Lynx looked at Thomas. “Show me where you put the Leslies.”
They walked down an underground passage into the bowels of the castle. Lynx took the torch from Thomas and lit the one in the bracket outside the dungeon. Though the light was poor as Lynx peered through the iron bars, he could clearly see the look of defiance had fled from the faces of the shepherds.
“For Jane’s sake, I am going to set you free. If you are determined to join William Wallace, I cannot stop you, but be warned that we go to hunt him down. I pledge to you that he shall be found and he shall be destroyed. If you are still here when I return, I will know you have pledged your loyalty to Dumfries. The choice is yours.” Lynx turned the key in the lock and opened the prison door wide. His motivation was purely selfish. It was a gesture to Jane, asking her to forgive him.
“John, I have a son! You might well look amazed, but it is the truth. I can hardly believe it myself.”
“That is the best news I’ve had in years. Congratulations, Lynx. I hope it is the first of many. I’ve never even met your wife yet. Is she well?”
“Yes, Jane is well.” Lynx did not tell John that he was still unwed. “We named him after my father, Lincoln … Lincoln Robert de Warenne.” When John frowned at the name, Lynx guessed that whatever the trouble was, it involved Robert Bruce. “Your message sounded ominous; I came as soon as I received it, though I wanted to linger at Dumfries.”
“The king has ordered me to reassemble the army. He wants us to sweep through the Lowlands from the border up to the Firth of Forth. He orders me to nip this rebellion in the bud, and he wants Wallace.” John hesitated, seemingly reluctant to continue, and Lynx knew something unpleasant was sticking in his craw.
“Spit it out, John.”
“It’s fortunate you didn’t linger at Dumfries. The king has specifically named you and Robert Bruce to spearhead this operation as proof of your allegiance.”
“My loyalty to the crown is being questioned?” Lynx asked softly.
“Robert Brace’s loyalty is being questioned, and because of your close association with him, you are being tarred with the same brash. The rumors and suspicions will be laid to rest now that you have answered the call to arms.”
“And if Robert refuses?”
“His English estates will be forfeit.”
“Splendor of God!” Lynx’s green eyes narrowed. “Somebody has been carrying lies to Edward.” A voice inside Lynx’s head warned him that Robert could very well be involved with the rebels. “Let me talk with the courier you sent to the king.”
John suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was Fitz-Waren.” The name hung in the silence that blanketed the chamber. John’s voice filled the void. “Fitz arrived the day after you left for Dumfries. When my report was ready, he generously offered to act as courier. He caught up with Edward before he left York for the Cinque Ports.”
“I see,” Lynx replied tersely, firmly clamping his jaw closed so that he would not begin hurling accusations.
“Treasurer Cressingham has a large force in Berwick. As well, I’ve called Percy and Clifford to arms and Fitz-Waren’s light cavalry is already here. If the Bruce answers my call to arms, it will prove his loyalty, at least for the moment.” John de Warenne rubbed weary eyes that were bloodshot from too much paperwork. “Lynx, I don’t want trouble to erupt between you and Fitz.”
“What prompts you to think there might be trouble?”
“He has Alicia with him.”
Lynx began to laugh, but there was little mirth in it. That son of a bitch has filled the king’s ears with lies about my loyalty and you think the trouble between us is over a woman? “Rest easy, John, I have no interest in Alice Bolton.”
As Thomas lit the candles in the cramped chamber where Lynx and his squires were lodged in Edinburgh Castle, Montgomery memorized the message he was to take to Robert Bruce.
“Give the message to no other and make sure Robert knows it is from me. Tell him John’s call to arms is a test of his loyalty. Tell him Edward Plantagenet is ready to confiscate the Bruce estates in Essex.”
Lynx turned to his squire. “Thomas, my knights will know by now that Fitz-Waren’s cavalry officers are in the barracks. Fights will be inevitable, but tell them I want no knifings, no matter how they are provoked. Oh, and keep an eye on Keith Leslie for me. Point out Fitz-Waren’s men so he can avoid them.”
“He has a wise head on his shoulders, my lord. He may look like just a lad, but under that red thatch, he’s a thousand years old!”
When Taffy went to get them food, Lynx was alone for the first time that day. He paced up and down the chamber like a caged beast. It galled him that Fitz-Waren had likely read all the reports he had prepared on William Ormsby, the justiciar, and Lynx’s suspicions of the involvement of the Church of Scotland. Fitz-Waren could sell such information or use it for blackmail.
Why in God’s name did the bastard volunteer to ride all the way to York in the dead of winter? Lynx asked himself. What can Fitz-Waren gain from discrediting me in the king’s eyes? He must have another motive beside profit and power, Lynx decided. Fitz-Waren must be doing it for revenge!
Lynx heaved a sigh of relief when Robert Bruce answered the call to arms, bringing five hundred and pledging another thousand from Carrick. It was well past midnight when Lynx climbed to Robert’s chamber high in Edinburgh Castle.
“I was determined to ignore the call to arms, and would have if you hadn’t sent Montgomery.”
Lynx nodded grimly. “My loyalty too is in question. I’m not surprised that someone is filling the king’s ears with lies, but I’m bloody livid that Edward believes them!”
“It’s my enemy, Comyn. The king was a fool to set him free on condition he put down Moray’s rebellion. Comyn’s dispatches to the king will say everything is quiet north of the Forth. But the truth is Comyn is in league with Moray and it won’t be long before Comyn is in league with Wallace. They are all just biding their time until Edward Plantagenet sails for France, then all hell will break loose.”
“What you say makes perfect sense. I thought it was my bastard cousin, Fitz-Waren, trying to discredit us with the king when he took John’s reports to York.”
“We could both be right; Comyn is my enemy, Fitz-Waren is yours. Sooner or later we will have to deal with them, my friend.”
Lynx pushed the thought away. He did not want his cousin’s blood on his hands.
During February and March an army of thirty thousand men, led by de Warenne, Bruce, Percy, Clifford, and Cressingham, began at Berwick and marched through the entire region known as the Borders: Lothian, Dumfries, Annandale, and Galloway. When they met no armed resistance, Treasurer Cressingham was adamant that the entire exercise was a ridiculous waste of the crown’s money. He returned to Berwick and sent glowing reports to the king that the back of the Scots resistance had been broken and stating emphatically that there was no longer any insurrection in the Lowlands.
As a result of these reports, King Edward Plantagenet sailed for France in April, leaving the governing of Scotland in the hands of John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey.
In Scotland that year, winter changed into spring almost overnight. Lynx de Warenne and Robert Bruce sniffed the warm spring air and both smelled trouble. They knew it would come, but they did not know where it would strike. When it came, it was from an unexpected source.
William Douglas, who had garrisoned Berwick and gained his release by swearing an oath of obedience, had returned to his home in Lanark. Douglas immediately joined forces with William Wallace and they marched their army on Scone where Justiciar Ormsby had been reaping a fortune from levying crippling fines. Ormsby fled and the combined forces of Wallace and Douglas met no resistance. The common people of Scotland rejoiced that their sacred town of Scone, where all their kings had been crowned, was no longer in the hands of the hated English.
John de Warenne called an emergency meeting of his generals, cursing Cressingham for returning to Berwick and taking half of th
e army with him. “We have no choice but to march on Scone,” John de Warenne declared.
“We should wait for Cressingham’s forces to return,” Percy insisted.
“We can’t wait,” Lynx pointed out. “Each day we delay, more Scots nobles will flock to join them.”
“I should have heeded your advice, Lynx, and informed the king about Justiciar Ormsby’s legalized stealing.”
“Too late now, the justiciar will have destroyed any incriminating records.”
“With all due respect, the justiciar is not the enemy,” Percy pointed out. “Wallace and Douglas now occupy Scone.”
“In the name of the king, I hereby confiscate all the English holdings of Sir William Douglas until he surrenders himself to us,” the governor declared.
Robert Bruce made a rude noise of contempt. “That won’t bring him to heel. The lands belong to his English wife.”
John de Warenne gave the Bruce a look of black hostility. “Then I charge you with the task of bringing Douglas to heel.”
Bruce shrugged. “A simple enough task.”
Lynx spoke up quickly before the sparks of enmity between his friend and his uncle burst into flame. “I propose we march on Scone immediately.”
John de Warenne looked at the others for confirmation. One by one they all nodded their agreement.
The following morning as the armies made ready to leave Edinburgh, Lynx asked Robert how he would deal with Douglas.
“I shall simply ride to Lanark, take his wife and children prisoner, and send them to Lochmaben.”
Lynx de Warenne was shocked. A picture of Jane and his own precious son rose up before him and he knew he would pay any price to keep them safe.
“Would you care to ride to Lanark with me, or will we meet in Scone?” the Bruce asked with a wolfish grin.
Lynx shook his head. “I’ve no stomach for making war on women and children. I’ll meet you in Scone.”
The English army came face-to-face with forces gathered by the Scots at Irvine, just outside Scone. Whenever a battle was imminent, the English forces joined together under one supreme commander.
John de Warenne did not believe the Scots army would be hard to defeat. He decided that heavy cavalry, followed by Welsh bowmen, would be enough to turn the tide. His light cavalry would be wasted in this operation, and war machines were completely unnecessary. He would attack at first light and inflict heavy damage. De Warenne estimated that one battle would be enough to make the Scots lay down their arms and capitulate.
The night before a battle was supposed to be for rest and prayer, but Lynx de Warenne had never been able to do either. He moved from tent to tent and spoke at length with each of his knights, then he walked among the campfires of his Welsh bowmen who slept in the open.
Lynx knew that men followed courage and if he displayed his confidence openly, boldly, his men could do no less. Following his example they would show contempt and defiance in the face of danger and fight with resolution and determination to emerge victorious.
When first light came a heavy mist still lay upon the ground. Lynx’s knights were all mounted on destriers protected by armor. As well as lance and sword they carried battle-ax, billhook, and iron ball-and-chain at their belts. They peered through the mist, not daring to lose sight of their leader. Each man knew Lynx de Warenne would lead the charge as he always did, with Thomas on his right flank and Taffy on his left.
Lynx pushed his helmet down firmly and raised his clenched fist, giving his squires the victory sign, just as the order came to advance. Every man looked straight ahead, glancing neither right nor left as they spurred to meet the enemy.
The initial impact of lance and sword and ironclad hooves upon mortal flesh was horrendous. Men became unhorsed and were trampled to death. The screams of the horses over the clash of metal and the battle cries were deafening. In the melee, Thomas became separated from Lynx. Suddenly, from behind, he was hit on the head with an iron ball-and-chain and he dropped like a stone. Another jumped into his empty saddle and fought his way to Lynx de Warenne’s side.
Taffy glanced about wildly until he saw Thomas rejoin Lord de Warenne on his right flank, then with an overwhelming relief, he looked straight ahead and cut his way through the enemy.
Lynx focused on each opponent he faced. He unhorsed half a dozen with his lance before it broke off, embedded in the chest of an enemy. He threw away the broken shaft and reached for his battle-ax, guiding his destrier with iron-hard thighs. He was aware that Thomas no longer flanked him, but it was his squires’ duty to protect his back, and Lynx assumed Thomas had moved behind him. Suddenly, Lynx felt a crushing blow to his head, then total blackness descended on him.
28
Keith Leslie had been up all night, making sure the warhorses were in fit condition to fight. He had examined the bits, bridles, and reins of every destrier that belonged to a de Warenne knight, and then two hours before dawn he had begun fitting the snorting, restive animals with the armor that protected their heavy chests, shoulders, and flanks. He kept Lord de Warenne’s and his squires’ destriers until last, making sure the saddles were well secured and the stirrups at the exact length required.
It was physically exhausting work and when his part was done, Keith lay down in the straw and closed his eyes. He drifted on the edge of slumber for almost two hours, but he was too keyed up to actually sleep and imaginary battle scenes filled his head.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, his eyes widening in dismay. Keith knew immediately that he was experiencing a vision, because what he saw had slowed down so that he could see everything in minute, horrific detail. He saw Thomas become the victim of treachery, as one of de Warenne’s own men brought up his ball-and-chain and felled the squire with a single blow. Keith watched helplessly as the traitor vaulted onto Thomas’s destrier and spurred it mercilessly until he came up behind Lord de Warenne. Once more in slow motion the iron ball-and-chain was raised.
“Noooo!” Keith screamed a warning that went unheeded. Lynx de Warenne’s limp body rolled to the ground and lay supine. Keith watched helplessly as the traitorous soldier unsheathed his sword and impaled the unconscious man who lay defenseless upon the ground. Keith saw only the eyes, filled with hatred, blood-lust, and then triumph. Keith knew he would never forget those eyes; he would see them as long as he lived.
The red-haired youth struggled to his knees, then to his own disgust began to vomit in the straw. When he had voided the entire contents of his stomach, he gained his feet and began to run. The ground beneath his feet was soft and spongy from the spring thaw. He passed the wagons of the baggage train and stopped beside a group of men-at-arms who stood by with fresh horses and weapons.
Their mood was jubilant. Apparently, William Douglas had come over to the side of Robert Bruce, and the other Scots leaders, one after another, were withdrawing from the field. The Battle of Irvine looked as if it would be an undisputed victory for the English. Keith Leslie stood apart, mute, drowning in despair.
By midafternoon the battlefield held only the dead and the dying. The heavy mist rolled back in from the sea, as if to shroud the foul atrocities men had committed upon one another that day.
Taffy knew he was in danger of losing his sanity. He replayed the battle over and over in his mind, wondering what he had done wrong. He had sliced through the enemy as easily as a warm knife cuts through butter. But when he gained the other side of the battlefield and wheeled his destrier back into the fray, Lord de Warenne and Thomas were nowhere to be seen.
Taffy reined in his horse, glancing sharply about to locate them, but it was futile. His warhorse danced impatiently, seizing the bit between its teeth and plunging forward into the melee. Taffy had no time to panic. In battle it was easy enough to become separated, though it had never happened to him before. He had no idea how long the battle lasted, for time always seemed to pass with such lightning speed, all became a blur and what seemed only minutes was in actuality, hours.
Eventua
lly the fighting ranks thinned until there were far more men and horses lying on the ground than were engaged in combat. Taffy recognized Montgomery and rode to his side. Both men realized the fighting was finished, the battle won.
“You got separated?” Montgomery asked.
“Early on, Thomas fell behind, but he soon caught up again. Next thing I knew, they were both gone, so I fought on alone. I had no choice!”
“You came through unscathed, that’s all that matters.”
But Taffy knew he should have stayed doggedly on his lord’s left flank, no matter what. Gradually, more of the de Warenne knights gathered, but none had seen Lynx since he had led them into battle. Fear rose up in Taffy and sank its fangs into his throat. The thick white mist lay everywhere. “Christ, we’ll never find him in this.”
Montgomery cuffed him with a sticky gauntlet. “Banish those morbid thoughts. He’ll be celebrating the victory with the Bruce and the governor by now!”
But Taffy knew Lord de Warenne would celebrate nothing until his men were all accounted for. He spurred his horse from group to group, hope raging a battle with fear inside of him. He questioned Bruce men-at-arms and finally located Robert, who was busy looking for his brother. “We’ll search him out, never fear.”
They located Nigel Bruce on the infirmary field being treated for a flesh wound in his sword arm, but they could find neither Lynx de Warenne nor Thomas. Robert could see that Taffy was in a full-scale panic. “Lynx is no doubt searching for you and cannot find you in this fog. Go back to camp and let them know you are unscathed.”
As evening descended, all the de Warenne knights were eventually accounted for. Many had flesh wounds or broken bones which were being treated by the Welsh healers, but none had seen Lord de Warenne since morning when he led the advance. Taffy’s anxiety soon spread throughout the knights and Welsh bowmen who had returned to camp. They quickly organized search parties and set off on their grim task.
Keith Leslie knew he had to find Taffy. He did not know if Lord de Warenne and Thomas were dead or alive, but he knew they had gone down on the battlefield. Finding a specific soldier amid twenty thousand was no easy task, Keith soon learned, and at last he decided to return to camp. Young Harry Eltham, nursing a broken arm and collarbone, gritted his teeth and told Keith that every able-bodied man was out searching for Lord de Warenne.