“Ye havenae done much riding in your life, have ye, lass?” Hacon asked as he handed her his wineskin.
She took a small drink and shook her head. “Nay, and if God is kind, I willnae have to do any more.”
“Weel, I fear God isnae going to help you this time. We are weel into England now, and this is the pace we will set for most of our stay here.”
“Then I shall pray for a plague to befall every horse and pony in the land.”
“Ah, but then we would have to run back to Scotland. Are ye prepared to trot a hundred miles or more with the English on your heels?”
“I have seen little of the English. From what is said, Edward couldnae command his army to a brothel.”
“It doesnae have to be the army.” He set their empty plates aside and regarded her with keen interest. “Have ye heard a lot about the English army and about Edward’s troubles?”
“I doubt I have heard any more than ye have.”
“Nay? I havenae spent the last few years living with the English.”
“And I was but a lady’s maid, not one of the court.”
“Ye must have some reason to speak so disparagingly of the English king and his army.”
“Ye mean to keep nudging at me until I tell ye what little I ken about it, aye?”
“Aye.” He met her cross look with a faint smile.
She sighed. “Ye would ask me, mayhaps, to help ye kill even more people?”
“Lass, I willnae use whate’er ye might tell me for that purpose. I but look to keep my men alive.”
“Weel, Edward isnae as strong as his father was. He cannae hold his men together. From what I hear, his lieutenants are more interested in their own private squabbles than in fighting the Scots. The ones he needs to help lead the men are disordered and unable to move one way or another. Rumor has it that his army is mutinous. ’Tis said they havenae been paid, as was promised.” She shook her head. “It worried the English soldiers in Berwick as weel as their supporters, for they feared there would be no help for them if they came under attack. ’Tis clear they were right to worry.”
“There does appear to be little resistance. Howbeit, we havenae gone verra far yet.”
“If I were to make a wager, I would say there willnae be much resistance. There was a strong feeling in Berwick that this land was to be left to care for itself. We couldnae even get help to put down the bandits. And I dinnae mean just poor folk stealing to survive. Nay, many an embittered English knight came back from their bloody defeat at Bannockburn and turned to banditry. The famine these last two years only encouraged that.” She looked at him. “Were ye at Bannockburn?”
“Aye. I was knighted there.”
“I was there too. The de Tournays made their way to Stirling after the Bruce took Perth. I watched the battle from the castle walls,” she whispered, “until a mon-at-arms sent me away. He said it wasnae a sight for a wee lass’s eyes. I was but newly turned fourteen. Then, after de Mowbray surrendered the castle’s defenses to the Bruce, we made our way to Berwick, riding out over the battlefield.”
For a moment Hacon could make no reply. The memory of that momentous battle before Stirling Castle filled his mind. The Scots had been outnumbered, only seven thousand of them against an English force of twenty thousand or more, yet they had defeated the English in a bloody rout. The English knights had become impaled upon the Scots’ schiltrons, those lethally massed groups of men with their twelve-foot spears held pointing in every direction and standing firm against every onslaught. The six-pointed calthrops thrown upon the ground to maim the English horses, and rows of hidden pits, had also taken a heavy toll on Edward’s fine cavalry. When the English cavalry had been broken and the wounded and riderless horses had raced back upon the main body of Edward’s forces, the English army had been thrown into confusion. Hacon inwardly shuddered as he recalled what Jennet must have witnessed.
Although hard-pressed, the English had fought bravely. Arrows, sword, and battle-axes had left dead piled up on both sides. The English commanders had chosen a poor fighting position, however. Caught on the narrow, boggy strip of land between the Scottish army and the River Forth, the English army had been trapped. When Edward the Second fled the battle, pursued by Sir James Douglas all the way to Dunbar, his army finally broke. The whole center of the English host fled toward the Forth and were destroyed. The English left flank was forced into the muddy gorge of the tidal River Bannockburn. Those not killed by the Scots drowned when the high tides arrived. The river became so choked with drowned men and horses it was said a man could pass over it without wetting his feet. The battlefield had also been covered with dead. Nearly ten thousand English knights, archers, and foot soldiers had lain where they had fallen, left to rot in the hot June sun.
Hacon silently cursed. Even now, four years later, he could still see it, still hear the deadly cacophony and still smell the stench of gore. The man-at-arms had been right—that slaughter had been no sight for a young girl, yet Jennet had not been spared it. And I just admitted to being there, he thought with a grimace. It was becoming clear why she spoke so bitterly about knights.
“Ye seem to have been on the English side at the wrong time,” he finally murmured.
“Aye, but before then I was on the Scottish side at the wrong time. ’Twas the Bruce’s men who raped and slew my mother while I cowered in hiding, yet the village supported the Bruce. They had the misfortune to have the enemy, the Comyns, as their lords. It really doesnae matter which side ye find yourself on. Neither kens what mercy is. What I want to find is a place where war can ne’er reach me.” She looked down at Murdoc who lay on his back happily playing with his toes. “And ne’er reach the bairns. I have seen enough of battle.”
“Too much, I think. It haunts your dreams.”
“Weel, aye, I have been wakened by a nightmare or two.”
Taking her thick braid in his hand, he idly caressed its length. “Some just make ye cry out or weep but dinnae wake ye.”
When he slipped his arm about her shoulders, tugging her close to his side, she only briefly thought of resisting. She was simply too tired. Promising herself she would move out of reach if he got too familiar, she relaxed against him. There was a growing chill to the air and he was warm, she mused as she yawned.
“Lass, it hasnae been a war twixt Scotland and England alone. ’Tis also a war between the Scots. Now we hold Berwick, which has the last English stronghold in Scotland. Scotland is free of the English. Mayhaps now there will be some peace.”
