Guardian Angel 2

Guardian Angel 2

by Ian Johnstone

Copyright 2016 Ian Johnstone

Published by Strict Publishing International

CHAPTER ONE

At the top of a long, low hill the Scottish army was in position. Above them flew the flag of Scotland and the Royal Standard. Many wore the King’s tartan, and many more were in the tartans of the clans, following their own clan leaders in support of the King. The King himself was at the front in the centre, his sword in his hand but his arm hanging at his side, not yet ready for battle. The army moved around him, jostling each other, the horses snorting and stamping their hooves as if they knew what was about to happen, and the mounted lords, knights and other noblemen struggling to control the horses at the same time as issuing orders to their foot soldiers to form up for the attack.

A thousand yards away at the bottom of the hill were the English. King Henry VIII’s army was impressive, all wearing the King’s colours. There were thousands of foot soldiers, some with swords or longbows, some with bills – five-foot lengths of stout timber with a sharp, broad blade at the end. Like the Scottish, the English knights and noblemen were mounted, and the English flag blew in the wind over the centre of the army. Many knights were now also raising their own colours and, as the sun reflected on their shining armour, the sight of them was both spectacular and fearsome.

A shout went up from the English side, growing in volume as all the soldiers took it up. It meant nothing. It was a war cry, to put fear into the Scottish army that has just started to move towards them with cries and shouts of their own.

Almost as soon as the shouting started, the sound was drowned by the roar of the English cannon, but there was no mistaking the Scottish King’s order when he raised his sword above his head and shouted, "For the love of Scotland, charge!"

The army on top of the hill started down as one. The ground was soft underfoot, and men and horses were unable to sustain the speed of their charge. The English remained in their positions, the bill carriers moving to the front with their weapons ready to meet the oncoming Scots. The Scottish foot soldiers came down the hill ahead of the mounted troops, the horses struggling to make progress as their hooves sank into the soft surface of the marsh-like ground.

The English cannon had sent many of the Scottish foot soldiers to their death before they reached the bottom of the hill. The ground behind the advancing army was littered with dead and wounded, and before their comrades could enter the battle many more fell to the arrow. As swords clashed, the sound of bloodcurdling shouts and screams from dying soldiers on both sides was like something from the depths of hell.

There were shouts from wounded trampled underfoot by those still in the melee of battle, and many died under the hooves of the horses that showed no sympathy to either army. The sound of cannon, not so frequent now, was almost drowned out by the screams and by the battle cries of the brave Scottish clansmen.

* * * * *

Fog descended over the battlefield before either side had won or lost. There was a blinding flash through the gloom, and Douglas opened his eyes cautiously.

The summer sun had moved across the morning sky, and now it shone directly into his face through a gap in the heavy drapes. He lay still, trying to gather his thoughts, and it was several minutes before he realised that he must have been dreaming. As before, it had seemed very realistic, and he thought back to the last time he had had dreams like this. Was there a connection? Previously, his dreams were some sort of visions, connected with his legacy, but when he found it the dreams had stopped. Why had they now returned?

Perhaps it was no more than his imagination playing tricks, but could it be that he was once again seeing ghosts of the past?

He looked at his watch, and was about to get out of bed when he felt movement next to him. He turned and saw his young wife Morag looking at him sleepily. They had been married two years after he had found the letters, and the estate was now in order.

You are getting up early, Douglas.

She smiled at him, and he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. It is eight-thirty, and my mother will be here soon to go with you to Edinburgh.

Morag sat up straight, her eyes suddenly wide open. Damn. I had forgotten about your mother coming here. She threw back the bed covers and jumped out of bed, almost running round the bed in a flash of white lace that left Douglas feeling dazzled, and she disappeared into the en suite. Douglas sighed and lay back in the bed. He would have to wait until she finished in there before he could wash and shave. He thought again about his dream and he was still in that position when Morag came out of the adjoining walk-in wardrobe, dressed and ready for breakfast.

Well, don’t just lie there, lazy. The day is young, and you should be up and dressed. Don’t you realise that your mother will be here soon to join us for breakfast?

Douglas was considering his answer when Morag laughed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

* * * * *

Douglas came into the dining room where Morag was sitting at the table with his mother.

You’re late getting up, Douglas. You were never this late for breakfast when you were living with me, his mother scolded.

Douglas opened his mouth to reply, but she spoke first. It is no good giving me excuses because I have heard them all before. Morag was down here long ago, and I would think more of you if you followed her example.

Douglas heard Morag chuckle quietly. I sense a conspiracy of sorts, he muttered.

What did you say, dear? his mother asked, as the door opened and Victoria came in pushing the breakfast trolley.

Saved from embarrassment by Victoria with the food, he replied.

After the meal, when they were sipping coffee, Morag said, We will be gone most of the day, Douglas, but back in time for the evening meal. Lady Lindsay phoned while you were still getting ready. She seemed very excited about something, and asked if you would meet her up by the excavations. I told Fergus, and he will have yours and his horses ready, as he has to go and bring back a stallion he has sold.

They were all standing up when Victoria returned to collect the breakfast plates. Douglas said, On your return to the kitchen, Victoria, would you tell Norma to give Drummond my riding jacket.

I will do that, my Lord. Do you want me to tell Fergus that you are going out to the stables? He is in the kitchen at the moment talking to Ruth.

Yes, if you would. Thank you.

Douglas gave Morag a kiss on the cheek and his mother gave him one. Give Beth my love when you talk to her.

I will do that, and I will ask her here to join us for the evening meal, if she is not too busy.

A short time later, Douglas and Fergus were riding over the hills behind the house, heading for the excavations. The sun was out, but it was nearing the end of summer and there was little warmth from it. The site of the excavations now had a permanent fence all the way round it to stop the horses falling in the holes during the night. There were also three huts there for a little more comfort for those doing the digging and research. There was also a small generator to provide power for security lights at night. At the gate, Douglas dismounted and opened the gate to lead his horse in.

I will see you later, sir, if you’ll not need me anymore.

No, Fergus, that’s fine. You go about your business and I will see you back at the stables later.

Good morning, Douglas.

Lady Lindsay, it is so nice to see you again. My mother is up from Kelso and will be here on the estate for a few days. She sends her love, and I will have Victoria set a place at the table for you tonight, if you are not too busy.

I am never so busy that I cannot take the time to meet your mother. I wanted to tell you that those swords have been carbon dated to James the Fourth. Why they were buried here we have no idea, but that is not why I called you here. One of the bodies we found was a nobleman, and we know that he was a Stuart. He had a broach on his chest, but we have not been unable to identify the coat of arms on it.

How do you know he was a Stuart then?

"There was enough of the tartan remaining for it to be identified.

Also, the other bodies we found had their claymores with them, but he did not. Even stranger was that he was wearing the shoulder belt that should have held his claymore’s scabbard, but that was also missing. We found a dagger lodged between his ribs, and undoubtedly that was what killed him, but the dagger too is most unusual. It’s not a dirk or a sgian dubh that a clansman would carry. It has a silver hilt with a design on it that I have never seen before. I think it’s the sort of weapon that a woman might carry.

So would this be a lover’s tryst that went wrong?

That’s the conclusion I drew at first, but that does not explain the other weapons we dug up near him. Jean is in one of the huts cleaning the silver hilt on the dagger to see if we can see the design more clearly.

They walked over to the hut. There was a young woman not much older than Douglas, at a bench looking at the dagger through a magnifying glass. She stepped aside as they approached, and Douglas studied the dagger.

That’s interesting. I am sure I have seen that design somewhere, but I can’t place it. When you get a chance, could I have a photo of the hilt and I will look in the library in the house. Better still, as you are the historian, Jean, you could take a look through the books in the library and see what you can find.

The girl gave Lady Lindsay a questioning look.

"Jean, that house is filled with more history than you would ever know from the outside. There are books in the library that Edinburgh University Library would love to get their hands on. You would be a fool not to take the opportunity to look through them.

On another matter, Douglas, Margret Campbell was here earlier asking me to tell you that her father would like to talk to you.

Do you ride horses, Jean?

Yes, but I haven’t ridden one for a long time, my Lord.

In that case I will send Fergus up tomorrow with a spare horse and he will bring you back to the house. I will see you tonight, Lady Lindsay, at dinner. I will go over and see what Sir Thomas has to say before I return to the house.

* * * * *

On the way to the Campbell riding school and stables to see Sir Thomas, Douglas met Fergus.

Fergus, would you take a horse up to the digging to collect one of the historians, and bring her to the house in the morning. She has not ridden for a long time, so you had better go easy.

Aye, I will do that, Sir. Is there any particular time I should collect her?

Not really, Fergus. Any time after breakfast will do.

I have heard of one thing that might interest you, Sir. James Douglas was released from prison two days ago. My warden friend in the prison where he was serving time phoned me a short time after I left you. He said that James Douglas has been telling everyone for the last few weeks that he will have his revenge on everyone involved in having him jailed.

I don’t think we need to worry about James Douglas and his idle threats of revenge. However, it wouldn’t hurt to keep our eyes open for trouble.

They parted company, going in opposite directions, and some time later Douglas came up to the fence of the sand school where Margret was getting her horse in shape for the last event of the season.

Good day, my Lord. My father is in the study. He’s expecting you, so go straight in.

Just before Douglas reached the door of the study, Sir Thomas’s wife met him. Good day, my Lord. Thomas is in the study waiting for you.

Sir Thomas was sitting in an armchair with his leg in plaster. Lord Stuart, I am sorry I cannot get up, but as you see I have broken my leg. I was in the sand school last week and I slipped while I was holding a horse’s reins. It stepped back and busted my shinbone. It’s not a bad break, but it’s going to be damned uncomfortable for quite a while. Sit down, my Lord, and we can talk while we wait for the coffee.

Douglas sat on the sofa opposite Sir Thomas.

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but James Douglas has been released from prison, Sir Thomas told him. He threatened revenge on everyone that put him in prison. He’s not stupid, so I think physical violence is unlikely, but he has a very bad temper and he has been known to become violent, as you know. He needs watching closely.

The coffee was brought in, and the maid poured them one each and then she returned to the kitchen.

Are you worried for your safety, Sir Thomas?

No I am more worried for the safety of Margret, and I think you should be concerned for the safety of your wife.

You know him better than me, Sir Thomas, but surely he would not be that stupid.

"While he was in prison I had him investigated by a good friend of mine in the Inverness police department. Investigating him was part of the officer’s job when James Douglas was first sent to prison. There was a lot of skulduggery in his past but nothing else with enough evidence to charge him with anything… yet. As you probably know from your father’s bank, he was investigated for fraudulent activities, and I believe his crimes were so deep that the investigation is still ongoing.

"Also, my friend told me that James Douglas boasted his revenge has been going on for decades. I have no idea what that’s all about, but it’s quite possible there’s more that we don’t know about and it may have been going on for years.

I don’t know whether you know, but the Douglas family owns those forests of pine trees that almost reach our grazing lands. It might be worth checking your boundaries. From what I am led to believe, the forests are individually owned by each family member. It might be worth checking the owner of the section of forest that joins to your estate.

Have you reason to suspect that the Douglases are encroaching on my land, Sir Thomas?

Over the last twenty years when your mother’s solicitors were looking after the estate, I am fairly sure that no one checked the boundaries. No one takes much notice of forests while they’re growing, not until the trees are large enough to be felled for timber. The Scottish Forestry Commission have little jurisdiction over private forests, although they do get involved when they are to be cut and replanted. Now that the trees are approaching the stage when they’re mature and ready to be cut and replanted, there may be a problem. You cannot allow the Douglases to replant on your land if the forest has already encroached onto it.

Yes, I understand what you mean, and it would be a clever way of stealing land and blaming it on the growth of the forest. I will ride over there tomorrow and take a closer look at the forest boundary. I am grateful to you for pointing this out to me, Sir Thomas.

My Lord, we are both landowners, and I would hope that you would look out for me the same way.

Indeed I would, Sir Thomas, and you can rely on my word that I will get my surveyors to check both our boundaries along that western end. I will go out there tomorrow with Fergus and Andrew to take a look. I have Lady Lindsay in the house for dinner this evening, and I will pick her brains on the legal issues concerning the Scottish National Trust.

There is no need to check my boundaries, my Lord; because now this has come about I will get some surveyors.

It’s not necessary, Sir Thomas, because my surveyors are friends that fish the river running through my land, so they will do it for free. They also ride my horses whenever they’re on the estate. I must go, or I will be late returning, and my mother has already had one go at me at breakfast. Look after that leg, and stay off it until you are told you can walk about. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.

I hear what you’re saying, my Lord.

* * * * *