Page 65 of The Falcon Laird
After another moment, Christian could stand it no longer. “Shove over, then,” she hissed, and worked her head and shoulders in the space alongside Fergus. Adjusting his position, he had to put his arm around her waist so that they could both listen.
“We’ll hope my wife and your husband do not come into the hall just now,” Fergus muttered.
Christian rolled her eyes and then fixed her attention to the voices drifting through the shaft.
“Bruce’s men havethe advantage in these craggy hills,” Macdouell said. “But a few weeks ago, we had them in the open at Loch Ryan. Bruce himself was not there, but his two brothers commanded a fleet of ships and three hundred men. We had them at our mercy, trapped in the water and on the shore. Most of them died. A fair number were Highlanders and Irishgallòglach, or mercenaries. I had the pleasure of beheading an Irish chief myself.”
Gavin listened, swirling his wine in its simple clay cup. “It must have taken Bruce months to gather up those men and ships. He lost much that day.”
“Aye, a devastating blow,” Hastings said, and smiled, thin-lipped and smug. “But he learned that the English are far more capable of carrying on a war than he is.”
“He lives like a fugitive, with only the clothes on his back and the sword in his belt,” Ormesby said. “He has a few men, and what food and shelter he can steal or borrow. He needs money,horses, men, and has little means to get them. The people are his only hope for assistance and support, and many of them are afraid to help him.”
“We will have him soon, for he cannot continue long like this,” Hastings said smugly.
Gavin sent him a flat look and turned back to the others. “How many men does Bruce have with him?”
“Fifty or sixty at most,” Macdouell said. “An earl, some knights, several Highlanders, whatever local farmers he has been able to collect. They will need shelter if they continue to stay in Galloway through the rest of February and March. On nights when the winds blow icy and damp, he must regret his choice to hide in these hills.”
“There are many caves in the Galloway hills,” Gavin said.
“Caves, aye. And wolves, wild boars, and wildcats. I doubt he even feels safe enough to close his eyes and sleep,” Hastings said. “He and his men strike in small parties, mostly at night. We never know where or when he will ambush our patrols.”
Macdouell poured out more wine for himself and added more to Hastings’s cup. “He moves his camp daily, and fights from high in the hills, shooting arrows, or rolling boulders down on English soldiers. They fight hand to hand when they meet our men. They hide in the trees and even in the water. But we have been unable to catch them.”
Gavin raised his eyebrows slightly, amazed at what he was hearing. “Bruce has a natural talent for outlawry.”
“He was raised in the hills of Galloway and Carrick,” Macdouell said. “He uses the land like a Highlander.”
Gavin nodded. “He is a true challenge to the English.” He rubbed at his chin, hiding a smile as he leaned casually against the bedpost. Robert Bruce opposed Edward Plantagenet’s might and wrath with daring, intelligence, and strength of conviction.Gavin found much to admire there. “With this man to lead them, the Scots have a real chance,” he mused.
“That is madness,” Hastings said. “He cannot hide from us forever. We have the advantage. We will soon flush him out.”
“With heavy cavalry and foot soldiers, traveling along steep inclines and over boggy ground? Bruce has the advantage over you. Do not fool yourself.”
Hastings slid him a quick, dark glance. “He hides because he is too cowardly to face armored knights in open combat.”
“If you mean to win, you will need to consider his skill and his persistence. This man is ingenious,” Gavin said.
“He has but sixty men. He is no match for us.”
“Then why have you not captured him?” Gavin asked dryly.
Hastings snarled incoherently and quaffed his wine, smacking the cup down on top of a chest.
“I have no love for Robert Bruce, but he leads us in a clever dance. He’s a worthy enemy, at the least,” Macdouell said.
“Perhaps you should adopt his techniques,” Gavin said.
“We have no time to waste climbing the hills in outlaw fashion,” Hastings said. “We mean to draw Bruce out onto open ground. Provoke him to fight honorably, in full combat, with horses and armor.”
“Interesting plans,” Gavin said. “But I have no garrison to lend you for your battle.”
“Not yet. You have something else here that I need.”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “What is that?”
“Among your workmen is a laborer who has come to me at Loch Doon,” Hastings said. “He is a kinsman of Robert Bruce. And he has offered to find out Bruce’s plans in exchange for land.”
