Free Games of Otterburn 1388 by Charles Randolph Bruce Page B

returned to watching the burning.
    “I figured ye were just goin ’ to keep the garrison penned here for the time,” said Robert pointing to the burning castle and fields.
    “‘ Twas … but,” started William. “We kilt the garrison.”
    “Bored, were ye?”
    “And I wondered what was inside that might be pretty,” added William.
    “Ye know I got gold from ol ’ Clifford to protect this castle?” asked Robert.
    “Ne’er knew that,” bantered William. “ Givin ’ it back?” he smiled a bit already knowing the answer.
    “I figured ye were just goin ’ to raid around the area for livestock and folk to ransom,” said Robert.
    “Did all that.”
    “Where are ye a’keepin ’ ‘ em ?”
    “Yon wood where there’s lots of trees to tie things to,” he said pointing west a bit. “Where’s yer plunder?”
    “Be here directly,” said Robert as he got from the saddle and plopped himself into one of the fine chairs.
    “Ye save these for yerself?” asked Robert.
    “Saved that one for ye , Milord,” he teased.
    “And I saved that one for ye,” Robert back teased as he patted the close arm of the chair to test its softness.
    William fell into the second chair and the men laughed again.
    “Can’t help but think we got more booty than yer cousin James,” said Robert.
    “Don’t know. East March is mighty rich,” said William not wanting to get the family squabble going again with Robert.
    “I got three thousand in coin,” bragged Robert pushing back deep into the soft chair.
    “But I burnt the castle,” remarked William.
    “Just one out of four, did ye burn,” said Robert trying to rationalize why he was not going to give any money back to Roger de Clifford.

    Meanwhile some twelve miles in a southerly direction at Castle Appleby, Clifford’s seneschal sent for his lord to join him at the ramparts of Caesar’s Tower.
    “Look yon, Milord,” said the seneschal pointing northward when Clifford arrived at the ramparts.
    Roger Clifford squinted into the smoky mist. “What’s afire?”
    “‘ Ppears to be Brougham,” he replied.
    The old baron’s mouth dropped involuntarily. “Was not the protection of Brougham included in that payment?”
    “‘ Twas , Milord.”
    “Reckon they burnt Brough , too?”
    “No smoke from the south, Milord,” said the servant commander. “But on the other hand the breeze is headed in that direction.”
    Roger Clifford screamed, “Those lyin ’ goddamned Scotch bastards!!” so loudly that he was heard all the way to the bottom of the hill where subsequently two of Robert Stewart’s knights were outside the only building left standing in the town of black ashes.
    “Ye got Earl Fife’s caltrops?”
    “Thirty he wanted,” said the old blacksmith. “Thirty one or two is what I got sacked up for you.”
    “And there’s the question of a lad,” said one knight.
    “Lad’s gone with his ma,” lied the smith knowing from the beginning Fife ’s intention.
    “ Fife wanted him to come along,” said the knight roughly. “Make caltrops in Fife , he wanted the lad to do.”
    The knight could hear warriors sallying from the gate at the top of the hill and knew their time there was short.
    “Sorry, M ilords all,” begged the old man, “but he is in the mountains. At Rey Cross… Stainmore … with his family.”
    The one knight growled and showed his teeth at the blacksmith for he figured he would be punished for not bringing the lad but they at least had the thirty caltrops wrapped in leather pouches.
    “We’ll be back for the lad,” warned one as they both mounted their horses.
    The English troops of Roger Clifford knowing nothing of the visit of the two knights came at a gallop off the hill heading for Brougham Castle where their numbers were certainly smaller than Earl Robert’s but they were sent in harm’s way for the sake of Clifford’s scorching temper easily goaded by pride and a vain hope his ill-gotten gold could be recovered.
    The