‘Even so,’ Dog Boy pointed out, ‘they will be hard put to make Stirling by midsummer – they have at least twenty good Scots miles to reach Edinburgh.’
Closer to twenty-five, James Douglas thought, and capable of making no more than twelve in a day’s march. By the time they get to Edinburgh, it will have been burned and scorched of any easy way of landing supplies from ships, and that will cost them dearly.
That would put them close to midsummer, so that they would have to push to reach the vicinity of Stirling’s fortress in time to claim the siege as lifted. With luck, they would arrive panting and dragging their arses in the dust and Dog Boy, grinning back as the Black voiced this, agreed with a nod.
Patrick, seeing these twin firedogs, marvelled at how they looked nothing at all, no more than dark, good-looking, pleasant youths who could be planning a night of revelry in Edinburgh instead of mayhem on an invading host.
The two old priests hardly kicked at all when the spearmen hauled them up. Parcy Dodd leaned forward on his horse at the sight and shook his head.
‘Ach well,’ he said, ‘let us hope they find a better welcome than auld Brother Cedric.’
‘I am hesitating to ask,’ the Black answered laconically. Parcy grinned, a farrago of gums and gap.
‘Brother Cedric died old and venerated. Upon entering St Peter’s Gate, there was another man in front, waiting to go into Heaven. St Peter asked the man who he was and what he had accomplished in his life and the man revealed that he was Blind Tam, ship’s steersman, who had spent his life on a vessel taking pilgrims to the Holy Land. St Peter handed him a silk robe and a golden sceptre, inviting him to walk in the streets of Our Lord.’
There was a sound of distant, frantic hooves which brought heads up. Parcy, unperturbed, shifted his weight on the horse a little.
‘St Peter’, he went on, ‘asked the same question of Brother Cedric, who tells him he has devoted the entire threescore span of his years to the Lord – and he is given a plain wool robe and wooden staff. Certes, he questions this – in a polite, Christianly way of course – and St Peter lets him know the truth. “While you preached, everyone slept,” he said. “But while Blind Tam steered, everyone prayed.”’
Yabbing Andra arrived in a flurry of foam-flecked horse and dust.
‘Prickers,’ he said and the Black unhooked his leg from the saddle.
‘Bigod, Parcy Dodd,’ he said, as they broke into a fast canter away from the threat, ‘you tell it better than a priest at a sermon.’
Everyone who had heard such heckled sermons laughed, but Patrick shook a mock-sorrowful head.
‘There is an inglenook of Hell’s bad fire set aside just for you, Parcy.’
Dog Boy, who had seen the great swooping banners, the sea of men and horses and power moving like a relentless tide towards Stirling, was sure that Parcy and everyone else would find out where they sat in Hell soon enough.
The Pele, Linlithgow
Feast of St Alban, June 1314
He had not stopped for the banners of St Cuthbert and St John of Beverley, nor visited the shrines; he knew he had avoided that campaign ritual simply because his father had done it before him and Edward knew, too, that such avoidance had been a mistake from the mutters and solemn head-shaking of his knights.
They were worse than any wattled beldame, Edward thought moodily as he chewed on the fish and enjoyed the sweet of the sauce. Christ betimes, he had banners aplenty – a whole cartload of them – and holy help from a slew of abbots and bishops. He was even eating fish, as any Christian knight would do in order to show his purity of body and soul. What was one flapping cloth more or less?
Besides, this was his army, gathered at vast expense and despite the refusal of the likes of Lancaster and Warwick. When this was concluded, Edward thought with savage glee, I will be able to deal with them as I wish – as a true king would wish – but, for now, there is the rare freedom of being out from under the Ordinances, with my own army at my back. Better still, it had men in it he could trust enough to have at his back.
Like Ebles de Mountz – Edward raised his cup to the Savoyard and saw the man flush with pride at being so singled out by his king. A valuable asset was de Mountz, whom Edward had set to watching his wife for a time and then appointed constable of Edinburgh. Too late, as it turned out, because the place fell to the Scotch before de Mountz could take command – but the man had fourteen years of experience in the Scottish wars and had served as constable of three castles in his time. Including Stirling.