The Forest Laird(180)

“And to pass a sentence of death on all my followers at the same time? Well, what would you think I did? I know you believe I did something, because I heard it clearly in your voice when you asked the question. I did nothing, Jamie. Nothing at all.”

“You must have attracted his attention somehow, perhaps without realizing it.”

“Nothing, Jamie. I said and did nothing. And be careful what you say next because your disbelief is starting to irk me. Hear me clearly. We have been inactive here for several months, committing no robberies and staging no raids since the English pulled in their horns back in November. I did nothing to attract the sheriff’s notice, and none of my men did, either. He simply decided to make a public example of us, probably goaded by that fat slug Cressingham, or possibly by his own superior, de Warenne of Surrey.”

“I see. So what is happening now?”

He sniffed deeply and looked away into the trees. “We have patrols out, in strength. They are moving quickly and constantly, keeping careful watch because we don’t know where Hazelrig’s soldiers will strike next. The local folk are in terror of being taken out and hanged, and so we keep our people spread out and moving, constantly in touch with one another and ready to attack at the first sign of hostility.”

“You’re ready to fight.”

“Of course we’re ready to fight. Would you have it otherwise?”

“Will you fight? What about your oath?”

“What about it? My oath is unbroken and I have no intention of fighting. But I can’t leave my people, Jamie.”

“Aye, and besides, it would be folly to go to Lamington with the sheriff of Lanark on the watch for you.”

“Pah! Folly nothing. He wouldn’t know me if I walked up and spoke to him face to face. That part of it is not an issue. I simply need to stay here for the time being, with my people. I agree with you that Mirren’s place is with her mother. No arguments from me on that, and I feel as guilty as sin because of it. But I can’t take her there, and until now I have not had anyone who could, at least not without risk of attracting attention. But now I have the right man. You can escort her to her mother’s place on your way back to Glasgow. She’ll be safe with you, and I’ll send an escort with you. A small group. Men I trust. Four or five.”

“Four or five men and a woman and child?”

“Aye, and a priest. What’s wrong with that?”

“Priests don’t travel with heavily armed men, Will, unless they are liveried men-at-arms. And the same applies to pregnant women with small children in tow. Besides, I doubt that Mirren will go without you.”

“She has to. She has no choice. She needs to be with her mother, and I need her to be there as well. I need to know she’s safely out of the forest until this nonsense with Hazelrig is over. Will you see to that for me, Jamie?”

I slumped against the tree. “I suppose I will. It seems to me there is a deal of needing going on here, one way and another, but aye, I’ll see her safely to her mother’s, so be it she agrees to go.”

“Good man. As for the escort, you can be sure I’ll pick them carefully. They’ll be discreet. No one will ever know they’re with you, unless you fall into danger. But they’ll never be far away from you, wherever you are.”

He rose to his feet and towered above me, then reached out a hand to me and pulled me effortlessly to my feet before jerking me forward into an enormous hug.

3

We were a small, subdued group as our two wagons set out from Selkirk Forest towards Lanark and Glasgow, our quietness attributable mainly to the strain surrounding the parting between Will and Mirren and, of course, young Willie. It was a parting neither one wanted, but circumstances had combined to make it necessary.

We were soon out of the largely trackless forest and on the high road to Lanark. Perched on the driver’s bench of the first and larger of our two wagons was Alan Crawford of Nithsdale, who would serve as senior driver and cook, responsible for the thousand and one daily details of our journey. Beside him sat Ewan Scrymgeour, who had come to regard Mirren as his own daughter. Big Andrew, his crossbow safely stowed out of sight behind him, and looking like a small boy perched on the driver’s bench of the second wagon, would serve as Alan’s assistant. Also with us was Father Jacobus, the elder of the two over-cloistered priests I had brought with me when first I came to live in the greenwood. He had grown visibly younger, more vibrantly alive, as the result of his life among the forest folk, nourished and greatly strengthened from ministering to their daily needs and thriving on the joy of it. Robertson the archer and five of his best men were ranged outward ahead of us, out of our sight but screening us from interference from the front and both sides.