Part 6 1332 -1338 2nd Scottish war of independence - A further loss.

It didn't take long for me to develop a deep seated hatred of Scotland. Before you get upset about that and go telling me how wonderful a place it is, and how you have family there, I should ask, how much time did you spend in the boarder lands during the early part of the fourteenth century? To that end I should also ask how much time you have spent camped out in fields or woodland during the winter months.

Yes, as a vampire I don't feel the cold in the way that mortals do, but I still don't enjoy being cold and wet. I had spent my human life in Warwick, not the driest of places on planet Earth, but certainly not the wettest. And I had also always lived in something. My trip to the holy land in the last crusade introduced me to extreme heat, something which I enjoyed. It was comfortable and dry. But then my activities North of the boarder in the first Scottish war taught me how miserable I could be when I was out in the open and the cold rain was deluging on my head.

So imagine my mood when Menteith came into our barracks back at Warwick castle one cold autumn morning in 1333 to let us know we would be moving North again. There had been reports of another war brewing, the agreements in place were forced and most of the barons and peasants involved were not pleased with their government. I was not pleased either, but for my own, selfish reasons.

"Pick up your bow, and let us be gone!" Said Lenster, who had decided he should take the mantle of the mouth of our group.

"Lenster, I grow tired of this war already, and I have yet to loose a single arrow in part of it." Was my reply, as I sat cross legged and armed on the floor, like a petulant child.

"We cannot dismiss these orders." Said Hart, his voice as calm and clear as ever. "If the weather bothers you, then take my hide. It will keep you dry." He threw me his best deer hide cloak. I decided I should heed his words and follow. An act of such generosity would not be repeated soon. I collected my bow, quiver and armour and followed my unit out into the grey morning, wondering why it must always be morning when these journeys began.

The march did not start especially well, because the heavens opened almost immediately. It also didn't help matters that we could not travel at our usual pace for the majority of the journey because we were meeting a battalion to the North at Nottingham castle that included a division of king's long-bowmen. At least that made me feel a little better about the whole thing, a chance to work with the bowmen again was something I had been looking forward to for thirty years.

However, I was not permitted to join them when we arrived in Nottingham, and nor did they seem to want to have anything to do with me. The word had spread that we were an elite group of king's guards, and that we did not integrate with the rank and file. I guess this was the case mainly because we could not join them during the day without our wrappings, which must have made us seem like a rather strange lot. We joined their force for a few days while they made final preparations, hiding out in the caves beneath the city in the day, wandering the streets at night.

The four of us were sitting in what the locals referred to as a pub. Ale was being sold and the place was full of soldiers, all keeping their distance from us.

"I don't think they like us very much." Boomed Smith, always one to state the obvious.

"It would be folly for us to care what anyone thinks of us." Said Lenster, using his important voice again. "We are the most powerful warrior unit in this country, and we would all do well to remember it."

"Care must be taken when boasting my friend." Hart, always the sage one. "For power will bring with it challenge. No king will be happy with a force that could take his throne from him."

I looked up from my flagon of ale. "What king are we on now, anyway?" I asked. I had fallen somewhat out of touch with the news over the past decade or so.

"Edward, of course." Sneered Lenster. He was a staunch royalist.

"Oh. Which Edward?" I took a long draught of ale.

"Third I think." Smith said, foam in his beard.

Lenster looked at us like we were fools. "Of course it is the third. Now come, let us return to our quarters before the break of day."

I spent the following day staring out of a window, watching the rain fall steadily. I was beginning to question what I was doing here. What were my motives. I was about to spend more time alone in the Scottish countryside with three men whom I didn't really care for, and for what? I didn't get paid for any of this, and it wasn't even as though I had food and drink provided. All that was given to me was the freedom to hunt and train.

So what was the most highly skilled bowman doing, marching through the rain with three fellow beasts and a legion of men? I did not know. What I did know was that I was growing impatient with my current lot in life. I thought about the others. Menteith had no such issue because he never travelled with us. He would appear at the perfect moment to relay orders and then vanish into the night. I had never even seen him fight. Smith lacked the mental capacity to challenge the situation and would probably follow until there were no orders remaining. Lenster would always do as he was told providing the directions came from the Monarch whom he considered all powerful. So that left Hart who seemed to simply enjoy the lifestyle. He no longer had to deal with people and I felt that maybe he enjoyed the killing a little more than the rest of us.

So that left me. I was torn with a need to fit in with others. I longed to join the ranks of the bowmen, but I knew I would never be allowed. I also knew I would never be accepted by them. So what then? Continue this life? If I must. I knew time was on my side so I decided to do everything in my power to see it through. Better times must be coming. But my resolve would not stop my complaining.

"For the sake of the lord Castor, please shut up about the rain." Lenster said in a low growl. We were in woodland somewhere West of Edinburgh. It was a few years later and we had been involved in a few minor skirmishes, but now we had a real mission.

"What are we doing?" I asked. Lenster held up a hand, pointing toward Hart who was crouched on a ridge looking out.

"Menteith sent us to investigate news of a group of French soldiers approaching." He held a finger to his lips because Hart had now raised his hand. He had spotted something. He fell back to join us under cover.

"They are coming. Looks like several hundred away to the south, approaching the city."

Lenster pulled back his hair as he often did when he was stressed. "Several hundred you say?" Hart nodded, his expression grim. "Then Smith and I shall return to camp with the news. You two should try and delay them." Before I had the chance to protest he was gone, Smith following in his wake.

I put on my helmet and picked up my bow. "Come on, I need you to spot for me." I told Hart as I crept forward to his lookout post. For several hours I fired upon the advancing army. I could see their tricolour flags and make out their uniforms, but I was relying on Hart with his advanced vision to help me pick off the leaders. When I ran out of arrows we sat in silence. There was no way they could see us up here. We would be out of range from human eyes by a good distance.

"Hart, what do you make of this?" I asked, feeling the rain tap on my helmet.

"The war? A waste of time if you ask me." Hart was a sinister sort, but he was also wise.

"No I mean us. Our unit. Do you think we are the only one?"

"Castor, I have tried not to dwell on this, but since you mention it, yes, I think we are the only ones. They treat us like we are something to hide, and rightly so. If the men in our platoon knew our true nature do you think they would accept us?" I shook my head, rainwater dripping to and fro.

"Hart, I feel we were created for another time, and now we are left to be used for the dirty work. Almost as if we have been forgotten."

"I know what you mean. When we trained there was purpose, and when we returned from the holy land we seemed to be set for a life as the Kings own guard. I fear that ended when the king died. The young Edward must not have been told of our abilities and neither was his son."

I looked at the steel sky. "I hope something changes." I said, mostly to myself.

It was as if my prayer was answered immediately. The trees were suddenly alive with men, and they smelled different from the locals. They reminded me of the journey to the holy land. Their shouts were in French, and neither of us understood. What we did understand was the row of arrows pointed at us. We gave each other a swift nod and then unleashed hell.

I went straight at the nearest man, pulling his arm towards me so that I could tear out his throat. A well placed fist to the skull floored the next man and a kick sent several others toppling. From its clasp I produced my dagger and proceeded to slice my way through their ranks with it as a jungle explorer would carve a path with a machete. I had my bow in my left hand as I turned the air red with the dagger in my right. When I realised I was outside of their perimeter I looked back to see Hart who was on fire. He was screaming at me to run. Then I noticed their archer had a flaming arrow pointed directly at me. I moved just in time to see it buried in a tree right behind where my head had just been, a flame blossoming from the point of impact. That was all the invitation I needed. I took off as fast as I could go.

When I arrived at the camp it was a hive of activity. Lenster and Smith were talking with Menteith. They fell silent when I approached. Did I really look so shocked?

"They got Hart." Was all I could manage.

"Who, and how?" Asked Menteith. He was suddenly very urgent.

"The French. With fire." I was not out of breath, since I didn't breathe, but i was still struggling to make myself calm.

"Were they men?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes. I am certain of it."

Menteith cursed. "Then they know about us. This is unfortunate. We shall need to take great care in the coming months."

For the next two years we remained in the woods. We were limited to scouting and reconnaissance missions which felt like a complete waste of our talents. But each time we saw him, Menteith told us we had to remain hidden for our safety. I found this confusing. If we worked together, then surely no army of men could stop us. However, we did as we were told. Scouting suddenly became much more difficult for us now we were without Hart. We were having to rely on our own senses, and while they were much greater than that of a human, they were nothing like Hart's. Tensions in our group grew. I felt the others blamed me for the death of Hart, yet there was nothing I could do. The French had been prepared for us.

There was a low lying mist when we returned to camp with our latest report. Menteith took us into his tent and closed the flap.

"Boys, it seems the French are causing issue for us on all fronts. I hope you are ready for a change of scenery because we are moving." My face obviously lit up because Lenster looked at me with a wary grin. "Bring everything. Hopefully we will not have to return to this land for some time." He lead us out and into the mist.

The last thing I can tell you about this period is the strange meeting we had in a clearing in the South of England. The four of us were resting after leaving London the previous night, hiding in the undergrowth, when we were all disturbed by movement. There was a man on the opposite side of the clearing and he looked confused. He was still in the shade, far away enough from us to not be a problem. But there was a chance of him running into us. Sure we were covered but four large men were easily found in bright daylight.

Menteith motioned for me to go and speak to him. Get him to leave. So I pulled myself up and stepped into the circle of sunlight. Sending me was a wise choice, as I could easily pass for mortal. I approached the man. He was dressed well, as if he had left a fine home, but some time ago, because most of his dress clothes were torn and dirty. Then he sensed me and turned. His white shirt was covered in maroon, dried blood. It stained his chin too, and he leaped into a fighting stance, moving into the sunlight. His skin reflected the light in the same way as my brethren. This was all we needed.

"Sir, we mean you no ill." I said, and with that the other three revealed themselves. The stranger crouched, unsure wether to run or fight. I persevered. "What is your name?" I asked. He reeked of death and his eyes burned bright red. He was newborn, I was sure.

"Alistair." He said in a gruff voice, unsure even of himself.

"How did you find us?" I asked, suddenly realising that he was not there by coincidence.

"I do not know. I seem capable of tracking anyone. I found your scent outside of the city and followed it." He looked at me strangely. "Why do you not shine, if you are like me?"

"It is my gift." I said. "It allows me to walk in the day amongst men. But I daresay I could not track like you." He nodded slowly. It was like speaking with someone fresh from a long sleep. Just then Menteith stepped forward.

"Friend, my unit is in need of a scout. Will you join us? We are to fight in France and Spain." I felt somehow roused. Had it been me I would have certainly joined. But Alistair shook his head. He slowly stepped backwards into the darkness of the woods. "Very well. We have no quarrel with you." Menteith called. "Go in peace, until we meet again."

The stranger disappeared into the forest and we were alone again. None of us spoke of the incident again on out journey south.