Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (12 page)

Wishart grinned. “I kent we could count on your verve, my son. We, too, have a vision for a united Scotland. We need a leader the common man will adore—someone who is not protecting title and lands.”

“Ye’re exactly the man for whom we’ve been searching,” Lord Stewart added. “And your actions at Lanark have already made ye a legend.”

“Bah.” William picked up the damned goblet and guzzled his remaining wine. “I need an army to undertake a true rebellion. Aye, we’ve made some headway with our raids on English garrisons, but the bastards continue to cross the border and pillage our towns.”

“That is where we can help, lad,” Bishop Wishart said, putting the miter back on his head.

The High Steward placed his palms on the table. “I’m prepared to give ye a cavalry of fifty horse and two hundred foot.”

William’s heart leapt with the prospect of having trained soldiers to his avail. “’Tis a start.” But he’d need so much more to accomplish his dreams.

The bishop ran his hands across his velvet chasuble. “And Sir William Douglas is ready to ride with ye as well.”

“Douglas?” William scratched his beard. “Did he not surrender his lands and castle in Berwick only one year past?”

“Aye,” Wishart said. “And he wants them back with vengeance.”

“Ye are not alone, Wallace.” Lord Stewart held up a finger. “Word has it Andrew Murray in the north has made good headway in recapturing lands taken by the English. There are skirmishes all over the country.”

Eva had mentioned both Douglas and Murray. The back of William’s neck tingled yet again. “But we will not be successful until we join together.”

“Sir Douglas is planning an uprising in Ayr—but I doubt he’ll be successful if he goes it alone.” The lord pointed. “I’ll send ye word and provide my men when the date is settled.”

William drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. He needed men, but Sir Douglas had an unsavory reputation—then again, this was war. Edward’s policy was to show no quarter and Sir Douglas could very well be the type of man Wallace needed.
Can he be trusted?
“I accept on one condition.” He panned his gaze from one face to the other. “If I ride into this skirmish, I lead the battle.”

“That is what we desire as well.” Wishart bobbed his head. “And in the interim, we’ll ensure all of Scotland is aware a new leader has risen from the people.”

Lord Stewart held up his goblet. “To the people’s man-at-arms.”

Wishart followed suit. “Here, here.”

Holding up his empty goblet, William acknowledged the toast.
The people’s man-at-arms
. Such a
nom de guerre
suited him.

Eva never should have brought a satchel filled with modern stuff. As soon as William left, she hid the thing in a crevice in the cave wall and rolled a boulder across it. If Wallace thought her a witch, the other men would completely freak out if they saw her phone and toiletries. She’d just have to do without—after she popped a couple ibuprofens for her pounding headache.

Her body might be getting used to going without caffeine, but it would take her a few days to recover from being knocked out by Heselrig.

Voices grew louder beyond the fur curtain that hung at the alcove entrance, blocking her from the rest of the men. She secured her veil in place and poked out her head.

Robbie turned—obviously keeping guard while she was inside. “What the bleeding hell happened to your face, Miss Eva?”

“That’s not proper language to use in the presence of a lady, Robert Dominus Boyd.” She grimaced and touched her tender nose. “But I know I look awful.”

“Och, ’tis just a black eye. It will fade in a sennight or two.”

“Wonderful, and I may have broken my nose to boot.”

He peered a bit closer. “I think not. At least ’tisn’t crooked.”

“Thank heavens.” Honestly, she would have died if her nose had been mangled. “I guess there’s something to be said for having a box-shape to it.”

“I think ye have a bonny nose.”

“Thank you.” She glanced toward the cave entrance.

Brother Bartholomew marched inside shaking his head, leading a pair of men at his flank. “I’ve no idea how we’ll feed them all, let alone where they will sleep.”

Eva glanced at Robbie. “What’s going on?”

“Men are arriving in droves—say they heard about Willy killing the Sheriff of Lanark. They’re all pledging fealty.”

She clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful.”

“Aye, except they’re hungry and carrying pitchforks for weapons. I doubt there’s a trained foot soldier among them.”

“I wouldn’t worry about their training. The first thing is to see they don’t starve.” Eva drummed her fingers against her lips. “Can any of them hunt?”

Robbie shrugged.

She pulled his arm. “Come.”

Outside, the bedlam was worse. Everywhere Eva looked there were groups of men shouting, each one louder than the next—at least a hundred men. She picked up on bits and pieces—a lack of a smithy, broken arrows, shelter, food. The only certainty? Tempers were flaring and fast.

She pulled Robbie to an enormous boulder, about five feet high. “Give me a leg up.”

“There?”

“Aye, someone’s got to take charge before a brawl breaks out.”

Once atop, she shoved her fingers in her mouth and blew an ear-splitting whistle.

The noise immediately ebbed to a hum.

Eva planted her fists on her hips. “Wallace has gone to meet with the High Steward. Until he returns, we need food, shelter, and people to make arrows and sharpen weapons.”

“Who are ye to tell us what we need? A woman, no less,” someone yelled.

“What happened to your eye?” another voice chimed. “Beat for opening your flapping gob?”

“Heselrig walloped the lass—right before Wallace ran him through.” Robbie jumped up beside her—the showoff. “She’s Wallace’s woman. Anyone touches her and Willy will lop of their—uh—ballocks right afore he lops off their heads.”

Heat rushed to Eva’s face.
Wallace’s woman?
It would take her forever to convince William she hadn’t contrived that lie. But she could show no sign of weakness, not in front of a hundred Scotsmen out for blood. She spread her arms wide. “Who can hunt?”

No one uttered a word.

“Very well. The first man who brings in a deer will be the first to meet with Wallace when he returns.” God, she hoped William would humor her.

A man with a bow slung over his shoulder raised his hand. “We’ll need more than one deer.”

“Aye we will,” Eva agreed, eyeing the stunned faces. “Do you want William to return to a mob of lazy milksops, or do you want to face him with a grin and say you felled a deer or snared a pheasant or a rabbit, and the men are feasting because of you?”

Another man stepped forward. “I’ll hunt.”

“So will I,” said a man with a formal bow of his head.

“Me as well.”

“Thank you.” Eva gazed at the expectant faces. “Who among you can set up a smithy’s shop?”

“What will we use for iron?” a big fellow asked.

Eva shot a panicked look at Robbie. The lad did nothing to help. Jeez, she had to give an answer or else she’d lose the tiny bit of authority she’d gained. “Ah…anything you can find—or swipe. What did we bring back from Lanark?”

“Plenty of pikes and poleaxes,” a disembodied voice shouted from the crowd.

“Then they need to be sharpened—and arrows made.” Eva pointed to a group of boys who looked about Robbie’s age. “You lads, set to it.”

Eva watched them leave and then glared at the crowd. “You all want to sleep in the rain? Who will build shelters?” She pointed at every man who hinted at raising his hand.

“The rest of you will help Brother Bartholomew prepare food, fetch water, and maintain a constant supply of firewood. I do not want to see a single idle soul…and if I do, so help me, William Wallace will hear about it.”

A stout man with a thick, black beard stepped forward. “I’m a brewer, we’ll need ale.”

“Then set to work.” She gave him a nod of thanks, then returned her gaze to the crowd. “Hard labor will make you strong, and when it comes time to fight, you’ll be ready.”

She stood, watching the men dispatch. Keeping her fists tight against her hips prevented her from wilting into a trembling heap. Heaven knew she had just set a mob of medieval men to task without really having any idea if she’d done right or not. Her heart beat a fierce rhythm, but aside from the deep breaths drawing in through her nose, she showed no outward sign of fear.
I won’t back down, no matter how inept I might actually be.

***

The following night, Wallace and his men left Renfrew just past the witching hour. At dawn, they reached the edge of Leglen Wood and proceeded to pick their way through the rugged scrub. Signs of passersby were everywhere—moss wiped from a tree, footprints in mud and freshly broken limbs.

“Ye think they’ve found our camp?” Blair asked.

“Mayhap,” William said, looking at the deep impression of a boot. “Nonetheless, we’ll ride around to the outcropping first.”

Eddy turned his horse south. “Good plan.”

After three sleepless nights, Wallace couldn’t remember being this tired, but the detour would only add a half-hour to their journey.

As they made their way along the southwest game trail, there were signs of recent human traffic there as well. The back of William’s neck bristled. He drew his sword. “Ready yourselves for battle, men.”

But a fight didn’t come. Instead, after the men tied their horses and climbed the big hill overlooking the camp, they all stood dumbfounded. It was as if a mob of carpenters had come into the forest and decided to build a hamlet right in the middle of the densest part of Leglen Wood.

In the center of it all crackled a roaring fire beside a man hammering on an iron anvil. Lads sat outside the cave, sharpening the weapons they’d brought back from Lanark.

“Someone’s set them to task,” Blair said.

“Och, aye.” William slapped him on the back. “And we’ll be making him a lieutenant forthwith.” He held his ram’s horn to his lips and gave a hearty blow.

Robbie Boyd hopped up from amidst the group of lads and broke into a run. Before William and the others reached the bottom of the hill, Robbie skidded to a stop. “Ye should have seen her, Willy. She took charge like a queen.”

William didn’t need to ask who. There could be only one she. Hopefully Eva hadn’t used witchcraft to erect the lean-tos that had gone up in the clearing. “Did she now?”

“Aye. Brother Bartholomew was about to throttle the lot of them, but Eva climbed up on that rock and whistled like she was the Queen of Sheba—and someone asked who the hell she thought she was—and I jumped up and set them straight—said she was your woman.”

“Pardon?” William grasped the lad’s shoulders. “Ye said what?”

“I didna ken ye’d been swiving the wench,” John Blair blurted with exasperation.

Wallace slapped the monk with a quick backhand. “I have not and ye will not be speaking ill of the lass even if ye are a priest.”

“Bloody hell.” Blair could swear with the worst of them. “Ye’re a bit oversensitive.”

“Aye? Well, I havena slept in three days.”

Robbie tugged William’s arm. “Ye should have seen her. She wouldna take a word of backtalk from anyone.”

That was all Wallace needed. He was about to cast Eva out of the camp and now she’d singlehandedly organized an army of men. “Where do they all hail from?”

Waddling on his stout legs, Brother Bartholomew caught up to them, huffing with exertion. “There’re coming in droves—tenant farmers and young fellas out to make a name for themselves, mostly.”

“Anyone skilled with a sword or bow?” Blair asked.

The little monk drew in a deep breath. “Ye’ll have to determine that. I’ve enough work for ten men just trying to keep this lot fed.”

Once they reached the bottom of the hill, they were met by dozens of expectant faces. A man with a grizzly beard and a smithy’s apron stepped forward. “We heard ye took a stand in Lanark. Scotland needs a man who is not afeared to face Longshanks.”

“Aye,” said another. “My village was burned, my family murdered. I will not rest until I have vengeance.”

A pair of men marched through the clearing carrying a deer suspended from a pole. Robbie pointed. “Ye see. Miss Eva set them to hunting and set the lads to sharpening the weapons and making arrows.”

“And I’m melting every bit of iron I can find to make swords and arrow tips,” said the man in the smithy’s apron.

William pushed his fingers under his helm and scratched his head. “I must thank her.” Now she’d be even more difficult to send away. The lads even appeared to
like
her.

He addressed the assembled men. “We’ve a battle to fight one month hence and I’ll not have any men march against trained English soldiers without being prepared. Edward Little I appoint over the archers. John Blair will train all foot soldiers in pole arms and I will teach each and every one of ye how to wield a sword.”

A cheer rose above the forest and, at the moment, William hoped the English could hear. A new, more organized rebellion would soon be breathing down their necks.

He leaned toward Blair. “If this many men can find us, we need to post a watch in a perimeter around the camp. See to it groups of men are assigned a turn—no one shirks guard duty.”

“I’ll see it done, sir.”

Wallace stopped to correct the cleric, but from Blair’s stern countenance, he clamped his mouth shut. He heeded what Wishart and Stewart said—the commoners were in dire need of someone they could follow. If they deemed him a knight of the people, then so be it.

***

After eating his fill of venison, William still hadn’t seen Eva. Too tired to face her anyway, he’d rather put off the unsavory duty of turning the lass out until the morrow. He could fight for hours and never grow weary, but days in the saddle followed by lack of sleep sapped him like the ague.

Still daylight, he picked up his kit with drying towel and soap and headed for the River Ayr.

In truth, it was a relief to have Eva set the men to task. William did need to thank her for that before…

Ballocks!

Damnation, he could hold on to no regrets. The woman posed too much of a distraction. She must go and that was the end of it.

On the morrow, after he’d had some rest, he would take up the reins and turn his group of men into warriors. They had all come to make a stand against the oppressor. Men like that had heart, and with that kind of vitality, he would find a way to mold them into a formidable force. He could be so much more effective with two hundred fifty trained soldiers from Lord Stewart, another hundred from Douglas, and mayhap he’d raise another hundred before they left Leglen Wood.

The English in Ayr won’t know what hit them. This is what we needed to start an all-out rebellion
.

Reaching the place where the water pooled, William disrobed and set his things on a rock just like he always did. It wasn’t often the weather was nice enough to strip down to his braies and take a dip in the icy river. One of the things he missed most about Ellerslie was Ma’s wooden barrel filled with warm water, though he’d never admit it to a soul.

He dove in, the bitter cold enlivening his tired limbs. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms, warming to the water as he swam against the current. Then he rolled to his back and floated down river, watching the tree limbs pass above. Nothing like cool water and the tranquility of nature to help him clear his mind.

A lily white flicker caught the corner of his eye.