Read A Kingdom's Cost, a Historical Novel of Scotland for Free Online

open. The smell of hay and horses rushed out at him.
    When he led the bishop's tall gray gelding
out of its stall, it nickered, tossing its mane. He patted its neck, a fine
animal, no huge destrier but big with bulging muscles fit for a hard, fast ride.
He took the bit like a prince and James threw the saddle over his back.
    "Hoi. What you doing wi' the bishop's
horse?"
    James whirled; his sword scraped coming out
of the sheath. "I'm taking it."
    A compact man, spare and hard with a face
like old leather, the stable-master stepped towards James, a club raised. "That
you'll not."
    James swung with the flat of his sword. The
man jerked back and caught the blow with his club. James's blade slid down the
club, and he leant into it, shoving the man backwards, nearly taking him off
his feet. James jerked his sword free. A feint to the side deceived the man. James
caught him with a hard blow to the side of the head. He went down to one knee,
his eyes glazed. James reversed his hilt and brought it down hard on the
stable-master's head.
    Breathing fast, James knelt to flip the man
onto his back. Blood was trickling from a gash in his head. James put his hand
on the old man’s chest and, with a rush of relief, felt a steady breath. He
should make this good, so he grabbed a short rope from a neat stack in a corner
and tied the man's hands.
    A few minutes later, James rode out the postern
gate, nodding to the guard. For a moment, he paused on the road and looked at
the moon reflected on the gray sea below. The crash of waves was carried up on
the night wind. The road showed clear in the light. James grinned as he clapped
his heels into the horse's flanks and took off at a canter. A shout welled up,
and, at last, he couldn't contain it. "A Douglas! A Douglas!" His
battle cry echoed in the night.
    The second daybreak after leaving St. Andrews,
James stood at the top of the Arrackstone looking down the long slope of the
hill. Dawn tinted the eastern sky all shades of gold and rose. He breathed in
the heather scent of the morning air and dismounted. Leading the bishop's horse
beside the road, he let it crop at some golden gorse. It shook its mane and
gave what James would have sworn was a reproachful look. Surely, it had never
been ridden so far and so fast with not even a curry. He patted its neck apologetically.
    To the south, all of Annandale stretched
away, hills covered with green--pastures and pines like waves of the sea. Patches
of gray and purple. Rocks? Heather? From this height, he couldn't tell one from
the other.
    How long did they have before an English
army marched across it? Weeks? No, probably longer. But they would come.
    The wind ruffled his hair. It brought a
green scent of growing springtide and underneath somewhere rain from clouds
over the distant mountains. From that direction, Robert de Bruce, Earl of
Carrick, Lord of Annandale, soon to be King of the Scots would ride.
    James unhooked his water flask from his
saddle and filled a palm for the horse to drink and then bent to pour half of
it over his head and smoothed his hair back. After such a long ride, he'd like
to look at least presentable to greet the earl. He rubbed his chin, rough with
stubble. Time to grow himself a beard. He grinned.
    Squinting, he looked down to where the road
curved around a hill in the distance. The sun rose in the sky, and morning wore
on, a spring warmth soaking in. An eagle circled high overhead, screaming as it
rode the wind. James shifted. Patience, he told himself. They would come.
    At last, in the distance, horsemen turned
into view, banners fluttering over their heads. James waited. A gust caught one
of the banners, and it showed clearly even in the distance--the great gold and
red lion banner of Scotland.
    Well out from the road and before the main
party, outriders in mail armor paced the throng. One in the lead turned his
horse to gallop back, and a shouted warning drifted to James's ear.
    James gathered his
horse's reins and