whilst the kingdom is infested with Edward’s men?”
“It is not for me to say, but the lad was obviously impressed with Sir James.”
“Aye, and he will not stop talking about him.”
The sister covered her giggle with slender fingers. “I reckon you cannot stop thinking about him.”
“Sh. I have my duty to Harris and Florrie. There is still much I can teach them, which is all that matters.”
“Mm hmm.” Sister Louisa picked a daisy from beside the bench and handed it to Florrie who was sitting on the grass making daisy crowns. “But you’d best think on my suggestion. The lad needs to be trained as a knight. One day he will be the leader of men and if he cannot wield a sword, no one will respect him.”
Ailish rolled her eyes. She was the daughter of an earl, not Louisa. “Do you think I do not ken? And my journey to Scone only opened my eyes wider.”
“I understand, but I do believe you need to start thinking about his future training.”
“Och, he’s only nine years of age.”
“And soon he’ll be ten…then afore you know it, he’ll be interested in the fairer sex.”
Ailish snorted. “What would you ken about that?”
Sister Louisa picked another daisy. “I had older brothers. And mind you, they all were practicing swordsmanship with wooden wasters by the time they were Harris’ age.”
Folding her arms, Ailish watched the lad take the stick horse and thrust it into the air, pretending it was Sir James’ great sword. Though Sister Louisa had put it into words, she was well aware that when the boy showed the first signs of manhood, the prioress would insist on sending him away. If only Ailish could entrust the lad to Sir James. But the king’s knight had no time for children or fostering of any sort. For the love of God, he was living in a forest, sleeping on a bed of rocks for all she knew.
“Mayhap I’ll write to the king,” she mumbled, thinking aloud.
Sister Louisa stood and brushed out her apron. “That would be a start.”
A racket came from the main gate and three nuns hastened to open the iron viewing panel.
Ailish headed toward the noise, signaling for Sister Louisa to follow. The priory didn’t often receive visitors and when they did, they usually came without so much banging. “I wonder who’s there?”
She ushered the nun against the wall where they could hear but would not be seen.
“We require food and ale,” said a man with an English accent.
“I am sorry, but we are only poor nuns,” said one of the sisters. “We have very little to spare.”
“Ye all are alike, hoarding. Bring us bread and cheese, else we’ll break down this gate and burn ye out!”
“Arrragh!” Harris roared as he galloped toward the gate. “Stop, you fiend!”
“Harris, no!” Ailish cried, catching him before he reached the soldiers.
“Let me go!” the lad shrieked as she carried him toward the wall, catching the eye of one of the three men peeping through the panel.
Ice shot through her blood.
Flay it all, she knew him. He was a vassal of her uncle and every bit as deceitful. Turning away, she sheltered Harris’ face from the man’s view and hastened into the dormer.
***
Throughout Scotland, subtle praises of Robert the Bruce were whispered among the common folk, as well as the request for all able men to take up arms. Once word spread that James was recruiting with the intent to liberate the border, crofters and lads as young as eleven wandered into the camp, some armed with nothing more than a shovel.
Over the past month, they’d cleaned out the cave and established a command post exactly as the king had asked. And now it was up to James and a handful of trained warriors to turn this bedraggled lot into fighting men. Good God, feeding them was a chore in itself, not to mention the bows, arrows, clubs, and pikes to be made.
With his hands fast on his hips, James stood atop an enormous boulder and watched the men spar. “Better!” he hollered. “Never forget the best offensive attack is good defense. Let them come at you, protect your vitals and bide your time whilst they tire. Only then should you attack, and when you do, aim for the gullet. If his trunk is covered with mail, sever the inside of his leg. He’ll bleed out afore he can raise his weapon.”
“Again!” bellowed Torquil, who, despite his skirmish with James at Duncryne, had proved his prowess