Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 8

He waited until the sergeant and his companions retired out of earshot before turning back to his companions.

"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?"

His brother Thomas shrugged. "You've just admitted that we're low on supplies. As well to let them go. If the men can ?nd food for themselves, that will help stretch the resources we have, and buy us more time to come up with a workable battle plan."

"That may be practical, but I'm not sure it's wise," Torquil warned. "If you let the army disperse, even for a few hours, you court the risk of the enemy catching us off guard and picking us off piecemeal."

"But how likely is that?" Seton argued. "The English don't know the local area as well as we do. If Pembroke wouldn't commit his troops to ?ght us on an open ?eld in broad daylight, he certainly won't be eager to send them into unknown territory under cover of night."

"That depends on who's advising him," Torquil reminded Seton. "Pembroke has a signi?cant number of Scots in his following. Some of the Balliol men, and the Comyns, too, were out with Wallace in the early years. They know that a Scottish army is accustomed to living off the land, and may urge Pembroke to exploit the fact."

"That's a chance we may have to take," James Douglas said. "One way or another, our men have got to eat. And the sooner we send them out, the quicker they'll be back."

Bruce pondered the matter a moment longer, but ?nally shook his head.

"I certainly don't relish the idea of allowing our forces to split up," he said, "but I also don't like the idea of depleting our supplies before we've had a chance to engage the enemy. In the balance, I think I'm going to have to authorize forage parties. Unless there's something I've overlooked?"

No one spoke, but no one looked terribly happy about the proposition, either. Afterward, when the meeting broke up and Seton went to relay the orders, young Aubrey drew Torquil aside. They had not known one another well before Aubrey joined Bruce's band, but the past weeks had forged a bond of easy camaraderie between the two, despite a generation of age difference.

"Torquil," Aubrey murmured, "is it just my inexperience and natural skepticism, or is this a really bad idea?"

Torquil shook his head. "I only wish I knew. I don't like it any more than you do. I know it's the Scottish way, to forage off the land-the men do have to eat-but I keep getting this twitchy feeling that something is watching every move we make, and poised to pounce. Let's hope it's only a ?gment of my own suspicious nature."

With the summer solstice less than a week away, the Scottish sunset lingered late over the Perthshire hills.

As the sky slowly darkened, Pembroke's forces began a.s.sembling for action. John Macdougall of Lorn and Sir Alexander Abernethy, together with their followings, were in the vanguard. They were waiting to move out when they received a message instructing them to rendezvous with Bartholeme de Challon at an abandoned bothy just outside the town.

The bothy stood on a rocky hillock backed by a stand of windblown trees. Ordering their men to keep under cover, Lorn and Abernethy drew their swords before approaching the low stone cottage. Pale light from a ?ickering cruse lamp showed through the open doorway.

"You won't need your weapons just yet," Bartholeme's voice advised from the room beyond.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Lorn led the way across the threshold. There they found Bartholeme seated at a crooked table, poring over a set of parchments. The dwarf Mercurius was with him, wearing a miniature copy of his master's leather battle harness and mail, stubby hands thrust into his belt.

"All right, we're here," said Abernethy, as he and Lorn sheathed their swords. "Now what do you want?"

"To set you on the right path to seizing Bruce," Bartholeme replied.

Both men drew themselves up straighter. "We're listening."

"A short while ago I did some spying. Bruce's troops are camped near Methven, as you know. His personal encampment lies in a hollow about a quarter mile north of the main force. I've prepared a map."

He pa.s.sed the topmost sheet of vellum to Lorn, who tilted it closer to the lamplight as Abernethy peered over his shoulder.

"We are here, and Methven is there," Bartholeme said, a well-manicured ?ngertip tracing the distance between them. "Heading northerly, follow the line of this burn. Bruce's force is scattered through these woods, but his personal encampment lies here."

The two Scottish lords stared at him with mouths agape. "How do you know this?" Lorn demanded.

"Suf?ce it to say that I have my sources," Bartholeme replied, toying with the swan signet on his hand.

"Now get moving. And do try to take him alive," he added, as the two started to leave. "King Edward will derive great satisfaction from watching him writhe and scream under the hands of the executioners."

Midnight approached, and it was full dark at last, but Torquil found himself growing more and more uneasy as the night went on. Too restless to sleep, and still in his harness, he eventually threw off his blanket and got up, buckling on his weapons. The ?re had died back to embers. He made his way quietly to the edge of the campsite and stood staring out into the darkness with his nerve ends bristling. Aubrey joined him not long after.

"Still stalking shadows?" the younger man inquired.

Torquil made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, noting that Aubrey, too, was fully dressed and armed. "I'd be a lot happier if all our forage parties were back."

"Aye, that's been worrying me, too," Aubrey said. "Do you think we ought to take a turn around the outer perimeter?"

"Might as well. We aren't sleeping anyway."

A tour of the neighboring campsites, however, only reinforced their misgivings. Most of the camp slept, and the guards were vigilant, but many of the foragers were still abroad, their movements unaccounted for.

"I don't like this," Torquil muttered, as he and Aubrey started back toward the king's encampment. "It will be light soon, and too many of our troops are still scattered. If Pembroke attacked us now, he'd have us at his mercy."

They paused to trade watchwords with one of the perimeter guards before moving on.

"At least our sentries are alert," Aubrey remarked.

"I suppose that's some comfort," Torquil agreed, albeit grudgingly. "I still don't like it. Let's check on the horse lines-"

A choked outcry rang out from behind them, and both Templars reached instinctively for their swords as they whirled.

"The sentry!" Aubrey cried.

"Get back to Bruce and stay with him!" Torquil barked, catching Aubrey's arm and spinning him back around. "Raise the alarm, and leave this to me!"

As Aubrey set off on the run, shouting "Alarm, alarm!" Torquil drew his sword and raced back toward the sound of the disturbance. Bursting through the undergrowth, he almost tripped over the body of the sentry, dead with an arrow through his heart.

Torquil's own alarm rang out even as a score of armed ?gures burst from the trees and more arrows whispered from the darkness, one whining right past his ear. He ducked and ran, zigzagging through the woods and bracken but making for the king's encampment as fast as he could go.

He could hear the enemy contingent crashing after him, in full pursuit-and the alarm spreading. The king's camp loomed ahead through the trees. Putting on a burst of speed, Torquil raced to join the ring of defense forming up with Bruce at its center-who was also dressed and fully armed, pulling on his helmet with the gold circlet round it.

Torches ?ared red on the high ground as more enemy troops poured out of the trees and down the slope, accompanied by hoa.r.s.e battle yells. The Scots met the charge with a tumultuous clangor of meeting blades, and then it was every man for himself.

Fighting his way through to Aubrey and the king, Torquil cut down one snarling opponent, only to have two more burst from the darkness to take his place. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of Bruce himself engaged in furious swordplay, but holding his own. Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, the king's hereditary standard-bearer, was ?ghting at their back, not far from James Douglas and Christopher Seton. From all around them in the Scottish encampment came screams and clashes of weaponry. The surrounding woods seethed with the sounds of combat.

Here and there, stray torches had set ?re to the bracken. The smoky glare showed more English reinforcements arriving. Bruce and his companions were giving a mortal account of themselves, but it seemed clear that the English had the advantage of surprise.

Shaking his head, Torquil bulled his way closer to Bruce, working his way into the king's line of vision as he continued to hew at new attackers. Bruce had lost his helmet, and was sporting a b.l.o.o.d.y scuff across one cheekbone, but appeared to be otherwise unharmed, thus far.

"We can't hold this!" Torquil shouted to Bruce above the din. "We're too widely scattered. You have to get away, no matter what happens to us! Make for the horses-now!"

The king's face showed angry resistance, but he reluctantly nodded his a.s.sent and disengaged. Edward Bruce and James Douglas also broke, and hustled him toward the horse lines as Torquil and Aubrey closed ranks with several other defenders to cover their retreat.

Bruce's younger brothers fought through to him, reinforcing his defense as they continued to fall back.

Meanwhile, the two Templar Knights formed the center of the rear guard, gradually forced to yield ground, but buying Bruce the time he needed to get to the horses.

There were English there, too, but somehow Douglas managed to get the king mounted. An English knight grabbed the reins, trying to unhorse him, but Christopher Seton bashed him in the face with a ?st and sent Bruce on his way-into the midst of another knot of English knights, who caught at the horse's bridle and brought the animal down, spilling Bruce onto the ground.

Frantic for the king's safety, Torquil and Aubrey tried to ?ght their way through to him, but somehow Bruce managed to elude his would-be captors and scramble back into the saddle, desperately spurring free and now ?anked by Douglas and Gilbert de la Haye, themselves finally mounted. Only when he was safely on his way did Torquil and the others of the rear guard break off to make their own escape.

"Go!-go!-go!" Torquil yelled to his companions. "It's our turn now!"

A ?nal vicious sortie bought them the chance to make a sprint for the horses. There was no time to be selective. Seizing mounts at random, throwing themselves astride bareback, they eluded the last of their immediate attackers and galloped off after the king.

Their initial ?ight was desperate, but they knew the terrain better than their pursuers, and soon caught sight of Bruce and some others ahead. Gradually the sounds of combat and even pursuit fell away behind them as they plunged into the sanctuary of a dense forest, the drum of their horses' hooves muf?ed by the carpet of leaves.

Only exhaustion ?nally obliged them to slacken their pace and close up ranks-but a handful of them, in this immediate company-and stop to rest the horses. Seton and Scrymgeour were conspicuous by their absence; Aubrey had seen Seton taken or killed. At Bruce's side, his brother Edward breathed out in an audible sigh of dejection.

"It may take weeks to discover whether we have an army left."

"I know that!" Bruce said sharply, stiff-backed and with head held high, looking stricken in the moonlight.

"G.o.d forgive me, it was my decision to let the men forage, and divide our strength. This was no one's mistake but my own."

"You could not know, Sire," James Douglas murmured.

"No, I must know! I am the king!"

Bruce drew a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head and bracing himself. "This night surely has been the death of many of our dearest friends," he said softly, bowing his head. "If it would undo the error, I would willingly hand myself over to the torturers. But that cannot be, so I must bear the penance of living with my grief."

He lifted a closed and trembling ?st nearly to his mouth, then made himself relax it with an effort of will as he raised his head again.

"Whatever comes, I must not falter," he said. "From this moment forward, there can be no thought of surrender. Too many brave hearts have suffered and died to serve this cause-and there will be more.

Those lives must not have been wasted. No, we must ?ght on-and ?ght harder. For the only true way to redeem this night's tragedy is to dedicate ourselves to victory."

Chapter Eight.

July, 1306.

NEARLY A FORTNIGHT Pa.s.sED BEFORE EVEN SKETCHY REports of the Methven disaster reached Paris.

"The Earl of Pembroke has won a signi?cant victory over the Scots, near Perth," the Visitor of France announced grimly, tossing an unfolded sheet of parchment before the select council he had summoned.

Present in his private conference chamber in the Paris Temple were nearly a dozen of the Order's most trusted senior knights, all of them with reason to have keen interest in the situation in Scotland. A goodly percentage of them, including Arnault de Saint Clair, were also members of le Cercle.

"Somehow the English got wind of Bruce's position," the Visitor went on, "and attacked under cover of night, before he could marshal his forces. The Scottish rebel army has been scattered, many men killed.

This news comes from Walter de Clifton, the Master of Scotland. Whether Bruce himself is alive or dead, no one seems to know. Fr?re Walter does not mention the fate of our brethren advising Bruce, so presumably he does not know that, either."

Guarded glances were exchanged among the other men seated at the table. Gaspar was ?rst to speak.

"This is grave news, indeed," he said. "Brother Arnault, you know the situation in Scotland better than any of the rest of us. How could such a thing have happened?"

"I only wish I had an answer," Arnault answered. "When I left the king, soon after his inauguration, he had mustered a signi?cant following. Of our own, Brothers Torquil and Aubrey are with him, both of them Scots. We did know that Pembroke was marching north with a new invasion force, to meet a second force led by Sir Henry Percy. I believe it was Bruce's intention to attack the one before the two could join forces. Clearly, something went badly awry."

A lengthy pause followed. Oliver de Penne had been reading the missive for himself, and at length lifted his head.

"It says here that Pembroke had a signi?cant advantage in numbers. Maybe Bruce was simply out?anked and overwhelmed."

Arnault was unconvinced. He pointed out that this would have required the speedy deployment of mounted troops.

"The English certainly have numerical superiority in heavy cavalry, but the terrain in that part of Perthshire is hilly and densely forested-too rough for their effective use," he said. "Bruce could rely on the ground to protect him from the threat of a heavy cavalry charge. I can't see him allowing himself to be outmaneuvered."

"Maybe he counted too much on having the advantage of terrain," Christoph suggested. "Maybe he got overcon?dent, failed to set an adequate guard."

Arnault shook his head. "Bruce wouldn't omit an obvious precaution like that-especially not with two Templar advisors on hand to weigh up the tactical possibilities."

"And we have heard nothing from our brothers?" Father Bertrand asked.

The Visitor, Hugues de Paraud, shook his head. "Not that has come to my notice."

"Perhaps we should consider that they may have been among the many who lost their lives in the engagement," Oliver said.

"Highly unlikely," Arnault stated ?atly, certain in his heart that he would have known, at least regarding Torquil.

"Then why haven't they contrived to send us word by now?" Oliver replied.

"I would guess that Torquil considers it too dangerous," Arnault said. "Written messages can be intercepted. Signs can be read by eyes other than those for whom they were intended."

Hugues de Paraud c.o.c.ked his head at Arnault, obviously choosing his words with care. Though not of the Inner Circle, he knew that certain of those present had access to sources of information he did not question. "Have you reason to suspect some unnatural agency at work, which is hostile to our cause?"

"I would not discount the possibility."

"But you and the Scottish Templars did ?ush out the cult that was a.s.sisting the Comyns," Gaspar pointed out.

"We destroyed the sanctuary and broke that particular alliance with evil," Arnault said. "Nonetheless, the Comyn family remains a strong and unknown factor. There may be those among them still who hate the Christian faith enough to strike a bargain with some other power of Darkness."

"Then it seems," said Christoph, "that much now depends on Bruce himself. If he has survived, then all things are yet possible, and the Order may ?nd a safe refuge in Scotland. Without him, I very much fear that the Order may be doomed."

They waited anxiously for further news. Arnault chafed at the bit, eager to return to Bruce's side.

However, the next two weeks brought no news of where the king might be; only grisly tales of King Edward's vengeance toward his captured foes.