The Black Douglas Trilogy

by J. R. Tomlin

  By Friday night, James felt happy with the way the camp was running and soon he'd have fighters. He picked out the two smallest and scruffiest horses and told Iain to come with him. A horse trader wouldn't have a sword or armor, but a dirk in each leather boot and one at his belt made him feel secure enough.

  After dark, they saddled and rode down the Douglas Water to near the town. Iain stayed with the horses hidden in the woods whilst James crept to Hazelside. A soft knock and Will opened the door for him to slip inside.

  "My lord. I thought you would send someone. It's dangerous for you. Valence and Clifford have men scouring the dale."

  James grinned and scrubbed at untrimmed beard. "Do you see any Lord of Douglas hereabouts? Looks to me like I'm just a horse trader on my way to market."

  Will laughed and Alycie came in carrying a basket of herbs.

  She curtsied, her cheeks growing pink. "I heard you, and thought mayhap you could use these. There's boneset for fevers and comfrey and slippery elm for wounds." She frowned. "I'll put it in cloth sacks for you to take. I should have thought of that." She scurried out of the room and James looked after her.

  "She seems well. I was worried how she'd take your father's death."

  "She's stronger than you'd think. I wish she'd let me find her a husband. But I won't force her. After everything, it's more than I can do. She..." Will gave James an embarrassed look, rubbing his neck. "She has her mind elsewhere."

  The house smelt of the oak from the crackling fire and something with a herby scent that Alycie must have been cooking. He paced. He tried to be a decent man, but sometimes he wasn't sure how. He shrugged off the thought. "Will, I have a hard task I need done. I need someone to go to Berwick-upon-Tweed for me. Is there any man who's been there? One we can trust?"

  Will frowned. "That's a long trip. I was there with my father once. Going so far away from everyone they know, I'm not sure I'd want to trust anyone else. It's too big a risk. If someone must go, it must be me."

  "You'd leave Alycie with no protection and the village with no leader. No. I can't agree to that." He took another turn around the room. "Mayhap I'll make the trip myself."

  "My lord. No, you mustn't," Will exclaimed.

  Alycie stood in the door with the bag of herbs in her hand. "Mustn't what?"

  When Will told her what James was proposing, her eyes widened. "Oh, please. Don't."

  James took the bag from her hand and smiled. "I'll think on it." But it had to be done, and it looked like he'd have to do it himself and soon since he needed to return to the king. "Thank you for these. We've been lucky so far, but eventually we'll need them."

  "I do have news for you, my lord," Will said. "A troop of men-at-arms arrived from Lord Clifford yesterday. They've ordered us to help with clearing the castle. They said they'll start repairs soon."

  "It's what I expected. But I can make it an uncomfortable place to hold. Gather any more news that you can and I'll be back soon. I want to take a look at Bothwell Castle."

  "Ah. My lord, whilst your there you'll want to talk to a cousin of mine. My mother's cousin, I suppose. She's passed me news and might know something new."

  "Will you sup before you go?" Alycie asked.

  He took her hand. The bones felt frail under his fingers; he could have broken them with no more than a squeeze. With a jolt, he thought that if he could have taken her to safety he would. If such thinking was wrong, then he couldn't help it.

  "No, I'd best go. One of my men awaits and we have traveling to do."

  She hurried to a shelf to take down bread and cheese. "Then you must take something with you. I won't let you leave without food."

  He smiled softly to himself as he took it from her hand. It was hard not to become fonder of her than he should be.

  After Will made sure the way was clear, James left. He and Iain led the horses through the dark, not wanting to ride and take a chance on laming one if it stepped in a hole.

  They rested a few hours in the night and by morning, Bothwell Castle rose before them.

  The red stone keep punched into the sky at the top of a grassy brae. The castle village sat below along a twisting road. The market was set up south of the village, a small city of tents and stalls, even from a distance stinking of shit and blood. The horses whickered at the smell but a word calmed them. Hawkers shouted and loud voices were all mixed together so James couldn't catch the words. He led the way into the reeking market.

  A man-at-arms in a blue dyed wool cloak and black mail was propped up by a spear next to the first tent. He scanned everyone who passed. James slid his eyes away. Beyond the tents stretched paddocks for the stock. James dismounted and nodded to Iain to follow him. Men crowded around a stall selling mugs of ale. James stopped and slid a groat to the merchant for two mugs.

  "I hear the castle burned for three days," a man said in an undertone his eyes on the guard.

  "Aye, the Lord of Douglas they say. English are naming him the Black Douglas his dark looks and for killing all the garrison." The man snorted with laughter then looked around in alarm. He glanced at James and moved away. That was old news, but the part about being called the Black Douglas made him smile. He held his horse's reins whilst he sipped and slid closer to two men talking, heads near together.

  "At Glen Trool, they say. Had Lord Clifford running like a whipped cur."

  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 not to the south. Where do you suppose he made 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 that 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 bread 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 i
nto 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 stable master. 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 gatehouse and forced himself to stroll towards it. The St. George's cross of England and the lion of Pembroke flapped above it. 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 stable master." 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 you. 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 stay 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.