by J. R. Tomlin
James hid his start with another sip.
"Valence took off out of here yesterday eve riding hard to the south." The man laughed. "Glen Trool is no to the south. Where do you suppose that was for?"
The clank of steel warned of men-at-arms approaching. The men put their mugs down and walked in the other direction. Glen Trool, James thought. Those waters went through a narrow valley a few hours ride from where he'd left the king. James smothered a bark of laughter--Clifford running like a whipped cur. Valence rode hard to the south. Now why might that be?
The scent of meat cooking drifted from a brazier mixed with the barnyard smells around them. A thin woman, a veil hiding most of her gray her hair, took coins for the stuff. James warily scanned the crowd. Two more men-at-arms were standing by the opening to the paddock.
James sidled up, Iain trailing, and handed the woman a pence. "A friend of mine told me you sell good meat."
She sniffed. "Don’t think I’ll give you extra for your sweet talk."
"You don’t remember my good friend Will? He stuffs himself with what you sell every time he’s at the market."
"Oh, that he does." She sighed. "All right. One extra piece. But that’s all."
He held out his hand and she gave him two slices of meat on a dry, stale piece of bread. He held it out for Iain to take one. Blowing on his, he chewed some of the stringy stuff off with his teeth. "Some say Pembroke was in a hurry to leave," he mumbled around the meat.
"Nothing but trouble, all you lads. Eat that first and mayhap there’s more for you." She dropped her voice. "Aye. You hear true. My boy who works in the kitchens passes the news to me. Valence came back after Glen Trool ready to knock heads he was that angry. Yelling about King Hob and Clifford being a coward. Then he got word they've been trumpeting." She bent over her brazier as she glanced around before she continued. "King Robert agreed to a battle at Loudoun Hill for the tenth day of May."
"You're sure of that?"
She nodded. "Aye, it's been all the soldiery is talking about."
He slipped her a couple of groats. Anything greater and they’d drag her in to find out where she’d gotten them. "Two more for my brother Iain and me. Will was right. Worth the abuse." He grinned at her scowl.
He held out the trencher for the meat and walked on with a nod. If his people were going to risk their lives, they’d at least know their lord’s face. This news--a battle, set in advance. Too much like Methven and yet the king wouldn't have agreed, except it was to his advantage. James had to return to him--and soon.
A whooping crowd of boys ran past chasing a leather ball. It bounced into the paddock, making cattle scatter. The only horses in it were a couple of rough garrons, a good hand smaller than the rouncel he led, near the back, small light horses good for riding through moors. A man shouted at the boys as he kicked the ball past the wooden barrier. The dirt was ground into muck by the passing animals, and the ball landed in the middle of a puddle with a sucking smack. The boys scattered around James, darting under the horse's belly, to retrieve it. The animal tossed its head and whickered but he patted its neck and soothed it with a word.
Time to test how well he would pass as a horse trader.
"Here now, sir," he said to one of the guards. "Where is the horse buyer hereabouts?"
Frowning, the man dropped a hand onto his sword, as he looked James up and down. He spat. "Only one buying horses is our stablemaster. Need ‘em for catching up with that King Hob of yours." He jerked his chin towards the road that twisted its way up the brae. "You can see if he'd be interested in your lot."
"Come on, Brother," James said to Iain, "and let's up with us."
The muscles between James's shoulder blades twitched as turned his back to the English men-at-arms. He fastened his eyes on the red stone gate and forced himself to stroll towards it. The St. George's cross of England and the lion of Pembroke flapped above the gatehouse. Ahead of James, a man pushed a creaking two-wheel cart piled high with hay. On the parapets, a man-at-arms marched on each of the walls and two stood at each side of the gate.
"Looks to me like they're worried about trouble," Iain said in a low voice at James's elbow.
He gave a sharp nod, eyes darting. One of the guards stopped the cart, poking at the hay with a pike. James kept his face blank as another held out a pike to stop him. "Where you think you're going?"
"Guard down at the paddock said to show these to the stablemaster." James jerked his head towards the horse he led. "Looking to sell 'em."
The man used his pike to point. "Wait there." He looked over his shoulder and shouted. "Find Horse Master Edmund."
James stepped to the horse's side and patted its withers. Iain looked at him over the horse's back, his forehead beaded with sweat. James realized his own palms were wet and wiped them on the horse's coarse, dark mane.
A low voice rumbled, "What you calling me for. Think I have time to be running at your word?" The stocky man, bald head dappled with splotches, gave the guard a scathing glance.
"Fellows with horses to show you, and you know orders are no strangers in the bailey," the guard said.
"To show me are they?" He walked out and turned the same look on James.
"Looking to sell them, sir, if I can get a good price." James kept his voice low and even but his heart was thumping.
"I'm no sir." The man caught James's mount by the head and pulled open its mouth. He grunted and walked around it and then did the same to Iain's. "Let's see." Before James could speak, the old man had climbed into the saddle. He pulled the reins from James hand and set at an amble down the bluff. When he got back, he gathered Iain's reins and led the animal in a circle before he tossed them back.
"Not good for much," he said at last, "but my lord Pembroke is in need of animals so I'll give you twenty shillings each." He reached into the purse at his belt and pulled out coins. "Good solid king's coin and not a one clipped."
James chewed his lip and pretended to think about it. "I thought they were worth at least thirty each. They have a good pace."
The man spit. "You thought wrong. Take what I'm offering or his lordship may decide there's no reason to pay Scottish thieves for their horses."
James heaved a sigh. "I thank you for your kindness." He held out his hand for the coin. The man counted it out, coin by coin, dropping it into his hand. He stared at the sword calluses on his own palm, marks no reins would ever make.
"Horse trader, are you?" the man said as the coins clinked.
"Am now." James felt the eyes of the guards raking over him. He dropped the coins into his belt purse and handed over the reins.
As he walked away the stable master said to his back, "Might be if you have more of those horses, you should sell them somewhere else."
"Devil take them," Iain muttered under his breath. "I thought we were for the dungeon."
James wiped the sweat from his face. "I still have a thing or two to learn. Should have had you take the money. Never thought a thing about my hands, but now I know. Not enough to give us away, but closer than I like."
James stopped to dicker for the garrons in the paddock. It took half of the pittance the stable master had paid him. How to get enough for all his men was nagging at him. These were light enough to go through the moors where heavier mounts would sink in the muck. Any knight's destrier sink faster than a boulder in the boggy moorland.
They led the garrons out of the village and rode back towards the Forest.
"You're our best man with horses," James said pensively and Iain beamed at the praise. "We need more of these. I have other things to do, so you'll take four more of the roundels to the Lanark Fair." James frowned. "You'll need a hand so decide who you want to help. Sell those and buy as many garrons as you can lay hands on."
"Ralf seems good with them and he's a steady lad."
It took a second but James recalled one of the younger of his men, a towhead who had yet to get his full growth. "I need enough horses for all the men who'll sta
y with me."
"Who'll stay with you? Don't you want all of them, my lord?"
"Want isn't have. It's a rough way to live. I'll not keep any who want to go home. We'll see." He was sure some would leave, a few at least. Living rough--always in the saddle-- never safe-- How many would choose it with a warm fire under a roof not that far away?
"With a lord who leads us the way you do, most will stay. Don't think they didn't see that you gave everything from your own castle that could be carried to their families. They'll not forget it."
James grimaced. "And will they soon forget that I beheaded three men?"
"And what else would you have done? Let them hunt down every man who was in the kirk? Kill their families? Was there a choice?" He spat. "Besides they were owed it for the lives they'd taken and the women--if they didn't do the raping themselves, did they do what a decent man would and put a stop to it?"
James shifted in his saddle and sighed. "I didn't see that I had a choice. But I kept asking myself what my father would have done, and, God save me, I don't know."
"What your father would have done was not worry about it."
James laughed.
"You know what the men call it, don't you?"
James looked at him in surprise. "I didn't know it was called anything particular."
"They call it the Douglas Larder." Iain grinned.
But James pictured the king’s face when he told him about beheadings and the blood spilled in the church. The Douglas Larder...
The garrons were smaller than the horses they'd sold but fleet of foot nonetheless and they could cut across the moorland so by the time light peeked through the branches of the forest the next morning, they reached the camp.
Sym ran up, gabbling to tell of a camping place he'd found a mile further into the forest. James ordered that they would move the next day. Most of the men, it seemed, were doing well with riding and practicing with their weapons. A couple of men of Ettrick Forest had come in to join. Ettrick men were the finest hands with a bow in Scotland. James ran his hands over their yew short bows and talked to the men. These had stood with Wallace. Now they'd serve him.
One of the Douglasdale men walked towards James and then stopped, then started again. He turned to leave so James said, "You need something--Gawther, isn't it?"
The man flushed red. "No. I mean, I do, my lord. But..." He gulped, his Adams apple bobbing. "I--I guess I'm a coward, my lord. But I can't do this. I thought I could. I wanted to." He colored even brighter and hurried to get his words out as though he feared to lose his nerve again. "I won't betray you. Holy Mary, Mother of God, I swear it. But my family needs me. I shouldn't have come. Please."
It was better to find out now who wasn't fit for this. "Men." he yelled. "Gather round. I have a word to say."
Gawther was staring at his feet, shuffling and clinching his hands with nerves.
Once the men were in a circle, James waited for them to quieten.
"You've all done well. Wat tells me that. But Gawther says he wants to leave and there may be others who feel the same way."
There was muttering and he held up a hand. "This is a hard life. Living rough and going hungry and never knowing when you may have to fight. When you may have to die. I'm not going to ask it of anyone who can't do it."
Another wave of muttering and Sym said, "He might give us away."
"Gawther."
The man looked up at him.
"Is it that you want to betray your lord? Or your friends?"
"No, my lord. I swear it's not that. I'm sorry for being a weakling." The man looked miserably at the others who were grumbling angrily. "I didn't think I was. But I guess I am. I need to work my plot of land. Take care of my family. That's what I'm good at."
"I forgive your leaving. You're still my man." He raised his voice. "You all are. I need as many of you as can do this. But if you can't, tell me now."
There was a scuffling of feet but no one else said anything. He waited a second. Only one was better than he'd dared to hope. "I'm sending Gawther home." He looked sternly in the man's eyes. "Keep quiet about what you've heard or seen. I'll call on you and expect you to come when I raise a levy. You understand that?"
"Thank you." Gawther looked at the other men. "I won't betray you. I won't. I'll help any way I can. I promise."
James patted his shoulder. "Go home, then."
The man hurried to gather up his few belongings. James sauntered over to squat next to the man. "When you're there, talk to Will. See if he has anything you can do to help with gathering news for me. I'm trusting you, so don't fail me."
"I won't."
He left a few minutes later and the men seemed to watch James out of the corners of their eyes. He wondered if they approved or not, but he was sure he'd made the best choice. His men couldn't serve out of fear of him, not and serve him well.
He strolled amongst the men stopping to talk to them. At one cook fire, three men offered him a share of a rabbit they were roasting. He took a leg, tossing it from one hand to the other when it scorched his fingers as they grinned. At another, a youngster asked the best way to defend if he fought someone with a two-handed greatsword. James thought he'd like this life and felt comfortable taking charge of the men of Douglasdale--as it should be. It was what he was born to. What they expected of him.
The next morning he had them move to the new camp. Soon the jacks were being dug. James went over the training again with Wat. They reviewed the stores and James realized they were short of arrows, so he set men to fletching. He'd never suspected how much there was to think of. But he couldn't think of anything more so he sent Iain off to the Lanark Fair with some extra gold and two horses to sell. Then he took one of the horses himself and one to ride.
Wat kept casting him worried looks and said going to Berwick-upon-Tweed was too dangerous.
"Did you grow tits that you're my mother?" James vaulted into the saddle, shoving his feet into the irons, and laughed. He would hate the day he was so old he had to use stirrups. But even the king as old as he was could mount without touching them so mayhap that would never happen.
"Just keep the men busy. We'll have work to do when I come back." He waved and rode away from the camp.
He rode east through the Forest. It was dark with changing shapes of the shadows and smelled of spring. His horse's hooves made soft thumps in the deep carpet of needles. The Forest stretched a half-day's ride to the east--well past where he might be sought. He shrugged off that worry. A lone man in leather breeches and jerkin was nothing anyone would pay any mind. "On my way to sell this horse I raised--" he would say if anyone questioned. But no one did. He wrapped his short mantle around himself that night and made a cold camp, filling up on cold water from a stream. Eventually, he slept only to wake, gasping when someone held a sword over Isabella's slender neck and blood gushed when the sword fell. In the gray darkness, he watched the stars moving across the sky and the North Star steady in its place, wondering if he'd ever stop having such dreams. Once it had been the city ahead of him and the screams whilst it was butchered that had haunted his sleep. A priest would no doubt say they were a penance for his sins.
When he awoke, James took a breath of the fresh morning air filled with the scent of heather and allowed himself to hope. The eastern sky was pale gold at the horizon but dark gray higher and the North Star still hung high in the sky.
Late in the afternoon, the high towers of Berwick Castle came into view. He pulled up his horse and sat a long time looking at it. He'd known the place as well as his own home when his father was governor there. He'd been a page more given to climbing the towers than waiting on table.
It had been a happy time--until King Edward of England turned his entire army loose on the people of the city. James heard later, it was that some of the Scots had bared their arses at the English king that caused him to butcher the city.
James had huddled on the parapet whilst his father paced, looking down as the town burned, chok
ing smoke engulfing the castle, and people screamed below the walls. His father had cried that night. That had frightened James as much as the screams. In his armor with a useless sword in his hand, his father had turned his back so James wouldn't see. The next day he'd negotiated a surrender, giving himself up if Edward released the garrison. One of the men had held his hand over James's mouth to keep him quiet when they dragged his father away in chains.
Now an English banner flapped above the tower in the sea breeze. And somewhere on its walls, Isabella was caged. He wondered if the castle was in need of horses.
James rode down the street below the high gray walls. Even after ten years, every third or fourth house was a burned out shell with weeds sprouting waist deep though the rotted ruins. Some boys with dirty faces crouched behind a building and watched him as he passed. Further on, a whore threw open shutters to yell an invitation down to him.
In the market square at the edge of the port, he stopped. It still had a familiar smell of mud and fish guts but once it would have been full of ships carrying wool to the Flemish and beyond. Now one mast bobbed at the docks.
On the west, side of the market square stood a modest inn with whitewashed walls and a sign painted with a mug of ale above the door. He dismounted at the stables setting next to it and yelled for a groom.
His horses tended, he went in. The blousy dark-haired innkeeper smiled at the sight of him and set to teasing him. "Come to town to comb the heather out of your hair, did you, lad?"
He wondered how long he'd have to grow his beard before people decided he wasn't a lad. He was nearing nineteen.
She patted his cheek. "You're a tall one, too. And look at that blush. But my Mabel can cure that for you."
"Thank you," he said, "but all I need is a meal and a bed. And mayhap you can tell me who might buy a horse hereabouts."
"Beds we got but no use for a horse," said the red-haired Mabel. She put her hand on James's arm and squeezed. "And you want food, do you?"
"If you have it and I have the price," he said and his face going even hotter.