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James ducked behind the yellow-budded gorse brush hidden in the eastern trees of the Douglas stronghold in Selkirk Wood. Douglas Castle. His castle, the one robbed from him by the vile King Edward Longshanks and granted to the loathsome Baron Robert Clifford, who rose to power by slaughtering fine Scots warriors, including the beloved Guardian of Scotland William Wallace. James’s heart burned black at the mere thought of this man, nay, not a man, this devil that drew Scotland through hell.
Everything inside James was empty, a void carved out and burned to black ash by the English who had stolen everything from him — his mother and father, his lands, his castles. Even his very youth wasn’t spent in his family lands, as his father sent him to France when their castle and the surrounding lands were seized. Hiding him from the King of England. Hiding him! The towering, powerful James Douglas?
Rather, the reckless James Douglas, if rumors held true. And he had to admit, those rumors held more truth than not.
Robert the Bruce, who had taken up the banner for Scotland after the death of Wallace, would assuredly welcome James with open arms. James hadn’t been there at the failure of Methven, but he’d heard about it, and vowed to have his moment where he might swear his alliance, his sword, and his friendship to the bumbling lord-turned-King. When Robert escaped, with the Douglas clan’s help, James realized ‘twas time to leave his refuge and come home.
The first thing James had tried when he’d arrived in England was to petition for the return of his ancestral lands. He’d begun by requesting a meeting with King Edward Longshanks of England to see about taking his clan lands back. Lord Robert Clifford had been installed at Castle Douglas after the English had razed the Douglas lands. Since James had been absent for all of that, the king might not think him to have allegiance to the Scots. Clinging to that one, unlikely hope, James had traveled to England with his companions.
And Longshanks, hearing the mere mention of his name, rejected him, kicked him and his men out of the castle and out of England.
And the rock-hard, burning ball of fury in his gut only increased.
James would have his lands back.
Once he’d returned to Scotland, ‘twas easy to hear of the Bruce’s acceptance by the clans, and how he was building his army.
James informed his men they, too, would be joining the Bruce. But they had something that needed to be done first.
