‘Would ye agree to be ransomed?’
‘I thought you said there’d be no chance...’
‘I’ll pledge for ye. Well?’
Carey laughed, a little desperately. ‘I’ve never been ransomed before, but yes.’
‘He’ll likely chain ye up in the dungeon until your family’s paid up. It’s no’ a very nice place.’
Carey licked his lips. The whole thing was a disaster. Then he shrugged. ‘Better than hanging though.’
‘Untie me then,’ said Jock. Carey hesitated. ‘Come on, man, ye havenae got all day.’
Men with bucklers over their head were trotting in and out of the tower carrying turves and faggots of wood.
Carey undid the ropes holding Jock to the beacon post, but left his hands strapped behind him. He drew his dagger and put it to Jock’s neck, then let Jock go over to the trapdoor.
‘Ye’re still alive,’ said the Earl’s voice.
‘Ay, of course I’m still alive, if I was dead, I wouldna be speaking to ye, now would I?’ snarled Jock.
‘What a diplomat,’ muttered Carey.
‘Shut up, ye. Bothwell.’
‘What do you want, Jock?’
‘The Deputy Warden will surrender himself to me if ye’ll ransom him after the raid and he’ll not talk about it after.’ Jock glowered at Carey, daring him to disagree. Carey felt his shoulders sag, but nodded.
‘How much?’
‘A thousand pounds, English.’
‘No.’
‘And why the hell not?’
‘I’ll have him in half an hour anyway, why should I negotiate? You’re getting soft, Jock.’
Jock made a face, shrugged his shoulders. Carey hadn’t really expected Bothwell to say yes, but his stomach squeezed itself up tighter under his breastbone. He tried to avoid wondering what Bothwell would do to him before he was hanged. Maybe not. Maybe the Earl would ransom him anyway.
‘He’s worth more alive than dead, Bothwell,’ said Jock.
‘I’ll be rich enough after the raid,’ said Bothwell, ‘and so will ye, if ye can live through the next hour.’
There were a couple of echoing cracks from below as Bothwell tried to shoot the trapdoor away.
‘It’s nae good,’ shouted Jock, ‘he’s put stones over the hole. Have ye got gunpowder?’
‘Jock!’ said Carey protestingly.
‘My arms are killing me, Carey, let’s get this bloody farce over with.’
‘I’m in no hurry.’
There was a sound of crackling and tendrils of smoke started coming up through the cracks around the trapdoor and the holes in the roof. There were more of them than he’d thought, Carey noted, and the smoke was thick and black. Bothwell was using damp turves on top of the dry wood.
‘Eh, Wattie must be in a rare mood,’ said Jock, ‘and Alison. She’d never let him burn us out if ye hadnae hit her.’
‘I know,’ said Carey.
FRIDAY, 23RD JUNE, AFTERNOON
Dodd had split his force into three to come at Netherby from the south west, the south east and the east. Will the Tod took the road north from Longtown that passed beside the river Esk, his son Geordie came in from Dodd’s tower at Gilsland with the Dodds but joined up with his own surname and went through Slackbraes wood and Cleughfoot Wood. The Dodds went over Slealandsburn and Oakshaw Hill and also passed through the eastern part of the Cleughfoot Wood that cupped itself around Netherby. They rode well spread out and caught four of the men that Bothwell had stationed to watch.
At Longtownmoor stone, Geordie, Will the Tod and Henry Dodd had agreed that as they didn’t know exactly how many men Bothwell had or where they were, their best plan was to hit hard and fast, drive off his horses, capture Bothwell himself if they could and if they couldn’t, to trap him in Netherby tower with as few of his men as possible and then negotiate.
The daylight made things difficult for them, experienced night raiders though they all were, since they would be visible further off and they had no torches to signal the onset with. After some argument, they agreed on horncalls when they were ready, which would warn Bothwell, but might confuse him as well, or so they hoped. It might make him think the Carlisle garrison had come out to rescue the Deputy Warden.
And so, being the last to get into position because of having to go over the hill, Dodd put his horn to his lips as soon as he sighted the tower through the trees, and then all three of the groups of men broke from the woods and galloped over fields and barley crops straight up to Netherby tower.
It seemed that Bothwell was distracted, though unfortunately most of his men were already in the barnekin. Geordie and his men got into the horsepaddocks where the vast numbers of horses were—Jesus, there must have been a couple of hundred at least—broke down the fences and drove the horses off into the wood, leaving two men dead behind them.
Will the Tod and Henry rode hard for the barnekin, aiming for the gate. Complete confusion broke out round the tower. Some of the Grahams turned away from what they were doing and shot at them with arquebuses, a couple of the women managed to free the gates. Six men ran outside to help shut the big main gate: there was a sharp fight with ten more who came out with lances to hold them off and then the gate was shut and barred and most of the Grahams outside either surrendered or legged it northwards for Liddesdale and the Debateable Land.
Dodd let them go, he was looking all about him. ‘Can ye see the Deputy?’ he yelled. ‘Check the trees, where is he? Where’s Bothwell?’
‘DODD!’ came a happy roar that was unmistakably Carey’s voice—at least he could still shout. Where the devil was it coming from?
