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

‘This is my sister.’

Lee looks surprised. ‘Ah, so there is one useful member of the family.’

Will bites his lip. His mind churns back through all his wrongs; he risks his life daily here just like them, he works hard, his behaviour is more godly than most, and he has his sister as a spy. He frowns – Bethia has no Protestant sympathies, so far as he’s aware; why would she bring them information?

Lee is laying out parchment and a quill upon the board. ‘Tell me how the street looks wherein they dig.’

She speaks and Lee draws. Will is intrigued to see Lee’s chorography emerge and Bethia, glancing over Lee’s head mouths “John”, and Will nods, knowing how much their young brother would enjoy seeing this drawing of their town’s streets emerge.

He notices how respectful Lee is towards Bethia, now he’s spoken with her. Men like his sister, and it’s not only because she’s prettyish. He studies her. It’s something about how direct, and yet how unselfconscious, she is.

The servant comes with the wine and bowls of porridge, and goes to lay them by the drawing.

‘Take care, man,’ Lee says, waving his hand and coming close to knocking over the wine himself.

The servant hovers, uncertain what to do.

‘Put it on the kist, you mouldiewarp,’ Lee mutters.

Bethia is bent over the plan, absorbed and Will draws closer to see.

‘Move your fat head,’ says Lee.

‘My brother has greater knowledge of the town than I do. He can help plot the exact place.’

He knows he should be grateful to her for including him, but he is not. Nevertheless they bend over the chorography together.

‘The entry point is at the back of a house in Northgait. I believe they are digging from within the byre to stay hid.’

Will can see she knows perfectly well where that should be placed but is holding back, allowing him to show Lee and rather than mollifying, it incenses. Who is she, for all that she seems to charm every man in her sphere, including their father, to so patronise her own brother?

‘Well,’ says Lee. ‘Would someone care to show me the correct positioning of this byre.’

In the end it is a success for him. Between them, he and Richard Lee work out where Arran’s sappers are mining, with some help from Bethia, but it is he and Richard who agree the placement. Norman Leslie, who’s joined them, even pats Will on the back.

Then it’s decided that he and Nydie will take Bethia’s boat to fetch the miners. Even better they do not have to row because Geordie is here; indeed he has tied up his boat and followed Bethia into the castle.

‘I’m no taking you anywhere, laddie,’ he says when Will tries to give him his orders. ‘I’ll return your sister to the harbour and then I hae my fishing to go to. I’ve wasted enough time already the day.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ says Will, aware the disagreement is attracting attention.

Geordie raises his fists. ‘I’m no your servant and I’ll do as I choose with my ane boat.’

Will draws his knife. ‘I’ll slice your nose open, you old fool, if you argue any more,’

‘Stop it, Will,’ says Bethia. She tries to restrain him and he shakes her hand off. ‘Why must you always be such a fopdoodle?’ she cries.

He turns, ready to slice her whole body open, roaring. ‘And why must you always be such a fustylugs?’

‘Calm down, both of you,’ says Nydie stepping between them.

Will lowers his knife, and becomes aware of Carmichael, bent double with laughter, and muttering fopdoodle over and over to himself.

Bethia again lays a hand on Will’s arm but he flings it off.

‘Come,’ says Leslie, ‘there’s no time for this. You must to Tents Muir and back while the weather remains calm, for the wind may get up at any moment.’ He stares at Geordie, who hangs his head.

They go through the postern, climb down the ladder and into the boat, leaving Bethia in Leslie’s care. All goes smoothly from then on. Geordie glowers at him for the whole trip, muttering under his breath, but Will doesn’t care. He and Nydie talk and laugh and breathe the good air. Will has forgot his early morning escapade, has forgot about the painful scrambling, has forgot that he ever considered deserting his fellows.

They collect two miners, Hugh Forsyth hurrying them down the hill to the river once he understands what is wanted. Then they go to Erlishall, the nearly completed castle on the far side of the Eden. Nydie says it’s sad the old hunting lodge was knocked down to build it, but such is progress. There are provisions made ready for them and more boats sent to Nydie’s lands to collect the rest of the miners.

Even Geordie cheers up when a bonny servant asks. ‘Are ye hungry?’

Nydie nudges Will and Geordie shuffles his feet and stares at the ground.

‘Och well,’ she grins. ‘There’s been a slaughtering of beasts for the winter and I have blood pudding ready to eat and a fine mug of ale to go with it – but I see you’re no interested.’

Geordie barrels past Will and follows her into the cookhouse.

The lord and lady of the house treat Nydie and Will right good well, and even though Will knows it’s because Nydie is who he is, he doesn’t allow it to mar the time, which is all too short. They leave by late afternoon – already it’s growing dark – with full bellies, and boats equally full of men and supplies.

The wind begins to rise, whirling across the sea and chopping up the waves but they are near the castle now. Bethia is waiting and climbs down to the boat, although Will’s less than pleased to see the breeches have been donned once more.

She stops in front of him. ‘Please, Will, you must help me.’

But he won’t answer her, won’t even look at her. What is there to say? He will not leave his fellows, and especially his good friend Nydie. He does not believe her story about being forced into a marriage with Fat Norman. It’s a ruse to get him home. Father would not propose such a match, not for a bonny girl like Bethia and with a good dowry forby. There is, however, one thing he wants to know before she departs.

‘Why did you tell Lee where Arran’s men are mining?’

‘We must go,’ calls Geordie over the rising wind.

Will waves a hand at him to wait.

‘If they take the castle by force then you may be hurt, or worse.’

‘Thank you for looking out for me. You are a good sister, even if you can be annoying,’ he says, and squeezes her arm.

Geordie shouts again. She opens her mouth to speak, sighs instead, pats his hand and leaves.

The fellows lower ropes to haul up the supplies and soon he is occupied with them and forgets about Bethia. There’s some grumbling about the paucity of provisions, until Will tells them to look in the boats following. He feels better for his day out. Now he just needs to sort Carmichael out, once and for all.

Will and Nydie are much lauded for bringing the miners. Although there are only eight of them, they can do the work of many more Castilians, being used to tunnelling into hillsides to extract stone, and they counter-mine with such speed that Will’s team have to enlist more help to keep pace with the rubble removal.

A further delivery of food comes, as promised, the next night, but by day three they no longer want provisions from Erlishall because Melville is sick and thirty others besides. It is said the Mountquhanys deliberately tried to poison the garrison but he’s not so sure if the cause is the food from Tents Muir since he ate plenty of it, and he’s not sick. The fish on the other hand he didn’t eat – he shudders at the thought. It looked long caught with the eyes cloudy and gills slimy. He’d said as much to Nydie, but Nydie shrugged, saying they’ve eaten worse, and anyways what did Will know of fish when he can’t bear to touch, never mind eat, them. But he does know how to size the quality of goods; learnt that at least from Father. And now Nydie is sick again, and James Hamilton too. They’d lose a great deal if the Regent’s son should die, but more than that, he likes young Arran, feels protective of him after what he’s endured as a hostage, always with politeness.