—Sir Walter Scott, Tales of a Grandfather James was coming home! Joanna Dicson waited anxiously beside the big rock atop Pagie Hill. Spread out below her, clustered on the banks of the river, was the village of Douglas. To the north on the far side of the riverbank, she could make out the towers of Douglas Castle—or, as the English who now garrisoned the castle called it, “the dangerous castle of Douglas.” To the west were her father’s lands of Hazelside, and to the east… To the east was James! Her smile fell. At least she thought he would be coming from the East. Although James waged his campaign against the English from a base in the forests west of Selkirk, she’d heard rumors of his being in the North recently with King Robert the Bruce as a member of his personal guard. He was so important now, and she was so proud of him. But it had been so long since she’d seen him—nearly three months since James had last returned to his ancestral stronghold to harry the English who held his castle—she couldn’t be certain of his whereabouts.
