CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

“I hear the Fox cub is marching on Cambridgeshire. At least he is riding in concert with his rag-tag-and bob-tail Scots in that direction. He seems to achieve very little of practical value does Alexander, rather like father like son!”

“Indeed my Lord King” responded Savary de Mauléon. “All the important battles are being won by us, the Summer is nearly over and it has been one that the rebel barons and their allies will wish to forget.”

“Yes” mused King John “even the departure from Winchester that you manoeuvred left them little glory. You certainly made the place burn, Prince Louis was totally non-plussed.”

“I tried to cause as little damage as possible to your loyal subjects” added de Mauléon “It was essential to extricate ourselves from that location and link up with yourself as quickly as possible.”

“Tut, tut man, don’t apologise” grinned John “The advantage is very much with us now. Victory favours the intelligent and resourceful.”

“I take it my Liege that we drive straight for Cambridge, Alexander must be due for a good scare.”

“You read my mind like a book” grunted the King “ Mayhap you would make a more worthy successor to me than my milk-sop son Henry.”

“Heaven forbid, Lord King” laughed Savary “Let legitimacy be preserved at all costs.”

“And yet” mused John “there are numerous by-blows of our royal line running around who have more about them than those untainted by the bar sinister. Why my great ancestor William was not Robert the Devil’s lawful son, he was the product of a tanner’s daughter with seductive eyes and much else beside. Old King Henry the First had half a kingdom of wantonly-sired brats and Robert of Gloucester was probably the best, an astute military man who deserved more.”

“Your own brother, or half-brother Longsword and Jeffrey sometime Archbishop of York also springs to mind” added de Mauléon.

“Well Jeffrey” muttered the King “he was totally unlike the other Jeffrey, Eleanor’s father. In fact he could not be compared with Longsword his full brother, an
obdurate man that and a problem to me when ensconced at York.”

De Mauléon bit his lip as he realised that the conversation was taking a controversial turn. He must try and move on to something of greater interest and more direct profit to the King.

“I take it, sire, that action as always speaks louder than words. Shall I bid your army muster and begin the journey to Cambridge?”

“You sly old courtier de Mauléon” grimaced the King “as much a diplomat as a routier. Indeed we need to saddle and hack through to the East Country. After Cambridge I feel we owe it to that worthy castellan Nicola da la Hay to relieve Lincoln. She has fought hard on our behalf, and I like a woman with fire and resolve. Yes indeed, Savary let us mount and go forward and sweep up these last remaining rebel swine.”

In the Cambridge area itself there was fairly frenetic activity as Alexander’s men were moving swiftly, seeing to their armour, adjusting their horses equipment. Inspite of difficulties and inconveniences on the way they had reached the Southern part of John’s Kingdom. Only under conditions such as these with civil war in full flow could they have hoped to make such progress. Even so the wiser heads among them could feel the initiative passing to the Angevin monarch. Any further advancement would have to be carefully planned.

“I’ve come this far but how much farther and with what specific success at the end of the day I ask myself.” Alexander Ard Righ King of Scots turned to face the beautiful dark-skinned Moor Barrisa.

“Your father would have been proud of you, my Lord” responded the sultry young woman.

“Faith, he would” smirked Alexander “He spent much of his reign as a guest of the English King. William the Lion he was, but a lion shackled and confined albeit he lived a life of some luxury at his captor’s court.”

“A brave man nonetheless, full of vigour and determination.”

“Alright Barrisa, I know, and you probably think that I do not measure up to my sire.”

“Oh Alexander” smiled Barrisa “Do not deride yourself so, you measure up in
more ways than one. Follow me to this shade beneath the trees where the sun is not quite so hot and I will build-up your confidence.”

The Scots King shrugged his shoulders and laughed gaily. In spite of all the recent activity, positive outcomes mixed with frustration he realised that life was not solely about political manoeuvring and fighting senseless skirmishes. God, Barrisa was a tonic to him, he thanked Heaven that she was here at his Court - wherever the King went his court was there with him - and Barrisa was the colour and beauty of that concourse. He walked almost in a trance behind her, letting her lead him on doubtless to some new delights.

“My Lord it is very private here. Throw your cloak on the ground and let us enjoy the benefits of being King and subject undisturbed. Let us again become one in spirit and in flesh.”

Alexander needed no second invitation as he did as he was bidden. Very quickly, indeed urgently, he was in Barrisa’s arms. That indescribable tingling sensation, the throbbing of the temples, the cloying, passionate desires of his body took control as he felt himself no longer a part of 13th Century England but in a new Universe beyond the seas and tides of time. He could hear laughter and the gentle spray of the ocean tantalisingly flicking his cheeks. He could feel hot sun from a place far, far away which was propelled by swaying erotic forms moving in unison to musical sounds totally foreign to his Scots eyes. His hands moved to caress Barrisa’s dark coal-black, strong lustrous hair. He had become obsessed with those majestic strands, finely combed and sensuous to the touch. Hungrily he sought her lips and almost lost consciousness as he felt himself drifting again into that unknown land that is interwoven with Paradise. Alexander was no longer himself, his title as King had become immaterial, he was a child of nature, swimming, floating into a void but a void paradoxically full of life and vision. His mind was no longer his own, and his spirit had mingled with the movements of his flesh as he rose to the heights of grandeur and fulfilment and then crashed, happily on to a sandy beach gently touched by the ebbing tide.

Also unknowingly he found himself back amongst his troops. He turned slightly to see Barrisa moving away pulling a light cloak over her shoulder. Before
disappearing in the direction of the main tents she gave him a full smile, a look of sheer exultant joy, his knees started to shake but somehow he controlled himself. What a woman, did she really exist, could anyone be that good, was she a vision? The moisture on his brow, and the perspiration soaking his whole body made him realise that if she was a vision, then she was a substantial one. His experience had certainly been real!

“Our informants tell us that the old goat, King John of ill repute, has somehow skirted round Windsor drawing-off some of the besiegers in the process.”

Alexander nodded sternly at the sergeant-at-arms who was confiding this information to him. Too arrogant by half he felt, what was a paid soldier doing expressing opinions on the character of his opponent. King John was a hard man at times but they could ultimately be on better terms, Whence then a reference to the “old goat”? The sergeant would do well to guard his tongue.

The King of Scots scowled and spat vehemently onto the ground. Jerking his head towards the soldier he urged him in almost monosyllabic format to join his troop.

“Time for action mayhap my Lord?” enquired one of Alexander’s immediate retinue of followers. “At least when we identify the exact locality of John and his army, close by, judging by the comments of the sergeant.”

“A head-on collision is just what the King of England would want” mused Alexander “He has a hardy bunch of warriors at his back. You know, of course, that he has Savary de Mauléon with him and all the latter’s Poitevan mercenaries. If you have any sense you do not charge like a madman straight at those odds, you use a lot of discretion. There are a number of ways to fight a campaign. Whatever you choose you ensure that you are not decimated immediately and that you do not merely seek glory for glory’s sake.”

“Wise word from a young ....”

“Untutored pup, eh my Lord” grinned Alexander at the tough Scots knight who had commenced to mutter this phrase.

“Not exactly my sentiment, my King” bowed the warrior “I meant to complement you on your discernment.”

“And thanks for that” smiled Alexander “I think you will agree with me that we need to shadow John and only risk a battle if absolutely necessary. I have not come this far to see my brave Scots butchered as a result of some cunning ruse or other by the English. Although in this instance our enemy is being pretty direct in his intentions, he is going very much onto the offensive.”

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