August 9th
Durness Castle
The Scots had settled down into a simple encirclement of the Castle, which their greater numbers easily allowed for. The army seemed to consist mostly of highlanders, with a small collumn of the remains of the Royal Scottish Army, and several collumns that were clearly the personnal troops of several Scottish nobles, bolstered by Welsh and Irish mercenaries. And foremost among them was the arms of Sir Duncan MacDonald, Vice-Marshal of Scotland, and commander of the army before the gates.
Lord Henry looked down upon the Scotsmen, trying to take a rough headcount. He made out roughly six thousands of them, which meant that he would be outnumbered by a factor of four. Moreover, the castle had been heavily reduced by the fleet, and was in no shape to take a protracted beating from the catapults that the Scots were setting up. As he looked on, he saw the standard of Sir Duncan being raised at the front of the collumn, along with a white flag of a truce. Clearly the enemy commander was comming to parlee.
When he first caught sight of Sir Duncan, Lord Henry could scarce believe that the man was standing. From the top of the wall, Henry could see that Duncan was quite ill, and he moved like a man that had not slept in days. Even the horse upon which he rode seemed tired by the constant war. Then again, MacDonald had barely escaped the terrible defeat at Edinburgh, and had been riding hard ever since to rebuild the Scottish army, and so Henry supposed that it was a small miracle that the man still stood. Truly a great man, this Duncan MacDonald. A shame that they found themselves on opposite sides.
"I am Sir Duncan MacDonald, Royal Knight and Vice-Marshal of Scotland, Lord Mayor of the Orkney Islands, and Commander of the Army of the Highlands. I ask who commands the army occupying the Castle of Durness, and ask for that nobleman's surrender." Still eloquent and noble, noted Henry.
"Hail, Sir Duncan. I am Lord Henry Williams, Baron of Caux, Marshal of Normandie, vassal of Duke Richard Plantagenet of York. Strong though your force may be, the Army of England is near to the south, along with my lord Richard. Foreasmuch as the King of England has taken charge of Scotland, so have I taken charge of Scotland's infant Queen. And so I ask that you surrender to me, noble knight." Lord Henry leaned over the battlement at the Scotsman.
Sir Duncan smiled a hollow smile. "I appologize, Lord Henry, but I found it necessary to leave a diversion for the English at Inverness. All reports have the English still fully engaged in siege there, where a mere hundred men man the walls. I have gathered my force here, where Queen Margeret has been kept safe, to stand against the English. But it seems that I was outmaneuvered, and the damned Lollards holding the fortress were no good." Pausing for a moment, Sir Duncan reflects. "You know, Lollards simply do not make good soldiers. Too unwilling to follow orders." Some of the highlanders start grumbling at that.
Sir Duncan went on. "At any rate, Lord Henry, I am afraid that you will fight this battle alone then. May you fight with honor."
Lord Henry's face had gone white, and his voice was nearly a whisper. "And you."
***
August 26th
The crash of catapults had become familliar to the defenders of Durness. They had taken to simply bombarding the entire structure with catapults, since the Scot's only covered ram had been destroyed by a boulder dropped from the top of the gatehouse. And any assault on the main gate was cut short by hails of longbow arrows. So the siege had settled into a long stalemate, although the fifteen hundred Normans were quickly exhausting the castle's supplies. Moreover, the entire Royal household, consisting of a number of nannies, was always getting underfoot. Lord Henry had ordered them confined to the tower, in order to prevent any 'trouble' between the dozen women and his fifteen hundred men.
As the dawn became the day, the men on the seaward wall started to spot something out to sea, coming in with a brisk breeze at it's back. Henry ran up to the wall, looking out across the water. What he saw, as he squinted his eyes down, was a large ship, low in the water, sailing right in at the castle. And across the sail were the two lions of Normandie.
"It's La Tonnere! What are they doing here, alone?"
***
La Tonnere
Captain Skortiz roared at the men manning the sails. "Alright men! Hold it steady! Don't let it go until I give my mark!"
The massive warship was barreling right in at the rocky coast, sails fully unfurled, gaining momentum by the moment. The Scots on the ground had noticed the warship, and had begun to run towards the beach to meet this new threat.
"All the better..." whispered Skortiz. The ship came still closer to the shore.
"Steady! Steady! NOW!!!!" Roared the Captain. And in an instant, the well trained men of the crew were tying and untying lines, slackening and tightening them in a very specific way, while the mate on the afterdeck turned the rudder hard to starboard. The massive ship began to turn...
Of course, the monter vessel had too much momentum to simply turn on a dime, and it crashed itself into the shallow beach, the sheer force of it driving itself into the sand and rocks. And it's starboard side was facing right into the center of the Scottish force.
Skortiz watched as a wave of highlanders peeled off from the main force, intent on capturing and subjugating this new prize, and taking what they could from it. After all, warships were always filled with rich booty, were they not?
As he lit a length of rope, Skoritz smiled to himself. "Come here, heretic bastards." And with that, he fled to bellow decks to arm himself.
***
Durness Castle
La Tonnere had beached itself. And Lord Henry had no idea why. As hundreds of highlanders split off from the main force to take the ship over, Henry cursed Skoritz's foolishness. "The fool is going to get himself and his ship killed!"
And then, once again, the ground shook. Being buried in the ground like a knife, the ship could hardly roll, but the effect on the Scots was devastating. Flame belched from the mouth of the gonne, but instead of a single, enormous boulder, the weapon shot out a cone of tiny shards of gravel. And the cone blasted deep into the highlander ranks, scything them down like it was the Reaper itself. Indeed, those not killed by the stone rain were stunned by the power of the explosion. Every horse in the Scottish army bolted at once, running from the terrible noise.
And even as the terrible violence on the seaside ended the threat there, the calm after the storm was punctured by a man crying out: "They have broken through! The Lollards are in the castle! To arms! For Noramndie!"
***
Near Durness
Richard, Duke of York, rode at the head of his army. Behind him, riding hard, was every man that England could spare from Inverness, which was quite a few. And back with the footmen, the standard of Queen Elionor flew high and proud. He could only hope that Lord Henry had managed to somehow avoid the Scottish army, or find a position that he had been able to hold. Nevertheless, with such a large force of Scots against so few Normans, Richard was afraid of what he might find...
***
Durness Castle
"Now you die, English dog!" roared the highlander in front of him. The man seemed to be frothing at the mouth, and was covered in blood, some of which might have been his own. He made a clumsy swing with his battleaxe, clearly favoring his left leg. Lord Henry simply stepped aside, no mean feat in heavy armor, and chopped down with his longsword like a butcher. The man's leg came off with hardly any effort, and the highlander fell squealing onto the flagstones. Another enemy dispatched, only a thousand to go.
The courtyard of Durness had turned into a massive melee. Norman and Scot fought like men posessed, with the entire battle degenerating into hundreds of duels. And all the while, the Scots crept closer to the tower, and the Queen within. Even as Henry made his way to the tower stairs, the highlanders were not far behind.
Grabbing three men, Lord Henry made his way up the tower, to the chamber of the Queen. He turned to the head nanny, a youngish girl named Majorie, and spoke. "Well, MacDonald is at the door. But we shall not be giving up without a fight. When they come in, keep your ladies out of sight, and hopefully no harm will come to them." The girl scurried off.
Suddenly, the door smashed in, and the room was engulfed by men fighting. The four fought like heros of ancient Greek legend, but in the end they were only men. Men who had been fighting for hours already. When the first Norman fell, there was a cheer from the horde of highlanders that were pouring into the room. And then the second Norman fell, leaving Henry and one other. Almost in the back of his mind, Henry heard a woman's scream, and knew that the highlanders would not be so gentle with the young women as he had.
Being a truly noble and chivalrous knight, Henry knew what his duty was, and so he surged forward, fighting for every step, working his way along the walls, to where he could see highlanders crowded around a space. Suddenly, a mailed fist rose into the air, and dangling from it, a bloody child.
All of the sudden, a voice roared. "Traitors! The Crears have murdered the Queen! MacDonalds! Kill the Crears!" And with that, the Scots set upon each other with a vengeance, and the child fell to the ground. With a final surge, Henry managed to catch the girl in his arms, tears streaming down his face. He looked into the slain girl's face...
And found that she was quite alive. The girl looked back him, quite unafraid. He saw that she had been smeared with blood, and as he looked over, he saw Majorie, gashed wide open by a Scottish sword, no doubt while trying to protect the Queen. Young Margaret was covered in the blood of her nanny, and it had saved them both.
***
The battle out in the courtyard continued unabated, while much of the Scottish army milled around outside the walls, eager to get in and get a chance at the booty within. Suddenly, they heard the sounds of horns blaring in the distance, and over the hill came a line of cavalry, bearing the arms of the Duke of York.
Now the Duke of York is probably the most hated man in Scotland, since it is York who traditionally command armies into Scotland. And seeing their enemy's standard raised high, the Scots charged up the hill at that line of cavalry. "DEATH TO YORK!!!" was the cry.
And so it was that the Scots were incredibly surprised when the Yorkish line broke open in the center and split into two wings, through which rode two lines of English knights at a full gallop, charging right for them. To their credit, some actually charged right back at the English. But most of them simply turned and ran. And they ran right into a detachment commanded by the Hotspur Percy, who rode them down to a man.
Seeing this, the remaining highlanders outside the castle simply fled. They knew that they could not carry the day, no matter what happened now.
***
Up in the tower, the sound of horns blaring could be heard even over the chaos below. And so when Duncan MacDonald looked out a bolt hole to see that his army outside the walls had been put to rout, and twenty-five-thousand English and Norman footmen were marching towards the gate, he knew that he was in trouble.
Lord Henry looked over at his counterpart from the Scottish side, and said. "Come, Sir Duncan. This battle is over. Even if your forces were to overthrow mine in the next twenty minutes, the Queen's army comes down those hills now. Yield to me, and Her Majesty will show mercy, no doubt."
Sir Duncan looked upon his worthy foe, and in a voice full of pride and emotion, spoke. "Very well, Lord Henry, Baron of Caux. I surrender myself and my Queen to you."
***
When the English footmen started coming through the main gate, the Scots simply began to go berserk. Many began to lay about themselves with mighty blows, only to be slain by the the unified English formations. The English cleared an area around the gate, where the commanders of the Queen's army rode in.
Queen Elionor, the Duke of York, the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Lionel Percy rode into the courtyard, surrounded by two thousand Royal Guardmen. There was a moment of tension, as the Scots prepared to battle to the death.
Elionor rode ahead of her companions. "Loyal men of Scotland. You have fought like the warrior-poets of old here today. However, this battle has gone on as long as it must. I have thirty thousands of men here who will lay down their lives for my cause. But I would not have them do so, especially to kill an honorable opponent, who has proven themselves to be chivalrous and noble of spirit. So do I declare: Any man who would lay his arms down now, will walk free from here and be allowed to return to his home. I do not want the blood of so many loyal Scots on my hands."
The men simply stared at her for a moment, wondering what to make of this woman who spoke like a warrior-king. All of the sudden, a strong male voice rang out. "I accept, Your Majesty." And with that, up in the tower, Sir Duncan MacDonald threw his sword from the tower window, where it shattered on the flagstones below.
It was like all that tension was released in a moment. The Scots from the Royal Army and the nobles simply threw down their swords. The remaining highlanders looked around, stunned by the sudden surrender, before finally bowing their heads and tossing their weapons to the earth.
And from outside the walls all that could be heard was: "LONG LIVE QUEEN ELIONOR! GOD SAVE THE KING!"
***
August 27th
Durness Castle
Lord Henry Williams bowed before the Queen-Regent of England. "Your Majesty, may I present to you Margaret, Queen of Scotland." With that, Lord Henry held forth the smilling girl-child he held in his arms.
Queen Elionor, standing next to Duke Richard, could not help but have her heart melted by the beautiful girl that Lord Henry held forth. She reminded her so much of when her son Henry was that age. She took her little cousin into her arms, and rocked the young girl gently. Margaret made an endearing cooing noise, and then said: "Queen."
