“Horses approaching. Until we know if they are friend or foe we must take a defensive position.”
But before they could form a circle of protection, word came that the horsemen were Sir Bryan and his men. Within a few minutes her husband rode to where she sat her horse. “Good day, my lady.”
“My laird.” Though part of her was glad to see him again, part of her was still angry. She really had nothing she wished to say to him. They'd said all there was to say at Homelea. Bryan gave the order for the march to continue. With a curt nod to her he rode to the front of the formation. Kathryn and Fergus rode side by side in silence.
Finally she said, “I'm glad you decided to ride with me. I feel as if I've been deserted.”
“Ye are surrounded by friends, Kathryn. Any one of these men would lay down his life to protect ye.”
“I don't want them to die for me. I want someone to talk to and to care about me.” She knew she must sound a very shrew, but she was feeling out of sorts.
“I suggest ye urge your mare forward and ride with yer husband.”
“I don't wish to speak with him.” Her voice hardened. “He has destroyed my home and all I hold dear.”
Fergus shook his head. “Nay, Kathryn, all ye hold dear travels with ye. Possessions make very poor friends.”
“And soldiers make very poor husbands.”
“I doubt he took much pleasure in his task.” With those cryptic words, he allowed his horse to fall behind, leaving Kathryn to ponder his statement.
She focused her frustration on Bryan. Why hadn't he pleaded with the king to spare her home? If he loved her, he would have disobeyed such a repulsive order. Despite these thoughts, she remembered the regret in his eyes when he'd told her of Homelea's fate. Perhaps Fergus was right in saying the knight had taken little pleasure in carrying out the task. She was being childish in taking the knight to task for doing what must be done.
She watched Sir Bryan now, riding ahead of her. He rode the black stallion well, as if one with the powerful animal. She admired Bryan's long legs and the gentleness of his hands as he guided the horse around obstacles.
Could she ever forgive him? More to the point, could she ever trust him again?
And then she saw clearlyâwas this how he'd felt when he'd learned about Rodney and Isobel? Betrayed? And yet he'd taken the child into his protection. And not only Isobel, but the nuns and her villagers, too. Would she continue to wallow in self-pity or help him do what must be done to safeguard her loved ones and Homelea's tenants?
The unanswered questions burdened her heart. So did the sight of yet another burned out village and manor home along the roadside. It was the third such they'd passed since leaving Homelea.
Sir Bryan dropped his stallion back to walk beside her. He looked out at the charred buildings and fields. “Are you all right?” he asked, not unkindly.
“Yes, I am fine.”
He waved his arm toward the destruction. “'Tis distressing to see, isn't it?”
“Aye,” she admitted.
“Even more distressing to be the agent of such ruin.”
She stared at him, surprised by this admission. “Then why do it?”
“You know as well as I, Kathryn. We cannot give sustenance to Edward and his army. They must be forced to bring all their supplies with them. It makes them slow and unwieldy and limits the length of their stay in Scotland.”
“I'm trying to understand, truly I am. And I can see that mine is not the only sacrifice being made.”
“Indeed not.” They rode for a few minutes before he said, “When this is done, if I am able, I will return to Homelea with you and help to rebuild it.”
“I shall pray for your safekeeping, my laird.”
“I welcome your prayers, my lady.”
After his admission in her garden about his lack of faith, this statement surprised her, and it must have shown on her face. Before she could reply, he said, “I'm not altogether sure you and Adam are right about God caring how this turns out, but I am hopeful that prayer might make it so.”
She smiled at him, unable to remain angry any longer. “Then I shall redouble my efforts on your behalf, my laird.”
He dipped his helmeted head in acknowledgment and the barest of smiles graced his harsh features. “If you or the child need to stop, you need only to signal me or one of the men. I know this forced travel must be difficult.”
He seemed to be offering another olive branch. “Thank you. We're fine.”
Fergus might have been right after all. All she held dear traveled with her, including, it seemed, this difficult man.
THOUGH THE DAY WAS OVERCAST and chilly, Bryan sweated under his chain mail. The accord he'd just witnessed with Kathryn scared him nearly as much as the thought of the upcoming fight with England. If they were going to dissolve this union after the battle, he would need to keep a much closer rein on his emotions.
He avoided Kathryn as much as possible over the rest of the day. Tomorrow they would reach their destination. Kathryn and the others looked as if they'd give most anything to be rid of their horses and just curl up in a warm, soft bed. But there would be no soft bed or warm hearth to welcome them in an army camp.
Bryan spied the great castle at Stirling early the next morning. It sat atop an outcropping of rock over three hundred feet high that rose vertically above the nearly flat surrounding countryside. The village of Stirling stretched along the hillside of the only accessible face of the rock here on the southeast side.
The fortress commanded a view in all directions, and its control of roads and rivers in the area was absolute. The castle dominated the countryside, effectively severing the highlands to the north and the lowlands to the south.
Bryan knew that whoever commanded Stirling commanded Scotland. Edward of England's man, Sir Philip Mowbray, still held the castle. In three days, Edward must arrive with his army or forfeit the strategic fortress to Bruce. In three days a battle would be fought, and Scotland would either be free or defeated for good.
They entered the Torwood, a vast forest with rocky outcroppings that lay across the Roman road they traveled on. When the road left the trees and dipped down into the more open valley of the Bannock Burn, Bryan gave strict orders to stay on the road.
Ever curious, Kathryn asked, “What is the danger, Sir Bryan?”
“Looks can be deceiving, Lady Kathryn. In April, we dug knee-deep pits on either side of the road and fitted them with spikes.”
“But I don't see any sign of them.”
Patiently he replied, “They've been covered with brushwood and grass to make them difficult to detect. Once discovered they will deter horsemen from trying to use the grassland to advance on Robert's troops.”
Kathryn asked no more questions, to Bryan's relief. He was anxious to get her and his other charges past the army camp and into relative safety with the other camp followers. The English were nowhere to be seen, adding to Bryan's unease. Why hadn't they taken up their positions by now as the Scottish army had?
After they forded the swiftly running creek, Bryan led them into the woods of the New Park, a forested royal game preserve.
Scotland's army of seven thousand was camped here. Tents and temporary shelters of wood and tree boughs dotted the meager clearings throughout the woods.
They passed through the main camp without incident and skirted around Gilles Hill, behind which the camp followers were sheltered. Pages, grooms, musicians, carpenters, blacksmiths, armor craftsmen, and women to cook and wash for the men all set up camp here in the protection of the small valley behind the hill.
Bryan dismounted and then helped Kathryn from her horse. She walked awkwardly about, no doubt trying to work the stiffness from her muscles. Bryan wanted to get the women settled as quickly as possible so that he could take up his soldier's duties. “Thomas, come here.”
Thomas, several years younger than Bryan, aspired to become a knight, as did most squires. He stood nearly as tall as Bryan and flaming red hair curled from under his helm. He had the delicate skin of a redhead and freckles danced across his face. He walked over and bowed. “My laird.”
Bryan motioned to Kathryn and she joined him, standing at his side. “Thomas, pitch my tent for the women and show Lady Kathryn how to arrange the inside efficiently. Fly my pennant over the tent and spread the word that any man who approaches these women had better have good reason or be willing to fight me if he does not.”
“Aye, my laird.” Thomas smiled at her and she dipped her head in recognition.
“I must report to the king. When you have finished here, see to our shelter.” Thomas nodded and moved off to begin setting up the tent.
KATHRYN LISTENED as Sir Bryan gave orders to his squire. When Thomas moved off, the knight turned to her, his face lined with tension, and said, “Thomas and I must stay in the camp with the other knightsâyou will be safe here with Fergus.”
“All right.”
“I've sent the nuns to St. Ninian's. They'll be safe enough there. The villagers will camp on the other side of this clearing. I'll check on you when I can, but Kathryn, there are more men than women in the camp, and some of the women are the sort who make a living by attending to . . . gatherings such as this. I don't want you or Anna to be mistaken for one of them. Promise me you will not go anywhere without Fergus, not even to fetch water.”
Seeing his obvious agitation and concern, she quickly agreed. “I promise.” She brushed his arm with her fingers. “What aren't you telling me?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, then said, “I'm tired and there is much to be done. And truthfully, I wish I could have left you behind. Somewhere safer. I need your assurance that you and Anna will not put yourselves or the child in danger by walking through the camp unescorted.”
“I will tell them.” In a moment of clarity she realized that he was torn between his duty to the king and his duty as a husband, and she sought to reassure him yet again. “Ease your mind, my laird. I understand the importance of obeying you in this.”
He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, eyes that were no longer cold and lacking in emotion. Would that they were, for now his anxiety and the weight of responsibility shone bright. She touched his cheek. “Go with God, Sir Knight.”
He surprised her by pulling her to him for a quick hug, and then he left.
Many of Homelea's tenants had come with them and all worked together to create a home of sorts in the woods. Thomas taught them how to set up the camp that would be their home for the foreseeable future.
One day they would return to Homelea, either under Kathryn's auspices as countess, or to serve an English master.
June 22, 1314
B
RYAN, ALONG WITH JAMES DOUGLAS and Sir Robert Keith, had taken a small mounted patrol to check on the progress of the English army's march to Stirling. The things they witnessedâ the sheer numbers of men and weaponsâwas enough to overwhelm the most hardened soldier. Bryan shook his head, willing the gloomy thoughts away. Now he and his grim-faced companions rode in silence toward their meeting with King Robert.
For the past seven years, Robert and his little army had successfully attacked vulnerable targets in quick, well-planned contests. English strength had given way to Scottish cunning and surprise until Bruce controlled all but a few pockets of resistance in the highlands of Scotland.
But Edward of England did not recognize Bruce as the rightful king of Scotland. He came north intent on vanquishing the rebellious Scots. Now for the first time since the disastrous Scottish defeat at Methven, the Scots faced their mighty adversary in pitched battle.
God help us.
Only through a miracle or monumental stupidity on the part of the English would the ill-equipped Scotsmen defeat Edward's powerful army.
Bryan allowed a tiny smirkâEnglish stupidity was certainly a possibility. Quickly he squelched such foolishness.
Never underestimate
an enemy.
How many times had Robert told him this?
They reined in the horses at Robert's tent and dismounted wearily. Grooms led the animals away as the men followed Bryan inside where the king and Ceallach awaited them. They exchanged terse greetings and began their report.
Robert's expression hardened as Douglas recounted what they'd seen of the English host. “The English are advancing from Edinburgh in numbers such as none of us have ever seen.”
“Give me specifics,” the king snapped.
Too tired and discouraged to take offense at Robert's tone, Bryan answered, “We counted over two thousand heavy cavalry, three thousand Welsh archers, and fifteen thousand foot soldiers, my laird.”
“Is there no good news?” Robert asked wearily.
Keith answered. “Aye, I don't know why they waited so long to leave Edinburgh, but they've been forced to march twenty-two miles today with only a few brief halts for rest and food. Men and beasts are tired, and they still have nearly ten miles to go to reach Stirling Castle.”
“And we stand between them and Stirling.” Robert rubbed his forehead. “Twenty thousand of them and seven thousand of us.”
No one spoke. Bryan could feel the tension in his companions, whose experience in warfare more than qualified them to assess the situation. And the situation looked bleak. Despite the weapons Ceallach had procured, the English still had superior weaponry. Of special concern was their heavy cavalryâfew warriors could withstand the attack of even a single armored knight. And to face the charge of a thousand of them . . . Bryan shuddered at the thought.
Finally, Edward Bruce, the man whose actions had set all this in motion, broke the silence. “The numbers may be deceiving, brother. The body is strong, but the head is weak. Young Edward does not have your strategic abilities, nor is he the warrior his father was. And we've learned that his advisors are arguing among themselves.”