Free Kingdom by Robyn Young Page B

others,’ he continued, his voice strengthening. ‘The men of Carrick and Ayr. The MacRuaries—’
    ‘The MacRuaries?’ Neil Campbell cut in. ‘You would trust the mercenaries to follow you, my lord? Those devils would stab you in the back the moment it was turned.’
    Robert glanced at Neil, whose vehemence was easy to understand. The MacRuaries were kinsmen of the MacDougall lords, who had killed his father and taken Campbell lands around Loch Awe. ‘Everything I know tells me the MacRuaries value plunder over kinship, Neil. Enough coins may buy their loyalty. As captains of the galloglass they have scores of fighting men and ships at their disposal. They could prove invaluable.’
    ‘And from my uncle’s lordships of Bute, Renfrew and Kyle Stewart you will find hundreds of tenants willing to fight, my lord.’
    Robert saw James Douglas had entered the circle. The young man had been tight-lipped all through the flight from Methven Wood, his gaze often on the land behind them, hope draining from his face with every day his uncle failed to appear. Now, something else burned in his blue eyes, something fierce and vengeful.
    ‘The steward fell,’ John said quietly.
    ‘None of us knows what happened to those left behind,’ Robert answered him sharply.
    James nodded in agreement. ‘If my uncle escaped the field he would have returned to his lands. But either way, Sir John, his vassals will fight. William Wallace was of their stock. Many still harbour desire for revenge against his executioners.’ He turned his gaze on Robert. ‘I will follow you west, my lord.’
    ‘As will I,’ said Christopher Seton.
    When Neil Campbell and Gilbert de la Hay added their support, Robert felt his confidence swell. He had underestimated his enemy and led his men blindly into Valence’s trap. They had paid a terrible price for that mistake, but these men in this hall had followed him through years of blood. They had suffered other defeats and had fought their way on to victory. He had lost a battle. Not the war. ‘We leave as soon as we are able. All of us,’ he added, for the benefit of the watching women. ‘We will rebuild our strength in the Isles. Then, when we return, Valence will pay in full for every life taken at Perth.’
    As his men responded with grim accord, Robert saw his half-sister, Margaret, at the edge of the gathering. She was searching the circle, her face full of question as she looked for her son.
     
    As the assembled men and women began to disperse, Christopher Seton watched Robert cross to his half-sister. Pity filled him as he saw the king’s jaw tighten. No one should have to tell a mother her son was missing, possibly dead. It was against the law of nature. But, then, it seemed the law of man had been dominant these past ten years and nature had sat back to watch, more children being taken by the war than by her whim.
    Feeling a hand on his arm, Christopher turned to see Christian, her eyes clouded with worry. Donald had quietened, resting his head in the curve of her neck, his blond hair brushing her chin. The boy’s face was screwed up in a frown, sensing, but not understanding, the tension in his mother and the adults around him. Such a little mite, thought Christopher, to be head of one of Scotland’s greatest earldoms. He cupped Christian’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so frightened, my love.’
    ‘How can I not?’ Christian tilted her head from his touch, not wishing to be placated. ‘My brother has lost half his army and our countrymen have joined our enemies, with the full strength of England still to come for us.’
    ‘You heard Robert: Islay will offer refuge while he gathers more forces. You and Donald will be safe there, I promise.’
    A cry made them both turn. As Margaret Randolph collapsed Robert reached to grasp her, but she sank to the floor, her cry stretching into a wail. The Countess of Atholl moved to hold her.
    ‘My poor sister,’ murmured Christian. She hugged Donald