Eventually, Bartholeme gave Thierry's spirit leave to depart and brought Mercurius back to his senses, instructing his exhausted servant to pull the pallet from beneath the bed and sleep off the aftereffects of his trance. After erasing all trace of their recent working, he then went in search of Macdougall of Lorn.

"Is there a valley near here which takes its name from a local saint?" he asked, forestalling any questions from the Scots lord.

Lorn ceased pacing the ?oor of his private solar and thought a moment. "There's a place called Strath?llan, about a day's ride from here. It's said that an Irish missionary named Fillan preached his ?rst sermon and made his ?rst converts there."

"That has to be the place," Bartholeme decided. He rounded briskly on Lorn. "a.s.semble your men and make ready to ride out. If you can reach Strath?llan before nightfall tomorrow, you may be con?dent of capturing not only Bruce himself, but also his queen and his Templar bodyguards."

Chapter Eleven.

July, 1306.

THE VALE OF STRATHFILLAN LAY OPEN TO THE NORTHWEST. A chill wind swept along the valley ?oor, ?attening the reeds along the riverbank that marked the route Bruce and his men had been following for several days. They had seen no sign of human habitation since pa.s.sing through Killin, a remote village overlooking a sweep of cataracts known as the Falls of Dochart. But despite the apparent emptiness of the vale ahead, Brother Torquil Lennox remained on alert, unwilling to relax his guard as long as the company were on the march. There were hardly two hundred of them, strung out along the riverbank, some mounted, but most on foot-all that remained of the Scottish rebel force routed at Methven. At Torquil's side, Bruce rode bareheaded; he had lost his golden circlet of kingship when he lost his helm at Methven. Now, save for a ?ne brooch clasping the faded plaid about his shoulders, there remained little to distinguish him from the others, save his proud carriage in the saddle and a gleam of utter determination in the light eyes.

But all of them were distinctly the worse for wear, after nearly six weeks on the run-and several of Bruce's staunchest supporters were conspicuous by their absence. Some of the missing might have escaped in other directions, melting into the Highlands and perhaps taking refuge in one of the few strongholds still held by forces friendly to Bruce, but many more would have died where they fell; and only ign.o.ble death awaited those who had been captured at Methven.

In particular, Torquil knew that Bruce was fretting over the missing Christopher Seton, who perhaps had been his closest friend, as well as being his brother-in-law. They had seen him taken as he fought to cover their dash toward the horse lines-and his valor and loyalty surely had helped to ensure their escape; but unless he somehow had managed to win free, Seton's fate was likely to be grim.

Twitching his own threadbare cloak back on his shoulders, Torquil stood brie?y in his stirrups to gaze backward, where he could see the survivors toiling along the tussocky ridge with bent backs and gaunt, careworn faces. All of them had shared the stress of living like hunted animals, being constantly on the move, scavenging what they could. Yet despite hardship and privation and fear for those they had left behind, their loyalty to Bruce showed no signs of faltering.

The women in the party were bearing up no less heroically than the men. There were ?ve of them: Bruce's wife Elizabeth, his daughter Marjorie, his sisters Mary and Christian-the latter sick with worry for the missing Seton, her husband-and the redoubtable Isabel, Countess of Buchan, who had de?ed her husband to ride to Scone and place a royal circlet on Bruce's head, on that fateful Palm Sunday that of?cially marked the beginning of his reign.

Shortly before Methven, the king had installed the women at the nearby manor of Weem, where Sir Alexander Menzies had vowed to keep them safe; but following Methven, when it became clear that the rebel forces were on the run, Bruce had returned to move the women elsewhere, judging them safest in his own company. The monks of Inchaffray had a.s.sisted in the escape, diverting Pembroke's pursuit by misdirection. Before leaving Inchaffray, Bruce had also paused to seek absolution again for what he had done at Dumfries, kneeling before the abbot at the ancient shrine of the Celtic Saint Fillian-this time with his men as witnesses, for he wanted it known to them beyond any doubt just how seriously he regarded his responsibilities as king.

Since then, the hunt had never been far behind, as the ?eeing Scots drove ever deeper into the mountainous protection of Argyll. After several narrow escapes, however, the king was rethinking his decision to take the women with him, and had decided to entrust them to the protection of his wife's father, the Earl of Ulster-or failing that, to send them northward, across the sea to Norway, where another of his sisters was queen.

But the route to Ireland was by no means unguarded, skirting the hostile territory of Macdougall of Lorn to the west; and the route north was hardly safer. Bruce himself would strike out for Macdonald country, in the Western Isles, where he hoped to obtain a.s.sistance from the Lord of the Isles.

Torquil had just returned from scouting into a side glen when Neil Bruce came galloping back from far ahead, Aubrey at his side.

"We must be very close to the head of Strath?llan," Neil reported, as he reined in and turned to ride knee to knee with his brother. "I can see the pa.s.s at Dail Righ. From there, we can head in several different directions. You're sure you want me to take the women on to Ireland?"

"I don't want that," Bruce replied, "but they'll be safer there than with me." He glanced at Torquil, then at James Douglas. "Let's have a closer look. Jamie, you're in charge."

With Aubrey leading the way, the king and Torquil galloped back up the valley, making for the dark line of trees that Aubrey pointed out ahead and to their left. Glancing upward at a ?ash of movement, just before they gained the shelter of the trees, Torquil noticed the lone, dark shape of a corbie circling high above the entrance to the adjoining valley. The bird's presence in an otherwise empty sky reminded him yet again of how exposed the whole company was. But he thought little more of it as he followed Bruce and Aubrey into the narrowing at the end of the glen and they drew rein in the shelter of the trees, branched over like the arched aisle of a leafy cathedral.

Only a subdued twitter of birdsong mingled with the small sounds of horses' breathing and harness softly creaking-but that, in itself, suggested that no one else was close by. They were turning to go back when Bruce suddenly gave a little gasp and stiffened, reining up sharply, gaze unfocused as one hand groped for balance against the front of his saddle and the other lifted in a gesture for silence. As his head c.o.c.ked back toward the head of the glen in a listening att.i.tude, the gray eyes held an odd, fey gleam.

"Fifty paces back and to our right." he ?nally muttered, in a ?at tone Torquil had never heard him use before. "There's a hidden ravine. Armed men are waiting to ambush us when we start down the glen-several hundred of them- men of Lorn."

Aubrey registered a blink, and Torquil laid a staying hand on his sleeve, looking at Bruce askance. John Macdougall of Lorn was cousin to the slain Red Comyn.

"I know what I'm talking about," Bruce insisted. "I can see them."

And Torquil had no reason to suppose that Bruce could not, or to question that it was not with his eyes that Bruce saw. The king had never shown any visionary powers before, but Torquil's own experience had taught him that such abilities could lie dormant for years-an entire lifetime- until a moment of crisis unlocked their potential. Whether this revelation was a gift of the Stone of Destiny or the bequest of some other benevolent power, Torquil had no idea; but he also had no doubt but that the vision was true.

"That's good enough for me, Sire," he murmured, warning Aubrey to silence with a look. "Let's get back and warn the others."

Swiftly and silently they retraced their path, doubly cautious now that they knew an enemy was nearby.

Upon rejoining the others, Bruce summoned his close advisors for a hurried consultation.

"How in G.o.d's name could they have found out we were coming?" Neil Bruce exclaimed, casting a nervous glance in the direction of the waiting ambush.

"Aye, you'd almost think it was sorcery," Gilbert de la Haye muttered.

The notion had already occurred to Aubrey, but it chilled him to know that Gilbert also had thought of it.

Nor would this be the ?rst time that Bruce's adversaries had struck a bargain with the powers of Darkness.

"Well, we daren't turn back," the king said, dismissing the possibility of avoiding an engagement. "There's precious little concealment to our rear. If we simply turn tail and run, they could harry us all the way back to Killin, without ever losing sight of us."

"So, what are we to do?" Alexander Lindsay asked.

"Make a stand here-but on our terms," Bruce replied.

Brie?y he explained what he had in mind. His proposal was audacious enough to draw a chuckle of grim appreciation from James Stewart, the aging Earl of Atholl.

"It sounds sae daft, it just might work," he said under his breath.

Bruce turned to his brother Neil. "They haven't any horses. How many have we got?"

"About thirty, not counting your own," Neil replied.

"Then, count mine," Bruce said crisply, as he swung down from his mount and handed the reins to his brother, also beckoning Alexander Lindsay and Stephen Boyd to join them.

"I'm putting all the horses at your disposal," he told them, though his focus made it clear that Neil Bruce was in command. "Make up a mounted escort party for the queen and the other women, and mount as many more men as you have horses, for a decoy. When the ambushers break cover to give chase, and we've engaged them, be ready to ride like the Devil himself is after you. We'll do our best to cover your escape."

The rebel band split up at the intersection of the two streams. As the decoy party got into position, and the rest of Bruce's men faded into the trees, he exchanged brief farewells with his wife and daughter, his sisters, and his friends.

"G.o.d keep you!" he bade them, when he had outlined his plan. "Whatever befalls us from this moment on, I promise you, as G.o.d is my witness, we shall meet again in triumph!"

Elizabeth de Burgh pressed her hand to her husband's cheek, her dark eyes troubled, faintly rebellious. "I like this not, my lord. I pray G.o.d to guard you as well." She grimaced, shaking her head. "Sometimes it seems to me that we are as children playing at a summer game of kings and queens."

Bruce said nothing, but pressed his lips to her hand a ?nal time before pa.s.sing on to embrace his daughter. His sister Mary was bending to take her leave of her husband, Neil Campbell.

"You'd better go now," Bruce said to his brother, who sat waiting on his own mount. "Ride north into Aberdeenshire. Make for the safety of Kildrummy Castle-and failing that, press on to Orkney, and thence to Norway. Our sister Isabella will give you sanctuary."

Most of Bruce's following had now dispersed into the trees, fanning out in preparation to deal with the waiting ambush. Torquil and Aubrey, like the rest of Bruce's following, had given up their horses and waited on foot with Edward Bruce and several others.

"Give us until the count of three hundred," Bruce said to his brother, clapping a hand to his stirruped boot in farewell. "Then ride like the wind!"

He watched them go, then turned to rejoin his brother Edward and James Douglas. Torquil and Aubrey fell in to ?ank them as they headed into the trees with the others, where Bruce selected a coppice of young elms and hunkered down in the midst of them. Drawing their weapons, the two Templars dug themselves in amid the bracken close by.

Spears bristled in the shadows among the low-hanging boughs, and an expectant hush gathered, broken only by the gurgle of the stream in its stony bed. Then, abruptly, the air was riven by a shout of alarm, followed by a brief but convincing ?urry of confusion, both on the trail and in the woods all around them.

Even as startled exclamations rang out from the hidden ranks of the ambush party ahead, hoofbeats thundered off at the gallop, rapidly receding.

"After them, you fools!" an authoritative voice roared above the rest. "They're getting away!"

The men of Lorn burst from cover, shouting and brandishing weapons as they poured down from the neighboring ridge. Bruce's hidden forces held their ground until the attackers were well onto the forest ?oor before rising up to confront them with a shout that set the vale ringing.

The two parties collided head-on. Above the harsh clang of weaponry, battle cries turned to screams of pain. Torquil cut down one man armed with a battle-axe, then wheeled to take on another. Off to his right, Aubrey rushed three attackers at once, driving them back in their tracks with great, scything two-handed sweeps of his sword, though he was somewhat hampered by the trees.

More of the men of Lorn came rushing up from the rear. For several seconds, Torquil had his hands full, just staying alive; and by the time he fended them off, he had lost sight of the king. Alarmed, he looked around for Bruce-and had to take on another a.s.sailant. At the same time, he spotted Bruce off to his left, locked in hand-to-hand struggle with a hulking behemoth in a leather jerkin. The king was ably holding his own, but at that moment more men of Lorn burst from the shadowed wood, swords and axes and spears in hand, yelling and shouting as they came. The silver glint of a heavy shoulder brooch set apart one of the men, taller than the rest-quite possibly John Macdougall himself.

"Back-stabbing coward!" the man snarled, hurling himself at the king. "I'll gut you like a herring and feed your liver to the gorcrows! You murdered my cousin!"

He launched into a savage exchange of attacks and parries that put Bruce on the defensive. Before Torquil or Aubrey could go to his aid, they were cut off by more of Lorn's henchmen.

Bruce and Lorn traded a ?urry of clashing sword blows, amid a whirlwind shower of sparks that glittered in the twilight. Lorn was good, and fresh-and Bruce was tiring. As the deadly battle continued, the king's responses began to ?ag-and suddenly his blade went spinning from his hand.

Bruce staggered backward, scrambling for balance amid the tree trunks and drawing his dirk, looking desperately for his sword. With a triumphant grin, Lorn stalked toward his now vastly underarmed foe, sighting down his sword with murderous intent.

Both Torquil and Aubrey were locked in heated combat with other a.s.sailants, as were Edward Bruce and Neil Campbell and every other Bruce man in sight. With a twist and a desperate lunge that nearly got him skewered for his trouble, Torquil ?nished his own attacker and broke free, but in that same instant, he caught movement in his side vision and whirled to look up.

Blotting out the sky above him was a huge black bird with a serpentine neck and a bright, predatory beak, folding powerful wings to settle like some great vulture on the stout branch of a nearby tree. As it c.o.c.ked its head at Torquil, eyes like twin rubies ?xed him with their baleful gaze, and a sudden weakness seized him in the knees, dragging him to a standstill.

His instinctive sketching of a sign of protection seemed to have little, if any, effect. Appalled, Torquil could feel the weakness rising up his legs, sapping his strength and threatening to topple him.

Powerless to take another step, he c.o.c.ked his arm and hurled his sword at Macdougall of Lorn. The effort also sent him staggering to his knees. The weapon spun as it ?ew through the air, but the ?at of its blade glanced off Lorn's shoulder hard enough to knock the sword from his grasp. Lorn tried to recover, fumbled, and knocked the weapon farther out of reach, then abandoned it with a curse and made a bare-handed lunge for Bruce's throat.

Both men fell heavily to the ground, grunting and straining as they tumbled. Torquil was struggling to get back to his feet, even to crawl to Bruce's aid. Lorn's throttling ?ngers locked in the folds of Bruce's cloak as they grappled nose to nose, twisting at the fabric to choke him. One of the henchmen joined the struggle, leaping onto Bruce's back and clinging like a limpet-too close to use his sword-but the king managed to twist his dirk around and stab behind, at the same time bucking to throw that a.s.sailant clear.

At that, the weatherworn fabric in Lorn's hands gave way and Bruce wrenched free, leaving the torn garment in his enemy's hands. As the king scrambled to his feet, Lorn rolled and fetched up hard against the trunk of the tree where the bird had perched, sending it beating airborne with a raucous screech.

In that instant, Torquil felt the life return to his legs. Shouting to Aubrey and Jamie Douglas to help Bruce, he made a scrambling dive to recover his sword. A shadow pa.s.sed over him, and something heavy struck him hard between the shoulder blades and sent him tumbling-the wheeling bird, he saw as he rolled, glaring down at him with hatred in its eyes!

He got his hand around his sword hilt just as the bird wheeled around for another pa.s.s, but this time he was ready. With a scream of rage, it sheered aside from the sweep of his blade and soared upward, powerful wings beating at the air, screeching a ?nal cry of de?ance and challenge as it headed off.

Breathing hard, and well aware that this had been no ordinary bird, Torquil picked himself up and ?ung a look around. Bruce had recovered his sword and was ?anked by Aubrey and James Douglas, who were seeing off several Lorn men, but Lorn himself had disappeared. Even as this fact registered, a dissonant horn blast rent the forest air, at which sound the remaining men of Lorn immediately disengaged and melted back into the forest shadows and the high ground.

"They may only be pausing to regroup!" Neil Campbell said, panting. "But it may be our chance to get out of here!"

Bruce had turned to look in the direction where his brother and Argyll and the women had disappeared, catching his breath and ?ngering his throat, looking a little dazed.

"The women-did they get away?" he managed to rasp.

"They're well on their way," Torquil a.s.sured him, seizing his shoulder. "Come on! We've done all we can here. Now it's our turn to be going."

A single piercing whistle signaled the rebels to disperse- Edward Bruce, rallying what remained of the shattered rebel force. Taking their wounded with them, the Scots faded swiftly and silently into the trees, their ?ight carrying them ever deeper into the densely forested heart of the glen. The men of Lorn attempted to give chase, but they were no match for Bruce's men in the woods. As the long summer twilight deepened and the survivors pressed on, it gradually became apparent that their pursuers ?nally had been obliged to abandon the chase.

Torquil and Aubrey were among the handful of followers still attached directly to the king himself, along with his brother Edward and James Douglas and a few others of Bruce's closest companions, when Bruce at last signaled a halt in a small forest clearing, beside a rocky pool. The darkness was settling in earnest and would soon be full upon them.

"I think we've come far enough," the king announced, looking around. "We should be able to rest here in safety- at least for a few hours."

Around him, his men ?ung themselves down wearily on the mossy ground, a few tending to wounds, some of them beginning to forage in haversacks for supper. Some collapsed beside the pool to slake their thirst, or merely sat there gasping for breath. A few were already rolling up in their plaids to s.n.a.t.c.h what sleep they could. After arranging the order of watch, Torquil settled wearily beside the king.

"You seem to know this countryside," he said. "Dare we risk a ?re?"

Smiling crookedly, and gnawing on a bannock Neil Campbell had given him, Bruce shook his head.

"I fear not-though I'll share my bannock. Mind you, it's stale." He lifted the bannock with a grin. "At least 'tis still summer-nearly Lammas. We can make do for a while. Still, the nights are chill. I don't doubt that I shall miss that tattered old plaid of mine, far more than the brooch that clasped it, though that was a pretty piece."

A p.r.i.c.kle of uneasiness stirred the ?ne hairs at the back of Torquil's neck as it registered that Bruce's plaid was, indeed, gone, along with the brooch-and in whose hands both now must be.

"Lorn has the brooch?" he asked.

"Aye, he got it off me in the scuf?e," Bruce said, and shrugged. "Heigh-ho, it was a small enough price to pay for escape. Do have one of Neil's bannocks. They're hard as rocks, but they're all we've got, for now."

Torquil only nodded his vague thanks as Campbell handed over another bannock-burnt on one edge-for he was trying to picture the missing brooch. There had been a large, domed crystal mounted at its center, as he recalled, surrounded by pearls. The pearls were of no concern, but the crystal was-for such a stone was capable of absorbing psychic impressions from its wearer.

He nearly dropped his bannock as that registered, for now an even more insidious danger suddenly became clear. He had been worrying about the giant black bird since leaving Dail Righ, and had been in no doubt of the creature's evil origins. To conjure such an ent.i.ty into the material world would have required the skills of someone with formidable arcane abilities-who now had access to Bruce's brooch, which might well be used as a link to work mischief against him.

Shivering, Torquil glanced off into the darkness gradually deepening around their impromptu camp, more than ever regretting the absence of Arnault, his mentor as well as his companion-at-arms. Arnault would have known what to do-and might even have antic.i.p.ated the magical attack. For all Torquil knew, the demon-bird might still be nearby, shadowing their every move. If it attacked again-or brought reinforcements!-Torquil was by no means certain that he would have the resources to fend it off a second time. Aubrey was a good man, and one day would be accomplished, but right now he lacked experience.

There was only one place Torquil could think of where the king might ?nd safe refuge, while they sorted things out. But ?rst he had to convince Bruce of the enormity of the danger, and without tipping his hand to the others.

"Sire," he said, after a moment's further re?ection, "where do you plan to go from here?"

Bruce gave him a shrewd look. "Where would you suggest we go?"

Torquil drew a deep breath. "If you will be counseled by me, Sire, I would say the Isle of Iona. Not all of us-for there are things that must be done, messages that must be sent, contacts to be made. Winter will be coming, and your allies must use that time for preparations."

Bruce nodded, chewing on a mouthful of bannock.

"Iona," he said. "That would be risky-for the holy brothers, as well as for me, if King Edward's spies were to learn of my presence there."

"I think they would not shrink from that danger," Torquil replied. "And you should not underestimate the resources of the Columban brothers. Against certain forms of danger, their defenses are formidable." He glanced up as Aubrey and Gilbert de la Haye joined them. "By chance, did you get a close look at that black bird that came in Lorn's wake?"

"Black bird?" Bruce repeated blankly.

"Never mind," Torquil murmured, choosing his next words with care. "You'll not have forgotten the kinds of things that happened after you killed the Red Comyn.?"

Bruce's gaze narrowed, remembering precisely what had been brought into play, both for good and for ill-but also reminded of the others' presence, as Torquil had intended.

"Are you telling me I have something greater to fear than King Edward's malice?"

Torquil drew a deep breath. "I am telling you that your life, your land, and possibly your soul are in danger, so long as these unknown enemies are seeking you," he said, declining to be more speci?c. "And those enemies may well hound you to your death, if you do not seek the sanctuary that only Iona can provide."

Bruce hung his head, saying nothing for a long moment.

"If I go into hiding as you suggest," he ?nally whispered, "what is to become of the rebellion? How can I justify leaving my family and my friends to face King Edward's wrath without me?"