May 17, 1330

Dear Sis,

     Great news!! We finally got Dad's heart back.

     It arrived today from Spain with a bag of well-oiled bones, all that was left of Sir James Douglas after he got himself killed on that ridiculous crusade to the Holy Land. I would have bet my bagpipes that Sir James was going to lose Dad's heart on that trip, and he very nearly did. The castle scuttlebutt is that gallant Sir James galloped into battle against the devlish Moors in Spain, swinging Dad's heart round and round in the air, and in a sudden fit he threw it into the enemy. It must have really stirred them up because that's when they killed him.

     Our father, good king Robert the Bruce, can sleep in the heavenly heather now that his heart has returned to Scottish soil.

     It was bad enough that Dad had to die from leprosy last year after driving the Brits from Scotland, and kicking old King Edward II in his bloody English behind. But why did all those knights and squires have to take his deathbed vow so seriously? I can still see them bowing and scraping as he said, "Seeing, therefore, that my body cannot go to achieve what my heart desires, I will send my heart instead of my body, to accomplish my vow."

     Blah, blah, blah. He was always saying stuff like that and making crazy vows. Then they all took him seriously and cut his heart out for a road trip across Europe.

     Honestly, I think Sir James and that band of hooligans were just looking for an all-expenses-paid trip to Spain and a chance to hack up some heathens along the way. Courting life had gotten pretty boring since the start of the peace with England. Nothing like a good quest to bring back the good old days of victory and valor.

     Of course, despite all the of the grand gestures and great intentions, his heart never made it to the Holy Land. It was found among the dead and the disemboweled after a Moorish Sultan knocked the kilts off of Sir James and a few of his heroic friends.

     You don't know how lucky we are that Dad's heart wasn't stolen after the battle and sold to a travelling circus or some shabby English museum. Rest easy, for now it lies in a safe place at Melrose Abbey. I have buried it under the Chapter House floor.

     Don't tell anybody.

Your loving brother,

Scotty