Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(31)
Duncan knew how important it was to his cousin to prove himself. If they attacked now, Argyll could claim victory for his own. Privately, Duncan was inclined to agree with his cousin. Perhaps the more prudent course would be to wait for the king's men, but if the men held their positions, they would win without them.
“The earl is right,” Jeannie's father, the Laird of Freuchie, interjected. “It may take days for the king's men to arrive. With Huntly's men here,” he marked a small “x” on the rough map of the area they'd been poring over, “if we move south we can position ourselves here,” he pointed to a small hill above Glenlivet. “From there we will have the high ground from which to attack.”
All of a sudden, from his seat at the opposite end of the table, Duncan felt his cousin's gaze settle on him. “What do you think, cousin?”
An unnatural quiet descended over the room. Duncan knew what the men were thinking. What did it matter what the bastard son of Auchinbreck thought?
It was the first time his cousin had made public what many no doubt suspected occurred in private—the earl's reliance on his counsel. A reliance Duncan knew the others resented. Especially their cousin Lochnell, chief of the senior branch of Clan Campbell behind Argyll.
Archie had put Duncan in an awkward position, forcing him to choose between his father and his cousin. If Duncan sided with his father, and Archie followed Duncan's advice where he'd ignored that of more important men, the other men would be furious. If he sided with Archie, as he was inclined to do, he would be seen as pandering to his powerful cousin.
His father had obviously reached the same conclusion. Before Duncan could answer, he deflected the question—and the attention—away from Duncan. “My son is eager to fight by your side whether it's tomorrow or two weeks from now. As are the rest of us, but we do not want to act precipitously.”
“I think we should do as the earl says and attack tomorrow,” Colin offered out of turn, but no one paid him any mind.
The arguing continued back and forth for almost another hour, but eventually Argyll had his way: They would march tomorrow.
Using a map to delineate their positions, they planned their course. It was decided that the vanguard of four thousand men—mostly on foot—would be divided into three sections. The left flank, including the MacNeils and MacGregors, were to be commanded by Grant. The Campbells, commanded by Duncan's father and Loch nell, would take the center. The right flank would be under the command of MacLean of Duart.
Behind the vanguard Argyll would command the remainder of the army of six thousand men, this time divided in two divisions. “Cawdor will take the left,” Argyll said, “and the right …”
He looked at Duncan, clearly wanting to give the command to him. Duncan's heart pounded, anticipating the coup. It would be a great honor to be given such a command at his age—no matter what his station.
Again the room fell quiet. The resentment toward Duncan was palpable. Palpable enough for his cousin to sense it.
He saw the flicker of regret in his cousin's eyes before Archie shifted his gaze.
Duncan understood his cousin's predicament, but couldn't mask his disappointment. The day would come when Duncan's right to lead could not be denied, but that day would not be today. He was still too young, too unproven for his cousin to chance giving a bastard such a position of importance above the more senior clansmen.
Colin glanced at Duncan then back to Argyll. Duncan sensed his brother's anxiousness, anxiousness that seemed to be manifesting itself in unusual—even for Colin—brashness. Before Duncan could stop him, Colin volunteered, “I will take the right, cousin.”
“You?” Argyll scoffed, not bothering to hide his amusement. “You've barely earned your spurs, boy. Glengarry will take the right.”
Colin turned so red in the face, Duncan thought he might burst a blood vessel in his temple.
Damn. Their cousin had about as much tact as a charging boar. Archie didn't have to humiliate Colin like that. Eagerness—even misplaced—should be encouraged.
Duncan half expected their father to intervene, but instead of moving to pacify his son as he often did in these situations where Colin's rash tongue got him in trouble, his father stayed silent, studying Colin with a disturbed look on his face. Something was going on between his father and Colin, but Duncan had been so caught up in his own troubles he hadn't realized so until now.
Colin stewed angrily while the final details of the plan were worked out, and at long last the men stood up to go. Jeannie's father folded the map and started to slip it into his sporran, but Argyll stopped him with a distracted wave of his hand. “No, no. Let my cousin hold the map.” Both Colin and Duncan stilled, but it was Duncan who he spoke of. “He will be at my side tomorrow should I have need of it.”
His father looked as if he wanted to argue, no doubt assuming as Duncan had done, that he would fight beside his father.
Grant handed it over, giving Duncan a hard look, and for the first time acknowledging Duncan's presence. “If you think that is best, my lord.” It was clear he didn't; there was no mistaking the slur in his voice.
Duncan took the map and tucked it into his sporran, meeting the other man's anger and condemnation full force. Grant knew, Duncan realized. Any hope that he would be persuaded to the match faded.