Guiscard was one of the few who had not shown hostility to Bruce since this began, and now he smiled lopsidedly, though Bruce could see no humour in his eyes. “His plan was to seize some children from one of the villages nearby and threaten to hang them in front of the castle, one at a time, until Lady Douglas surrendered.”
“Christ Jesus! Is the fellow insane? He discussed this with you?”
Again the half smile flickered at the corner of Guiscard’s mouth. “He … mentioned it. No more. Master Benstead is not a man to discuss much with anyone. He thinks, he decides, and he acts, rightly or wrongly. As when he misjudged your … youth, my lord of Carrick.”
The tiny hesitation had been barely noticeable, but Bruce grinned wryly. “I fear Master Benstead misjudged far more than that, Sir Christopher. He misjudged how far he could push his scant officialdom.” He glanced around the gathering. “So, are we agreed there will be no butchering of children come tomorrow?”
“It might have worked,” Sir Roger Turcott muttered. “Not that we’d really have hanged them, of course. But the threat of it might have been enough to move the woman.”
“Hmm. Have you heard much of Sir William Douglas, Sir Roger?”
Turcott stirred, stretching his legs. “Aye. The man’s a traitorous, untrustworthy lout from what I hear. A wild animal, ungovernable and uncontrollable by anyone.”
“Aye, well, the woman we are threatening to frighten here is his wife, and she is English. He abducted her from the castle of Lord Alan de la Zouche and kept her forcibly confined. And then she married him willingly and refused to be ransomed. She has been with him ever since, equalling him in everything. Does that suggest she’ll be paralyzed by compassion at the threat of seeing a peasant child hanged?”
Turcott shrugged sullenly. “I but said it might have worked. Might have … I knew nothing of the woman involved.”
Bruce nodded. “No more do I, but I know enough to know she won’t be easily cowed.” He looked again at Guiscard. “Well, Sir Christopher, what think you?”
Guiscard sniffed and sat straight up in his chair. “I think we should proceed as planned. You, my lord earl, will handle the niceties of the negotiation, as one Scot to another.” He stopped, smiling again. “Not quite, though. Apart from being born here, I believe you are no more Scots than I am. And her ladyship is English, you said. Still, she is married to a Scot, and a rebellious one at that, so she should be open to discussion, at least. Your Carrick bowmen will be in place and prepared to sweep the walls clean should her ladyship decide to fight. Our hundred mounted men-at-arms will back you up—an added show of strength. Should the lady prove stubborn, we will attack the place with our engines and bring it down about their ears. Should she decide to be wise, however, we will take her and her people into custody and march them back to Berwick, and burn the castle once they are all out.”
“So be it. Let’s hope to God the woman sees sense. I have no wish to spill Scottish blood. I’ll have my folk ready at dawn.”