Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce: Part 2, Chapter1.4

                                                                                    IV

Scotland

April 1307

After the rugged events at Turnberry, there followed many skirmishes and battles. With a genius for tactical manoeuvre and the ability to use the land's shape and contours to his own advantage, King Robert enabled his small force to overcome contingents, larger and better resourced than his own. As the winter months gave way to warmer, drier conditions, advancing forces hemmed in the Bruce contingent. On the west coast, Percy remained safe within the massive walls of Turnberry Castle. Geoffrey de Mowbray was stationed close by with his troops. The men of Galloway were on alert, led by Robert's old enemy, Dugall Macdowall. From the east, John de Botetourt tightened the net with seventy horsemen and two hundred archers, whilst John Macdougall of Lorne proceeded south down through Ayrshire with eight hundred of his caterans.

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In the wild hills of Carrick, the king and his men lived hard and rough. Hot upon their trail, the Galwegians's bloodhounds tracked the rebels. If the hounds found their quarry, death would surely follow. A small company of sixty or so men formed the basis of Robert's band. They had not long crossed a river with steep, wooded slopes when scouts sighted a company of some two hundred troops advancing upon them. Positioning his men above a swampy morass, Bruce commanded his company to lie well-covered, whilst he and Gilbert Hay moved up a steep path to higher ground, seeking a strong, defensive position.

At the head of a gorge, Bruce positioned himself well, giving his enemies little or no foothold to cross a narrow pass. While he remained to defend the pass, the king dispatched Hay to bring up the rest of his force. As the baying of the hounds grew louder, hairs on the back of Robert's neck stood upright. No man should ever experience the fear of the hunted beast, he thought. Breathing deep to calm himself, he stood his ground. In the cold flush of the moon, hunched men crept towards him, confident they could defeat a single man even if he was a warrior king. His sharp blade glinted dully, halting only the most wary. First, they let loose the hounds which Robert dispatched with ease. They were no match for a weapon such as his and their poor, ragged hides now lay quivering at his feet. Foolhardy or brave, the enemy moved forward, one by one, to battle the king. In time, bodies lay piled in grotesque positions of death until no more would face the sword. Cries of night birds echoed the shrieks and moans of the injured. Scenting blood, wolves howled in anticipation.

The Galwegians retreated, calling off the pursuit. At first light, they would begin again. Exhilarated and exhausted, Robert fell to the ground. He was soaked in the sweat of battle, and his muscles cramped as if caught in a vice. The men were shocked to find their leader prostrate, his sword arm, weak and limp at his side. Relieved to know he was unharmed, they helped him to his feet. Darkness concealed the bloody ground, but dirks were soon busy dispatching the dying heavenwards. Once again, the king's valour and personal strength had saved them. With precious time gained, the band took their chance, blending with the darkness as a thick belt of cloud moved across the moon. Misty rain began to fall. The men slipped and skidded down the scree, keeping up a steady pace to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers. It would be a long night.

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