Page 55 of Fearless Heart

James didn’t speak, but his eyes spoke volumes, as they darkened with his irritation.

Heath continued, “I’ve known the lass all my life and I couldn’t let her be taken to Robert. You ken she would’ve been stashed away, never to be seen again.”

“You should’ve told me, Heath.”

“I would have, but I was more concerned for her safety. The Comyns continue to search for her. Until they are thwarted, I will persist in keeping her hidden. Will you vow to include us in further missions? We care greatly about Robert and want to ensure his safety.”

James nodded. “Come, join me at the fire and I will speak of the fray.”

Heath rejoined his comrades and they sat about waiting to hear James’ tale. Their comrade passed around bread, which was too hard to eat. None of them partook.

James cleared his throat. “At the old MacDoughall’s behest, John Bacach came with a good number of men. Robert received word of his enemy’s movement and decided to meet them at the pass. They thought to ambush the king’s army, but Robert has become too clever to fall into such a simple trap.”

Graeme interjected, “Were they seeking retribution for the battle at Dalrigh?”

“Likely, but they were probably disappointed at the outcome for we overcame them from behind taking them unawares.”

Brodin whistled. “Damn, I wish I was here.”

James laughed. “Aye, the king and his army drove them upward, and me and my men downward. They were caught betwixt us. Many of my men chased them toward Dunstaffnage where I hope they perish from their wounds.”

“The MacDoughalls are finally defeated?” Liam asked.

“Aye, ‘tis likely the lot of them will pay homage to Robert, once they get their arses from hiding. Bacach escaped and is probably on his way to England with his tail betwixt his legs, the dog-faced traitor. But this day, we can at least claim victory.”

Graeme rubbed his face in obvious agitation that they weren’t there to see to the king. “At least Robert is safe and wasn’t harmed in the battle.”

James laughed. “It wasn’t much of a battle. Robert is growing more composed, and not as passionate as his sword arm once professed. I deem he’s finally thinking like a commander now. I am a mite proud of him.”

“That is good to hear,” Heath said. “What of the Comyns?”

“What of them? I promise you, by the end of the year, mayhap early next, the Comyn and their supporters will be exiled to England where the knavish dogs belong.”

“Regardless, there will always be those who supported the Comyns on Scottish soil.” Heath grew morose because their enemy would never be gone and he detested that Robert would have a never-ending battle on his hands.