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

one by one. "This is a desperate plight. Our
losses are terrible. You see that. But I may still raise men from my own lands.
I will not give up. I'll free Scotland or die trying. I swear that to you. I
won't give up. We'll grow strong again, and last night I learned what will let
us win."
    He paused and moistened his lips. "I'll
never trust English honor again. Not any of them. It's to my blame for having
left the lesson late. King Edward has never shown his honor to us Scots. Didn't
he break his word to your father at Berwick, James? Slaughter the city for no
cause?"
    James stared in surprise. He hadn't
expected the king to call on him. But those days in Berwick were ones he would
never forget. "You know that he did, Sire."
    "I fear for any left in their hands,"
the king said in a low voice. "But our enemies will pay for the deaths and
the treachery. For King Edward trying to steal our land when we were left with
no king, and for every broken oath since. Whoever trusts them rues the day. I'll
fight them however I may. I'll use their very deceit against them. And we will
win."
    Then James realized the king was looking at
him.
    "My lord?"
    Bruce unsheathed his sword. "Do you
think I don't know you stood over me? Took blows on your shield that would have
killed me?"
    James opened his mouth, not sure what to
say. "You're my liege."
    "Kneel." James dropped to his
knees, and the king tapped him on each shoulder. "I dub you knight. Be you
good and faithful until life's end, Sir James."
    A ragged cheer went up, weary sounding. It
was a brutal day to think of being cheered--a brutal day to get his knighthood.
As James stood, the king led his horse into the trickling water of the stream. He
bent to scoop some up with one hand to drink, the other close to his side. James
followed. Some dropped where they were in exhaustion and a few wandered towards
the water's edge. But where the king went, so would James. The king must live.
    "My lord, let me look at your back. You
risk a wound fever or worse," James said.
    Bruce shook his head. "I've had worse
in tourneys. Feels like the shoulder is broken. Not the first time."
    Whilst his horse drank, Bruce squatted and
splashed water in his face. He scraped his wet hair back and looked up at James
with a wry smile. "I'm sorry for doing it this way, Jamie."
    "Sorry?"
    "No man should receive his knighthood
after such a rout. It shames me. You deserve better, but it's the best I can
give you--for now. One day you'll get your Douglasdale back and more. You have
my word on it."
    James knelt on one knee beside the king. "I
hate even the thought of the English in my home, my people at their mercy. I
swore a sacred oath to recover everything that was stolen from my father. It's
true." A rustle in the bushes caught James's eye, and he jerked for his
sword. But it was just a cuckoo fluttering from one branch to another. He
breathed in relief before he looked at the king. "But lands or no, my
sword is yours, and I'm your man. Where you go, Douglas follows."
    The king gripped his arm in silence.

 
    CHAPTER SIX

 
    Carlisle
Castle, England: July 1306
    The bailey of Carlisle Castle was still as
a guard dragged Bishop Lamberton towards the doors of the keep. The dazzling
mid-afternoon sun hung low over the walls, ripening the day into sweaty idleness.
On the ramparts, a man-at-arms in dark armor paced his rounds.
    The great hall of Carlisle was in a massive
square fortress that hulked behind walls eight feet thick and a wide sluggish
moat. A knight guarded the doorway, steel armor blinding in the sunlight.
    Within, Lamberton blinked in the dimness. The
guard gripping his arm jerked him to a halt. Lamberton watched a drop of blood
weep its way down his hand from under an iron shackle before he raised his
eyes. At the end of the hall, King Edward Longshanks sat glowering, seated upon
a throne. Behind King Edward hung the leopard banner of the Plantagenet and
beside it the banner of the dragon, fire gushing