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But Hamish still sounded no more than curious. “Why wouldn’t we?”

The rebellion is about over. Simon de Montfort is in retreat, and ’tis a long march to the border from here.”

“We swore to support him,” Malcolm said.

“De Montfort?” Hugh laughed. “An Englishman? Since when does a Scotsman swear to an Englishman and keep his word?”

“Scotsmen have been known to keep their words.” Malcolm was openly hostile now.

“Aye, to other Scotsmen, and to their adopted brothers, as ye have proved to me tonight.” Hugh clapped his hand on Malcolm’s back. “But to the English? Who often as not swear brotherhood to the Scots and then slit their throats?”

Neither Hamish nor Malcolm answered for a moment. Then Hamish asked, “Do ye think we’re going to get our throats cut?”

“The losers always get their throats cut. Especially…foreign losers who are far from their homes.”

The silence now was thoughtful. Hugh thought that Hamish and Malcolm were communicating without words somehow, and he wasn’t surprised when Malcolm said, “It is a long march to the border from here.”

“And a long walk to your camp, Hugh,” Hamish added. He shoved Hugh forward. “So go on with ye or ye’ll be fighting your battle tomorrow with your eyes only half open.”

“I’m going.” Hugh opened his arms and wrapped both men in a sudden hug. “Until we meet again.”

He released them and ran down the hill to the meadow, then back up to his own camp. The lookout challenged him, and when he answered, Wharton himself came hurrying to his side.

“Where have you been?” Wharton scolded. “We’ve been scouring the camp for you.”

“I’ve been preparing for today’s battle.” Hugh staggered in a sudden onset of tiredness compounded by an overabundance of ale. “And I want to go to bed now.”

He did, and when he rose, Wharton came to his side and in a most peculiar tone told him that de Montfort’s Scottish mercenaries had packed their gear and slipped away.

The rebels would be easily defeated on this day.

Almund stood on the outskirts of the forest that surrounded Roxford Castle and observed the activity with consternation. He’d heard the rumors as he rebuilt his ferry out of logs stolen from the king’s forest, and he’d come at once. After all, any tale that concerned that sweet Lady Edlyn deserved notice, and he was glad he had listened.

The outer gatehouse had clearly been breached. Black smoke spiraled up from different places inside the bailey. The place smelled charred and a few bodies, peasant women from the village, rested in the moat. Worse, the demons who sought to dispossess his lady carried buckets of tar and great stones inside, and he heard pounding and much masculine laughter.

Whoever it was was very sure of his victory.

Almund turned and ran to get help.

“They’re running, master.” Wharton stood a little distance from Hugh’s destrier and pronounced victory in this battle. “They’ll not stop until they reach th’ sea.”

Hugh de Florisoun, earl of Roxford, removed his helmet and grinned as the last knights fled the battlefield. “’Twasn’t much of a fight after all.”

“Not without th’ Scottish mercenaries.” Dewey wiped the sweat from his brow. “What do ye suppose made them leave?”

“I wonder.” Hugh turned his horse toward camp.

“Aye.” Wharton sounded suspicious, and he stared long and hard at his master. “I wonder, too.”

Hugh shrugged.

“Aye, ye’re innocent,” Wharton said. “Innocent as a wolf stampeding th’ sheep.”

Hugh threw back his head and roared with laughter.

He felt good. What a lesson he’d learned. What a wife he had! He’d routed the enemy, and he’d be returning to Edlyn intact and long before she expected him. Oh, aye, he’d have to join the prince in defeating de Montfort’s main army, but with the addition of his forces, that should be accomplished with ease. And the king would be rescued, and the prince would be pleased with him! Perhaps Hugh would take Edlyn another estate as a gift for her forbearance.

And he’d take the defeat she’d signaled with her white flag as his gift.