Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

Jessie glanced from him to the other man. “Your captor?”

“My captor. He took my sword at Peebles last month. And he now holds my parole that I will not attempt to flee back to England.”

Douglas shook his head ruefully. “What you are listening to is guilt and nonsense, Lady Jessica. I captured him, that much is true. But then I took him directly to the King, who forgave him all his follies and received him back into his peace in return for an oath of loyalty. So this of the captivity is but a nonsense. Your nephew is being harder on himself than any other is.”

“I see …” But clearly she did not. “So why is he here with you now?”

Douglas sat straighter and held out his empty cup to Sir Thomas, who carried it to the table and refilled it from a silver jug. “I am his penance, Lady. For his sins, he must bear with me and my brigandage … until he learns the rules of war.”

Jessie was frowning now, more perplexed than before. “Brigandage? I do not understand—”

“It is my lord of Douglas who spouts nonsense now, Auntie.” Thomas carried the replenished cup back to Douglas, then sat down again, his forehead creased in a frown.

“I thought to judge my uncle Robert as being unworthy of the name of knight. You know that already, but it is simple truth. When I was captured after Methven fight, they took me to King Edward, who received me with great kindness and treated me with much largesse. And then for the ensuing months he played upon my gullibility and my … credulity and sinful arrogance. He sought to convince me—and I am ashamed to say he succeeded—that no true king would wage war as this ingrate upstart—that was his name for King Robert, the Ingrate Upstart—sought to do in Scotland, ignoring all the protocols of warfare, burning and pillaging and slaughtering from ambush, then running away to hide in the hills, playing the savage cateran and all the while not daring to stand and fight like a man of honor. And I, to my eternal shame, gave credence to everything he said.”

“I see … And what brought about your change of heart?”

“The sight of the Lady Isobel MacDuff, Countess of Fife and wife of the Earl of Buchan, hanging naked in an open cage from the walls of Berwick.” The words hung in the air for a long moment before the young knight continued. “I had not believed it until I saw it with my own eyes … Edward Plantagenet’s chivalry . The English took great delight in it, their King’s vengeance on the woman who crowned Scotland’s King in defiance of him and of her whole family. And when I saw her there, a living truth I could not deny, I began to question all I had been told. What kind of a man, be he knight, king, or both, would besmirch the very essentials of honor to stoop to such a thing?” He gazed directly at Jessie, making no attempt to avoid her eyes. “From that point on, I began to take note of what was being done to my fellow countrymen in the name of the King of England’s justice, and I soon saw it for what it was: a grasping, willful lust for power in the heart of a once great but now demented man. And so I began to think about returning home, but my shame was too great … My shame and, I fear, my humbled pride. By the time I met Sir James in the field, though, I was prepared to throw down my sword and face the King I had dishonored.”

“And so he did, as I have said,” Douglas put in. “And spoke most eloquently of his disenchantment. The King believed him, and so did I.”

Jessie looked at Douglas. “So why is he now with you, as penance?”

The young man smiled at her. “Because I, too, am what he thought of as a brigand. He rides with me today to complete his education, seeing at first hand how I operate to rid this land of Englishry, and seeing, too, ever more clearly, why it must be so. His Grace thought it more fitting that it should be I, rather than he, who teach young Thomas what is involved in bringing peace to this sad realm of his. We cannot fight the English in pitched battle—a matter of strength rather than willingness or mere determination. We have less than one-tenth their strength and not one-twentieth part of their resources. The reserves they keep at home in England outnumber us beyond counting. And yet we must fight, with everything and every man we have. To do less would be to guarantee their victory. We cannot give them time to rally or opportunity to consolidate their forces. And so we harry them, playing the cateran, as Edward said.

“The old Plantagenet Lion is dead now, thanks be to God, and so the pressure is relieved, but though his son, Caernarvon, will never be fit to cast a shadow like his father’s, his barons are more powerful than ever, threatening to rise against him, sensing his weakness and deploring his pederasty. But they want Scotland, too, for the scent of blood and power is rank in them and they seek to rip our realm apart and divide it among themselves. Gloucester and Leicester, Northumberland and Hereford are but the leaders of the pack, and any one of them can field more men from his own earldom within a seven-night spell than we can raise through all this land in a twelvemonth. So Thomas is my student, and I will admit to you he shows great promise. We will make a brigand of your nephew yet, my lady, and the English will take note of where he goes. Believe me.”

Jessie nodded slowly. “I do, my lord … And the King is well? He prospers?”

“Aye, Lady, by the grace of God he does, and fortune smiles upon us for once. All of the northeast is in his hands now, for the people of Aberdeen rose up and cast out the English garrison last month, which means we have a seaport of our own for the first time. And his brother Sir Edward has spent these past two months subduing the MacDowals and their hives in Galloway. And subdue them he did. Aided by Angus Og and his Highlanders, he thrashed the MacDowals and their English levies under Ingram de Umfraville and Aymer St. John. Outnumbered by more than two to one, and with only fifty knights, he swept them into ruin. We have just come from there, with dispatches from Sir Edward to the King, and we must now ride north and west, for the King himself is marching there, against the MacDougalls in Argyll.”

Jessie’s frown was quick. “There is a truce with the MacDougalls.”

“There was, my lady. It expired last month, and the old chief’s son, Lame John of Lorn, had spent it raising men in arms to continue his fight to depose His Grace. But the King has men, even among the MacDougalls, who now incline to his cause, and he is well aware of what’s afoot. And so he moves to stamp upon the snake, marching to invade Argyll through the Pass of Brander. We ride to join him there, Thomas and I, and are to meet with him in ten days’ time, at Loch Awe. If we succeed in Argyll, and Lame John goes down—and he will—then only the Earl of Ross will remain to stand against King Robert in the north. And when that arch schemer sees the error of his ways and recants, as he surely must, Robert Bruce will be King indeed through all of Scotland. Pray that it be so, my lady.”

“I will. You need never fear. Now tell me, my lord, have you heard ought of how things progress in Arran?”

Douglas’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her and slowly shook his head. “No, Lady Jessica, I have heard nothing. But that must surely mean that there is nothing ill going on there. Bad news travels fast, and had there been cause for such, we would have heard of it. On the dexter side, though, I know the corps of riders from the island was renewed at June’s end, and the numbers increased. King Robert is well pleased with the unflinching support he has received from Arran.” He hesitated before adding, “And from Sir William.” Again he hesitated. “Forgive me for asking, my lady, but do you communicate with the brotherhood there?”