions of ever greater power, all the while keeping a lookout for the one responsible for destroying my past life, the one responsible for my father's death. I knew ye might head into the caves. I knew ye might find that time chamber … and now here ye are – barely days older than when I saw ye last. A whole life yet to live – or not!”

  Hesselrigge leaned in close enough for Alex to feel the spray of his spit. “For what is to come,” he hissed, “ye can thank yourself.”

  Alex shrank back. “You can't seriously be blaming me for what happened … I didn't leave the board as a trap! It was so we could find our way back.”

  “Bah, do ye really expect me to believe that?” Hesselrigge spat bitterly. “My father was convinced we were onto something, that the caves would contain some treasures or antiques we could sell. Ye must've known that board and those directions would lure us in … well, congratulate yourself: it worked! Here I am. However, I've made a new life for myself after all these years. But ye will no likely be able to say the same.”

  “Why didn't you go back – forward, I mean – in time? You could have gone back to find your father, to help him before it was too late –”

  Hesselrigge cut Alex off. “Haven't ye figured it out yet? The time chamber goes only one way.”

  “There's no way forward? There's no way back to the time we came from?”

  “Oh, there's a way forward alright, doing what we're doing right now, moving forward through time one second at a time. Your bones will make it back – that is, if I don't feed them to the castle dogs.” Hesselrigge threw back his head and laughed. “But not making it back is the least of your worries. Ye'll be lucky to see another day. The only reason you're not dead now is because I want to savor the moment.”

  “What do you want from me?” Alex rasped, his throat so dry, he could barely speak.

  “Want? What do ye want from me?” Hesselrigge mocked. “For ye not to have laid that nasty trap is what I want – but enough of that. Let's stay with the present and the matters at hand, shall we? I want ye to tell me about that scoundrel William Wallace and his band of brigands. Let's start with their numbers and arms. I may know something of his plans already, but that Wallace is a crafty villain who's won too many a battle to be underestimated. So start talking – what is Wallace up to?”

  Alex sealed his lips.

  “It is as I thought, and even, as I prefer. We shall do this the hard way.” Hesselrigge nudged Rorie. “Who shall we strap in the rack first – him or one of his friends? Which will make him talk the fastes
t – his own pain or that of a friend?”

  “I would say his own, m'Lord.” A gleeful smile appeared on Rorie's face.

  “Of course ye would,” Hesselrigge said disdainfully. “That is how it would work with your own self, is it no? Not a word would pass your lips while your friends were being pulled apart on this thing, but as soon as ye were strapped down –”

  “M'Lord! Ye do me an injustice!”

  “Do I?” Hesselrigge stroked his chin. “Hmm, very well then.” He pointed to Alex. “Strap him to the rack.”

  The stable master stepped up smartly. “Right away, Sire.” He pulled Alex forward by his chain. Alex frantically pulled back.

  The stable master thrust Alex's chain into the hands of one of Hesselrigge's guards. “Here, hold this while I pin him to the rack.”

  Hesselrigge's guard dutifully took hold of the chain. The stable master reached down, grasped the hilt of the guard's sword, and removed it in one deft motion.

  “What the –” The guard's shout was cut off by a blow from his own sword. He dropped the chain, staggered backwards, and fell to his knees. He held his throat with both hands, blood spurting between his fingers as he gasped for air.

  Don-Dun instantly ran his sword through the middle of Rorie's one remaining guard, leaving the shocked man impaled and tottering. Don-Dun spun, pulled a dagger from his belt, and knocked Hesselrigge's last guard to the ground. The fallen guard flailed.

  The stable master lunged with his sword for Rorie, but Rorie's sword flashed out and parried it neatly. Rorie's follow-up slice passed under the stable master's sword and would have hit the stable master had he not leapt back in time.

  The stable master's sword-fighting ability, though impressive, was not up to the level of a seasoned professional like Rorie. The stable master retreated, jumping back to avoid another sweeping slice of Rorie's sword. His heel caught an uneven edge of flagstone and he fell backwards. He rolled quickly, Rorie's sword clanging hard against the stone floor right where he had been.

  The next swing would have been the end of the stable master, but Alex swung the loose chain still manacled to his wrist and it wrapped over Rorie's shoulder. Momentarily unbalanced, Rorie missed. Again, his sword sparked off a flagstone.

  The stable master lunged, sticking his sword directly into Rorie's gut. He gave an extrahard twist and pulled out the bloodied blade. Too late, he saw Rorie's weakened-but-still-forceful swing heading for him. The sword crashed into his upper arm, causing him to spin and fall to the ground.

  Rorie staggered uncertainly, his hand over his lower abdomen. Gasping in heavy rasps, flecks of bright red blood bubbling about his lips, Rorie looked down in dis belief. His eyes turned to Alex. Grabbing the part of Alex's chain that was still wrapped around his body, he yanked, pulling Alex closer. He took a few unsteady steps forward, raising his sword. Don-Dun's sword swept up to intercept. The crashing impact jolted the sword from Rorie's grip. Rorie staggered backwards and clasped a heavy rope that hung against a wall. He clung on to the rope until his knees gave out, then fell heavily, face-first, onto the flagstones.

  “No, ye do not!” roared Don-Dun. “Get over to the wall. Now, move.”

  Hesselrigge slowly backed away. “Ye will pay for this with your life!” he hissed.

  Don-Dun slammed the butt end of his sword into Hesselrigge's belly. Hesselrigge let out an oof and doubled over, eyes bulging.

  “Don't ye threaten me! I'm done with people threatening me!” Don-Dun roughly raised Hesselrigge's arms and shackled them to the wall.

  Alex looked in horror upon the carnage all around him: Rorie, the guards, dark splotches of blood on tunics, the stone floor … a neck sliced open. He averted his eyes.

  The stable master clutched his injured arm as the fool helped him to his feet. “It's not deep,” he said, straining to see the gash in the back of his arm. “The coat of mail must've stopped most of it.”

  The fool ripped the sleeve off Rorie's shirt and wrapped it around the stable master's arm, tying it tightly. Blood was already showing through the cloth.

  “Good thing it's not my sword arm,” the stable master said airily. He fumbled with a pouch on his belt and pulled out a key. “Here, Alex.” He tossed it.

  Alex caught the key and unlocked his wrist manacle. He pried the hinged irons open and the chain clattered to the ground.

  A loud rap sounded on the door.

  “One sound and ye're a dead man.” Don-Dun growled at Hesselrigge. He joined the stable master in position, sword up and ready, on either side of the opening door.

  To Alex's shock, it was Annie and Katie who appeared first, both bound by a coarse rope about their necks. They staggered into the room, shoved roughly by a surly guard.

  “It's a trap – run!” Hesselrigge roared. “Run, you fool! Go! Helmmmmmph –”

  Hesselrigge's shouts were abruptly muffled by the fool, who struggled to stuff a dirty rag into his mouth.

  The guard managed to draw and swing his sword. The stable master deflected the blow with his sword, while Don-Dun ran him through. Together, they grabbed the sagging guard and pulled him into the room. Don-Dun kicked the door shut, and they dumped him into a corner.

  “They got you too,” Annie said to Alex in dismay.

  “Don't worry, we're with friends – we're all going to escape.” Alex quickly untied the ropes from their necks. Katie was shaking badly, her eyes dull and unfocused.

  “What is it, Katie?” he asked.

  Katie's voice was barely above a whisper, but she managed a weak smile. “Och, I'm a wee bit cold, that's all. It's so great to see ye again.” Shivers ran through her as she spoke.

  “A blanket!” Alex called out. “Is there a blanket somewhere?”

  The fool tossed over Hesselrigge's fur-trimmed blue cloak. Alex wrapped it around Katie several times.

  The fool then knotted a torn cloth about Hesselrigge's head to keep him from spitting the rag from his mouth. “Who's the fool now, eh?” he said calmly.

  “Damn! It's as I feared.” The stable master held up the end of the rope that Rorie had clung to before falling. “A bell rope! It travels up through that small hole to the higher levels. I suspect it rings a bell in the guardroom. That was why Rorie hung onto it so desperately. No doubt, guards will be on their way as we speak. Let us be off!”

  Don-Dun reached for the door, but before his hand touched the handle, it burst open. Everyone jumped back in panic. Don-Dun and the stable master scrambled to draw their swords. It was Duncan.

  A fierce scowl spreading over his face, Don-Dun lowered his sword. “Can ye no knock and announce your presence?”

  Duncan looked at Don-Dun in astonishment, his mouth open but not uttering a sound. He held out his bloodstained hands in horror.

  The stable master shook him by the shoulders. “Snap out of it, man. Where's the kitchen master?”

  “Dead.” Duncan looked down at his hands as if wondering whose they were. “I had to … I had no choice … he tried to take the dagger from me….” Duncan paused. With a look of growing disbelief, he stared at all the dead bodies sprawled across the floor. “What on earth has happened here?”

  “We killed them – that's what ye do in a battle,” the stable master snapped. “So, where's your dagger?”

  “I left it in him … oh, it was horrible. I couldn't pull it back out…. He kept breathing and twitching for the longest time…. I've never killed anyone before….”

  The stable master snorted. “So he did take your dagger?”

  “Duncan?” Annie looked out from behind Don-Dun. “Is that truly you?”

  “Annie!” Duncan's face broke into a big grin. “I came to find ye, lassie. I came with the professor here to bring ye back to your dad. He's beside himself with worry.”

  “Come, we haven't got all day.” The stable master stood impatiently holding the door. “Guards will be along any minute – we must be off.”

  “But, we've got to find Willie, Annie's brother,” A
lex said. “He's still in one of the cells somewhere!”

  The stable master rolled his eyes. “Not another. This is getting to be so very difficult!” He sighed. “Alright, let's go.”

  They hurried out of the room, leaving Hesselrigge chained to the wall. They passed row upon row of barred cells.

  “Willie … Willie,” Annie called out softly. Haggard captives stared back, looking remarkably similar with their gaunt gray faces and patchy thin hair.

  Don-Dun held up a hand. “Listen.”

  They paused, holding their breaths. They could hear the distant screeching of the gate and the faint murmur of voices.

  “That would be them!” The stable master waved for everyone to follow him. “We'll wait in here until the guards pass.” He ducked into a large empty cell and promptly fell headlong over an obstacle. Landing on his injured arm, he grunted with pain.

  The dark mound he had tripped over had a dagger protruding from its side and wore a leather apron. The stable master got to his feet and yanked out the dagger. He flicked both sides of its blade onto the body's tunic and held it out, handle first, to Duncan. “Ye may need this again.”

  Swaying unsteadily, Duncan just stared at it.

  “Come on, man, the guards are on their way.” Sweat shone on the stable master's face. “Would ye rather they take Annie and Alex back to the rack room?”

  Duncan's hand was shaking, but he took the dagger. He clenched it tightly, as if trying to squeeze the life from it.

  The stable master grabbed the kitchen master's foot and unceremoniously slid him aside. Alex felt a stickiness under his feet. Don-Dun and the stable master positioned themselves nearest the main passage, backs pressed against the wall, swords drawn. They watched for the guards.

  Annie clutched the stable master's arm. “When we find Willie, can we release the other captives too?”

  “Don't be ridiculous!” the stable master snapped. “We'll be lucky to find your brother.”

  “But we can't just leave them.” Annie was in tears. “It's horrible in those cells, all cold and wet, with no room to move…. It's not as if they're bad people; they're just people who couldn't pay their taxes and things like that. They'll die if we don't get them out!”