The Battle for Duncragglin

by Andrew H. Vanderwal

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. There was not much left of Hesselrigge's forces when we rode in here. Between that terror of a man fighting the soldiers in the blockhouse and the mob rioting at the gates, ye just might have won regardless.”

  “Is Don-Dun alright?” Alex held his breath.

  “That man ye left in the blockhouse?” Sir Ellerslie laughed. “Aye, alright he is. It's a good thing he was not more successful, or there would have been no one left in the castle to fool into lowering the drawbridge for us.”

  Alex clung to the saddle as Sir Ellerslie maneuvered his horse around a boisterous knot of revelers. “How did you avoid Sir James's trap?” he asked.

  Sir Ellerslie chuckled. “That was easy because it was our trap all along. First, we planted word with men we knew to be Hesselrigge's spies that we would attack King Edward's men. That was a ruse to draw Hesselrigge's men out of the castle. It worked brilliantly. We could scarcely believe it when Sir James rode out with two companies.

  “We engaged them on our terms. It was a tough battle, make no mistake, but they had nary a chance. In the midst of the fight, Wallace rode right into the fray and slew Sir James with that big sword of his – took his head right off with one swing.”

  “One swing?” Alex echoed incredulously.

  “Well, maybe it took a second to completely finish the job. Holding up the head of the enemy commander does wonders for morale. Then he took Sir James's armor and the horses of his commanders, left us to battle King Edward's most ill-prepared men, and rode out to the castle to fool his way in under the guise of being Sir James. Brilliant, isn't it? Sir James's men defeated, King Edward's men defeated, and Hesselrigge's castle taken, all in a matter of a few hours. Wallace is truly a master strategist.”

  As they were crossing the drawbridge, Alex asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To see William Wallace.”

  They dismounted in the very room that the stable master and Don-Dun had killed the two soldiers. Alex followed Sir Ellerslie up long stairways. They came out on the blockhouse rooftop battlements.

  From this height, the tall perimeter walls looked small and insignificant. Waves crashing against the rocks, far below, made Alex think back to the picnic they had at the ruins with Mr. McRae. Everything seemed so much simpler then.

  William Wallace stood casually among a group of men, one foot up on the crenulated wall. Upon Alex's approach, he leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knee.

  “So here is our young warrior – one who comes from nowhere and sets out to take on a ruthless tyrant single-handedly.” Wallace clapped his big hand on Alex's shoulder. “Truly remarkable! Ye have surprised us all … but tell me now, and truthfully, who is Alex Macpherson?”

  Alex hesitated, feeling many eyes on him. “Can I speak with you privately, sir?”

  William Wallace nodded. The men about him took their cue and left. He motioned for Sir Ellerslie to stay.

  Alex wondered where to begin. He took a deep breath. Wallace and Sir Ellerslie stood impassively, their faces betraying no surprise or dis belief as he told them about the time chamber, about how he was searching for his missing parents, and how he had come from a time far in the future. Only when Alex came to the point of telling how a learned man, a professor, had also come from his time did Wallace react. He waved for one of his men, a commander waiting at a respectful distance, and directed him to have the professor found and brought to him.

  Alex continued his story, telling them how Hesselrigge, too, came from the future.

  Wallace squinted. “This is the strangest tale I've ever been expected to believe. Should it be true, it explains much, but leaves more that I suspect will never be explained – or if it were, I suspect we would not fathom it.”

  Men arrived to report to Wallace and receive instructions. Alex learned that those held in the dungeons were being released, although Wallace first wanted to know who they were, in the event there was someone of importance who either should not be released or, upon release, should be treated in some special manner. Preparations were underway in the kitchens to give them their first decent meal in a long time.

  Alex also learned that, although Hesselrigge's soldiers were still locked in the dungeon where he had left them, there was no sign of Hesselrigge himself. The soldiers had freed Hesselrigge by prying loose his chains from the wall, but could not account for where he might be.

  On hearing this, Wallace thumped his fist on the stone wall. Through gritted teeth, he ordered his men to go back into the dungeons straightaway to search them thoroughly.

  On the rooftop the professor appeared, accompanied by the commander who'd been sent to get him. The professor approached hesitantly.

  “I-I'm pleased to meet ye, Sire.” He bobbed his head awkwardly.

  “I've been told ye are both Hesselrigge's loyal fool and a learned man from a far distant time.” Wallace watched him warily. “Which is it?”

  “Both,” the professor said, “although you can leave out the part about being loyal. Hard as it might be to believe, I have, indeed, come from a future time. Thomas Macintyre is my name. My reckless foray into the past has largely come about as a result of my endeavors to find the whereabouts of some missing persons, several of whom I believe you know.”

  “This tale is so unbelievable, I'm still inclined to think of ye as naught but Hesselrigge's fool. Certainly, if I repeat any part of this tale to anyone, I will be taken as the fool; but, for the sake of amusement, pray tell what ye planned to do upon finding the missing persons.”

  “Return them, Sire.” The professor spoke without hesitation. “Return them to the people they have left behind, the people who love them and miss them terribly.”

  “Will ye take Hesselrigge back also, back to people who love him and miss him terribly?”

  “I doubt that there are any, even in our time. Also, were we to take him back, he will be a man who has committed no crime for which he could be tried. He would walk free.”

  “I say we try him now,” Sir Ellerslie said. “I suspect we know the outcome.”

  “Aye, I'm with ye there.” Wallace broke into a rare smile. “But we have to find him first. From last reports, he has somehow managed to elude capture in the dungeons.”

  “The caves!” The professor was agitated. “He might have found his way into the caves. We must stop him!”

  “There is nowhere he can go that we cannae find him.” Wallace's voice was calm and measured. “We control the castle and the entire countryside for more than a day's ride.”

  “No, the time chamber!” The professor's distress was growing. “He might escape through time. God knows what horrors he may inflict upon mankind and all our histories if he succeeds! Lend me some men, and I'll go after him. I may be able to find the way into the caves.”

  “I'll go,” Sir Ellerslie said. “I'd be delighted to have a shot at him.”

  “Take a couple of men with ye, in case Hesselrigge's not alone,” Wallace said. “I cannae afford to lose ye. Once we're done here, I'll need ye to run this castle and raise an army from the willing Scots living on these lands.”

  “I'm coming too,” Alex declared.

  Wallace raised his hand. “Thomas, one last question. Ye are a scholar of what is to be, a prophet of sorts, so tell me, will our flag fly o'er a free and prosperous Kingdom of Scotland in the centuries to come?”

  “Aye!” the professor pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “And before you are done, you will have driven the English from Scotland three times. Your name will always be remembered as a great hero of Scotland.”

  “Excellent! And do ye have any parting words of advice for me?”

  The professor thought for a moment. “Beware of treachery from your own countrymen.”

  Wallace nodded sadly and motioned for them to make haste.

  25

  HESSELRIGGE'S LEGACY

  The professor stepped aside to let Sir Ellerslie and Alex descend the spiral stairs to the dungeons.
“I need to maintain my bearings if I'm to have any hope of finding the caves,” he said. “Alex, please stop at the level that is exactly one rotation down the steps. You can use my arm as a guide.” The professor awkwardly leaned over the stairs and extended his arm.

  “Here,” Alex called up.

  The professor started down, counting steps. “They're not all the same height, but there appears to be about eleven steps to a full spiral. Wait here until I've gone down another eleven.”

  The professor peered up at Alex and waved for him to follow. “I believe a full spiral is eleven and a half steps. We should be able to count our way down from here.”

  The barred gate to the dungeons lay twisted and bent, forced open by Wallace's men. Apart from an eerie, incessant dripping, the dungeons were silent, a few torches still burning along the walls.

  Sir Ellerslie disappeared into the guardroom, emerging with two men whom he introduced to Alex and the professor as Nielson and Stephan, longtime militants in Wallace's army. They nodded their greetings.

  Sir Ellerslie held his lantern high. “Alex, where was Hesselrigge left? Lead the way, lad.”

  Alex guided them toward the rack room. They passed empty cells, each with its door hanging half-open. He paused at the cell they had hidden in to elude the guards, holding up his lantern. As he feared, the dead kitchen master was still there, lying propped against the wall, the lantern light reflecting off his dull, open eyes.

  Sir Ellerslie lowered his lantern. “Nielson, when we're done here, remember to have someone haul this away. We cannae leave him here to putrefy.”

  “Nae, Sire.” Nielson let out a ghoulish chuckle. “He'd be a right mess to clean up then, all smelly and –”

  “Enough!” Sir Ellerslie saw Alex grow white. “Lead on, m'lad. Which way from here?”

  Alex forced himself to look away and numbly pointed down the main corridor. He took deep breaths of the stale dungeon air in vain attempts to quell his rising nausea.

  Alex showed them where Hesselrigge had been chained. There were holes in the mortar from where Hesselrigge's guards pried the chains from the wall.

  “It'll be hard for him to get about with chains hanging from him,” Nielson said. “He cannae have gone far.”

  Sir Ellerslie carefully examined the rack room, pausing over the blood on the flagstones and the bodies heaped one over the other in the corner.

  Seeing the gray dead faces of Rorie and the guards in the pile made Alex feel clammy. He sat down on one of the hard chairs and slumped forward. Saliva built up in his mouth, so he spat it out. Then he retched and coughed up the few bits of food left in his stomach.

  Sir Ellerslie raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry, Sire,” Nielson said. “We haven't had time to clean up yet.”

  Sir Ellerslie cast his light along the walls and ran his hand over them as if feeling for some hidden doorway.

  The professor watched impatiently, making no effort to help. “This is not the southernmost part of these dungeons,” he said. “If I still have my bearings, we are at the dungeon's westerly aspect. We should examine the passages and cells to the right.”

  Sir Ellerslie continued his painstaking search of the room, casting his light up to the vaulted stone ceiling and down to the floor. Finally, he straightened. “Very well, let's try elsewhere.”

  Alex groaned. As much as he wanted to put distance between himself and the bodies in the corner – and the rotting kitchen master lurking outside – Alex didn't feel well enough to move. He held his head in his hands, wishing he hadn't come.

  “Stephan, stay with the lad for a bit,” Sir Ellerslie said. “If he feels better, ye can catch up with us. Otherwise, take him back to the guardroom and wait for us there.”

  Alex protested, rising unsteadily, but Sir Ellerslie put a hand on his shoulder and gently eased him down. “Don't worry, son. We'll take it from here. Ye've done more than enough already.”

  Alex was too weak to argue. He watched Sir Ellerslie leave with Nielson and the professor. Furious with himself for being so sick and weak, Alex listened to their footsteps receding outside in the corridor until all was quiet … deathly quiet.

  Stephan whistled tunelessly and poked about with the adjustment controls of the rack table. Yawning, he climbed up onto it and stretched out. It was not long before his breathing became slow and rhythmic.

  Alex wished he had thought of lying on the rack. The idea of crawling into a bed was very appealing. He ruled out lying on the floor. Remembering the stench that arose when the stable master's sword sliced into Rorie's guts, Alex felt his stomach clench up again.

  He tried to think of something else. His life with Uncle Larry came to mind. While not a pleasant thought, at least it did not make him feel sick. It would be wonderful to have parents who were interested in what you did, who were always there when you needed them, ready to give you the kind of hug that said how much they loved you. Instead, he had Uncle Larry, who considered him a burden, even though Alex's expenses were paid by a trust fund set up by his parents. Then there was Aunt Fiona, who was too sick to pick him up from the airport, but never once phoned to talk to him.

  Life didn't seem fair. He drew up his knees and huddled in the hard chair, blinking back tears. His thoughts strayed to the other people who might have been in this chair, people who would have been stretched out on the rack, and people who had been left to die a miserable death in one of the many tiny stinking cells. His life might not be fair, but life was clearly more unfair for some than for others.

  Alex took a few sharp breaths to clear his head. He felt better. A sound in the corner of the room caught his attention. He glanced over to the pile of bodies. Could there be a rat in there? He thought of a rat gnawing at a corpse and felt his nausea returning.

  One of the bodies moved. Even in the dim light of the two remaining torches, Alex was sure of it. Not much of a movement, but a movement it was. He saw it again – this time a whole body rolled slightly on the pile!

  “Stephan!” Alex shrieked. He could not tear his eyes away. “Stephan, wake up!”

  In an instant, Stephan was awake and on his feet, sword drawn. “What is it?”

  “One of the bodies is still alive!”

  Stephan re-sheathed his sword. “Don't fret yourself. Even if by some miracle one of them vermin is still alive, he's no going to hurt ye none.”

  Alex continued to stare, horrified, at the pile of bodies. For someone so mutilated, lying in a pile of corpses, to be alive, to be moving, to be trying to get up …

  “Och, I'll see if there's someone to finish off, shall I?” Stephan wearily drew his sword once more, prodding about in the pile with his boot and the tip of his sword.

  Suddenly two arms with a chain leapt from beneath the bodies, ensnared Stephan's neck from behind, and dragged him down – kicking and flailing – onto the grisly pile. Stephan grappled and clawed at the chain. It bit deep into his neck and cut off his breathing. There was a sharp crack. Stephan's body stiffened and shuddered. He twitched and then lay still.

  Stephan's corpse rolled onto its side. Unaware of how loudly he was screaming, Alex retreated, without turning away from the apparition before him, until his back was pressed into a corner.

  Rising from the mutilated pile was Hesselrigge, blood smeared over his clothes, chains dangling from his arms.

  “Ha! We meet again! And this time, there is no one here to help you.”

  Stephan's sword in his hand, Hesselrigge staggered forward, the chains hampering his movement. He collapsed against the heavy rack table and strained to push it to one side, veins popping from his head. The table legs screeched over the stone. Panting, Hesselrigge jabbed the point of Stephan's sword between two flagstones. Careful to keep one of his eyes on the terrified Alex, he pushed and pried. Its end snapped. Cursing, Hesselrigge thrust the broken end between the flagstones and continued prying.

  Alex took a sidestep towards the door.

  “One more step and I'll hack ye do
wn where ye stand!” Hesselrigge snarled.

  Panting, he used the broken sword as a lever to lift one edge of the flagstone. He stepped on the sword handle and forced it to lie flat on the floor. Grunting and dripping sweat, he gripped the edge of the flagstone and slid it sideways, revealing a dark cavity below.

  Hesselrigge held Stephan's lantern over the hole. Waving the broken sword, he ordered Alex to come forward.

  Alex could not move. He could only stand frozen, staring at the blood-smeared, shackled apparition before him.

  “Ye come when I tell ye, boy.” Hesselrigge's chains rattled as he raised the broken sword. He gestured to the hole. “Get in.”

  Alex shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Hesselrigge. He felt about the wall behind him for a loose stone, anything he could use as a weapon. Glancing down to the hole, he was surprised to find it was a circular, stone-lined shaft.

  “Well-hidden, isn't it?” Hesselrigge barked a short laugh. “No one will ever find us down there. Now, get in. And bring a lamp. We can use an extra one down in the caves.”

  Caves! So this is the way in!

  “Go! I haven't got all day.”

  Alex sat on the top edge of the stone shaft and found the footholds. Remarkably, it was fairly easy to climb down. Chains rattled above him, and stone scraped against stone. Silhouetted against the light, Hesselrigge's dark form was sliding the heavy flagstone back into place.

  No one would be able to find them. The professor was searching in a totally different part of the dungeons. Even when they returned to the rack room and found Stephan dead, they would be unlikely to find the hidden entrance.

  Losing Hesselrigge in the caves was Alex's only hope, but he could not think of how. Hesselrigge would simply follow his light. He couldn't put it out, as he had no means to relight it later. Being trapped underground in utter blackness would be terrifying … and a horrible way to die.

  Alex descended as quickly as he could. A narrow corridor opened into the side of the shaft. Alex scrambled into it, looking for somewhere to hide, somewhere that his light couldn't be seen. Hesselrigge was dragging heavy chains. Alex might be able to outrun him. Perhaps he could double back and escape up the shaft before Hesselrigge could catch him.