The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel Read online

  Whether fact or fiction, the direness of Bruce’s situation at the time cannot be overstated. His reclaiming of his crown has to be one of the greatest “comebacks” of all time, coming close to the 2004 ALCS comeback of the Red Sox against the Yankees. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Sir Herbert Maxwell summarized Bruce’s position in early 1307 this way: “He had not an acre of land he could call his own; three of his four brothers and most of his trusty friends had perished on the gibbet; of his other supporters nearly all had given up his service as hopeless, and reentered that of King Edward; his wife, his daughter, and his sisters were in English prisons.” (Evan MacLeod Barron, The Scottish War of Independence, Barnes and Noble Books, New York, 1914, p. 261.)

  Maiden’s (or Virgin’s) Plunge is my fictional take on the Polar Bear plunge, or ice swimming. When I was young, my sister and I used to do something similar in Lake Tahoe. We’d run through snow to jump into a freezing-cold pool and then jump back into a hot tub. It’s more fun than it sounds. Pagan celebrations were often incorporated into Christian holidays, and one school of thought has Candlemas as the Christianization of the Gaelic pagan celebration of Goddess Brighid.

  Aymer de Valence would become the Earl of Pembroke by the end of 1307. His unchivalrous conduct at the disastrous Battle of Methven was perhaps the reason for Bruce’s abandonment of his knightly code for the “pirate” style of warfare that he used with such success. There might well have been a personal vendetta on de Valence’s part. His aunt was married to the Red Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, who Bruce murdered at Greyfriars (which takes place at the end of The Chief).

  Sir Thomas Randolph—who, along with Sir James “The Black” Douglas, would become one of Bruce’s most trusted and famous companions—was captured by the English after Methven and “switched sides” until 1309. Famously, he is said to have accused his royal uncle of fighting “like a brigand instead of fighting a pitched battle as a gentleman should.” (Ronald McNair Scott, Robert The Bruce King of Scots, Barnes and Noble Books, New York, 1982, p. 111.) Randolph seems to have eventually come around, however, and becomes one of Bruce’s “most brilliant” commanders.

  The number of men Bruce had to launch his attack on Scotland is uncertain. Three to four hundred in Carrick and about seven hundred in Galloway seems the most plausible. The larger fleet of mostly Irishmen and Islemen led by Bruce’s ill-fated brothers did meet with complete disaster at the hands of the MacDowells, with only two ships escaping. There is, however, no evidence that the attack was two-pronged as I suggested (although it would have made sense), and the Galloway disaster probably preceded Bruce’s attempt on Carrick. Both divisions are thought to have left from Rathlin, but they couldn’t have been there for long. With the English all around, “hiding” about a thousand men on the small island would have been very difficult.

  Just where Bruce disappeared to for the four to five months between his fleeing Dunaverty and the attack on Carrick is one of the great mysteries of his history. Some believe Norway, where his sister was queen, but most historians think that he was hiding in the Western Isles and Ireland with the help of Angus Og MacDonald and Christina (MacRuairi) of the Isles.

  Similarly, his route from Rathlin to Arran to launch the attack on Carrick is only a matter of conjecture. Bruce historian C.W.S. Barrow, in his seminal Robert Bruce and the Community of the Realm of Scotland, has him going from Rathlin to the Mull of Kintyre, up the coast, and then over to Arran. Going the way of Magnus Barefoot across Tarbert is my invention, but it seems plausible. The English fleet, called to action in a letter from King Edward to the Earl of Ulster at the end of January, presumably would have been swarming the Firth of Clyde. When I discovered that Bruce was reputed to have landed at Lochranza Castle at the very north of Arran Island, the Tarbert crossing made even more sense to me. They would have had to slip past the English occupied Tarbert Castle.

  Militarily, the skirmish at Glen Trool—where Aymer de Valence’s attempted ambush of Bruce and his men backfired—wasn’t as important as Bruce’s victory at Loudoun Hill. But at Glen Trool, a woman was said to have been sent to spy on the Scottish the night before the battle. Instead of spying, however, the woman supposedly broke down and told Bruce of the English presence, thereby alerting him to the danger and saving the day for Bruce and his men. (See Scott, p. 101.) The story comes from John Barbour’s The Brus and might well be apocryphal, but it served as a great inspiration for how to get Ellie into camp.

  Spoon Island, located two miles off the coast of Kintyre, has many different names but is known today as Sanda. “Edward’s Point” is said to be where Edward Bruce watched the coast while his brother was making his escape from Dunaverty. Spoon was not part of the MacSorley lands, however, at the time belonging to the Priory of Whithorn in Galloway.

  Medieval forms of address are difficult, as they don’t seem to be as standardized as they are today. Bruce was referred to in many different ways, depending on who was talking about him: to his handful of supporters, “sire” or “King Robert”; to the English, who’d divested him of his holdings (Lord of Annandale and Earl of Carrick) and considered him a rebel, simply Sir Robert Bruce; and to others, Lord Robert Bruce. Citing period documents, Barrow notes references to “Earl John” (p. 224) and “Earl Malise” (p. 225), which are definitely not proper forms of address today. Sir “first name” seems to be the default, however, so where uncertain I went with that. Ellie would probably have referred to Ralph as “Sir Ralph,” but I decided to assume the more familial, and less cumbersome, “Ralph.”

  Finally, July 7, 1307 marks the end of one of the most famous—and arguably one of the greatest—English kings. Edward I, the self-styled “Hammer of the Scots,” died on the march north to put an end to the Scottish “rebellion.” His last wish, to have his bones carried in an urn at the front of the army until the Scots were defeated, was ignored by his son and heir, Edward II.

  If you want to read even more of the “real history” behind the story, make sure to check out the extended Author’s Notes and the other special features on my website: www.monicamccarty.com.

  Read on for an excerpt from

  The Ranger

  by Monica McCarty

  Published by Ballantine Books

  St. Johns’s Church, Ayr, Scotland,

  April 20, 1307

  Arthur Campbell wasn’t there—or at least he wasn’t supposed to be. He’d told Bruce about the silver changing hands at the church tonight on its way north to the English garrison at Bothwell Castle. His part of the mission was over.

  Bruce’s men were concealed in the trees not fifty yards away, waiting for the riders to appear. Arthur didn’t need to be here. In fact, he shouldn’t be here. Protecting his identity was too important. After more than two years of pretending to be a loyal knight to King Edward, he’d invested too much to risk it on a “bad feeling.” It wasn’t just explaining himself to the English that he had to worry about. If Bruce’s men discovered him, they would think he was exactly what he seemed to be: the enemy.

  Only a handful of men knew Arthur’s true allegiance. His life depended on it.

  Yet here he was, hiding in the shadows of the tree shrouded hillside behind the church, because he couldn’t shake the twinge of foreboding that something was going to go wrong. He’d spent too many years relying on those twinges to start ignoring them now.

  The clang of the church bell shattered the tomb of darkness. Compline. The night prayer. It was time.

  He held perfectly still, keeping his senses tuned for any sign of approaching riders. From his initial scouting of the area, he knew that Bruce’s men were positioned in the trees along the road approaching the church. It gave them a good view of anyone arriving, but left them far enough away to be able to make a quick escape in the event the occupants of the church—which was serving as a makeshift hospital for English soldiers—were alerted by the attack.

  Admittedly, St. John’s wasn’t the most ideal place to stage an attack. If the wounded