Page 84 of The Falcon Laird
Gavin withdrew a folded parchment from inside the fur-lined surcoat worn over his black tunic against the chill. He set the page on the table. “Hastings writes he is outraged that a group of Bruce’s men, including Bruce himself, attacked a patrol of Hastings’s men just a mile from Kilglassie.”
“Does he know what truly happened?” Fergus quickly.
“He mentions new allies of Bruce. A blond warrior, he says, and an older man were described. Both are loyal to Bruce, who fought with them.”
“You were not recognized,” Christian said in disbelief.
“Remarkably not. Oh, and a wild-tempered priest was with them.” He shot a glance at Fergus. “I am to look for them. Hastings suspects the priest was the Scotsman he met here. He demands his capture.”
Christian gasped. “You cannot arrest Fergus!”
“Of course not. Or the others in the rout—myself, my uncle. Your cousin.”
“Well, I have not heard a word of such a rout,” Fergus said. “I was in my church most of that day. Lady Christian was with me.” He smiled innocently.
“By God’s own body, you are a subversive Celtic priest,” Gavin said with a flat laugh. “But just as well we were not recognized. I was not declaring for the Scottish cause, just protecting my own. Nor did I expect the help that arrived out of the wood.” He cocked a brow at Fergus. “I think you might know something about it. Why was Bruce close to Kilglassie?”
Fergus shrugged. “He comes and goes in this area. Perhaps he heard his cousin is newly arrived.”
Gavin scowled. “Just a wee visit to the lady and her English husband?”
“Mayhap only luck sent him here when we needed help. Be grateful for it, man.”
“I am grateful. I owe Robert Bruce much and I will not speak of this to Hastings. But I want to be certain my priest”—Gavin cast a wry look at Fergus—“is not planning a revolt within these walls.”
“Me?” Fergus shook his tonsured head.
“I am risking King Edward’s disapproval as it is. I am rebuilding Kilglassie, and also doing what I can to delay the installation of Edward’s garrison.”
“Are you thinking o’ declaring for the Scots, then?” Fergus asked hopefully.
“It is wiser and safer to support neither side just now,” Gavin said. “I will wait and say naught, and rebuild slowly. Bruce needs time to gather men and arms. By spring he may be ready for battle. I think he will head into the midlands of Scotland. Edward will pursue him there and leave Kilglassie in peace.”
“Edward will leave us alone only if Kilglassie’s gold is gone for certain,” Christian said bitterly.
“Bruce gathers support daily, and Edward’s ire grows over that,” Gavin explained. “It may take a miracle for Bruce to gather enough men to drive the English out. Many Scots still favor Edward’s rule.”
“Or at least fear the English enough to place their fealty in the wrong place,” Fergus muttered.
“You sound as if your fealty leans more toward the Scots, Gavin Faulkener,” Christian said quietly.
He looked at her. “My oath was given to Edward of England.”
“But your heart is not with him,” she said.
Gavin shrugged as he picked up the parchment and slid it back inside his tunic lining. Whatever was bubbling and burgeoning in heart and mind, he was not ready to talk about it.
“And you owe Bruce a debt of honor,” Fergus said.
“True. Christian might be captured now and we might all dead if not for Bruce and his men.”
Fergus leaned toward Christian. “We’ll make a rebel of him yet,” he murmured. Gavin saw his wife blush deep pink. He smiled, watching her with her friend, and said nothing. He knew there was a hint of truth in Fergus’s words, but again, he would remain silent.
A swift pounding of feet on the steps outside the hall, accompanied by high-pitched screams, caused Gavin to turn, startled. Christian jumped to her feet as the door banged open. The children ran in, shrieking, faces pale, eyes huge. Will gestured wildly toward the steps. Robbie and Patrick and Michaelmas pointed too, all of them shouting at once.
“King Arthur!” Will shrieked. “King Arthur!”
“What do you mean?” Gavin asked, coming forward. He put a hand on Will’s shoulder.
