The Rose Demon

the wall. He asked for her in marriage. The Roman refused so the Rose Lord brought his great army south and, in one terrible night, annihilated the soldiers of Rome. Every man was killed and the fortifications levelled. For a while the Picts and the Caledones lived on the wall, honouring their great leader but he, on finding the love of his life had been killed in the attack, mysteriously disappeared. His great army broke up and drifted away.’ Pender stared into the fire. ‘That’s only legend. Nevertheless,’ he added in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘at night the ghosts of all who died here still house themselves in the shadows and corners.’ He hitched his cloak around him. ‘So, kind though you be, sirs, I hope you are gone by the morrow.’

    The hermit wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down near the fire, resting his head on the tattered, leather bag he carried.

    Vane got up, saying he would check on the sentries. Matthias lay down on the ground and stared up at the stars. Who was this Rose Demon? He glanced across the fire. Pender lay there, eyes open, staring at him.

    ‘You should sleep,’ the hermit murmured. ‘You’ve nothing to fear. I can see around you those sent to guard you.’

    Matthias pulled himself up.

    ‘Nothing but shadows,’ the hermit whispered. ‘That’s all I see.’ He grinned. ‘And you’ve got nothing to lose but your soul!’

18

    Barnwick Castle was built on the brow of a hill which gently sloped away into a wild sea of tangled grass, flowers, purple heather and gorse which stretched up towards the Scottish border.

    ‘It looks solitary,’ Vane observed as they reined in, ‘but any Scottish army which wants to plunder the northern march will have to either take it or bypass it. Both would be difficult, especially the former.’

    As they rode along the white, dusty track up through the great gateway into the castle, Vane pointed out its principal features: two encircling walls, a broad moat fed by underground springs. The outer wall had small towers along it, whilst the inner wall was built slightly higher. The top was crenellated so, even if an enemy did take the gateway, they would find themselves trapped between two lines of fire. The wooden drawbridge they crossed was good and solid. The soldiers on guard in the dark, sombre gatehouse were well turned out, vigilant but not fussy or overweening. The outer bailey had houses built against the walls; small cottages, workshops, a smithy, forge and stables. The inner bailey was approached by a smaller gateway protected by a heavy, wooden and steel portcullis. A foursquare keep dominated the inner bailey. This soared up against the blue sky. It was built of heavy grey ragstone and looked older than the rest of the castle. Vane explained that this had been built earlier than the rest.

    The inner bailey was surprisingly quiet. Some geese and pigs wandered about, chickens pecked at the hard-packed earth, a few soldiers lounged in the shade. One of these came across to take their horses and explained that the rest of the garrison were in the chapel. Matthias remembered it was the Feast of St Peter and St Paul, a Holy Day of Obligation. He asked Vane about the castle.

    ‘The Constable’s quarters,’ the sergeant-at-arms explained, pointing across to a small two-storey house at the far end of the bailey. ‘Solar and parlour on top, hall below.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Remember, Sir Humphrey Bearsden is a stickler for duty. Everything has to be kept in order, be it one’s duty to the King or to God. Ah well,’ he added, ‘let’s make ourselves busy.’

    Vane ordered his own soldiers and those lounging about to unload the carts and sumpter ponies: all provisions were to be taken across to the hall. The money he kept with him.

    Matthias wandered off. Looking up at the great keep, he studied the north tower and recalled Vane’s story. In the golden ripeness of a summer morning it looked nothing out of the ordinary. Somewhere deep in the keep a bell began to toll, followed by the faint sound of voices and footsteps. The door to the keep, which was reached by steep steps, was flung open. Children, laughing and chattering, ran down into the yard to continue their games. Their mothers and women of the garrison streamed out, chattering noisily, after them their menfolk. The Constable and his party came next: they stood at the top of the steps, staring down at Vane and his men whilst one of the sentries went up