No one knew what to expect, or when to expect it. Buried deep in the ground as they were, they were insulated from the sights and sounds above. But if they had been able to see, they would have envisioned the Scots positioning three big ladders up against the gray stoned walls of Kirklinton in their attempt to breach the castle. Up above, the battle was in full swing.
The Kirklinton soldiers battled back, shoving the ladders away from the walls and sending dozens of zealous Scots crashing down with them. Those who weren’t too badly wounded by the fall got back up again and up the ladders would go once more, only this time they were joined by two more ladders. And two more after that. Eventually, there were over a dozen ladders built from white oak or birch lined up against the walls and the Scots were making a strong push to mount Kirklinton’s defenses.
This went on for the entire afternoon and into the night. Saer had positioned archers in the gatehouse and on the three turretsof Kirklinton’s walls to shoot down the Scots. The longbows kept the Scots at bay for a while but there soon came a point that ammunition was running low. When that occurred, Saer called off most of the archers save a few who were more accurate with their arrows. As the sun set and the Scots showed no sign of relenting, Saer ordered the arrows lit and soon, flaming arrows were firing over the walls and striking the enemy below. But along with Saer’s flame arrows, the Scots were firing fire arrows of their own. That was when things started to get critical.
The Scots were excellent marksmen and the stables and outbuildings were the first to catch fire. Saer ordered the horses and animals removed to the kitchen yards were they were corralled in with the chickens and goats. The stables, a long block of thatched roofs and piles of hay, went up in a ball of flame, burning hot and bright into the night sky. Embers carried over to the roof of the great hall, heavily thatched with sod as well as hay, and soon that began to smolder.
Saer had his men post ladders against the walls of the great hall in order to douse the smoldering spots but that soon became prohibitive because the Scots had made a major push and now several of them had managed to mount the wall. Dunstan, in charge of the north wall, was there with his men to fight off a horde of very angry Scots but after a lengthy and brutal battle, he fell victim to a big Scotsman with a bad attitude who grabbed him and threw him over the wall. Dunstan’s life ended on the grass outside of the walls of Kirklinton when several Scots took their axes to him.
Meanwhile, Saer was trying desperately to keep the Scots from climbing off the walls and getting down into the bailey, but after a struggle that took almost until dawn, he was ultimately unable to achieve that goal. His legendary axe in hand, he had been swinging it steadily but there were simply too many Scots, a tide of tartan and flesh that overran Kirklinton in the end.
Saer and Beauson and the remaining Kirklinton soldiers retreated to the keep and bottled it up, hitting out at the Scots from the lancet windows as a group of men in tartans tried to break down the entry door. Unlike many keeps that had retractable stairs in case the castle was breached so the attackers could not get to the entry door of the keep, Kirklinton had a stone flight of stairs that led up to an iron and oak door that was as solid as stone itself. Still, the Scots were intent to break it down. They were also intent to destroy everything at Kirklinton, including the great hall.
The Scots plowed through the great hall, stealing anything of value and destroying anything they couldn’t carry, including the feasting table. They ripped down tapestries and stole pewter plate. When they came to the servant’s alcove, they drank whatever wine was there and smashed the pitchers. Then, the iron grate of the vault drew their attention and when they rattled it and realized they couldn’t get in, they began savaging it with a vengeance.
Down inside the vault, Cathlina, her mother, her sisters, and the servants could hear the Scots at the upper door, howling and cursing. Abechail began to cry as Rosalund hastened to quiet her, but in truth, they were all terrified. Roxane clutched Cathlina, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder as the Scots screamed their threats at the top of the stairs.
Because of the angle of the room, the Scots couldn’t see if there was anyone in the room below but they suspected that whatever was locked up must be extremely valuable. Therefore, they set about trying to break down the iron grate any way they could manage. They even tried to unhinge it but the hinges were fused and well-placed, and they could not get to them.
Infuriated, they ran back into the great hall and grabbed pieces of the destroyed feasting table, propping it up against the iron grate and lighting it on fire. If they couldn’t destroy orunhinge the gate, then perhaps they could build a hot enough fire to soften it to the point where they could bend it and get through. It was worth a try. Soon, there was a raging fire burning up against the iron grate at the top of the stairs, sending great billows of smoke and embers into the air.
The Scots thought they had been quite smart to try to soften the great iron gate with a white-hot fire, but soon enough the fire got out of control. The heat and embers ignited the great wooden roof support beams overhead and shortly thereafter, ignited the roof. Soon enough, half of the hall was going up in flames and the heat and smoke forced the Scots outside. After that, they could do nothing but stand there and watch the great hall of Kirklinton belch great smoke and fire into the night sky. The fire could be seen for miles, like a raging beacon in the night. At that point, there was nothing more to do but wait for the hall to collapse and see what they could scavenge. Those who raided the hall now turned their attention back to the keep, which was so far holding fast.
They went after it with a vengeance.
*
Down in thevault beneath the great hall, Cathlina and the others smelled the smoke from the fire. It was a strong smell but hardly unbearable. Cathlina, still huddled with Roxane, disengaged her clinging sister to go and take a look. Her mother stopped her.
“Nay, Cathlina,” she hissed. “Sit down. Stay away from the door.”
Cathlina gently pulled her hand from her mother’s grasp. “I must see what they have done,” she whispered. “Do you not smell the smoke? They have done something terrible and I must see what it is.”
Before Rosalund could stop her, Cathlina crept away and stayed flush against the wall that contained the second gate at the bottom of the steps. One of the stable grooms, an older man who had been at Kirklinton for many years, joined her and together they carefully made their way to the iron grate so they could peer up the stairwell to see what was happening. Cathlina was very cautious, falling to her knees so she could peer from the bottom of the grate and hopefully be less noticeable if anyone was looking down. But the moment she looked up the stairwell, all she could see was a wall of flame at the top of it.
Shocked, she looked at the old groom, who had seen the white hot flames for himself. They looked at each other as if unsure what to say or do. The old man spoke first.
“We will be safe,” he whispered. “Smoke and heat and flame travel upwards. It will not come down the stairwell. Aye, we will be quite safe down here.”
Cathlina was truly and deeply terrified. “Won’t the flame weaken the iron grate?”
The old man shrugged. “It would have to be very, very hot,” he said. “Even if it is that hot, the Scots cannot get near it, so we are still safe. The best thing they could have done was set the hall afire. They will not be able to get near it now because it is so hot.”
“And we will not be able to get out.”
“The iron will eventually cool. We are still safe, my lady.”
Cathlina wasn’t so sure about the situation but his words brought her some comfort. He was older and wiser, after all. She glanced around the room of family and servants. “Be careful what you tell everyone, then,” she said softly. “I do not want anyone to panic.”
The old man nodded firmly and moved away. Cathlina scurried back to her mother and sisters.
“It seems the Scots are burning the hall down over our heads,” she said quietly. “We are very safe because they cannotenter a flaming building to get at us, and the smoke and heat will rise. It will not come down the stairwell.”
Rosalund was surprisingly calm knowing that a building was burning over her head. “I see,” she said pensively. “I do not suppose there is anything we can do about it anyway. Come and sit, Cathlina. Mayhap… mayhap it is time to sleep a little while we can. You say the Scots cannot get at us now?”
“Not while there is a fire in the hall.”
Rosalund seemed satisfied, although she was still visibly tense. “Then come and lay down,” she said. “Sleep with Abbie.”
