A
cold drizzle permeated the Annandale region. It was truly an ordinary winter in regard to
the dreary weather, but to young Lord Robert de Brus and his family it was most
extraordinary in every other way.
"Umfraville,"
said Robert, lost in thought.
"Umfraville?"
questioned Lady Elizabeth, Robert’s wife, who sat upon the hearth of the large
fireplace with her needlework. "What has Ingram de Umfraville to do with yer
relations with King Edward?" Her fingers never paused in their exacting task.
"Hmm?
Oh," Robert frowned until he realized his rumination had been aloud. "Umfraville
gifted me some of his lands only summer last, and in October revoked his gift with no
reason offered. What lunacy is that?"
Robert
sat in a grand chair, elaborately carved of Scottish oak. "The Competitor" had
commanded his domain from that same chair when he was master of Lochmaben. A platter of
food and a flagon of wine sat on the large table before him in the great hall of Castle
Lochmaben’s three-story keep.
Elizabeth
fussed over a dress she and the seamstresses were making for Marjorie, Robert’s
twelve-year-old daughter. His first wife Isabella, daughter of the Earl of Mar, had died
of childbirth complications after but one year of their marriage, leaving Robert with the
tiny babe to raise.
"We
can’t blame all on poor, simple Umfraville," said Alexander de Brus as he
entered the hall. He casually sat at the table beside Robert and nibbled at some of the
foodstuffs from the platter.
"To
the contrary, Brother, I blame naught on that trifling lapdog. ‘Tis his master,
Edward of England, I worry was the reason the gifted lands were reversed," said
Robert, taking a sip of his afternoon wine.
"Stand
quiet, child," ordered Elizabeth as a seamstress tacked the hem at an exact height
from the floor. Robert’s second wife was the beautiful, dark-haired daughter of
Richard de Burgh, the Earl of Ulster, an experienced soldier and staunch supporter of
England’s king. Elizabeth de Burgh was raised on common sense and had inherited a
shrewd instinctive knowledge of politics.
Marjorie’s
eyes rolled heavenward, but she knew better than to cross the only woman she had ever
known as mother.
"The
bodice is not a’right," complained Marjorie, fidgeting.
"Patience,
child," replied Elizabeth pushing bone pins through the material to reform the drape
of the dress. "‘Twill be, if you but hold still."
Robert
sighed deeply and propped his clean-shaven face on upturned palms and stared aimlessly at
the tapestry hanging at the far end of the hall. In the subsequent quiet, the crackling
fire dominated the room, giving it a cheery, warm quality in spite of the drear outside.
"Let’s
go on hunt," Robert said suddenly, his face taking on a freshness with the thought.
"Ye
obviously have not yer usual wit for politics," replied Elizabeth, her nimble fingers
still busy.
"Ye
up for a hunt, woman?" said Robert purposely pushing his new agenda with a smile of
almost childish delight.
"Winter
wearies, I’d say," piped in Alexander stolidly.
"The
falcons need a hunt," proffered Robert wiping his hand across his face and pinching
his lower lip, all accompanied by his continued impish smile.
Elizabeth
could not resist laughing at his mirthfulness, finally saying, "I surrender, husband.
To hunt it is."
"Dawn
on the morrow?"
"Dawn."
"Alexander,
ye for the hunt?" asked Robert as he turned to eye his brother who, being dean of
Glasgow University, usually preferred a musty old manuscript to the likes of the
out-of-doors.
"Nay,
Milord Robert. Ye would fare better should ye take Edward, or Thomas... Thomas would no
doubt crave to go with ye," answered Alexander.
"Aye,
that he would," agreed Robert as he stood to go find Thomas.
.
.
Robert
found Thomas in the stables carrying water to the two black Friesian war-horses he had
raised from colts.
"We
have stable hands for such tasks," gently teased Robert as he came to Thomas, knowing
full well it was a love that his great hulk of a brother had for fetching and caring for
his horses, and certainly far removed from the thought of labor. "Ye rob them of the
chance to earn their keep, Little Brother."
Thomas’
sweaty young face smiled broadly as he continued along his way toward the stalls that held
the great horses.
"Want
to go hawkin’ on the dawn?" asked Robert, his breath visibly wafting before him
in the cool dampness, his yellowish gray hunting hound faithfully following his
master’s every step.
Thomas
hesitated but slightly in his stride, calculating changes in his schedule, before he
answered; "Aye, ‘twould be good."
"I’m
off to the mews to speak to the falconer now," said Robert as he turned to head in
the other direction.
"Be
with ye directly," replied Thomas who lost neither pace for, nor sight of, his
intended destination.
As
his lord rounded the corner, Roger the falconer was sitting on a three-legged stool among
the cages that surrounded the small mews at the far end of the stables along the west
curtain wall. He had one of the raptors socked and was repairing a broken wing feather by
carefully splicing another to it with a thin woolen thread.
"We’ll
be off hawkin’ on the dawn, falconer," said Robert as he approached.
"Aye,
Milord. How many birds will ye want ready?" asked Roger as he awkwardly half stood
and bowed while trying to hold the wing in place.
Robert
smiled and motioned for the man to continue his task as he answered, "Two or three
will be good, we won’t be out a full day... A few birds for the family supper."
"Very
good, Milord," again bowed Roger, this time remaining seated and touching the wide
brim of his hat. "I’ll have our finest hunters hooded and ready at first
light."
A
cool overnight wind had blown the drizzly rain clouds away and the dawn colors were
magnificent as the entourage left through the main gate and across the castle drawbridge.
Elizabeth
was excited to be away from the castle for at least a little while. She hated to be cooped
in the donjon for too long a spell, and a day at hawking was a perfect day out, in her
mind.
Her
clothes were in a manner more like a man’s, as it sometimes was not safe to wander
the countryside exposing a feminine flank to roaming bands of brigands.
Her
horse was smaller and somewhat swifter than the large Belgians the seven men were riding
but she knew how to navigate the terrain as well as any.
Within
an hour and a half the caravan reached a far glen, out of sight of the castle, where the
heather provided perfect cover for nesting grouse and pheasants. Its beauty
notwithstanding, it was not a fit place for cattle, sheep, or crops, and was thus left to
its natural state.
Roger
had several hooded hawks tethered to a wide traveling perch. The birds were as keyed up as
the riders to be off to the hunt. The falconer deftly managed the perch and spoke softly
to his charges as he rode aft of Lord Robert and Lady Elizabeth in the party’s queue.
Four lightly armored knights followed for the party’s defense, and Thomas served as
rear guard.
The
wind blew briskly, prompting Elizabeth to say, "Mean day for hawkin,’" as
she guided her horse into the glen.
"‘Tis
to be a glorious day," replied Robert exuberantly as he came to her side and with
closed eyes raised his face toward the bright sun.
"Ye
predictin’ such, Milord?" teased Elizabeth with a smile.
"Commandin’!’"
Robert smiled in return.
The
hound suddenly became nervous and his tail wagged quickly to and fro.
"Grouse
a’ready?" asked Elizabeth rhetorically.
The
two halted and Robert silently waved the entourage to him. The dog waited in silence, but
excitedly, at the horse’s forelegs for his master’s order to flush the game.
As
the eight overlooked the quiet vale, naught was seen flying.
"They’re
settin’ tight in this wind," said Thomas softly as he looked across the heather.
"Aye,"
agreed Robert who turned to his falconer and signaled for him to set loose a bird.
Roger
complied quickly, and gently spoke to a feathered hunter before he firmly grasped the
leather jesses attached to the hawk’s leg. Untying the leather strips from the perch
as he nudged the sleek bird’s pale breast with his heavy, leather glove, he said
"Hup," and the bird stepped smartly from its perch to the glove. The falconer
then removed the leather hood that kept the bird quiet and blinded.
The
bird blinked and shook his head, ruffling the feathers the hood had held in place since
they left the mews. In turn he raised all of his feathers and, shaking his body smartly,
allowed the feathers to settle back into place. His eyes soon adjusted to the bright sun
and he was ready to fly. Holding the leather thongs, which remained tied to the
raptor’s leg, Roger offered it to Lord Brus.
Robert
donned his glove and, walking his horse alongside the falconer’s, allowed the
bird’s sharp talons to step across to his own hand before transferring the jess from
Roger’s grip to his own.
Robert
held the falcon high aloft. Everyone in the party had eyes fixed on the bird as Robert
launched it into the air with a quick upward thrust at the same instant he released the
jess straps.
The
horsed group watched, each and all, as the raptor swiftly climbed high above their heads
in spite of the blustery wind.
"Aye,
that we could do as such," whispered Elizabeth as the bird reached its height and
waited, gliding silently until catching sight of its prey.
"Aye,"
philosophized Robert, completely missing her thrilled observation of the bird’s
flight, "that we as mere humans could kill with such skill."
"Fool
me not, husband," replied Elizabeth, "for I have seen ye at killin’."
Robert
frowned for he knew not how to take her comment but she knew it to be given as a
compliment and nothing more.
"Go
lad!" ordered Robert, and the dog leapt into the heather and bounded through it,
barking ferociously. Within a heartbeat, the air was filled with numerous grouse, taking
wing before the charging dog.
Tucking
his wings back, the falcon chose an unsuspecting grouse and dropped abruptly into its
dive. The watchers’ hearts raced admiringly as the bird descended many times faster
than the fastest horse could run.
The
falcon’s talons hooked deep into the flesh of its quarry’s back and a puff of
loosed feathers flew out in every direction, accompanied by an involuntary and final cry.
The
raptor took his prey and went to ground.
Thomas
pulled out his heavy glove and rode toward where the falcon last was seen in the deep
heather. Not seeing it right away, he stopped and listened for the tiny bells attached to
the bird’s jesses. He rode in the direction of the erratic tinkling and dismounted
when he sighted the hawk.
The
grouse was bleeding from its lethal wounds and its slayer was pecking a patch of feathers
away to get to the sweet flesh within.
The
raptor nervously jumped and spread its wings when Thomas came to him with gloved hand, but
being a trained hunter, hopped onto the awaiting leather and stood stoically as Thomas
rewarded him with meat after wrapping the jess straps around his heavy glove. He then
retrieved the kill, and, wrapping its legs with a leather thong, quickly threw a loop over
his saddlebow.
He
started to remount when he noticed several areas not twenty paces from him, where the
heather was laid flat for no apparent reason.
"What’s
Thomas about?" asked Elizabeth as she watched her husband’s brother leave his
horse’s reins dangling to follow his curiosity.
In
a moment, he pulled his sword and looked about him. Roger immediately spurred his horse
toward Thomas to retrieve the falcon still perched on his gloved hand, and Robert signaled
two of the armed knights to descend the hill as well. They rode cautiously to the site,
drawing their swords and warily observing around them all the while.
"What
be yer worry?!" shouted Robert as Thomas paused at the site.
"Bodies,
still warm!" he shouted as he watched mist rise into the cool air from the freshly
murdered victims at his feet.
"Mother
of God," whispered Elizabeth.
Robert
pulled his great claymore from its sheath, as did the last two knights, and immediately
surveyed the landscape for movement.
Elizabeth
also searched the landscape, quickly whispering, "Robert, off to the left, in the
bramble wood!"
"What?"
"A
flash, off metal."
Robert
turned and looked up the hill and said, "I see naught, wife."
"Ye
not believe me?" she asked. Without answering he looked away, down the hill at the
four men.
He
shouted to them, "We’ll send a buryin’ party later," and he waved his
arm for them to return, which they started immediately, with Thomas bringing up the rear.
He then turned his attention back to his wife, who grew frustrated at his seeming
indifference to her sighting.
"Aye,
I believe ye, woman," frowned Robert, "but ‘tis best to get arrayed with
all our men together ere we go showin’ we know of their hidin’ place."
Elizabeth
sighed in relief but again became anxious as she realized the four knights were the only
ones with any armor at all and they with only jerkins of mail and upper chest armor.
"We’re no match," she reasoned aloud.
"No
match for what?" replied Robert as he glanced at the nearby wood.
"For
them that’s hidin’ yonder."
"Calm,
my dear," he said. "We know naught of them, but my guess is, if they believed
themselves the stronger, they would have attacked us a’ready."
"Like
now?" she asked pointing over Robert’s shoulder at the band of some fifteen
marauders who came charging down the hill toward them.
"Thomas,
there!" shouted Robert to his brother and the others who were now drawing near.
Eleven
of the attacking men were on horseback and charging fast.
"‘Tis
a mistake, committin’ yerselves with all this ground to cover," said Robert
rhetorically to those racing toward him. Quickly the four knights formed in behind their
liege lord. Thomas put himself between Robert and the attackers and waited.
Robert
turned to his own band, leaving his back exposed to the charging men, and spoke to them in
low but determined tones.
"Falconer,
take my lady and the birds and go to that knoll yonder," he ordered. It was a
position some fifty paces from Robert’s knights and would be relatively safe from the
advancing killers. Since their weapons were but small dirks and of little value in a fight
with swords, he wanted the two removed from the fighting. "Hie for Lochmaben if we
fail," he added, "and protect your mistress with your life."
"Aye,
Milord," the falconer nodded and immediately turned to follow Elizabeth to the top of
the hillock. Roger had hooded the retrieved bird and tied it safely to the perch. All the
birds were jumpy with the ambient excitement and the falconer soothed them with his
familiar voice as they rode away.
The
confident leader of the charging attackers gathered great speed in his downhill gallop.
Normally
thieves of this sort would abandon the area of their dirty work as soon as finished, and
would have this time had they had the opportunity to pick the pockets of their kill. But
alas, with the approach of Robert’s hunting train they had been forced to hide in the
bush and wait. They were emboldened by the wealth and scant number of the falconers, and
intrigued at the possibility for additional booty.
Having
given orders to his knights, Robert turned again to face the charge.
As
the vile band of freebooters came upon them, Robert suddenly bolted left with two of the
knights while Thomas went to the right with the others. The villains could not stop for
the power of their momentum and swished past their prey, now behind them and at their
flanks.
The
four thieves on foot saw what happened and fell over one another to stop their descent.
They scrambled to their feet and ran back up the hill when Robert’s fiercely snarling
dog gave chase to nip at their legs.
Now,
without a stroke of a blade, Robert had achieved the upper hand.
"Ye
stinkin’ sons of whores!" screamed the leader of the cutthroats when he at last
reined up and wheeled around. His men scattered in disarray at the base of the long hill,
their only advantage left being their numbers, almost double Robert’s.
The
desperate fellow glanced around, saw Elizabeth and the falconer atop the hill at his back
and six knights coming at him from the hill he had just descended so rashly. The two
behind did not seem an immediate threat and so he railed at his followers to charge back
up the hill toward the oncoming knights.
The
clash of swords rang crisp in the cold morning air.
Robert
and Thomas each gave war whoops and came into the midst of the bandits with a fury and
precision only such professional soldiers possessed. There is no substitute for training
in the art of war, and against renegades with self-interests and lazy habits, master
knights can easily find targets.
Five
thieves were slain within seconds. Their blood splashed across horses and saddles as they
slid to the heather, eyes bulging in disbelief that this was the last moment of their
miserable lives.
Within
seconds more, their chief cast his sword to the ground and threw his hands as high above
his head as was possible. His six followers who were yet alive did likewise.
"Pray,
kill us not, Sire!" pleaded the fellow, "We’ll share our booty with ye... I
swear!"
Robert
came to him and gingerly poked his ribs with the point on his claymore.
The
unarmed brigand jumped and quivered in fear. Uncontrollable tears streamed down his rough
and unkempt face.
"Ye
slay them lyin’ yonder in the heather?" asked Lord Robert.
Redback’s
eyes darted to and fro, his mind frantically searching for the convenient lie but his lips
remained mute.
Robert
prodded him once again with the sword point.
"Aggggh,"
he whined in agony as the Claymore drew blood.
"Off
yer horses, ye murderers," Lord Robert ordered.
All
quickly obeyed as Elizabeth and Roger came to the knot.
"We
hangin’ ‘em?" asked Thomas as he maneuvered his horse beside his
brother’s.
"Nay.
Bind them and search for hid weapons," ordered Robert.
The
four knights dismounted and began the task of wrapping leathers around the murderers’
clasped hands. One, a big man with little in the way of wit, became fearful of his hands
being tied and panicked. He swiftly drew the dirk of the knight who was about to bind his
arms, felling the knight with a sudden shove. The great oaf raised the blade to strike a
deadly blow upon the startled man when his fellow knight relieved the wretched man of his
life with a single sword stroke.
Elizabeth
wanted to turn her head and not look at the awful vision, but she dared not show any sign
of sympathy when her sympathies were all with the victims, stone dead in the glen.
There
were but five thieves left, including the leader, who all put their pressed together palms
as far out in front of them as they could so that there would be no misinterpretation on
their intentions of surrender.
As
Elizabeth searched the landscape to avert her eyes from the kill she saw the dog sniffing
and barking where the thieves had previously sought cover. Perhaps the men afoot had
returned there for some reason.
"We
have more," said Elizabeth, pointing.
"Damn!"
grimaced Robert, wheeling his large Belgian. He labored up the hill toward the bush alone
thinking that, if there were others, they would be little more than men with sticks or the
like.
Robert
came to the hiding place and swung his claymore over his head accompanied by a loud outcry
and demanded, "Come forth ye varlets ere I come in for ye and cleave yer ears from
yer heads!"
Two
dirty young girls about twelve or thirteen years of age shyly peeked out from the wood.
Robert
slowly lowered his claymore to his side. He felt silly threatening such calamity upon
frightened female children.
They
were scared and anxious as they held their oversized and tattered skirts in a wad, pulling
them tight to their malnourished bodies as they emerged from the briars and underbrush.
Tears
of mixed emotions trickled down their faces. Were they saved, they wondered, or were they
simply recaptured?
Elizabeth
saw that they were young girls and came to her husband’s side as he questioned his
captives. She dismounted and went to the two children, and immediately admonished Robert.
"Obviously, husband, they had naught to do with the criminal acts of those
varlets!"
"Where
did these men find ye?" she asked the girls in a quiet and disarming voice.
There
was hesitation as the filthy girls glanced from the glaring leader of the thieves to
Elizabeth, to Robert, and back again.
"’Tis
a’right," assured Elizabeth with a smile, "Ye’ll not be harmed
further, I promise."
Uncontrollable
sobs and fountains of tears erupted from both girls as they realized they had indeed been
saved. They recounted a tale of woe that went back more than two years:
The
girls were friends, their two families were traveling together through the rolling hills
of Galloway on their way to a fair. Feigning hunger and begging scraps of food, several of
the thieves including the leader, whom the girls called "Redback," had come upon
the small caravan while it lay camped for the night. As the families prepared to share
their meager stores with the beggars, the cutthroats murdered the girls’ parents and
the three helpers and two men-at-arms accompanying them.
The
girls were spared from death only to be used as slaves. Their captors’ every wish for
service was fulfilled lest they be tortured by the flaying of small strips of skin from
their backs and legs. This cruelty was a specialty of their host, who garnered his
well-feared name from the torture.
"Let
me see," said Elizabeth, turning the girls from the eyes of the men for she wanting
to judge for herself the extent to which Redback was willing to go to hold his hostages in
bridle to his bidding.
"Holy
Mother!" exclaimed Elizabeth when she saw their old scars and fresh wounds. Standing,
she said coldly, "Robert, ye must hang those villains..."
"I
cannot, woman," claimed Robert. The falconer looked knowingly at the eldest of the
four knights, who had been in Robert’s service a number of years. Though the two said
nothing, much meaning passed between them with that look. Robert caught it, too.
Also
within earshot, Redback smiled and sneered in private jubilation, to know that they would
not be hanged straightaway. And where there’s waitin’, he thought, there’s
always chances to escape.
"These
girls will bear witness to these scalawags’ many murders and acts of thievery that
they witnessed from the bush," pleaded Elizabeth. The taller girl nodded agreement.
Robert
dismounted and took Elizabeth aside from the others.
"I
cannot hang them, though they were the Devil himself!" Robert insisted.
"And
why not?" Elizabeth confronted him.
"Have
ye not heard of the curse of Saint Malachy, woman?" asked Robert quietly, that the
others would not hear his dark tale.
Elizabeth
rolled her eyes toward heaven, then closed them before she began to speak. "I’m
sure ye have old bones to rattle on nights of dark tidin’s when ye fix to scare
superstitious folk for jest," she replied with more than a little exasperation.
"I
know yer sweet Irish temper is near raised to a boil, my dear," continued Robert,
"but first listen! Near a hundred years back, in the time of my grandfather, there
was caught a thief, much like these we have here. There was naught could be said for
preservin’ his life, either."
"And
a hundred years ago has what to do with these murderin’ savages?" asked
Elizabeth.
Robert
breathed deep. He wanted not to appear soft in his lordship o’er these criminals, but
he genuinely feared the effects of the curse his grandfather had nearly worn himself to
death to appease.
"In
the town of Annan, ‘twas," he explained. "Saint Malachy was travelin’
to Rome when he grew ill, and at Grandfather’s invitation, stayed for a few
days’ rest in the house of de Brus. While he was a guest in our home, he saw that
Grandfather had caught a thief, and as a favor to bless and bring success to the remainder
of his journey, the holy pilgrim asked Grandfather to spare the thief’s life."
"And…"
said Elizabeth, sensing his hesitation.
"Well,"
he continued, "Grandfather had the fellow hanged, in spite of the request. Not only
was it the lawful and just punishment for the man’s crimes, but it was already
pronounced, and there were expectations to be upheld so that other such villains might be
discouraged. Moreover, it was my grandfather’s own cattle that had been stolen and he
was stretched tight betwixt pleasin’ Malachy, and pleasin’ his sense of
justice."
Elizabeth
sighed and said nothing.
"All
might have gone well anyway," he went on, "except that Saint Malachy saw the
hanged man and..."
"And
that’s when he laid the curse on the de Bruses."
"Aye.
That’s when. And Grandfather spent near all the rest of his days tryin’ to make
up for it in the eyes of God and man."
"But,
dear Robert, yer family has done little but gain since those days," said Elizabeth.
"Aye,
Lass, we have done right well, or at least better than most. And we have suffered no more
loss than others in like circumstance. But, our neighbors and cotters see it not that way.
Every time a crop did poorly, it was Saint Malachy’s curse on the house of de Brus.
When a child died in the village, it was the curse on the de Bruses. If a man or a horse
was lamed, or a cow went dry, or if the milkmaid slipped on a slick stone and spilled the
milk, in the minds of the simple folk it was Saint Malachy’s revenge for
Grandfather’s disposin’ of the likes of these!" He swept his hand in the
direction of the cowering thieves.
He
looked at the face he loved so and said, "It got to where any evil or misfortune that
befell any poor soul could be blamed on the de Bruses. We could hardly get our crops
planted and our sheep tended for the fear that dwelt in the hearts of those who must plant
and tend. ‘Tis not my belief, but the villeins’ that concerns me, here."
Elizabeth
threw up her hands and slapped them back again against her thighs in surrender.
"There’s naught more, husband... ye’ll have to do as ye see fit."
"Aye,"
said Robert, "I shall."
"Then
turn them loose," she said almost casually, "But bring the children with
us."
"We’ll
bring the children. The murderin’ rogues I’m sendin’ to Dumfries,"
said Robert, remounting his horse. "There’ll be English judges holdin’
court next month."
"Lawin'
the curse onto the English, are we, Robert?"
He
shrugged. She thought she saw a light smile play across his lips.
Robert
went to Thomas as Elizabeth told the two rescued starvelings that they would come with
them to Castle Lochmaben and reside there. She then called for one of the knights to bring
them horses to ride. The young man quickly rounded up two of the horses loosed by the
slaying of the dead thieves and brought them to Elizabeth for her approval. One of the
girls asked a boon.
"Please,
Milady, may we ride one of those horses and this one," she asked with tears in her
large, sunken eyes as she rubbed the nose of one of the mounts brought by the knight.
Elizabeth
looked puzzled until the other child said, "This was our da’s, and that
one," she pointed to a large mare a fair distance away in the care of another knight,
"our ma would ride wi’ us."
"Then
ye shall have them." Elizabeth looked at the knight who promptly retrieved the other
horse. As she helped each girl onto a horse, she said, "Hold tight as you can. We
shall travel at a walk, so you need not fear."
After
they were mounted, she added, "These are your inheritance from your father. They
belong to you, now, and their increase as well." Elizabeth then remounted and rode up
the hill toward Robert, the two girls close behind. As they clung to the animals, they
were warmer than they had been for days, in spite of the chill wind. Elizabeth seemed to
them to be a kind lady, perhaps even as kind as their mothers.
Thomas
and the four knights tethered the prisoners to each other, forming them in a line with
Redback in the front. Thomas took a length of rope and tied it around Redback’s neck
and mounted his horse.
A
quick jerk on Redback’s tether let the criminals know they were walking, not riding,
to their fates. They cursed and spat on one another, each blaming the others for their
poorly completed misadventure. Certainly it would be late that night before they reached
their dungeon cell in Castle Dumfries. The knights rode on either side of the prisoners
and as rear guard, each also taking the leads of two or more of the captured horses.
The
fancy stolen purses hanging like trophies from the saddlebows of the thieves were indeed
heavily laden with a rich booty as Robert discovered on inspection.
"They
could have lived like kings, had they only known when to quit," philosophized Robert.
The
reformed entourage headed toward Castle Lochmaben.
"A
day for the hunt was all I wanted ere I leave," lamented Robert.
Elizabeth
looked quizzically at her husband, "Yer leavin’?"
"Aye.
I’m to England in a day or two," he said quietly. "My lands there need
tendin’"
"Lands
be damned!" she replied, frowning. "‘Tis winter!"
"Aye,
but business must be minded, even in winter. And, there’s to be a celebration of the
king’s birthday, to which I’m invited. I shall take Edward, and Thomas Randolph.
Those two rowdies will enjoy a good party more than shall I, responsible old married man
that I am," he said with a broad grin. At that, he leaned in his saddle and kissed
his smiling bride.
. . |
