Part 11: A Scotsman In Egypt - Chapter 10

There was grim work to be done this day, and it fell to Feredac of Peeblesshire to do it. Adopted into the Royal Family for his success in the field in Egypt, he'd travelled with Prince Alexander believing he was going to Crusade against the French. But the Pope had died, the Crusade had been dismissed, and Prince Alexander revealed that he and King Edward had conspired to join the Crusade in order for the former to return to a Scotland under siege without the English being any the wiser. Their triumphant march to Edinburgh had been one of the greatest moments of Feredac's life, as he'd returned to his Home Country for the first time since he was a lad, greeted by cheering Scotsmen, weeping wives and mothers, eager women and adoring children.

But Prince Alexander's good mood had soured almost immediately when he learned his mother, Margaret, had died shortly after the fall of York. He remained in mourning now, but had issued Feredac with a brusque command a week ago. Edinburgh was reinforced far beyond the English's capability to threaten it, but Inverness had been in rebel hands for decades now, and that was unacceptable. Feredac was to prove his worth by retaking the north for Scotland.

The problem was, the English Rebels who had denounced King William the Conqueror decades earlier might have been the ones who controlled and administered Inverness, but the people who defended it and fought for it were Scottish, and many of them kin to Feredac's own men.

Scots would kill Scots today, and as Feredac looked over his Highland men and their unusually grim faces, he knew he would gain no favor from them no matter how clear their victory would be.

Smashing through the gate with their catapults, Feredac ordered his Mailed Knights through first, followed by Highlanders and Highland Nobles who quickly found themselves facing off against their kin. Both sides seemed reluctant to join battle, and the Rebel Captain roared in fury for his men to fight, inadvertently calling attention to himself. The Mailed Knights rode through Rebel Highlanders and cut down Captain Domongart, and suddenly the Rebel Highlanders were roaring their defiance, furious at the death of their leader.

"Kill the bastards!" screamed one Scot,"They killed the Captain!"

"Kill the traitors!" roared a Highland Noble as the Rebels charged in,"They're nae but Englishmen in kilts!"

And Feredac breathed a sigh of relief as finally, battle proper was joined.

The battle lasted for several hours, and Feredac would never list it as a highlight of his life or military career. It was brutal, bloody and furious, with Kin killing Kin as the Scotsmen who had never known anything other than the rule of the English of Inverness fought against true Scotsmen who would never accept the rule of any other than a Scottish King. But whether ruled by English or Scots, one constant remained, a Scotsman would never surrender, and the bulk of Feredac's men died that day in Inverness wiping out the garrison of Scotsmen who refused to give up even after victory had become an impossibility. Come the battle's end, Feredac felt like anything but the victor.

Less than a fortnight later in York, England's King received word that a Scottish Diplomat had arrived at the gates, and gave leave for him to enter. The son of William the Conqueror had come to inspect the town that his father had lost to Rebels and HE had regained from Scotland, a rare accomplishment for Rufus to achieve something his Father had failed to do.

The diplomat was introduced as Gille Calline the Balleol, and one of Rufus' advisors informed him that Gille was a well regarded man, known for his respect and true diplomatic nature. Rufus had no doubt of Scotland's intentions; they were obviously focused on their Desert holdings in and around Egypt, and trailing like puppies behind the Pope to do his bidding. They'd reinforced Edinburgh to dissuade England from taking ancestral land, but there they would be satisfied. Obviously now they hoped to sue for peace from a position of equality with England, if such a thing could be said to exist, and Rufus - who like his Father before him was more interested in France than Scotland - felt generous enough to agree, provided they offered sufficient homage, money and tribute to him first.

"My Lord," said Gille with a perfectly proper bow, his accent flawlessly English,"You are a busy man concerned with affairs of State, as is my Prince in Edinburgh. I will not mince words or in any other way waste either of your valuable time, and will instead cut directly to the heart of the matter."

"He speaks well, considering he is about to drop to his knees and beg for peace," chuckled King Rufus in an aside to his Advisor, then spoke up,"Very well, We shall hear you, Diplomat."

"My Prince, Alexander Canmore of Edinburgh, instructs me to make this command of you," bellowed Gille, standing tall now and slipping into his natural Scottish accent,"Ye'll depart these lands immediately, ye'll surrender all ye lands and cities to the control of the Scottish Empire, ye armies shall disband and ye shall bow before Prince Alexander and beg his forgiveness for ye transgressions against his people. England shall become a vassal of the Scottish Empire, and if ye do not submit to this command from ye better, than Prince Alexander shall cut ye arrogant, pigfaced head from ye shoulders and mount it on a pike over the walls of York."

King Rufus stared in shock, his face growing black with rage and his eyes bugging from their sockets as Gille smirked mockingly and bowed before him, slipping once more into flawless English,"What do you say, my Lord? Shall you submit to Prince Alexander's command?"

"OUT!" screamed Rufus, leaping to his feet from his throne,"HOW DARE YOU ENTER MY CITY AND INSULT NOT JUST ME, BUT ALL OF ENGLAND!?!? I SHOULD CUT YOUR GIZZARD OUT WHERE YOU STAND, CUR! GO BACK TO YOUR PIGSWINE PRINCE AND TELL HIM I WILL CRUSH HIM AND WIPE HE AND HIS DOGSPAWN COUNTRYMEN FROM THE WORLD AND SEND THEM STRAIGHT TO HELL!"

"I take it that is a no, then," grinned Gille, and turned on his heel and walked from the Court with a smile.

---

Captain Stephen had marched from Nottingham immediately after received the urgent summons. He and 500 men had been recuperating after dealing with a Rebel band North of London when the message arrived. The Scottish Prince had marched from Edinburgh and laid siege to York against all reason, why would Scotland - the bulk of whose forces were on the other edge of the World - invite the wrath of England when they were in such an isolated position.

Still, madness or not, Stephen was looking forward to the chance to kill a Scottish Noble. Like many others he had heard the songs of King Edward and Prince Edmund's adventures in Egypt, and the chance to kill a member of the Canmore Family, to prove himself in battle against them.... well it was more than he could have hoped for in his lifetime. His men were Armored Knights, some of the best fighters in England, and despite the apparent superior numbers of the Scottish, he had no doubt most could not stand against his men.

The first snows of the Season were lightly coating the hills around York when Captain Stephen crested the hill and saw the Scottish host beneath him. He ordered the positioning of his men, being careful that his catapults were placed behind the hill and out of sight. The Scots would never see the flaming rocks coming for them, and he only hoped that not too many would die or break and flee before he had a chance to kill some himself. The Scots below were aware of his presence by now, and preparing to face the English who stood on the upper ground, while in York itself King Rufus laughed with delight to hear of Captain Stephen's arrival and prepared his own men to ride out and help to mop up the Scots. He could only wonder what the Scottish Prince was saying now to keep his terrified men from fleeing.

"Look lads, the English have brought more men for us to kill!" cried Prince Alexander, and his men roared their approval. Alexander grinned, his grief at his Mother's death had ruined his triumphant homecoming, but since marching out of Edinburgh he'd felt.... at home. When he'd learned of the English movement against Scotland, he'd gone to King Edward prepared to do anything to convince the man to return to Scotland, he'd even considered revealing he and David's plans against Edward and offering his own life if only Edward would defend his home country. But when he'd arrived, Edward had just been informed of the siege and if anything seemed to be even more enraged than Alexander. He'd raged on as he paced his tent before a startled Alexander, threatening to empty the cities and fight their way through Europe to kill the English, those presumptuous bastards!

Finally, after calming down, he had sat Alexander down, stared him in the face and said,"Brother, together we must find a way to protect Scotland from the English."

It was the first time he'd called him Brother.

Now here Alexander was, having lead a Crusading Army to Toulouse only for the Crusade to be called off. Their plans had been to take the City to appease the Pope, then have Gille Calline the Balleol work out a peace deal with France while Alexander travelled by boat up the Welsh Coast and landed at Edinburgh. Instead, providence had seen the Crusade ended and Alexander had been able to move straight back to Scotland, where King Edward had given him his blessing to defend Scotland in whatever way he saw fit.

"If that means killing every English bastard there is, then so be it," King Edward had growled, and Alexander had finally realised that this man WAS his King, and let him carve out an Empire in Egypt if he wished. Alexander was a Canmore, he was back in Scotland, and much like Edward and Edmund before him, he was going to carve out his own Empire and be a King in all but name. One day maybe his sons would rise to the throne, but if not, so be it - they would rule Scotland regardless.

"There are English up there, lads!" cried Alexander, and his men grinned at him. He was personable and friendly with his troops, always had been, and since relieved of the stress of trying to find a way to take the Crown from Edward, he'd returned somewhat to the carefree boy he'd once been,"Kill them!"

"KILL!" roared his Commanders, signalling the charge.

"KILL!" roared the men, gripping their weapons and preparing to move.

"Kill," said Captain Stephen simply, and his Armored Knights charged down the hill.

Captain Stephen frowned as he realized that not only were the Scottish not breaking and fleeing, but they seemed to be holding their own against the Armored Knights. Highland Nobles began to sweep up around the sides of the Knights, surrounding them and preventing them from moving freely.

"Fire the Catapult!" he ordered,"Let's see how brave they are then!"

Scots scattered as a flaming rock smashed into the ground near them, and then whole units began to run, all of them screaming.

The problem for Captain Stephen and his men, is that they were running towards them, and they weren't screaming in terror but in fury and defiance.

As Stephen roared for his men to hold their places and stop the advance of the Scots, a trumpet sounded in the distance. Looking down the hill, he laughed with relief as he saw King Rufus leading a charge directly into the rear of the Scottish.

"Charge!" screamed Prince Alexander, and led his Cavalry smashing into the side of Rufus' as higher on the hill, crossbowmen turned their attention from the Armored Knights above them to the Royal Cavalry below them.

"WHERE IS PRINCE ALEXANDER!?!" roared King Rufus,"LET ME HEAR HIM COMMAND ME NOW!"

"HERE I AM, YE ENGLISH BASTARD!" roared back Alexander, stabbing his sword into an Englishman's belly and throwing him from his horse,"ARE YE MAN ENOUGH TO FACE ME!"

"TURN ASIDE FOR YOUR KING!" screamed Rufus, insane with rage,"I AM THE SON OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR! YOU ARE THE SON OF A SCOTTISH TURD!"

King Rufus smashed his heels into his horse's sides and charged it forward, pushing it through his own men as he focused on Prince Edward, several hundred yards away cutting and slashing at the English that neared him. He broke free of the greater bulk of his Cavalry, whose job was to protect him from danger, and found himself immediately in it.

"What treachery is this!?!" he cried as he saw himself surrounded by Crusader Knights, men who had run down to assist their Prince against the King. Men who the King had not seen from his vantage point as Prince Alexander mocked and goaded him.

Men who were clutching swords and coming straight for him from all sides.

"Thus ends the reign of a fool who thought he could conquer Scotland," grunted Prince Alexander, then looked up the hill at the remaining English forces. A small group of Armored Knights were charging forward, enraged at the death of their King, but behind them the Captain was signalling for retreat, knowing that the day was lost for them.

"Dinnae let them escape, lads!" cried Alexander,"Send a message to these English dogs, Scotland for the Scottish!"

His men charged screaming and laughing, caught up in a battle fervor, and the English ran, throwing aside weapons and armor that weighted them down, running from men possessed, running from the Scottish.

"This," whispered Prince Alexander as he watched the English fleeing before his men,"Is only the beginning."