Due to the limited grounds inside the wall, most of the soldiers at Wark were camped on the fields below the motte hill of the castle, and Joan could see the yellowed white of the tents peppered across the green grass of the countryside from quite a distance away.

She swallowed. There were so many of them. For the first time, she was confronted with the massive size of the army King Edward was gathering to march against her countrymen. At Berwick, where most of Edward’s commanders had congregated, there were perhaps only a thousand men. Here at Wark there must be about ten times as many. And more would be coming in the next few weeks as the June tenth deadline to muster approached.

She looked in awe and horror at the tents that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. Good gracious, would Bruce even be able to raise half this many men? A third as many?

The pit in her stomach seemed to grow a little heavier before she scolded herself for the worry that suddenly felt disloyal. Robert the Bruce had become known for his ability to defy the odds; he would do so again.

Her job was to provide information; the king would decide what to do with it.

But how many were there?

Joan could have kissed her cousin when she exclaimed, “My word, I’ve never seen so many tents! There are hundreds of them. Half the population of London must have answered the king’s call!”

Sir Hugh smiled at the exaggeration. There were thought to be as many as eighty thousand people in London. “Not quite that many,” he said with a wink and a smile. “Yet.”

Joan hoped he was jesting. Forty thousand was impossible. Even the current king’s father, the powerful Hammer of the Scots, Edward I, had only amassed an army of perhaps twenty-five thousand in his biggest campaign in Scotland sixteen years ago—when the English had decimated the Scots at Falkirk. The second Edward’s popularity and power were nowhere near his father’s. How many could he hope to raise? Ten thousand? By her estimation there must be nearly that many right now. She bit her lip. Fifteen?

Again she could thank her cousin for asking what she was thinking. “How many more men are coming?” Margaret asked. “And where does the king intend to put them?”

Joan laughed along with Sir Hugh, but waited anxiously for his answer.

“At least another few thousand when the Welsh arrive, and many more if the barons do their duty.”

Joan weighed the risks and decided to ask, knowing another opening like this might not arise. “What of the other earls, my lord? Will more of them be arriving as well?”