The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(51)

The king smiled. “Well, then, you will just have to prove it to him.”

Any reluctance Kenneth might have felt was dismissed when he heard Bruce’s plan. It wasn’t without danger, but it should work to prove his “loyalty.”

Being sent to England on his first mission might not be his first choice, but he supposed there was one side benefit. He smiled. Lady Mary was in England. He just might have his chance to rekindle their “friendship” and exact a little retribution sooner than he’d anticipated.

Eleven

One Week Later, Candlemas, February 2, 1310

Berwick Castle, Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland, English Marches

Kenneth would never have guessed how quickly he would come to appreciate his training. But being tossed in a dank, pitch-black hole all night—Berwick’s pit prison—seemed luxurious compared to some of the “accommodations” he’d had on Skye. He’d actually slept quite comfortably once his nose desensitized to the lingering scent of shite and piss from the last occupant.

The first part of his plan hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as he’d hoped. His arrival and request to speak to Percy had caused a stir. He’d expected that. He just hadn’t expected that the first person he’d see would be Sir John Felton. It had definitely been a spot of bad luck to come face-to-face with Percy’s champion.

There had been tension between the two men from the first. Felton hadn’t liked the friendship that had sprung up between him and Percy. Nor had he liked it when Kenneth came close to besting him on the practice field with the sword one day—an act that he’d perceived as a challenge to his place as Percy’s greatest knight.

Upon seeing him and hearing that Kenneth was changing his allegiance once again, Felton had tossed him in the pit prison until he could find Percy. As it had taken him all night, Kenneth suspected he hadn’t been looking very hard.

The frosty reception from Percy hadn’t been much better, though the chill had warmed considerably when he’d heard what Kenneth had to say. Percy had barely blinked when Kenneth claimed to have had a falling-out with his brother after a heated argument over the recent attempt on Bruce’s life by his henchman (with whom Kenneth feigned sympathy). Shifting alliances were all too common in the long war, and Kenneth’s maneuverings to be in a position to claim his brother’s estates should Bruce lose might be opportunistic, but that also made it understandable. Kenneth also knew his well-known temper—damn MacKay for saying so!—was as much to blame for the ready acceptance of his story.

Perhaps he should be offended by how easily they’d believed him—except for Felton, who’d stormed out a short while ago in a huff—but he was just pleased that his stay in the pit prison would not be an extended one.

His new brethren wouldn’t have to come rescue him. At least not yet. He was being given a chance to prove himself. Kenneth was going to prove his loyalty to the English by betraying Bruce. At least that was how it would look.

He looked around the small solar at the decidedly more friendly faces. With Felton gone, there was only Percy, a handful of his most trusted knights, and Sir Adam Gordon.

Kenneth had been genuinely glad to see the older warrior. Sir Adam had been William Gordon’s uncle and head of the family. He’d been good to Kenneth when they were young, and when William had decided to fight with Bruce, they’d shared the disappointment.

When Kenneth had fought with the English, Sir Adam had looked after him, doing what he could to advance him in Edward’s army with choice words in the right ears. If there was anyone he looked forward to betraying less than Percy, it was Sir Adam.

“We will leave at sunrise,” Percy announced. “That should give us plenty of time to reach Ettrick Forest and intercept the supply carts before darkness falls. You are sure the attack is set for tomorrow night?”

Although English garrisons still held most of the important border and lowland castles in Scotland, including Edinburgh, Sterling, Bothwell, Roxburgh, and Perth among others, keeping them provisioned—especially those not accessible by the sea—proved a challenge. If the English controlled the strongholds, Bruce controlled the countryside, and the cart trains were often attacked by “the rebels.” Advance knowledge of one of these attacks was a difficult lure to resist. Adding Bruce’s phantom army made it impossible.

Kenneth wasn’t surprised that Percy had decided to go himself. The chance to capture members of Bruce’s secret army would tempt any Englishman with ambition or pretensions toward greatness. The reward from the king would be considerable, but being known as the man who’d finally caught the phantom band … that would make him a legend.

He nodded. “Bruce’s men like to attack at night in isolated areas. This pass in the forest right before the junction in the road to turn east toward Roxburgh,” he pointed to the spot on the map near the Aln River and the small village of Ashkirk, “was chosen for exactly that.”

“Furtive tactics,” Percy said with distaste.

“Aye,” Kenneth pretended to agree. “Bruce’s pirate warfare might work to capture supply carts, but it merely proves how ill-equipped he is to meet Edward’s army like knights on the battlefield.”

The coming war had been another reason given for Kenneth’s change of allegiance. But he understood what these men did not: that Bruce had no intention of taking the field against Edward until he was ready.