V Masters - The Castilians - A Story of the Siege of St Andrews Castle

Richard Lee and Norman Leslie consult with one another.

‘Where does Lee come from?’ Will whispers to Nydie, as they wait. ‘He twists his words so I can barely understand him.’

‘His speech is most strange. He’s not from London. Perhaps Yorkshire or maybe Hereford – and he is of common folk, I heard tell.’

‘Do we have no sappers among us?’ Will hears Lee say, ‘Or at least a man, who knows how to use a pick in all the hundred within?’

Leslie shifts from one foot to the other. ‘I fear not. Seton here’s a merchant’s son and I doubt he ever dug a hole in his life unless to make a mud puddle.’

Will hopes Leslie and Lee can’t see him colour in the dim light.

‘He is but a scrawny chapman,’ says Lee. ‘And no more than a boy, despite his great height. You there,’ he points at Carmichael, ‘let’s see what you’re made of.’

Will sniggers at Carmichael’s expression.

‘But my father is…,’ he stutters.

‘It matters not whose son you are. There are too many fine fellows within this palace and not enough foot soldiers. We must all take our turn. And you,’ says Lee to Nydie. ‘I need every person here gathered in the courtyard now. Seton, is that your name?’

Will nods.

‘Go and help him.’

They rush out of the guardroom, remembering to duck their heads under the low arch and then stop for a quick consultation. Should they go together, it‘ll be quicker to split up, but will people listen to them? They hear voices from behind and shoot off in opposite directions.

Deciding aggression is the best approach, Will roars and points herding all before him. He’s pleased with the effect he’s having, as servants and hangers-on rush down the turnpike and out the wooden stairs. He must remember the feeling and build on it, learn to be a man of power.

Richard Lee selects the strongest looking among them and pulls them off into one group. Neither Will nor James are part of it; Will because he’s already failed and James because he’s still weak from his illness.

‘We must have men who know how to mine,’ says Lee. ‘Surely somewhere in this godforsaken land you mine for coal, or at least quarry for stone.’

Nydie drops the bucket he’s carrying. ‘My father,’ he says breathlessly, ‘Hugh of Nydie, has men who excavate, for we dig much stone from our land. The abbey at Balmerino was built from our sandstone.’

‘Well, we do not care for abbeys, but miners we must have,’ says Lee. ‘Leslie, can you find some way to get these men here, and any others from the lands of the many lairds herein, who may have mines or quarries. In the meantime we must somehow manage with who we have.’

Lee seizes the pick-axe and demonstrates how to swing it. It’s plain that most of those he’s selected are both unskilled and unwilling, but there are a few who know what they’re about. He sets to with a will and the others follow reluctantly. Soon there’s a small hole and he tasks James and Will with clearing the rubble. They’re to collect it in baskets, lift them onto their backs and dump it in the corner of the courtyard. The baskets are heavy, and after lifting only a few they’re sweating freely. The digging is to go on night and day until they establish where, and if, the besiegers are mining. Will doesn’t know how he’ll find the strength to keep going and is even more concerned about Nydie, who has gone pale as marble. But somehow they must.

Will works away clearing rubble but puzzling over what they’re doing.

‘Why do we not wait for our attackers to break through and then pick them off as they emerge? Then we would not have to expend effort digging, and surely it is better than both attackers and defenders meeting underground,’ he whispers to an equally baffled Nydie.

‘It would not,’ sighs Lee who has overheard them. He stops to speak and Will suspects it’s preferable, even for Richard Lee, to stand outside by their rubble pile than inside in the creeping dark, coughing on the soot from the smoking torches and watching a bunch of incompetents.

‘Arran’s intent is not to gain entry; the purpose of a siege tunnel is to undermine the castle defences and that is why we call it a mine . Our attackers will begin at a safe distance from the castle so they cannot be seen or fired upon, which is how we cannot yet be sure they are digging.’

‘How will it cause the castle walls to collapse, unless they mine close beneath the surface?’ Nydie asks.

‘No, that would not be wise – else they would find themselves buried alive if the wall collapsed unexpectedly. Once they believe themselves to be underneath the castle walls they’ll hollow out an area, which is supported by timber props to keep those digging safe, until all is ready. Then explosives will be laid and fires set below each prop and, when the miners are confident the fire has taken hold, they’ll flee out of the mine to safety. The conflagration will cause the tunnel to cave in and, if they’ve done their work well, the defensive wall above the tunnel will tumble down and the besiegers can take the castle.’

Will ponders Lee’s explanation. ‘But…,’ he says and stops as Nydie gives him a nudge.

‘What is unclear for you, young Seton?’ Lee asks rubbing his forehead. ‘Spit it out, for I would not have someone as important as you confused.’

He ignores the slight, for he very much wants to understand. ‘How will us tunnelling out stop them from tunnelling in? We will simply create a route for all to access the castle.’

‘Ah, not such a stupid question. It is down to the skill of the siege engineer, and you are fortunate in having a greatly experienced one before you.’ Lee makes Will a courtly bow. ‘It is vital that we countermine with all possible speed for we must reach them before they are beneath our walls, which means we must go to work – harder and faster. Though I could wish it was not rock we had to dig through, for I do not know how successful we can be,’ he mutters to himself as he turns, swerving to avoid Balnaves who has come to listen.

‘We must remember,’ Balnaves says, his voice booming around the courtyard, ‘that Arran is a whiffle-whaffle. I never saw a man who has so much difficulty in making up his mind; if he agrees with you at dinner, he’ll be agin you by nightfall. We must not dig blindly, but frequently stop and listen to ascertain if his men are indeed at work.’

Lee raises his eyebrows. ‘Naturally,’ he says. ‘Now, Balnaves , you must excuse me for I have not the time for idle chatter.’

Will and Nydie glance at one another, smothering smiles, but it’s the last time for many days they have anything to smile about.

The work is relentless. They dig straight down for around twenty feet, occasionally using small amounts of explosive to help them along, and then Lee announces they are in the wrong place. He moves them only a short distance inside the guardroom, and they start again, still by no means certain it’s the right place to intercept their attackers – or that they have even begun a siege tunnel. Nevertheless Lee will brook no rest.

Will knows he has it easy in comparison to the miners, but his hands are cracked, the skin tight and claw-like making it difficult, as well as painful, to lift the buckets full of rubble, and all made worse by his body still aching from the beating he took. They break only for a short daily service, gathering to stand in the courtyard, for the chapel is too small to contain them all. Their preacher John Rough was, by a strange twist of fate, recently private priest to Regent Arran – when Arran had his godly fit and leaned towards Protestantism and reform. As soon as Cardinal Beaton held his inquisition and turned Arran back to the Papists, Rough had to flee. Will, standing at the back, sways then jerks awake, thinking it’s no wonder Arran didn’t continue down the Protestant path, with Rough as his guide. He may be an earnest, right-thinking man, but his grasp of doctrine is woolly.