by Kara Griffin
“Aye,” Liam said, “And we’re eager to find him before he’s found and tortured for information. The lad doesn’t ken his peril.”
Hemm sighed. “He certainly is in danger for the Bruce will recognize him. Your squire is young and foolish. Do you deem the king will pardon you soon?”
Graeme shook his head. “’Tis unlikely for we heard King Robert is more concerned with continuing his parliamentary meetings. I doubt we’re significant enough to matter to him now that he’s regaining the kingdom.”
Liam leaned back in his chair. “Better he attends to the country than searches for us.”
Heath, along with his three comrades, found themselves in a dire situation. He thought back to when they traveled with the Bruce on the night of his unfortunate deed–when Robert had killed his only rival to the crown. Robert the Bruce betrayed by Robert Comyn, took matters into his own hands, and at the time, heated emotions instigated the Bruce’s deed. He’d killed Comyn near the high altar at Greyfriars Abbey with the thrust of his dagger. They’d fled with Robert, for if they were caught, it was unlikely there’d be justice. The English king sided with the Comyns and he would’ve been pleased to have one less enemy.
When the Bruce returned to Scotland after their imposed exile, he bid Heath and his comrades to stay on the isle. But he and his brethren took a sworn oath to protect the Bruce no matter what the cost. That oath wasn’t taken lightly. Even if it meant their death, they returned to the mainland and took up secretly protecting the now King of Scotland.
With their defiance, also came the threat that the king would set an example by them for disobeying his command. They’d be sentenced to execution for treason against the king, their lives no more. In the meantime, Heath continued to abide by his pledge to see the Bruce succeed in retaking Scotland. One day they’d be relieved of their duty and mayhap pardoned. He hoped that day came soon.
“Gilroy risks more than his own neck by going to the king’s festival. All want to know our whereabouts. It is imperative we keep hidden and if the lad is tortured, he’d surely give our location away. When I get my hands on him …”
Heath grinned at Liam. Their affront at the lad’s misdeed was warranted. Each had their own reason for not wanting to hail off to find him. Heath hoped to take on a few more jobs. Being a mercenary paid well, and he needed the coin, especially if he was to go forth with his plan once he could get back to his life. Liam recently wed and with his newfound family, wanted to stay close to the caves they’d made their home. Likewise, Graeme wanted to ensure his family was safe. Brodin, like he, was free of commitments and relished any employment where they could put to good use the skills they’d attained in recent years, namely their sword arms.
He tensed at the friar’s delay, but kept his voice free of irritation. “Friar, what news have you? We should leave at the soonest to search for the lad.”
Friar Hemm ran a hand through the short strands of his muddy brown hair and scoffed. “I received a missive from James …”
Heath shared a daunting look with each of his comrades. James Douglas was their only ally and connection to the Bruce’s movements. But he was formidable and definitely not trustworthy. The man was likened to a savage warrior, one who cared not who lived or died – as long as he prospered. “And why do you sound despaired by this? Does his message bode ill news? Is the king in danger?”
Hemm shook his head and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “He’ll tell you himself. He arrived shortly after his missive. I’ve sent one of the lads to awaken him.”
Graeme bellowed in laughter. “Are ye saying James Douglas is sleeping within the abbey?”
Their surly comrade bounded into the friar’s office before the friar could reply. His face in its usual everlasting glare and he opened his mouth to speak his disgruntlement at being awakened. But when he saw them, James muttered a curse and closed the door. “I’m gladdened to see you, relieved more like.”
Hemm frowned and gave a stern, silent warning at James’ blasphemy.
Heath grinned, as did the rest of the guard at the friar’s scold. “Did I hear the friar aright? You were sleeping? In a bed? Inside the abbey? Is this the same warrior who burned down his own fief rather than have the English occupy it?”
James grumbled and shoved Liam out of his seat. “Aye, jest if ye are wont, but I deserve a wee bit of comfort for I’ve slept on the hard ground for the past fortnight. Hell, for the past few fortnights. Listen, I come with distressing news. It’s about Robert.”
Heath folded his arms and waited. When James hesitated, he sat forward and shoved his shoulder. “Get on with the telling, James. We’re in a hurry.”
“You ken I have lads entrenched within a few of the Comyn holdings … One of my emissaries told me he overheard a plot to overthrow Robert.”
He wasn’t surprised to learn of such news because the Comyns would do anything to oust King Robert. They continually plotted to usurp Scotland’s king. “And how do they plan to do this?”
“You remember Alexander’s wife … Yolande had a bairn after our sovereign perished, but unfortunately the babe died during birth. Some speculated the bairn lived and Scotland’s Guardians took possession of the babe to keep it safe from those who wished to ill-use the king’s successor.”
Graeme whistled low. “And now the babe is old enough to put on the throne?”
“Aye. I ken not whether the child was a lad or lass, but the Comyns seem to know the identity of the child. They are in haste to abduct the child and be its advisors so they can rule the kingdom by proxy.”
“Christ Almighty, that child is in great danger if the Comyns succeed.” Brodin rubbed his eyes and face until he pressed back the dark strands of his hair. He looked as put out as the rest of them.
“Not only is the child in danger, but our king is as well, and Scotland too, for if they find Alexander’s heir, the child will have rites to the kingdom. Most would support the claim.” James sighed outright as his dejection.
“Does Robert ken their plan? Have ye told him?” Graeme asked.
“Nay, I have not spoken to him yet. I rode swiftly to get here to enlist your aid. I was hoping you could find the child before the Comyns and bring him to me so I can have Robert put Alexander’s bairn in his safety. The Bruce would do right by the child.”
Heath detested hearing such news. If Alexander’s kin lived, the row over the monarchy would continue with much more strife. Too many vied for the kingdom as it was. Yet Alexander’s relation would have first right to rule. Would that matter to the Bruce? If anything, the Bruce was devoted to their former king. He would give his fealty to the rightful leader, whoever it was. “Alexander’s child would be safer in Robert’s keeping than the Comyns. If the Bruce bends a knee to a new heir, it’d be best he take on the role of advisor. Do you have any knowledge where the child might be?”
“None at all. All I ken is the Comyns have set out to different locales to search for the child. My lads followed discretely of course.” James threw his legs upon the friar’s desk, to which he received a harsh reprimand. The friar didn’t speak a word, but showed his affront with another frown. James removed his legs and sat forward, his dark, almost soulless eyes beseeching. “Will you aid me in this task? There are no others I trust more than you.”
Graeme spoke up, “We should for we promised to see to Robert’s succession and this would definitely impact his sovereignty. Och we’re on our way to Ayr to search for Gilroy. He’s gone missing again. We’ll keep our ears and eyes open during the journey. If we catch any news, we’ll let ye ken. If you find out where we might look for the king’s child, send us a message and we’ll head out directly.”
“I need to go and relay this news to Robert. If my lads gather more details, I’ll definitely send word. You will retrieve the child when we find out where he or she is?”
Heath rose, he didn’t want to waste any more time discussing the matter. “We will. But now we must go. Enjoy your rest, James.” He
motioned to his comrades and each of them departed the friar’s office.
James followed and yelled out, “I cannot rest now. Damnation, I must see the king and impart this troubling news.”
They left the abbey and journeyed swiftly on the road that led to Hunter land where the king’s autumn festival was being held. Heath insisted they rest the horses but once during the ride. His warhorse tossed his head in objection at the constant ride and he noticed the harness was beginning to wear. He mended it as best he could, but would have to replace it at the soonest. Once he’d seen to the care of his animal, they set out again.
On the road to Kilbride, they crossed a large meadow and noticed a man sleeping in the field. Heath glanced across the vast meadow and chuckled to himself. The man slept bare arsed and took no care for his safety. He sidled next to Graeme and pointed toward the man.
“What make you of that?” Graeme asked.
Heath turned his gaze to the high brush along the meadow and noticed thicker stalks swaying. A huge beastie of a boar burst through the grasses and ran straight at the sleeping man. He twisted around and plucked an arrow from his satchel and set it in his bow. Heath kicked his horse’s flanks and bounded toward the vile animal. Just as the boar reached the man, the man sat up and crawled backward, trying to escape the inevitable horns and sharp fangs.
Heath took aim and released the arrow. The boar’s combat call screeched and echoed through the field. His arrow struck the animal in the neck and it ran two more steps before it fell to the ground unmoving. He reached the man and dismounted.
“Glory be, ye saved me arse.”
“You didn’t smell it coming? It reeks.” Heath plucked his arrow free and pivoted to return to his horse. No wonder he hadn’t smelled the boar, the man reeked of stench of the like he’d never experienced. Obviously he hadn’t bathed in possibly years. He chuckled to himself for it was probable he sniffed the man’s odor and not the boar’s.
“Wait, you’ve my thanks. The name’s Angus … Angus Sinclair.” He threw out his arm and greeted him with a grunt.
Heath grabbed hold of the man’s arm and helped him up. “The name’s Heath Fraser.”
“Who are those men? Friends of yours?” Angus motioned to his comrades.
“Aye, we’re passing through. Enjoy your supper for there’s enough meat to feed ye for days.” Heath turned and signaled to his comrades that all was well. They sat on their horses across the field awaiting him with astounded gazes.
“Won’t ye join me for supper. As you say there’s enough meat for you and your friends.” Angus kept his eyes fastened on his comrades far afield.
“I must be off.” Heath turned but Angus stopped him.
“My clansmen left me here to burn in the morn sun. I’ll wring their necks bloody when I catch up to them. I owe ye, friend. If ever I can repay you for saving me, you only have to name the price.” Angus reached for his garments and stomped off into the high brush.
Heath mounted his horse and laughed for Angus’ bare arse was his last view of the man. What’s more, the man was a hulking beast of a giant, covered with dark hair on most of his body. He resembled a boar and kind of reminded him of his uncle Andrew. A thought occurred to him, and Heath chortled, for he more reminded him of a bear, a great bulky, hair covered, and smelly bear.
With his redemption of the Sinclair, there was only one thing he needed to do before he rejoined his comrades. Heath lifted his foot and untied the tassel and removed a string. It was one less killing he needed to account for. After retying the tassel, he held the strings in his fingers, hoping to one day remove them all.
They set off again and reached the festival by midmorning the next day. As they approached the grounds, Heath peered ahead and noted the many flags and banners that flew atop the tents that littered the vast pastures. Smoke wafted from the countless cooking fires, and the scent of various animals roasting permeated the air. It was enough to make him nauseous. His view returned to the revelers and he lowered his chin.
Too many eyes and ears abounded over the grounds at the king’s autumn festival. Heath rode beside Brodin, quietly assessing those around him. With the hood of his cloak pulled down low, a shadow darkened his face. His clan was an ally of the Hunter Clan, and he well known by many. He couldn’t chance being recognized, for it might lead him to the executioner’s ax or the hangman’s noose, neither of which appealed.
Unfortunately they couldn’t cover themselves with the soot and oil they usually used when they traveled outside of their domain. Graeme’s grandfather spoke of an ancient warrior clan who used the tactic of covering themselves to hide from their enemies. The concealment aided them and kept them from being recognized on numerous occasions. Only now that they traveled to the festival, they couldn’t attend covered as though they were going into battle. It would be more of a hindrance than a help. Still, Heath detested being exposed to all those who would view him.
“Do you deem the king will actually come? You’d think with his prior meeting with parliament, he’d be too busy to attend such events.” Brodin sidled next to him and had been quiet until now.
“He risks his safety by coming here. Mayhap we should keep watch if he shows. He might need our protection.” Heath slowed his mount and moved closer to his comrade, lest they be heard for ears were ripe for any word of the king regardless of its implication. When they received news that the king met with parliament, they were relieved. The king made tremendous progress is retaking Scotland. Robert’s progress with the country aided them because they were one step closer in their desire to leave off and return to their homes.
“We’re far south. I would deem he wouldn’t want to travel this far below Stirling. Even with King Edward’s death, we have yet to discern what his son will do. Most of the English have abandoned the northern lands.” Brodin sat lax upon his horse, unaffected by the many around them. His carelessness often was a thorn of contention between the guardsmen, mostly because he thought himself indomitable.
Heath nudged his horse toward the corral that was set up for visitors. “He’s taken back most of the lands north of the Tay. Surely that will aid in his retaking the southern lands.”
“Mayhap, and with James’ aid, it shouldn’t be too difficult. One look from him and the English will flee for their lives.” Liam chuckled at his jest, but really it wasn’t much of a quip. Most feared James Douglas since his ambushes were legendary; the warrior was relentless in all manner of pursuits.
Heath grinned because James was indeed formidable enough to retake many a besieged fortification, and without much effort. Additionally, their comrade was brash and unreasonable effectuating a terror to those he opposed. James was one hell of a battle weapon himself. “Robert should still guard his safety even with James’ assistance.”
Brodin dismounted his horse and led the steed by the reins. “Let us rest the horses and get on with this task. Damned blighter best be found quickly.”
Heath sighed at the mission. “Aye, let us find the troublesome lad before his neck ends up in a noose. I cannot believe he went astray again.”
Graeme maintained a low tone, “I tire of his foolery. I’m resigned to let him fend on his own even if we must relocate.”
He agreed, but they needed to find him. “He’s in as much peril as we if he’s found. And before the king calls for his execution, he’ll be tortured. Gilroy would babble akin to a fast moving brook, for he’d have no choice.” Heath shook his head at the thought, for the lad would surely give away their location under duress. There was no time to relocate to another area. They were all in a dire situation. Gilroy needed to be found at the soonest–at least before he was spotted by the king.
With the autumn festival at the height of attendance, many traveled afar to Hunter’s lands. Heath tended to his horse and kept watch for anyone he knew. He didn’t want to be recognized, for eyes cast everywhere. The Hunters were a friendly clan to his, and he knew the laird, his wife, and children, and had grown up
with the two eldest sons. Laird Hunter and his father allied many years before and since became close friends.
Of their five children, his favorite was the only girl. Lillia. Last time he’d seen her, she was up to her knees in a bog and begging for his aid. If only he’d used caution, because the lass was intent to have him covered in muck too, and he landed face-first in the bog. He grinned at the remembrance, for her brothers often played tricks on her, and she on him.
“What has you grinning?” Brodin finished tending to his horse and awaited him.
He patted his warhorse’s neck and couldn’t cease the smile that came upon him. “Nothing but frivolous pondering. Thinking about my past.”
“It must be a pleasant memory for I’ve never seen you smile so. Has it to do with a woman?”
“Cease this nonsense and let us onward to find Gilroy,” Graeme said, and led the way toward the makeshift village.
He was gladdened at not having to answer Brodin. Heath kept his life private as much as he could and only told his comrades bits of his life before his service to the Bruce. “There are many here, it could take a wee bit to find him. I’ll wager the coin I find him first.” He held out the coin they used in wager. The ancient coin was brought back from the crusades by their comrade, Graeme’s grandfather, and a remarkable tale told of its use. Laird Cameron used the coin to bring together two rival clans. In doing so, they defeated the enemy forces.
Graeme often told stories of his grandfather’s fetes. He used the coin to bring them together in comradery, and yet even without the coin, they would have stuck by one another. Especially given they were exiled together and now secretly aided the king. The most intriguing of the tales were that of the Knights Templar. Heath was captivated by their duty and honor and swore one day to become one of the notorious order. He’d give his life to the faith, as he’d always wanted.
Heath left the corral and ambled next to his comrades. Someone dashed at them, a young lad, and he kept coming. He held out his hand and stopped the lad from running into them. The lad almost fell backward, but righted himself.
