The Knight(18)
“What is it, Father? We heard the cheers upstairs.”
“Woke you, did we?” He smiled, tweaking her nose. “What a bunch of lazy lasses I have. How am I going to find husbands for all of you? Half the morning is gone already.”
Joanna felt a stab at the mention of the word husband, but seeing the familiar teasing glint in his eye, she managed to hide it behind a smile. “You will have to get up earlier to work harder to give us all rich tochers to have someone take us off your hands.”
He gave a sharp guffaw and kissed her on the cheek before releasing her. “They should pay me for such treasures. I already have half the men in the village vying for my eldest daughter; when Eleanor is of age, I will probably have all of them.”
Her mother stood beside her father, shaking her head as she listened to their teasing. “Are you going to tell her, Thomas, or should I?”
Joanna turned to her father expectantly, though she could already guess what he was going to say.
“Ah, lass, it’s the very best of news. Your uncle arrived this morning to tell us that our rightful lord has taken the castle and rid us of the English pigs forever.”
Joanna stilled, the air sucked from her lungs. He’d promised! “Forever?” she breathed. “What do you mean forever?”
“Young Douglas intends to raze the castle to the ground. There will be nothing left for the English to garrison. Nor do I imagine there will be English soldiers eager to defend Castle Dangerous.” He grinned. “Our young lord is making a name for himself.”
Dread washed over her. It was how he was making his name that worried her. “And Sir John?” she asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice. The English commander had always been kind to her. She knew they were the enemy, and she should hate them as James and her father did, but living with them day-to-day it was hard not to make some friends.
Her father frowned. Like James, he didn’t approve of her friendliness with their “occupiers.” He might be forced to interact with them, but she was not. “Killed, from what your uncle said. Along with most of his men.”
Her eyes filled with tears, thinking of the handsome commander eager to return to his sweetheart in England.
“This time there will be nothing left,” her father added. “Not one bloody Englishman left in Douglas.”
Joanna’s eyes shot to his in horror. The “Douglas Larder” may have happened almost three years ago, but it was still fresh in her mind. He would do it again. James had sworn he would show them mercy. He’d promised her.
CHAPTER FIVE
James stood outside the gate of the Douglas stronghold. His stronghold. The castle where he’d been born that had been built by his grandfather in the days of King Alexander III. He would rebuild, he swore, and make it even better than before. But emotion burned in his chest and throat.
The day had dawned gray and cold—fitting, he supposed, for the distasteful but necessary deed being done here today. Like William Wallace before him, Robert the Bruce had adopted the battle strategy of leaving nothing behind for the English but scorched earth, giving them nothing to eat and nowhere to hide, even if it meant destroying their own homes. The king’s castles had not escaped the swathe of destruction: Lochmaben and Turnberry Castles had both been taken and slighted.
Now it was James’s turn to watch his castle destroyed.
The long night of feasting was no longer evident in the sober faces of the men who were gathered behind him, watching the men prepare the fires. Truth be told, after what happened with De Wilton, James hadn’t felt much like celebrating last night, but he went through the motions for his men—and for his castle. It deserved a fitting send-off.
It was just timber and stone, he told himself. The memories could not be destroyed.
Boyd, who’d been looking at him all night as if he’d suddenly grown two heads, must have read something in his face. “You don’t have to do this.”
James tightened his jaw. “Aye, I do.” It was his command, his order that would see it done. The least he could do was stand witness. “Has Seton finished with the prisoners yet?”
Boyd’s mouth fell in a flat line. “He’s readying them now.” He gave him a hard stare. “Silver and a safe escort to the border? This isn’t like you.”
James shrugged. It wasn’t. He didn’t know how to explain it other than something had struck a chord in him when he’d read that letter. The thing that De Wilton had been reaching for—the thing that had cost him his life—had been a letter from a woman in England. The lady he’d hoped to marry.