Book Spotlight and Excerpt: The Douglas Bastard (Archibald the Grim Series) by J R Tomlin

 

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Young Archibald, the Black Douglas's bastard son, returns from exile to a Scotland ravaged by war. The war-hardened Knight of Liddesdale will teach him what he must learn. And with danger on every side, he must learn to sleep with one eye open and a claymore in his hand because even their closest ally may betray them...

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 Excerpt

Thomas Ramsay ambled toward us from the horse lines. As Thomas passed, he gave Will a shove.

Will scooped up a rock, tossed it in reply, then said, "Archibald here will be one of the mighty, feared knights of Douglas after tomorrow.”

"He's tall enough for it.” He winked. "At least he is nae skinny as a crane, like someone in the camp."

"Better skinny than a fat-headed loon like you."

"I left a wineskin in my tent. I might be willing to share, even with someone who can hide behind a broomstick." With a shove, Thomas tumbled Will off his log.

Will jumped up and ran, whooping.

I burst out laughing. "I hope you really have some wine."

"Aye, I do. The two of you may as well celebrate tonight because you will be busy tomorrow." His face grew serious. "Our first taste of battle as a knight. But surely it cannae be that different from being a squire."

I grinned. "But the important question is which of us will be first up the ladder? I say it will be me."

Thomas thrust a fist into the air. "I am the King's bannerman. It should be me."

I slapped him on the shoulder. "I cannae argue with that. You and Will go first, but leave some of the English for me."

Then Will came back, held out the wineskin, and waggled it back and forth. When Thomas grabbed at it, Will gave it a squeeze. A thin stream of red squirted in Thomas's face.

Thomas jumped up. "Hoi! Don't waste good wine."

Will dodged, laughing. "I tasted it. It isnae that good."

I lunged and grabbed it. I squeezed a stream into my mouth. God's toenails, it was almost vinegar, but I did not care. Will and Thomas would drink with me tonight and fight beside me on the morrow. That would more than make up for the taste of the wine. I handed it to Thomas, and we shared a grin.

When the two eventually stumbled away, I went into the tent to sleep at the foot of Sir William's cot, my last night as his squire. For a long time, I lay staring into the dark, trying to see an unimaginable future.

When Sir William nudged me with his foot, I opened my eyes, surprised that I had fallen asleep.

The day had dawned warm, and from outside came an uproar of knights shouting for armor and the clamor of men-at-arms claiming their spears. The camp was in a fever of noise and preparation.

I aided him into his armor, then, for once, he aided me as well.

He nodded. "It is time." When I laughed, he gave the back of my head a friendly slap.

So I bit my lip to hide my grin and followed him through the camp, squelching through mud churned up by thousands of feet. We wended through tents that stretched across the broad field. A wind had come up, and charcoal-gray clouds tumbled over each other on the horizon.

At the front of the King's tent was a crowd all in armor. I wondered if they could hear my heart hammering. It seemed so loud, beating so hard it might escape my chest.

King David stood with Sir Robert Keith, the Marischal, before the tall staff that held his banner. He was dressed for battle in a gilt steel cuirass with steel faulds, gauntlets, and greaves covered by a surcoat embroidered with a lion rampant, the gems for its eyes catching the light.

"I have brought you my squire, Your Grace." Sir William held out the hilt of a sword with one hand and a belt in the other.

David's eyes met mine and crinkled into a smile impossible not to return. In these past few years, I had grown so much that I now topped him by a hand's span. Strange to remember when I was little more than a bairn, and he had promised this day would come. He would make me a knight.

I wiped my sweaty hands down the white tabard covering my chainmail hauberk and dropped to both knees at his feet.

He lifted the sword and tapped me firmly on first one shoulder and then the other. "In the honor of the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost, I make you a knight. Be you good and faithful and never traffic with traitors until your life's end."

The knights behind me raised a din, hammering on their shields. Colban and Gamelin whooped and shouted, "A Douglas! A Douglas!" The rest of the throng joined in until the camp rang with it.

David reached both hands toward me, and I placed mine between his.

My throat was so tight that I had to clear it to speak. "I, Archibald Douglas, become your man in life and in death, faithful and loyal to you against all men who live, move, or die. I declare you to be my king and my liege lord—so may God help me and all of the saints."

"By the grace of God, I take you as my man." For a moment, David's hands tightened on mine. "Arise, Sir Archibald!"

I stood and another cheer went up. Sir Robert held the sword while David fastened the belt around my waist. He took the sword and proffered it, and with a steady hand, I accepted. Sir William dropped to a knee and fastened on my golden spurs.

I turned and gave Will, standing behind me for his turn, a light punch on his shoulder. My grin was so big it hurt my cheeks. I remembered telling him so long ago that it would be a braw day when we would fight together. And this was that day. And both of us knights.

J R Tomlin

 

J R Tomlin is the author of twenty historical novels.

Her historical novels are mainly set in Scotland. You can trace her love of that nation to the stories of Robert the Bruce and the Black Douglas that her grandmother read her when she was small and to her hillwalking through the Scottish Cairngorms where the granite mountains have a gorgeous red glow under the setting sun.

In addition to having lived in Scotland, she has traveled in the US, mainland Europe, and the Pacific Rim. She now lives in Oregon.

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