Crown in Darkness

the King's favourite horse down to the ferry. Together, he and Aaron had placed thin ropes across the cliff-top path and the King on his white horse showed up clear as any target against the night sky. The ruse had been most effective. Benstede had seen English troops in Wales use similar methods in the narrow, Welsh valleys to bring down enemy horsemen or trip the unwary messenger. Of course, the two squires had posed problems. Seton's sharp eyes must have noticed or seen something. What, Benstede never established. So, he too, had to die and Erceldoun with him. Everything was in order, that is, until Corbett arrived. Benstede ground his teeth: clever, cunning Corbett with his soft, narrow, studious face and innocent questions. Benstede could hardly believe that the fellow had had the tenacity and intelligence to see through his schemes and unravel them.
    At first, Corbett's revelations had made Benstede panic but then his cool, logical mind began to analyse events. Whom could Corbett tell? Burnell? He was the King's minister and would do what the King required. The Scots? But who would be displeased at Alexander's sudden demise? Bruce, hungry for the throne, or Wishart who was never liked or trusted by the dead King? And how could Corbett prove it? 'He has nothing,' Benstede murmured to himself. 'Nothing at all. All shadows and no substance. Some smoke but no fire.'
    Benstede pursed his lips in satisfaction and rose to his feet at the clamour from the courtyard below. He looked through the narrow, arrow-slit window and saw Aaron patiently waiting, holding the reins of the two sumpter ponies and horses which would take them back to Carlisle where he would use his warrants to commandeer a fast ship to France. He would tell Edward everything that had happened. He knew the King would surely understand. Benstede noticed the noise which had disturbed him came from two boys playing with wooden swords outside the stables. One, a black-haired urchin, the other he recognised as the Earl of Carrick's grandson, young Robert Bruce. He watched the tousled, red-haired boy feint and parry like some dancer as he wielded his wooden sword and drove with shouts and jeers his poor opponent into a heap of horse-dung piled high in the courtyard corner. Benstede, happy and content with the world, shouted, 'Well done! Well done, boy!' dug into his purse and sent a silver coin twinkling down into the courtyard. The boy pushed his hair back, squinted up at the castle window and slowly walked over to where the silver coin had fallen, picked it up and tossed it to his defeated companion. He did not even acknowledge Benstede's gift but sauntered arrogantly away. 'The proud young cock!' Benstede muttered to himself. 'He and his family with their aspirations and dreams of the crown and royalty!' Benstede grinned, satisfied that Bruce's dreams would never be realised and, taking one last look round the room, carefully made his way down the winding stone staircase.
    The horses were saddled and he and the silent Aaron were soon clattering across the drawbridge. A solitary knight was waiting for them and Benstede recognised Sir James Selkirk, Wishart's man and the captain of that prelate's household. 'Why, Sir James,' Benstede remarked. 'Have you come to see us off? Or do you bear messages from your master?' Selkirk slowly shook his head. 'Certainly not, Master John. I am simply making my way back into the castle, though I understand from His Grace, Bishop Wishart, that you are leaving Scotland today!' 'Well, not today,' Benstede jovially replied. 'It will take us at least three days hard riding to reach the border. You must be glad that we are going.' 'Visitors from England,' Selkirk quietly replied, 'are always welcome. Your countryman, Master Hugh Corbett, is already on his way. I bid you adieu!' Benstede nodded, dug the spurs into his horse, and clattered on his journey.
    They bypassed Edinburgh and were soon into the soft countryside, making their way south-west to the border and security of Carlisle Castle. A beautiful summer's day, the strong sun's rays striking like a blade through the canopy of trees as the countryside slept in the summer haze. Towards evening they found themselves still in open country so Benstede decided that they must camp and indicated a copse of trees in the far distance. 'We will stay there,' he told his silent companion. 'We will eat, sleep and continue our journey tomorrow.' Benstede repeated what he had said with