Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (26 page)

William shook his head. “It seems when I take a step forward, I’m always met with a step back in this miserable rebellion. I think I’m doing the right things and then something happens to quell my progress.”

“But you’ve come so far, even since I arrived.” She kneaded harder. “News of the uprising has spread and people are flocking to you.”

“Aye, but if I had the gentry behind me, we would be all the more strong. I ken in my heart we would send Edward back to England never to return. If only all of Scotland could stand together.”

“But the nobles are all watching out for themselves. And there are those who
want
English rule. This is why you alone have been chosen.”

“Unfortunately ye are right.” He stretched his spine. “With great clans like Bruce and Comyn—even the Stewart with lands on the English side of the border, alliances are oft misplaced, and their armies follow their leaders which leaves my rebels lacking in talent.”

“Have you thought to seek help from the north?” Though she knew the answer, the decision had to come from William. “What about Sir Andrew Murray?”

“I must write to him.”

“He’s proved he’s committed to ridding Scotland of Edward’s tyranny. And his father is a member of the gentry. Joining with him will only bring credence to your cause.”

“And more skilled men.” William sat taller.

“That, too.”

Eva pulled out the medallion and looked at it in her palm. The metal cooled in her hand, as if pleased. She doubted she’d see Walter Tennant’s tent any time soon.

In London, King Edward Plantagenet sat at the head of the board with his advisors. “I fully intend to attack France before the leaves of autumn begin to turn. Philip is at his weakest. If we wait a moment longer it will give him time to lick his wounds.”

“With three ships in refit, I must advise you to wait,” said the Earl of Norfolk.

Edward was not a patient man. He narrowed his gaze. “You have a month, and those vessels had best be ready to set sail, else your title and lands will be forfeit to the crown.”

The Earl of Norfolk’s countenance took on a shade of green. “We shall be ready, Your Grace.”

John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey, drew a noisy breath through his large nostrils. “I’d like to sail with more infantry as well. Since our last crusade, there are fewer in Ireland and Wales fit to draw upon.”

“Is that not why I brought Scotland under my rule?” King Edward leaned forward on his elbow. “Aside from the acquisition of trade and lands, those miserable sheep are dispensable. Put them in the front line.”

With a rap, the door opened and Edward’s valet strode inside. “Sir Ormsby has arrived with news from Scone, Your Grace.”

Edward gripped the armrest of his throne. “The question is what is Ormsby doing in London and not at his post in Scone?”

The valet bowed. “If I may show him in, I’m certain you’ll find his story diverting.”

Glancing at Norfolk, Edward rolled his hand through the air. “Mayhap you should alert the headsman.”

The knight entered dressed for battle, carrying his helm cradled in the crux of his arm. His beard did nothing to hide the man’s frown or the fear in his eyes.

Edward let him squirm for a moment while he scrutinized the man. Ormsby had been reasonably useful last spring when they sacked Berwick and Dunbar. “Well out with it, sir. Why in God’s name are you not holding my castle at Scone?”

The man shivered to his boots. “Sacked, Your Grace.”

Edward’s fingers itched to issue the cur a well-deserved slap. “Sacked? Then why are you standing before me unscathed?”

“I-I was able to spirit away—with the aid of my men.”

“How fortunate for you. But you managed to lose my stronghold in the interim?”

“There is an uprising underway, led by a vassal of the people. A great behemoth of a man.”

Edward’s shoulders tensed. God, he hated imbeciles. “One man? And who is this giant?”

“William Wallace. He killed my unarmed cleric in cold blood…a-and only a handful of my men managed to escape his capture.”

“You witnessed this murder of your cleric?” Raising an eyebrow, the king picked beneath his fingernail.

“No, Your Grace, but it was reported to me in Roxburgh.” Ormsby bowed. “En route to inform you, sire.”

“You sniveling maggot.” Edward threw up his hands. “You cannot manage to keep the miserable Scottish heathens in line? Those people are the outcasts of society. How could you have allowed them to gain the upper hand in Scone?”

“I—”

Lord Warenne cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but as I recall, William Wallace is also the same scoundrel who killed Sir Heselrig in Lanark.”

“You mean to tell me, we’ve allowed a murderer to run loose up there? Of all the lawlessness. Why has he not yet been arrested and made an example of?”

“He’s enormous s-sire,” Ormsby stuttered. “Seven feet tall and twenty-six stone.”

“And my greatest lords to the north are afraid of Goliath?” Edward slammed his fist onto the board. “King David killed that Philistine with a pebble.”

Sir Ormsby bowed his dull-witted head. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps ’tis time we crush this Wallace once and for all.” Edward looked toward John de Warenne, the most trusted man in his court. “Surrey, I shall assign the Earl of Cornwall with mustering new recruits for Flanders. You shall depart for Scotland at once and put an end to this petty uprising.”

Lord Warenne stood and bowed. “We shall ride at dawn.”

Another rap came at the door and the valet stepped inside. “Your Grace, a missive has arrived from Mr. Cressingham on the northern border.”

Edward beckoned the valet with his fingers whilst eyeing Warenne. “You may as well wait for the news, John. At least my treasurer has the sense to send a missive rather than travel all the way to London to bring word himself.”

After reading, Edward folded the vellum and placed it on the board. “It appears all the nobles of Scotland need to be reminded as to who is suzerain over their miserable country. I thought Robert Bruce, William Douglas and James Stewart were securely under my thumb, but Cressingham reports they’ve caused a skirmish in Irvine, which I might add was swiftly quelled by Lords Percy and Clifford.”

“’Tis grave, indeed,” said Lord Norfolk.

“Not too terribly concerning.” Edward twisted the garnet ring on his finger. “Warenne, you’d best collect Lord Percy and Lord Clifford on your journey north. Clearly they have demonstrated the ability to stop the uprising with their
victory
at Irvine.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Warenne bowed.

“Appeal to those Scottish nobles who have pledged their fealty and remind them their lands will be forfeit on both sides of the border if they so much as hint at refusing my call to arms.” Edward panned his gaze across the faces of his councilmen. “Meanwhile I shall continue to focus on more important battles to secure my holdings in France.”

***

By the time the news arrived of the Scottish noble’s failure in Irvine in early July, William and his men had Perth under Scottish control. But his army’s success did nothing to quell his ire. The only color William could see was red. He balled the missive in his fist and ground his teeth. “Bloody backstabbers sought terms from the English rather than stand and fight.”

“Is it about Irvine?” Eva asked from her seat at the table in the hall at Scone.

He slapped the missive down. “God’s bones, woman. How did ye ken?”

She heaved a huge sigh. “By now you ought to know I am not a seer.”

For the love of everything holy, he needed to hit something. Hard. “If ye kent, then why couldna ye have told me about this? ’Tis the lowest blow to a man’s character.”

Her face turned bright red. “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“I would have ridden like hellfire to fight beside them.”

“Right, and I would have been taken from your life for good
before
I had a chance to utter the words. Regardless, the outcome would have been no different. You know as well as I that I can do nothing to change the unraveling of history. I can only share things that will not affect your true story.”

He kicked a chair leg. “Then what good are ye to me?”

Eva turned her face away with an exasperated cough.

“Och.” His heart clamped tight as a rock. “Forgive me. It didn’t come out the way I’d meant it.”

“I know.” She stood and pulled her medallion out from under her shift. “This is my gauge. It heats up against my skin when I’m beginning to let a little too much out of the bag. When I was about to tell Heselrig your name, I was flung back to my time—remember? If I say
anything
that will change the past—I mean your future, I will be taken away, and I have no idea if I’ll be able to come back.”

He spread his palms to his sides. “But ye came back once before.”

“Only because I prostrated myself in the Fail ruins in the midst of a storm and begged.”

William grasped the medallion and rubbed it between his fingers. “It feels like a lump of bronze to me.”

“Same as it does to me most of the time.”

“Dunna distract me with trinkets.” He let it drop back to Eva’s chest. The last thing he needed was to have his mind run amuck. “I cannot believe both Wishart and Stewart backstabbed me thus. ’Tis contemptible. Blast them. How in God’s name am I to stage a rebellion if the nobles undermine my every move?”

She tucked her medallion back inside her bodice. “They have their sights set on fattening their coffers as well as their holdings of land.”

“That they do.” William jammed his fists into his hips. “Their avarice exceeds all reason.”

“But you’ve said yourself that is why you were chosen to lead the rebels. Because you are a second son with no title, no lands, nothing but your sword and your psalter. You have nothing to lose.”

“I have everything to lose.” His heartbeat thrummed beneath his skin. “The freedom of my people is more precious than all the gold in Christendom. That is what I am fighting for.”

She crossed her arms. “So you will go burn Wishart’s home?”

“Och aye, now ye can tell me what I will do, yet you canna say what will be done against me? Ye are a vixen.” William stood and strapped on his sword. “I will ride this verra night and rain down vengeance on those who choose to supplant me. It would be one thing if they had succeeded, but now they sit in the company of Percy and Clifford negotiating for lands? The shite-eating dogs would sell their own mothers to increase their wealth.”

Eva watched him from under her thick red eyelashes. God’s teeth, she could be maddening with her secrets.

“What else do ye know that ye’re not telling me?” he groused.

“Wishart’s ‘nephews’ are really his sons.”

“I already kent he’d gone against his oath of celibacy. He’s not only a backstabber, he’s a blasphemer and a hypocrite.”

“Possibly.” Eva tapped her toe. “And when you return, there will be a reply from Andrew Murray. I hope you will have recovered from that sore head of yours, because not all news is bad.”

“Ye’ll not be cosseting me this night. The only news that would pull the dagger from my heart would be to see King John restored to his throne.” William turned on his heel and headed for Little, Blair and the stables.

***

Wallace refused to allow thoughts of Eva to cloud his mind as he thundered south to Wishart’s manor at Ancrum. Why in God’s name didn’t she warn him about the backstabbing nobles in Irvine? Only stopping to rest the horses, William and his men rode tirelessly.

The blood boiling beneath his skin propelled him forward. No man could grow tired when cast aside and used as thresh on the floor like Wishart and Stewart had done. To send a man to rain havoc across the country and then to undermine him? Worse, to fail at their pathetic attempt to make a stand and then to submit to the English?

Wishart deserves every moment he spends in Roxburgh gaol
.

Though it was midday when they arrived, the sky was dark with heavy clouds, and rain pelted from the sky.

William turned to Little and Blair. “A nobleman would never fight in a squall such as this, but I say, nothing will stop men of the earth. We were born to work, to trudge through the mire and harvest the crops, and we will stand for what is right regardless of the tempest.”

“I say we burn the rafters,” Blair said.

William sliced his hand through the air. “I didna bring the whole army because I aim to make a point. My quarrel is with Wishart. We’ll not burn him out this day. There are Scottish servants depending on the living he provides.” William leaned in. “But I will take his silver and his children.”

“Children?” Blair asked.

“The two lads he calls nephews.”

“Bloody miserable hypocrite. He’s a bishop for the love of God.”

William chuckled. “Mayhap he’ll answer for all his sins when he comes to collect the lads.”

Ahead, two guards huddled under the archway of the portcullis, holding their hands out to a brazier stocked with burning peat.

Little slipped behind one and Blair the other, swiftly disarming them.

William stepped out from the side of the outer bailey wall. “We mean no harm to any Scottish subjects.”

“Ye’re Wallace are ye not?” asked one.

“I am.”

The other nodded. “We’ll not stand in your way.”

It didn’t surprise William to meet with no resistance. He gestured to his men. “Take all the silver ye can carry.” Then he bounded up the stairwell, exiting at the third floor passageway. He opened and slammed doors until he found the lads. The eldest, Paden’s hands shook as he pointed a dirk at Wallace, shielding the younger with his body.

Holding up his palms, William stepped inside. “Och, Paden. Lay down your arms. I’ve no intention of hurting ye or Adam.”

The lad paid him no mind, shaking his damned dirk. “Aye? Then why have ye entered my
uncle’s
home by force?”

William removed his helm and sat in a chair by the hearth—though not once did he shift his gaze away from the armed lad. He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Mayhap if I explain from my viewpoint. Your da asked me to lead a rebellion, and after a successful battle where I reclaimed the city of Scone for Scotland, your da rode off with a number of nobles and led an uprising in Irvine.” William leaned forward. “Where he not only deserted me, he undermined the verra authority he granted my army from the outset.”