the rabble of
the border and were simply tolerated because no one truly wanted to oppose them
for fear that they would turn their aggressions on them instead of the English.
But, clearly, something had to be
done about Thomas Scott’s treasonous act, especially in lieu of the fact that
it cut into Dunbar’s greater plan. He was hoping to rely heavily on the Scott’s
when he united the border clans and proceeded to raid and destroy every English
fortress along the border, breaking down the English power-hold so that,
eventually, the Scots would retain all control of their stretch of the border.
This included tariffs, goods and services; anything that would fill coffers.
The McKenna of the McKenna Clan
sighed darkly; if he did not regain control of Thomas Scott, then his plans
could be ruined. He had been suspicious of the English messenger when Malcolm
had first told him of the arrival, but he truly had no idea what the missive
contained. Yet, in faith, he had suspected, Thomas Scott had been waging a
fierce war against one of the largest English fortresses for some time and
Dunbar believed the message might possibly be a peace proposal.
He could not complete his plan
without the Scott Clan. He needed their support, as daft as his scheme was. Yet
Dunbar could be convincing, and he knew once he gained support from one clan,
‘twould be a small matter of snowballing the effect until the entire border was
united, once and for all. No one knew of his strategy as of yet, not even
Malcolm. When the time was right, all concerned would be enlightened.
With Dunbar, it was always a grand
scheme. The grander the better, and if it did not work out, then he always
found someone else to blame and moved on. But this plan was by far his
greatest, except that Thomas Scott had thrown a ferret into the hen-house with
his damnable peace overture.
He had to do something about the
Scotts. Mayhap if he could convince the English that somehow Thomas had gone
back on his word, then he would not have to go to Thomas directly. Aye; a little
underhanded work was just the cure for an errant laird.
Dunbar signed. “Then we shall take
action,” he said. “Malcolm, how many bolts of Scott tartan can ye muster?”
Malcolm looked thoughtful. “Mayhap five
or so. Why?”
Dunbar turned to him with a wry
smile. “Think, lad; undoubtedly the English lord Jordan is pledged to will send
a mighty escort to return her to England. They will be passing into enemy land,
lad, their only safety guaranteed by the word of Laird Scott.” Dunbar sat in
his heavy oak chair with a look of thoughtful glee. “Say, upon return, the
English army is attacked from over the border by hundreds of Scotts. ‘Twill
look as if Thomas has gone back on his word, changed his mind and is attempting
to rescue his daughter. We shall leave enough of the English alive to return to
their laird and report what has happened. This will bring the whole bloody
question of a treaty to an end.”
Malcolm was a little stunned. “Ye
mean…ye mean to dress yer men in Scott colors to make it look as if the
Scott’s are attacking?”
“Exactly, laddie,” Dunbar said
smugly.
Malcolm nodded. “Well and good. But
what of Jordan? Do we, in fact, rescue her?”
Dunbar shrugged. “She would
recognize that the men baring Scott tartan were not Scott soldiers. She should
be killed.”
Malcolm balked. “I shall not take
part in murderin’ my own kin. And I might remind ye that Jordan was not happy
about the arrangement. She’s not a willing bride.”
“But she’s doing it, is she not?”
Dunbar shot back. “Aye, Malcolm, she’s as guilty as sin. Even if she is not
happy, as ye say, she’s still doing it.”
Malcolm was torn with indecision.
Dunbar had been more of a father to him than his own and he wanted to please him,
but he wasn’t sure about murdering Jordan.
Dunbar could see the dilemma and
stood up. “Now, lad, ye’ll inform me when the army is to arrive so that we