Leaving was never as fast or easy as I hoped. The horse boys let some horses get loose. One of my men started a fight over a missing sword with one of Haliburton's, and their friends joined in to turn it into a fracas. I rode into the middle and smacked down a couple with the flat of my sword. It was midmorning by the time we rode out as a red kite soared overhead on long wings, hunting its prey.
James and I rode in the vanguard while Haliburton brought up the rear. For such a lightning strike, I had decided against taking remounts. Despite the delays, once we were on the move, we traveled fast. We would be in Galloway before nightfall and move with no delay to reach Cardoness Castle. Scouts rode on both flanks, and Domhnall rode ahead with one of his men.
A warm breeze ruffled our horses' manes as we followed the twisting banks of the River Doon southeast. By midday with the summer sun beating down, we were dripping with sweat, moving at a steady walk. The ride was easy as we rode through the river meadows and past busy farmtouns. Men stopped in their work in the field to stare as we passed, but our banners were furled. Our scouts ranged on the hilltops, and the day passed with no opposition. When the sun set, we made a stop next to Loch Ken, but the pause would be brief.
I set our sentries on the high ground. The horses were watered and resting. I let the men make small campfires to cook bannocks since we brought neither supply wagons nor sumpters. Then, they hunkered down for a brief rest.
Haliburton, James, and I climbed to join Corbyn, who crouched beneath a birch and gazed south. Stars were splashed like diamonds across the slate-colored sky. Beneath was a dim flicker of firelight leaking through shutters at a farmtoun in the next valley.
We could not hide our passing, but with our banners furled, they would not know who we were nor where we were going. Nonetheless, we would waste no time.
An hour later, we were on our way once more. Despite riding after nightfall, we made fast progress. Since it had cooled, we alternated cantering and walking in the dark gray of the summer night. We rode at a canter as the sky lightened to a hazy blue and gold poured over the horizon. The sun had just begun to peek above the skyline when Domhnall rode out of a stand of oaks. “My Lord, the first farmtoun is straight ahead in the next valley. The barley is too green to burn, though.” That was as I expected. Haliburton trotted up to join us.
“Has he sent any men out on patrol?”
“Only right after the last attack, and three men left riding toward Wigtown the day after you attacked. But we had plenty of time to find good hiding spots hidden in deadfalls and such.” Domhnall's lips twisted in a wry smile. “Scratchy as the devil. I think if they had spotted us, they would have hunted us down.”
“But no aid from the other lairds?” Haliburton asked.
“Nae have come. We caught a messenger who rode in like the devil was on his tail just as it started to get light. Have him tied and gagged.”
James squinted into the distance. “He must come out to defend his own lands. Else, he will lose all respect.”
“We have him outnumbered, with the losses we gave him last time, but hopefully he doesnae ken so. He willnae want the humiliation of allowing us to ravage his lands without raising his sword.”
“I have two men where they can watch the drawbridge,” Domhnall said. “If it lowers, he will blow the moot two times on his hunting horn.”
“If he does come out, I want him taken alive. Make sure our men ken that.” I turned to Jason. “Unfurl our banners.”
Beside me, James whooped as his own banner flapped free. I gave the signal to move, and our banners cracked in the wind of our passing.
We topped the hill. Below stretched a patchwork of rigs green with barley. A small apple orchard, trees dotted with new fruit, was past the four houses of the farmtoun, tiny wattle and daub houses with straw-thatched roofs but looking cared for. Two children played in the dirt yard, where a woman shooed flapping chickens. In one of the fields, a boy prodded a half dozen cattle toward a gate with the help of a dog.
Descending, gaining momentum, we sped to a gallop. Dirt clods flew from under our horses' hooves and the manes whipped. The men began to laugh and shout, eager for some action after the long ride.
The woman pointed and screamed. A man ran out, paused, staring, and then shouted, “Run! Everyone! To the woods!” He grabbed up a child and bolted. The woman followed, dragging a larger child by the arm as more people streamed from the cottages. The chickens squawked and made hopping runs to escape the frantic excitement.
“Let them go!” I bellowed. To ride down cottars would do harm for our cause, not good.
We thundered into the hard-packed dirt yard. I pulled up and circled my mount.
“Dinnae bother looting the houses!” The men knew that already, but a reminder could not go amiss. Looting was usually their right. A few grumbled, but my scowl was enough to silence them. There would be little loot in them anyway, and I did not want any time wasted.
James ordered his men to trample the fields, and I sent mine to join them. Whooping, laughing, and shouting challenges who could race fastest, the men rode back and forth across the fields green with nearly ripe barley. Some raced after the cattle, hacking them in the neck, though two escaped into the woods.
Gil trotted up to me, and I said, “Hurry the men along.”
James came out of the barn, shaking his head. “Two oxen.” He grimaced. “The people will suffer enough. I cannae put them down.”
I raised an eyebrow at his soft heart, but there was no joy in ruining men's lives. It was just a necessity when their lord did not do his duty. “So be it. Have it your way. Have the oxen driven out before the barn is put to the torch.” He sent a couple of his men to do it and the stolid animals were prodded from the barn and went plodding after their owners.
Haliburton's men had dismounted and were handing out torches. One ducked into a house and emerged with his lit. They used it to light more, and soon, torches were sailing high overhead into the dry thatch of the roofs. At first, they did not catch, so they began using more torches to light the edges. The roofs began to smolder. When the thatch caught, it went up with a whoosh. Flying sparks made our horses snort and sidle, and dark brown smoke spiraled and billowed into the air.
“That has done—” Haliburton hacked, smoke caught in his throat. “—done it. If MacCulloch didnae already ken we were here, now he does.”
“Aye.” I smiled. “So he must.”
I waved a cloud of smoke from my face and looked around. The formerly green fields were now nothing but torn-up, trampled dirt, with only a few patches of broken green barley to be seen. One of the little houses collapsed with a thump and more sparks flew.
Cupping my hand to my mouth, I shouted to form up. The serjeants took up the command, but it was a quarter-hour before we were back in a rough column again, so Domhnall could show the way to the next farmtoun of only three farmhouses. Quick work was made of that one. The only problem was one man grabbing a lass too slow to flee. A blow to the side of his head with the flat of my sword laid him out on the ground, and the white-faced lass hiked up her kirtle and ran as fast as she could.
Pointing my sword at his face, I said, “Do that again and next time you willnae get up.”
He begged my pardon on his knees, whining that he meant no harm. I did not believe him, of course, but the lass was not harmed, so I let him clamber to his feet. We rode away with more pillars of smoke twisting their way into the sky.
Domhnall led us up a forest road, and in a mile, there was the small but tidy castle town with thick forest on three sides. Wide enough for a wagon and horse to pass, the road curved past the kirk into the forest. Jason shouted and pointed to the left, where he said he had seen some figures running into the trees. A small stone kirk marked the far side of the village and beyond it a common field where a few cattle grazed. Someone called out that they saw a man riding off to the right. I would bet it was a scout and no townsman.
A dozen houses were strung out along a dirt street that was silent and empty. Even the dogs seemed to have fled. Like the farmtouns, the houses were daub and wattle, easily built. Most looked solid and well cared for though two had sagging thatch and holes in the daub walls. Between the houses were small gardens, but a few had piles of refuse. The men knew what to do and began dismounting.
In the distance, a hunting horn gave the long call of the moot, the signal for hunters that game was in sight. After a moment, it sounded again.
“Leave the torches and mount up.”
Within a minute, Corbyn had my men and James' in a close square and Haliburton formed his up behind them. Gil handed me my helm and shield.
“Ready?” I asked James as he fastened his into place.
He nodded. “What do you think? Will he form a schiltrom?”
“I dinnae think so. It would take too long to reach us. He would worry we might flee. They will be ahorse.” I took the lance Gil handed to me. Behind James and me, the men would make do with their war hammers and swords. Our lightning strike had not allowed carrying extra weapons.
I left open my visor and checked that my aventail covered my neck. I would risk exposing my face to be able to see to react to what happened and adjusted the guige strap on my shield. Then I made a knot in my reins so if I dropped them, they would not flop around to let me control him with legs and heels. My shoulders were tense, so I circled them. Preparing for battle was always the hard part. It gave you too much time to think.
Raising my war hammer I pointed ahead, and we moved out at a walk. James and I rode stirrup to stirrup. Gil was to my right, his horse's head almost at my horse's hindquarters, with three more men in line with him. Behind them, the wedge widened until it formed all the way across the street. We would have to tighten it once we were within sight of the enemy. Our horses were light for the maneuver, rouncies but trained for fighting, and their momentum should still make it work.
The sun already warmed the metal of my helm even with it open, and it would soon be like an oven. Sweat beaded on my forehead, dribbling down my face. Behind there were occasional jokes about what we would do to MacCulloch followed by laughter. The men were confident we would win, but some were likely to be injured or die. There was no way to know who, so jokes prevented thinking about it.
One scout rounded a curve in the road at a gallop on his small, sturdy garron. “They are still exiting the castle gate!” he called. “If you ride fast, you can catch them before they can form up.”
“How far?” I did not want to risk exhausting our already tired mounts before the fight and had never ridden this road before, but I knew that we had come from the opposite side of the castle's main gate.
“'Twill take no more than five minutes!”
“At a canter!” I squeezed with my legs to urge my mount faster, and James matched stride for stride.
The trees thinned at first, and then before us was a clear space around the castle mound. Spread before the lowered drawbridge were mounted knights and men-at-arms, seventy strong. MacCulloch's white banner with its red cross-hatching flapped listlessly in the slight breeze over a handful of men in polished armor at the center.
I pulled my shield close and squeezed hard with my thighs and feet. My gray gathered his haunches and plunged to a gallop. James rode so close his knee brushed mine, as close as he could get. We sped over the fifty yards toward the rebels.
The men in their rear desperately jerked at their reins, trying to reach the front of their lines, their shouts drowned out by the thunder of our hooves. A knight in the front, a bearded man on a bay, couched his lance. Their only chance was to break our formation, so he slashed with his spurs and galloped at me, lance coming straight at my chest.
I angled my shield to deflect the force and aimed at the right top of his. Our lances crashed. The impact lifted him up and sideways as my back whacked against my saddle's high cantle. He grabbed for his pommel, but I was past and saw him no more.
Another knight was before me, looking to the side. I dug my heels into my stirrups and braced for the impact as my lance hit. He tried to angle his shield but was too late. My lance slammed into his chest. The end snapped off with a loud crack as he flew out of the saddle. He landed hard on his back. I tossed away the broken lance and my shield. James had gotten a step ahead of me. Dropping my reins on the horse's neck, I loosed my war hammer and spurred to catch up, bowling over an unhorsed knight who was too busy ducking James' blow to dodge out of my way.
I leaned out using my axe two-handed and smashed in a man-at-arms helm. James and Gil finished two others.
We had cut through McCulloch's men, and the castle gate was before me. The MacCulloch's men fought to turn their mounts in a chaotic tangle, and their force split in two. I leaned and squeezed with my left leg to wheel, shouting to form up on me.
Out of the crowd, a knight forced his way through. Two others joined him, but I ignored them. He had red crosshatching on his surcoat and the same on his shield, the coat of arms of Patrich MacCulloch. He was too close to reach a full gallop, crouching behind his shield, and a lance leveled straight at me. I moved toward him. At the last second, I made my horse sidestep with a smack. The swing of my weapon knocked his lance high. My back slash hit his arm and bounced off the armor.
I grabbed my reins, sawed back on my reins, and turned, shouting that he was mine. My men parted to let him through, and he turned. I swerved in front of his horse. It jibbed, dodged, and snorted. To close to use his lance, he threw it down bellowing a curse as I passed him. I slammed the flat of my war hammer one-handed into the back of his head. He fell forward and started to slide, dropping the reins and his arms flopping loose. As he slid, I grabbed the reins and managed to jerk the horse to a halt.
Next to me, James stood in his stirrups and shouted, “Your master is down! Yield! Put down your swords!” The others took up the shout as I jumped down and pulled MacCulloch free from his stirrups. He mumbled incoherently as I lowered him to the ground and pushed my hands away.
He rolled onto his knees and, after a moment of fumbling, drew his sword to offer it hilt first. “I yield.” He staggered to his feet, swaying, and bellowed, “Enough! Yield!”
I lifted off my helm, glad to feel a breeze on my face. “The king will decide your fate.” I shoved back my sweaty hair. “But if you swear fealty, I think he will decide to be generous.”
Even with the battle ended, everything was pandemonium. My men stripped the prisoners of their weapons and armor, the injured moaned or cursed in pain, and horses were led into the courtyard to be tended. Corbyn knelt beside one man, holding the stump of his arm high and pressing a cloth to where the hand had been severed, trying to stem the bleeding. The stink of sweat and blood hung in the air. As the prisoners were seen to and they offered their parole, the men began to stream through the castle gate. I motioned Colbyn to me. “Have the serjeants go through MacCulloch's men. Any Englishers are to leave at once. On foot. They may take a dagger with them if they have one. Nae horses nor other weapons.”
One of MacCulloch's men helped him with his helm. Pale, his face glistening with sweat, he rubbed the back of his head.
Gil handed me a waterskin. I took a drink and offered it to MacCulloch. “You made a good fight of it. No one can say otherwise.”
He poured water into his hand and splashed it in his face. “I should have expected your attack. But I underestimated you.”
A young knight with the MacCulloch coat of arms on his surcoat ran up to ask him how he was. After introducing his eldest son, John, to me, he said it was no worse than ringing in his ears.
“Thank you for stopping the fighting. More could have been killt.”
“Sir Patrick, it was an honor to cross swords with such a fine knight.” I saluted him. “And I hope in future we fight side-by-side together and nae cross swords again.” I nodded to him and strode to check on our men. Only a handful were injured. Even Hamish, with a severed hand, might survive if wound fever did not set in.
As I walked across the bailey toward the door of the keep, James jogged to catch up with me and bumped me with his shoulder. “It went better than I thought it would.”
I bumped him back with a grin. “Aye, so it did. Now, if it happens that MacCulloch has some wine, it will have been a braw day.”
“And we can rest after two days in the saddle.” He grimaced. “How long do you want to bide?”
“We need to choose some good men to hold the place while we take MacCulloch to face the king. Three days should do. By then, our mounts will be rested.”
We climbed the wooden steps to the door, around an entry screen and stepped into the great hall. Nervous-looking servants were hurriedly putting up long trestle tables, and a shorter table was set up on the low dais. We strode through the chaos of jesting, laughing men celebrating surviving and winning another fight. I threw myself down into the lord's chair at the center of the board with a loud sigh of relief. The last several days had been exhausting, though I had no intention of admitting it. At thirty-four, I was no longer a lad who never tired.
A servant scurried over with wine cups and a flagon. I nodded with as amiable a look as I could manage to reassure the man I would not take enmity out on him. I took a sip. It was a good claret, so he had brought us the best.
James took a deep drink. “After that, I need to check how things bide at home before we return. I have been long away.”
“Aye, I must see how the building at Bothwell does.” I laughed. “And mayhap spend more time with my lady than a night in a patch of bluebells.”
“My lady love may have found another if I dinnae hie home soon.” He took another drink, watching MacCulloch over the rim of his cup. “Do you think the king will be forgiving to MacCulloch?”
“I mean to suggest giving back part of his lands if he aids me in bringing Galloway under control. I will give the rest of them some time to stew, wondering where I strike next.” I curved my mouth in a smile that might not have been my most pleasant. “And come early spring, I intend to bring down Agnew of Lochnaw. I have a thought you might join me.”
“Aye.” He held out his cup for more wine. “That I might. But it leaves a goodly list still to fall. MacDougall, MacDowall, Adair, McCann, MacLennan…”
“One at a time, cousin. But I want to allow the people here to go back to work. I will even provide food to make up for want was destroyed. The rest must see that I mean no herschip. Two years, mayhap three and the job should be done.”
I stood and motioned for Patrick MacCulloch to join us on the dais.