The Raider_A Highland Guard Novel

Epilogue





Kilmarnock, Ayrshire, Dean Castle, All Saints’ Day, November 1, 1312

Rosalin had vowed she wouldn’t scream, but the cramping, stabbing pain took her by surprise. How could something so wonderful hurt so badly?

The sound tore from her lungs, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

It was happening much faster than she’d expected. Too fast. She desperately wanted Robbie to be here. But he was away on a mission, and “Cliffy,” as she called their unborn child, had decided to make his appearance a few weeks early. A messenger had been sent to Douglas when her first cramps had begun last night, but Rosalin didn’t know whether it would reach her husband in time.

The last months of marriage had brought her more joy than she could have imagined. The king had given Robbie some land and an old tower house in Kilmarnock for his faithful service, and they stayed there as much as they could when they weren’t at one of the royal castles with Bruce and the other phantoms. She still called them that, even though she knew they referred to themselves as the Highland Guard.

She’d become close with the other wives. There was something about secrecy and the danger of the missions their husbands undertook that created a special bond among them. They were united in fear when they were gone, and in relief when they returned.



But the woman she’d become closest to was Helen MacKay, formerly Sutherland. When “Angel” wasn’t accompanying the phantoms on a mission, she spent most of her time at the nearby abbey in Ayrshire with Rosalin, helping to set up the refuge they’d established for unwed women who were with child. Helen’s skill as a healer made them a natural team.

It was Helen who tended her now. And Helen to whom she voiced her fears. “Will he make it in time?”

The other woman squeezed her hand. “The babe will be here when he is ready. Whether his father arrives in time or not, I don’t know. But it will be all right; just keep breathing.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I want him here.” She sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it. Selfishly she needed him. She needed his strength to get her through this. The hardest part of being married to a warrior was the time he spent away. Not that she would change it for the world. She was so proud of Robbie. He was still more brigand than knight, but hatred and vengeance no longer drove him.

“I know you do. He will be here if it is humanly possible—or superhumanly possible, knowing him. But he left me here to take care of you.” Helen smiled. “Although left is probably not the right word.”

“Ordered?” Rosalin managed between pained breaths.

“Aye, that’s better.”

Rosalin’s face darkened with worry. “You should be there with them.”

What if something happened to one of the Guardsmen and Helen wasn’t there? Rosalin would never forgive herself.

Helen lifted a brow. “Do you think your husband would be of any use to them if I wasn’t with you? He’d get them all killed, which is why they all insisted I stay here with you. Besides, I have a secret.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I won’t be going on many missions for the next nine months or so.”



Rosalin’s eyes widened. “Oh Helen, a child? That is wonderful!” She managed to hug her friend for a moment before another pain took hold. She was still breathing hard when she asked, “So Magnus finally convinced you?”

Helen smiled. “He’s been patient. More patient than most men would have been. We’ve been married for over three years. But, nay, it wasn’t Magnus. It was seeing all the children at Dunstaffnage during Beltane.” She shrugged. “I realized I was ready. I love my work, but I want to be a mother, too. I hope I can do both. If I waited for the war to end I might be an old woman.”

Bruce was slowly increasing his hold on the throne, but they were still waiting for the decisive battle.

“Of course you can do both,” Rosalin said. “I’m so happy for you.” But then another pain wracked her and her face contorted in a grimace. When it had finally passed, she added, “Although after seeing this so many times, it’s hard to believe you would ever put yourself through it.”

“The rewards are worth the pain.”

“Says the woman not screaming like a banshee with sweat rolling down her face.”

Helen laughed. “And still you manage to look beautiful.”

Rosalin didn’t even deign to respond. For the next hour, pains grabbed hold of her stomach and held. They became longer and more frequent in duration. She was exhausted but excited, knowing that after the long wait their babe was almost here.

“You have to start pushing,” Helen said.

“No, please not yet. Robbie wants to be here.”

“Trust me, you are better off that he’s not. Men are no use in the birthing chamber.”



Suddenly, they heard a sound outside. Helen rushed to the tower window and smiled. “It appears you will get your wish after all.”

Rosalin returned her smile until another pain took hold, and she cried out.

A moment later her husband burst into the room. He looked horrible and wonderful at the same time. He was caked in dirt, his cotun flecked with God-knows-what, his eyes were wild, and his face was taut with fear. But she’d never been so happy to see him in her life.

He rushed to her side, kneeling at the edge of the bed. “God, Rosalin, are you all right?”

“I’m having our baby.”

Some of the fear slipped from his face, and he managed a small smile. “Aye, mo ghrá, I can see that. Or hear it, rather.”

“It hurts.”

He looked at Helen.

“She’s fine,” the other woman assured him. “Now that you are here—”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish. Robbie glanced over at the floor to the pile of bed linens that had been removed after her water broke, and blanched.

He started to sway, and Rosalin grabbed his arm. “If you swoon, Robbie Boyd, I swear to you I will tell Hawk, and you will never get a moment’s peace. And then I will tell my brother. How do you think it will sound in England if it becomes known that the strongest man in Scotland faints at the sight of a little blood?”


“Your blood. It’s your blood.” But the threat had worked. He looked more solid and some of the color was returning to his face. “And I wasn’t going to faint.”

Rosalin and Helen looked at each other and laughed.

“I told you they were useless in the birthing room,” Helen said, and then looked at Robbie. “If I have to set up a bed for you, I’m not going to be happy.”



Robbie scowled at her. “I can do this. Please, I want to be with her.”

He held Rosalin’s hand as the next pain grabbed her, and the next. Somehow having him there helped. It still hurt like Hades, but the edge didn’t seem quite so sharp.

When it was time to push, Helen told him to make himself useful, and he supported Rosalin from behind as she bore down.

She lost track of time. It seemed to go on forever. She didn’t think she’d ever been so relieved when Helen said, “Almost there. One more big push.”

Rosalin gritted her teeth, with her husband whispering encouraging words in her ear, and called on every last ounce of strength to deliver their son into the waiting arms of her friend.

The angry little cry a moment later was the most beautiful sound Rosalin had ever heard. Tears sprang to her eyes.

There were tears in Helen’s eyes as well. “It’s a boy, and he is perfect.”

Rosalin felt the relief in her husband’s body as well as her own. They looked at one another wordlessly, at an utter loss.

After detaching the babe from the placenta and tying the cord, Helen bundled the child in a soft wool plaid and handed the red, squalling infant to Rosalin.

He had a downy tuft of dark hair, but that wasn’t what provoked her to say, “He looks like you.” She looked up at her husband, who was staring at the child as if he’d never seen anything so magnificent. “He certainly has your temper.”

Robbie stroked the baby’s tiny head with the back of his finger. His voice was thick when he said, “What shall we call him?”

She smiled. “I thought…” He gave her a look that said “don’t say it.” But she’d always known exactly what they would call him. “I thought Thomas.”

Robbie held her stare, and the emotion that passed between them was sharp and poignant with the memories. Their child would bear the name of the friend who had unknowingly brought them together. Every time they looked at their son, he would remind them of the love that had been so hard fought and won. At all costs.





AUTHOR’S NOTE





Sir Robert Boyd is probably the most well-known historical figure of the Guardsmen I will write about. He plays a large part in the Wars of Independence, fighting alongside both William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, with his name mentioned a number of times by the important chroniclers, including both Barbour and Blind Harry. Blind Harry refers to Boyd over twenty times and calls him “wise and strong,” which inspired his place among my Highland Guard as the strongest man in Scotland.

I debated on whether to make Boyd a Guardsman because there is so much known about him (except—conveniently—whom he was married to), but he is such a compelling figure I couldn’t resist. To me, he is the William Wallace type of freedom fighter and serves as an important link connecting Bruce’s cause to Wallace’s.

Boyd was probably born a few years earlier than I suggested, about 1275. His father (or possibly his grandfather) was a hero of the Battle of Largs in 1263, and the family was rewarded with land and a barony in Noddsdale in Ayrshire. Boyd’s father, also Robert Boyd, is said to have been one of the Scottish nobles who were called to a meeting by the English and treacherously murdered at the “Barns of Ayr” (an event immortalized in the movie Braveheart). In reprisal, Wallace later trapped the English garrison in the barns and set it on fire. I combined the events in the novel for Boyd’s father’s death.



Wallace is said to have left Boyd in charge of his army when he was away, helping the Boyd clan earn its motto of “Confido,” as well as their nickname of the “Trusty Boyds” for their loyalty to the Scottish cause for independence. Boyd fought faithfully beside Wallace, his boyhood companion, and some suggest his kinsman, until the latter’s death in 1305. Boyd was also one of the early supporters of Robert the Bruce and fought (loyally) alongside him for the duration of the war, even serving as one of his commanders in the key Battle of Bannockburn, which will feature in a future book.

As Blind Harry says of Boyd at Bannockburn (History of the Counties of Ayr and Wigton, Vol. III, by James Paterson, Edinburgh, 1866):

“Ranged on the right the Southron legions stood,

And on their front the fiery Edward rode,

With him the experienced Boyd divides the sway,

Sent by the King to guide him thro’ the day.”

Boyd may also have been with Bruce and Sir Roger de Kirkpatrick at Greyfriars Monastery in Dumfries in 1306, when Bruce stabbed John “The Red” Comyn before the altar, launching his bid for the crown.

The schooling and military history leanings I give Boyd in the novel are actually based on Wallace’s early life. Wallace was reputed to have quoted Hannibal and attended school first in the Stirling area at Cambuskenneth Abbey where his uncle was a clergyman, and then at a popular school in Dundee, taught by William Mydford, who is believed to have fostered Wallace’s fervor for liberty. Interestingly, Wallace met Duncan (MacDougall) of Lorn and Neil Campbell (Arthur “Ranger” Campbell’s brother) at school in Dundee. Both would later join him in his rebellion.

The works by Polybius and Appian probably didn’t make their way west until the fifteenth century. The Latin translation of Appian wasn’t until 1477.



Boyd’s sister Marian in the novel is fictional, but his brother Duncan was captured and executed in 1306. Around this same time, Boyd was taken prisoner at Kildrummy but managed to escape. How he managed to do so is lost in the mists of time, but it was what sparked the idea for Rosalin.

Rosalin is the fictional sister of Sir Robert (de) Clifford, first Baron (de) Clifford, who is one of the most important English commanders in the War against Scotland. Clifford’s mother was a great heiress, and while the genealogical charts aren’t consistent (they never are), most suggest he was an only child. Clifford’s father died fighting in Wales when Clifford was seven or eight, and his wardship was held by the king’s brother Edmund of Cornwall, the Earl of Gloucester, and eventually King Edward I.

Clifford’s military career in Scotland began in 1296 with raids in Annandale (Bruce lands) and Annan, and he appears in many battles over the years until his death at Bannockburn in 1314. But he is probably most remembered for his enmity with Sir James “The Black” Douglas. The fight over the Douglas lands would launch a feud between the Cliffords and Douglases that would last for over one hundred years.

Although Clifford was fighting the Bruce “rebels” in Scotland at the time of the prologue in The Raider, his name doesn’t appear in the siege of Kildrummy. Kildrummy probably wasn’t garrisoned but was immediately dismantled after Edward, Prince of Wales (the future Edward II) and Aymer de Valence (the future Earl of Pembroke) lay siege to it. It was the treachery of the blacksmith Osborne (see The Viper) that was responsible for the castle’s fall, Boyd’s imprisonment, and Nigel Bruce’s subsequent execution.


Clifford was, however, at Berwick Castle during the time of Bruce’s raids in 1311 and 1312, having been appointed Keeper of Scotland South of the Forth on April 4, 1311, which made him the perfect brother for my fictional heroine.



There is really no chivalrous way to spin the Bruce raids in 1311 and 1312. They were basically a campaign of blackmail (sometimes with hostages) to support his kingship and fund the costly war. If the money was not paid, the English were threatened with “fire and sword.” However, with the exception of the raid in Durham in 1312, which was led by Edward Bruce and the Black Douglas, the Bruce raiders did not typically kill anyone unless they resisted. Even the English monks at Lanercost Abbey made note of this in their records of the period.

The enormous two-thousand-pound figure for the truce between Boyd and Clifford is based on the actual amount paid by Northumberland in August 1311.

At the time of The Raider, Bruce was laying siege to the castle at Dundee, which would eventually fall and be destroyed in May 1312. Key to understanding the reason for the raids is remembering that although Bruce had a hold on Scotland north of the Tay at this time, the south was still occupied by English garrisons. It was clearing these garrisons from Scotland’s important castles (and usually the destruction of the castle afterward) that marks the period between 1311 and 1314. But laying siege to castles and paying men beyond their hundred days of service was expensive, the royal coffers were empty, and Scotland was devastated after years of war. Without the raids, Bruce wouldn’t have been able to get a foothold in the south and evict the English who were so deeply entrenched there.

Boyd, James Douglas, Thomas Randolph, and Edward Bruce were the king’s key lieutenants in the south and the men more often than not leading the raids in England. How you viewed them (whether hero or terrorist) was largely an issue of perspective, i.e., on which side of the border (called the Marches at the time) you lived. For example, Douglas was known as “Good Sir James” in Scotland, but in England he was reviled as “The Black Douglas.”



Similarly, from our modern perspective there is nothing heroic in hostage taking. But in medieval times, it was basically institutionalized and an accepted part of warfare. We’ve already seen it with David, the young Earl of Atholl, in The Recruit, who was held as a hostage most of his young life by the English king as surety for his father’s good behavior. That David came to sympathize with his hostage takers was also very common and actually served a purpose as a bridge between the two sides when the hostage was returned.

It appears uncommon for something bad to happen to the hostage even when a deal was reneged upon. David is a good example of that as well. Even when his father rebels and is eventually executed, the boy is not harmed.

The most famous example is probably the great English knight William Marshall. He was held by King Stephen as a youth and famously avoided death when his father broke his promise and taunted the king that he still had “the hammer and anvil with which to forge still more and better sons.”

Men—of course—were vastly preferred, but there were some examples of women serving as hostages.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to name Rosalin after her illustrious relative. The famously beautiful “Fair Rosamund,” who captured the heart of King Henry II and became his mistress, would have been Rosalin’s great-aunt three times over.

Finally, although I have Rosalin giving birth at Dean Castle in Kilmarnock in the epilogue, the old Balliol lands were not formally given to Boyd until after Bannockburn. Dean Castle would be built by his son, Thomas, and their descendants would be the future Earls of Kilmarnock.