Page 15 of The Forest Bride

“We shall see.”

Menteith curled his lip. “You even have the same damned castle ruin on the edge of my lands, which your father refused to sign over to me as I petitioned. Perhaps you stole my sheep and cows to fill the byre at Brechlinn.”

“I am not inclined to ride out in the middle of the night to steal livestock.” Duncan glared at him. “You are accusing theMacRuaris, sir, but if the fellow dies, that puts a darker turn on these charges.”

“No one is innocent in Scotland these days with so many changes in loyalty and secret alliances. Are you accusing me because I support Edward?” Menteith seemed full of himself.

“Why would I bother? Are you admitting guilt here?”

“Of course not.”

“Some do make secret bargains,” Constantine agreed. “For their own benefit.”

Menteith caught his meaning, his cheeks ruddy. Duncan sat silent. He would not poke the beast of William Wallace’s fate here and hoped Murray would refrain too.

“Sir John, we have other cases today,” Constantine went on. “Perhaps your livestock went over the stile in the night, as some do.”

“They are too stupid to do that. Someone led them.”

“Then explain the attack on a MacRuari on your land,” Duncan said bluntly.

“I came here to report the theft and swear that neither I nor my men harmed him. All I know is he and his brothers stole my sheep and cows, and I am owed for the beasts. That is my only declaration. I expect you will be neighborly in your decision, Sir Duncan.”

“I am sworn to be neutral, not neighborly.”

“Your inherited responsibility should include courtesy,” Menteith said.

“I inherited this position to provide impartial and educated opinions of matters with regard to Scots law and Brehon law, where the latter applies in the Highlands.” Duncan said the words almost by rote, having explained himself in several woodland courts for the past four years.

“Brehon law?” Menteith’s eyebrows shot up. “I wantcroif Gaelic law applies.”

“It does apply in this region, but under that law, the injured man has the right to demand payment. You would not get the fee.”

Menteith waved a hand. “Then make your decision. I do not have time for this.” He turned away.

“You are not excused,” Duncan snapped as Constantine handed him a new page.

“Look at this,” his friend murmured.

“As sheriff of Dunbartonshire, I am excusing myself,” Menteith said.

“One more question.” Duncan regarded the page in his hands.

“What is that?” Menteith fisted his hands. “I have duties to tend to.”

“As do we all,” Duncan murmured. “But it seems there was a recent incident along the Druimin Road east of Loch Lomond. Sir Constantine?”

“Aye. A few days ago, an escort party was attacked there. Three men were found dead in a nearby field. There were signs of a skirmish, with hoofprints, discarded weaponry, and other signs. A torn badge showed the Menteith insigne.”

“I know nothing about that.”

Constantine leaned forward. “Sir. According to the account of an innkeeper along that road, men wearing your badge and insignia were overheard at the inn saying they had taken a lady in a skirmish with others. A young lady.”

“What my men say in their cups is not my concern.”

“A witness reported similar details.”

“Sir John, you are attached to this issue because your badge was seen,” Duncan said. “Your men were overheard mentioning your name and an altercation that occurred on that road. And there are signs of an incident.”