A Rough Wooing Read Free Page A

know when I have made my decision.
    Douglas raised her pen as she sought the
words that would buy her time and pacify her mother until she had
time to weigh the advantages against the disadvantages and come to
a decision that would undoubtedly affect the rest of her life. She
lowered the pen and wrote:
    If I am to join the Royal Court, my wardrobe
will need much refurbishing. I will be a laughing stock if I wear
my doublets and riding boots in the elegant English palaces of
which you speak. In the meantime, say hello to Jock and tell him
that all is well at Castle Elliot.
    I hope to see you soon.
    All my love. Douglas.
    ~~~
    Downstairs, she handed the letter to her
brother Jock’s lieutenant, and gave him a ravishing smile. “Thank
you for being my messenger, Will. I’m so sorry you cannot stay
longer, and must return to Edinburgh tomorrow. Take care of
yourself.”
    ~~~
    In the Scottish Borders the news coursed like
the rushing waters of a spring thaw. It made the inhabitants giddy
with the thought of their good fortune and the wealth of
opportunities that presented themselves. The phrase on every man’s
lips was repeated over and over: There will be moonlight
again!
    The Great Hall at Castle Elliot was filled
with Borderers, and the number swelled with every passing hour.
Johnstons and Maxwells rubbed shoulders with Elliots and Grahams.
The ale flowed as they celebrated. Talk flowed just as freely as
they made grandiose plans, and it was easy to guess the same scene
was being repeated at every other castle and abode in the Scottish
Marches.
    The following day their visitors departed and
the inhabitants of Castle Elliot had a chance to talk together
alone. They sat at the long trestle table before the fire in the
hall.
    Gavin spoke first. “Johnny Maxwell plans on
leading 200 riders deep into the English Borders. He says they’ll
skirt Carlisle and head down to Penrith.”
    Neil Graham frowned. “Penrith is fifty miles
from Castle Maxwell. There and back would be a hundred. That’s a
hell of a long way.”
    Gavin nodded. “Butch Johnston intends to
mount a raid on the village of Cargo, near Carlisle. He says he’ll
lead a hundred riders.”
    “That makes more sense,” Rob Elliot said.
“The ride to Cargo is practically spitting distance. The Johnstons
will be there and back in their beds before the alarm is raised.
The English won’t know what hit ‘em.”
    “Where are we going?” Douglas asked
avidly.
    All the men threw her a look of disbelief.
Most Scots females knew how to keep their place and hold their
silence when men were discussing business. “ You are going
nowhere,” Gavin stated firmly. “Keep yer nose out of men’s
affairs.”
    Douglas recanted immediately. “Of course I’m
not going, but I know where you should go. It’s as plain as
the nose on your face, Gavin. The thoroughbred horses at Beaumont
Hall are there for the taking. If you don’t snatch them, others
will.”
    Neil Graham rubbed the bristles on his chin.
“We’re short on numbers. Half our moss-troopers are in Edinburgh
with Jock.”
    Gavin raised a dismissive hand. “There’s
plenty of Elliots and Grahams in Eskdale who’d pledge their right
hands for a chance to ride with us.”
    Rob Elliot warned, “Beaumont Hall belongs to
a Border Warden, who’s also Cumberland’s nephew.”
    “With so many families riding into England,
the warden will have his hands full. And you’ll have the element of
surprise on your side,” Douglas pointed out. “Fortune favors the
bold. You could sell the horses in Langholm and get rid of the
evidence.”
    Gavin looked at Neil. “You go and feel out
the Grahams, and I’ll have a word with the Elliots. We’ve no time
to waste. Tomorrow night there’ll be moonlight.”
    ~~~
    Douglas waited until her younger brother Rob
went off to the stables, then she went to his chamber and took from
a trunk a pair of breeches and an old leather jack he had outgrown.
She bundled them up and hid them