He nodded. “Sir Phillip Moubray was granted safe passage and traveled to England himself to bring the king the news.” Joan knew that Moubray was the former Scot patriot now holding the important Scottish stronghold for King Edward. “Moubray convinced Edward Bruce to agree to a truce. They agreed that if the English army doesn’t relieve the garrison by midsummer, Moubray will surrender the castle to Bruce.”

Joan’s eyes widened.

Sir Hugh chuckled at her reaction. “Aye, it was a rash move on Edward Bruce’s part, no doubt resulting from the boredom of laying siege rather than a tactical decision to benefit his brother’s army. From what I hear, King Hood was furious.”

Joan would imagine so. Laying down the gauntlet like that would force King Edward to respond by bringing troops into Scotland. Something to this point that King Robert had sought to avoid. The king must have also been furious that his brother had given up the chance to take one of Scotland’s most important castles before the English came. With Bruce’s recent success in taking back Scotland’s castles from Edward’s garrisons, it was a big prize to concede. It also gave the English a target and date.

She stopped. Was that the point? From what she knew of King Robert’s only remaining brother, Edward was sometimes rash and overaggressive, but he wasn’t a fool. Perhaps there was more than there seemed to this surrender. Could Bruce have wanted this? Had he done this so he would know when and where the English host would be headed when it marched into Scotland?

Joan feigned disappointment, trying to see what else Sir Hugh might volunteer. “By midsummer’s day? But that means you will be leaving soon.”

It would take time to march an army that far into Scotland to reach Stirling by the twenty-fourth of June. How much time, and what size the army, she hoped to discover.

He gave her a long, knowing look. “We still have a few weeks yet. It will take at least that long for the Welsh infantry to arrive.”

She wrinkled her brow, hoping she appeared confused and not curious. “But the Welsh are already at Wark.”

“The king sent out new calls to muster after Moubray arrived. This is going to be the biggest English host to march on Scotland since Falkirk sixteen years ago. King Hood will not escape this time.”

“I imagine not, my lord. I’ve never seen so many knights and men-at-arms in my life here at Berwick.”

“You should see Wark,” Sir Hugh said. “There are thousands more there.”

Joan leaned closer and gave him a look that was unmistakable in its invitation. “I should like that very much. Perhaps we might ride out together one day, and you can show me. It is so constricting at Berwick, don’t you think?”