“And the English army, wheeling, started south at a gallop over the hill pass into Ettrick, followed by twenty men and eight hundred sheep in steel helmets.”

“And here, above the valley of Yarrow, Lord Culter and his brother and twenty men from Midculter in their wedding finery with, thank God, half armour beneath, waited to intercept the English army on its plundering march, with two shepherds, twelve arquebuses, some pikes, some marline twine, a leather pail of powder, shot, matches, some makeshift colours, and eight hundred rusted helmets from the Warden’s storehouse at Talla.”

“As a wee two hundred-year-old, I decided the south of England was much to my liking. A wee bit warmer and I prefer barbecuing my English sheep.”

“The big steel wheels creaked a couple times, then started moving.”

“Men are sheep. Which is why armies and wars are possible. They die victims of their stupid docility.”

“It is better to have a lion at the head of an army of sheep than a sheep at the head of an army of lions.”