Free A Kingdom's Cost, a Historical Novel of Scotland by J. R. Tomlin

have to break
through. Form a wedge." He hefted his battleaxe in his hand. The king
jerked his reins and gave his horse a savage kick. Clods flew. He charged
towards the oncoming line. James dug in his spurs. His horse snorted, plunging
to a gallop. The king was just ahead and to his right, the point of a wedge to
punch through the onrushing English line. James dug in his spurs even harder. On
the other side of the king pounded Alexander Scrymgeour, the royal banner
raised high over his head.
    The king slashed his axe as he galloped. A
man-at-arms fell, belly laid open under a blow. James concentrated on staying
at the king's side, shield raised to protect his flank.
    A knight in a blue surcoat swung at Bruce
on the other side. The king leaned, dodging. The blow hacked into his horse's
neck. The animal gave a hideous scream. It fell like a boulder.
    The king tumbled over his horse's head,
rolling in the dirt in front of James. He jumped his horse over the king,
barely missing him. The English knight turned for another strike. James managed
to catch the blow on his sword. Their blades screeched as they scraped. James
leaned in hard. From behind, Scrymgeour drove his blade deep into the man's
back.
    Their wedge had crumbled with the king's
fall.
    James jumped from the saddle to straddle
the fallen king, shield raised. The entire wood was chaos. Knight hacked at
knight on each side of him. Screams and shouts came through the shadows. Two
knights turned their charge, hooves kicking up clods of dirt, to ride at him.
    "To the king," James shouted,
desperate. Bruce moaned and rolled onto his side.
    Scrymgeour turned his rearing mount, sword
flashing. But a bannerman carries no shield. "A Bruce! A Bruce!"
    Out of the darkness, a horse galloped, lance
couched. James raised his shield, but it would be useless--the mounted knights
against the two of them. They had no chance. He sagged with relief when the
lance took one of the English knights in the side. It shattered.
    The second Englishman swerved to meet the
threat. Before their rescuer could get his sword out, his opponent swung a
mace, smashing his helm in. Blood and flesh splattered.
    The victorious knight reared his horse to
turn it towards them. As he galloped, James dashed at him. Bringing down the
horse was their only hope. He ducked a blow of the mace and dropped to his
knees, slashing up into the horse's belly. Hot guts and blood gushed over his
arms as the animal went down. James rolled out of the way. On the other side, Sir
Alexander leaned down and struck a killing blow.
    "To the king!" His shout would
bring more English but they had to have aid. Where were the others in this madness?
    The king scrambled to his hands and knees. Scrymgeour
grabbed a downed knight's horse. Bruce held onto the saddle, swaying, as James
boosted him up. James grabbed his own reins and vaulted into the saddle. Campbell
drew up, horse snorting and dancing.
    Gilbert de la Haye and a score of his men
hacked down the last of their opponents. "They flanked us with another
division. They'll hit again. We have to get the king out of here."
    Bruce straightened in the saddle, giving
his head a hard shake. "Where's Thomas? Edward?"
    "I don't know. I don't know where
anyone is. We're scattered."
    The king pointed eastward where the woods
sloped thickly down towards the river. "That way then. It's the direction
my brothers were. We must find them."
    A trumpet blared nearby. "There. It's Bruce,"
a black shape in the lesser darkness yelled.
    Bruce whipped his horse to a gallop,
weaving back and forth between the trees. "To me!" Bruce had a battlefield
voice. It carried like a trumpet. "A Bruce! A Bruce!"
    James tried to stay by the king's side but
weaving through the woods made it impossible. Still he kept the king in sight. They
had to get away before it was light. The only thing that had kept them alive so
far was that most of the English hadn't recognized the king without his tabard
or crown.
    From behind