They also carried the news that The Hardy was imprisoned and all the other Douglas men were dead, together with some thousands of folk who had been living in Berwick when English Edward had captured it.
The blood came up ower the tops of my shoes, Thomas the Sergeant had told them, and he should know, for some of it was his and he wore the scar, raw as memory, down one side of his face. He had been the fifth man and, for a while, it looked as if he would die but he was tough, folk said, hard as Sir William Douglas himself.
Jamie loved and feared his father in equal measure and the fact that Sir William had survived the siege and slaughter at Berwick and was fighting still, flooded his world though Dog Boy did not quite understand all of it and Jamie explained it, as if schooling a hound.
It seemed that the Earl of Carrick, who was a young, dark Bruce called Robert, had arrived on orders from the English to punish the Lady because of her mans siding with the uprisen Scots. The Lothian lord, the hard-eyed man with the big hounds, had come in the last drip of the candle to help the Lady defy this earl.
For reasons the Dog Boy could not quite grasp, he and the Lady had then surrendered to Earl Robert but none of the dire consequences everyone else said was certain if you gave into Invaders had happened. Nothing much had happened at all, save that the Castle grew crowded.
Not long after that, another Earl had arrived at the gate, this one called Buchan. It seemed he and the Earl Robert did not care much for each other, but seemed to be on the same side. Which was not the one Sir William Douglas stood on.
Dog Boy had no clear idea why this Earl Buchan had arrived at all, but was surprised to find that the fox-haired Countess who had arrived with Earl Robert was, in fact, the wife of the Earl called Buchan. It was a whirl of leaves in a high wind to the Dog Boy and, finally, Jamie saw his audiences interest slipping. He spasmed with childish irritation.
From your point of view, I suppose this war is only an annoyance of rolling maille in a barrel of sand to clean it, or having to practise archery.
Dog Boy said nothing, aware his friend was angry and not quite sure why. There was guilt, too he was supposed to attend archery practice like all the lower orders, but seldom did and no-one cared if the runty Dog Boy never turned up.
It didnt bother him, missing out on the butts, for there had never been an enemy here until the Invaders and they had ended up Friends. Yet, slowly, Dog Boy was becoming aware of a tremble in the fabric of life, could hear the cracking of the stones of Douglas Keep.
Faugh you stink today, Jamie said suddenly, wrinkling his nose as the wind changed. When did you wash last?
Fair Day, Dog Boy replied indignantly. Same as the rest, wi real soap and rose petals in the watter.
Fair Day, Jamie exploded. That was months since I had a wash only last week, in a tub of piping hot water with Saracen scented soap.
He winked what he thought was in knowing, lecherous fashion.
And a wench to scrub my back eh?
I dinna think your lady mother would suffer that, Dog Boy answered doubtfully, aware of the mysteries of dog and bitch but not yet sure how it translated to the mumblings and groans he heard sometimes in the night. He was aware, too, that there was a Rule about women. In Douglas there was a Rule about almost everything.
The Lady Eleanor is not my mother, Jamie answered, stiff and haughty. She is my fathers wife.
He frowned, all the same, for Dog Boy was right and yet Jamie had seen matters and heard more which only confused him about what was permitted and what was not. There were women in the castle notably Agnes in the castle kitchen and some tirewomen for his stepmother and now the Countess of Buchan, who laughed a lot and had wild hair a wimple could not keep in check. She stayed in her own tower rooms, though, while her husband scowled in his proud, striped panoply in the Ward, and that was strange.
Im off to get some bread, Jamie decided, throwing the matter over his shoulder. Do you want some?
Dog Boys mouth watered. The birds could wait; the smell of baking bread, newly turned from the ovens, brought both their heads up, sniffing and salivating.
Dog Boy!
The voice slashed them apart, a soft rasp of sound like a blade drawn down a rough wall. Both boys shrank at the sound and turned to where the Falconer had appeared, as if sprung from the ground. He gathered his marten coat round him, wore his marten hat with its single eagle feather and if there were three other items of value in the entire world, it was said, Falconer did not know of them.
Those who said that did not call him Gutterbluid where he could hear it, since it meant low-born whelp. His real name was Sib, according to some, and he had the name Gutterbluid because it was one you gave to folk born in Peebles when you wanted to annoy them. No-one wanted to annoy Sib, so they simply called him Falconer and no-one liked him; Dog Boy liked him least of all.