Page 163 of Bound By Honor
He returned to the king and the other commanders. Entering the king’s tent, he smiled at King Robert and nodded to the others, their faces cast in shadow by the candles set about. In addition to Sir Edward, the familiar faces of the men who had been with the king from the beginning greeted him: Sir Neil Campbell, Sir Robert Boyd, Malcolm, Earl of Lennox, Sir James Douglas, Sir Gilbert Haye, and Walter Stewart, only twenty-one, who had been added not long ago.
Angus said to the king, “It appears your invitation to the English to bed down on the midge-infested Carse has been accepted.”
“Ah, that is good,” said the king. “Now, if we can only keep them there. We have done well this day, but I must ask you all, would it be prudent to withdraw to the rugged land of Lennox? The country is too wild for the English to follow. From there we could fight as we have in the past. Or, do you think we should remain here and renew the battle on the morrow outnumbered as we are?”
Angus, along with Sir Edward and Sir Neil Campbell, urged a resumption of the battle. “We are here with a great army. Aye, it is half the English force, but the battle space is ours to control and the men are in good spirits after today’s victory.”
“On this terrain,” said Douglas, “the English are at a disadvantage with their three thousand knights. You saw them stumble and fall onto our spears today. Why should it be different tomorrow?”
They debated the merits of the two choices for a long while. Before they reached agreement, a messenger arrived with news. “The detachment under Sir William Airth, who was guarding our supplies at Cambuskenneth Abbey, east of Stirling, has been attacked.”
“By whom?” demanded the king.
“David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl, who fights with the English. Sir William was slain along with many of his men.”
King Robert tossed his brother a dark look. “It seems Strathbogie would have his revenge for your rejecting his sister after getting her with child.”
The death of a good man on his hands, Sir Edward dropped his gaze and said nothing.
Night had descended when a knight, wearing a scarlet and gold surcoat with three crescents, marred with mud from the day’s battle, was escorted into the tent by the king’s guards.
“Who is he?” Angus asked in a whisper to Neil Campbell.
“Sir Alexander Seton, the son of Christopher Seton and the king’s sister, Christian. Despite his father’s loyalty to the king, Alexander sided with the English to protect his lands.”
“Why are you here, Alexander?” asked the king, his gray eyes narrowing on the man before him who was the same age as Angus and the king.
“I come to swear fealty to you, lord king. And to bring you intelligence.”
The king returned him a wary expression. “Continue.”
“Morale is low among the English and the men are discouraged. They believe that God has been on the side of the Scots and, because of that, the English will have no success in the battle to come.”
The king paused, considering.
“If you wish to take all of Scotland,” Seton urged, “now is the time.”
“And King Edward’s leaders?” asked the king. “Are they, too, of low morale?”
“There is dissent and confusion among the leaders of Edward’s army. They are unhappy with the king’s haste. Gloucester urged a delay for the sake of the men, for which the king called him coward. Edward has five hundred horse attached to his person, and Aymer de Valence, the Earl of Pembroke, Sir Ingram de Umfraville and Sir Giles de Argentine guard him at all times.”
“Sir Giles was with me at the Siege of Stirling Castle,” said King Robert. “And he fought the Saracens in Palestine. A very brave knight.”
Seton nodded. “Aye, he is considered the third best knight in Christendom.”
“My brother is counted the second,” put in Sir Edward, “following Henry VII of Luxembourg, Emperor of Germany, but he died in Italy of malaria last year.”
The king dismissed his brother with a sharp look. Angus knew his friend did not brag of accomplishments even when praise was deserved.
Douglas turned to Seton. “We have heard the English camp making merry tonight as if celebrating a win. How can you say they are discouraged?”
“If you crept close to the Carse,” said Seton, “you would hear the foot soldiers shouting toasts to each other. But that is not for a victory they believe will be theirs. They have ransacked the supply wagons and now make merry, drowning their misgivings in drink.”
As King Robert and his commanders pondered this information, Seton said, “I tell you they can be beat on the morrow, my king, with little loss and great glory.”
“I thank you for the information, Alexander,” said the king. “You may return to the English camp with no consequences.”
“I will not return,” insisted the knight. “I am here to fight for you. And here I will stay.”
