Page 88 of The Falcon Laird
Gavin blinked, still trying to take in the news. He thrust his fingers through his hair and laughed, a disbelieving chuckle. “What game is this? Edward must be wary of losing his stance in Scotland. He curries favors from those who openly hate him.”
“He’s had word that more Scots are joining Robert Bruce. My own clan will not waiver in our loyalty,” Dungal Macdouell said, coming forward with Philip Ormesby from the shadowed corner of the chamber, where they had been sitting at a game of chess. “But there are supporters o’ King Edward who now side with the Bruce. Edward has pardoned the outlawed Scots because he wants the loyalty of these other Scots back again.”
“Traitors all,” Hastings snapped.
“These men, I hear, have been lately dispossessed of their Scottish and English lands both, or else they expect their lands to be taken from them shortly,” Gavin said. “Despite their declared fealty to Edward.”
Hastings snorted derisively. “Fools all,” he said. “Edward must take Scottish land to ensure his control over all Scotland.They will gain land back from him later based on loyalty and support. And coin. But more are openly declaring for the Bruce.”
“Understandable in the circumstances,” Gavin said.
“Some of us turn traitor easily,” Hastings said.
Gavin longed to grind a fist into Hastings’s smirking face. But he would do nothing to jeopardize Christian’s newly acquired legal freedom, however fragile that might be under Edward’s fickle control.
“Still,” Gavin said, “Edward must be anxious about the numbers of men who are said to be joining the Bruce’s cause. Not many in actuality, perhaps. He has less than a hundred men, from what I hear, but a growing number are seeing Bruce as the true King of Scots. That might make Edward quake. Else he would never have repealed his declaration outlawing any who aided Bruce. He is too spiteful for that.”
“Spite? Do you say that these royal orders are not trustworthy?” Hastings asked.
“Edward’s declarations last only so long as he wants. This order will be no different, in the end.”
“Regardless,” Philip Ormesby said, “your Scottish wife is free of all of outlawry. For now.”
Gavin scooped up the writ and tucked the page inside his tunic before Hastings could reconsider.
“What about the men who attacked my patrol last week?” Hastings asked. “Did you capture any of them? What about the Celtic priest?”
Gavin shrugged. “He was in his church that day, seen by many, performing a Lenten mass.”
“What word of the Bruce?”
“He hides in a different place every few nights, we hear.”
“We will find him,” Hastings said. “He and his men grow careless and bold. Last week on Palm Sunday, his ally James Douglas—the Black Douglas—attacked an English garrison inchurch, while the soldiers were hearing mass. He and his followers sealed themselves in the empty castle and ate the holy day feast that had been prepared. Then they fouled the well with dead cattle and burned the place to the ground.”
“I heard about it,” Gavin said. Bruce had mentioned it only nights ago. “That was the Douglas family castle. And that English commander was careless to leave it unguarded.”
“Black Douglas took it back in Scottish style,” Macdouell said. “Brave but foolish. King Edward was so furious, they say he leaped from his sickbed screaming, and ordered more men to pour into Galloway. Bruce will not last the month with such fury after him.”
“Bruce was seen near Kilglassie lately, so Edward wants men installed there immediately,” Hastings said. “I headed a patrol a few days ago with a hundred men and bloodhounds. We caught sight of some men in the forest, but ’twas at night, and pouring rain. The hounds lost them.”
Gavin watched him evenly, giving away no emotion. “You can try again,” he said.
“And this time your own garrison will form the patrol,” Hastings answered. “Bruce was near Kilglassie lands the day he and his men attacked my patrol. Have the castle ready next week to house that garrison. You will lead men out to find Bruce.”
“I told you the work will not be done until spring at least,” Gavin said. “The portcullis is a challenge to repair. I will order new chains in Ayr, but it will take time before they can be delivered.”
“Have the bill sent to me as treasurer,” Ormesby said. “King Edward has generously offered to pay part of your repair costs. But he wants the place repaired and ready by next week.”
“I would prefer he not invest funds into my castle.”
“As you wish,” Hastings said. “But that will not stop him from reclaiming Kilglassie if he wants.” The smirk returned to his face; now Gavin really wanted to slam his fist there.
“Have you made any progress on finding that gold?” Ormesby asked. “Edward mentioned that in a recent letter. This Scottish war has been very expensive. A treasure like that will go a long way.”
“You were supposed to convince the girl to tell you where she has hidden it,” Hastings said.
“The girl,” Gavin said, sliding him a glance, “is my lady wife. And I believe the treasure is gone, if it ever existed. There has been no trace of it, and it is all based on legend, not truth. Whatever was there may have been taken generations ago.”
