Page 93 of Rebellion's Fire

The king’s eyes lit up. He was still young enough to find intrigue exciting rather than dangerous. He sat and waved Fergus eagerly to the chair next to his.

“I recently had an opportunity,” Fergus said, seating himself, “of meeting the sons of Malcolm MacHeth.”

*

Adam and Donaldwere with their Uncle Somerled in Kintyre when Fergus’s messenger reached them. After several raids into the heart of Scotland and a few successful skirmishes with local militia, they’d repaired west for a long-awaited reunion with the Lord of Argyll and the Isles.

Somerled, larger than life and twice as noisy, held his growing territory together with a fist of iron. He had to. The Isles belonged, in theory at least, to Norway, and the mainland to Scotland, and he had every intention of being king of both Argyll and the islands himself.

He laughed uproariously at the story of Adam’s marriage, which was told him in private after severe warnings on the importance of secrecy.

“I can see the need,” Somerled allowed, eyeing Adam with a mixture of pride and curiosity. “Well, by next summer, I should have matters settled in Man. And then I can meet this bride of yours, and together we can throw everything we have at the King of Scots. All the better if Fergus of Galloway joins us.”

“Talking of Fergus,” Donald said, “He’s aware that Mairead is our messenger to my father.”

“I know,” Somerled replied. “I heard from her, too. But I don’t believe it matters. To be honest, I’m surprised she wasn’t found out before this.”

“Perhaps the king knows and is allowing it,” Adam interjected.

Somerled frowned at him. “Why would he do that?”

Adam shrugged. “As imprisonment goes, my father’s is not the most arduous. Our activities haven’t made it worse for him. The king and his advisers, according to both Fergus and Mairead, are looking for alternatives to the current pointless situation.”

“Which is?” Somerled inquired with an air of fascination.

“That they don’t want the trouble of keeping my father in prison. It’s too costly, particularly when they’ll have to send the entire royal army against us in the end. Nor can they let him go to be an alternative king to the one who currently sits on the throne of Scone.”

“I’m sure you have a solution,” Somerled said.

“That in order to be released, my father swears allegiance to the crown, rather than the person of King Malcolm, for the earldom of Ross. In fact, the king is giving nothing away, since we effectively hold Ross in any case. And however the oath is worded, it wouldn’t prevent Donald and me continuing the fight.”

“You can be sure the king and his advisers are as aware of that as you are,” Somerled said dryly. “It won’t wash.”

“It might if we’re troublesome enough. If he has to send an army against Ross, it might as well be against all of us, rather than leaving my father still the focus for discontent. Anyway, none of this may be necessary. Fergus of Galloway claims to have the means to free my father.”

Somerled glanced from him to Donald and back, and reached for the ale jug. “How well do you know Fergus?”

“Well enough,” Donald said. “We think he wants to use us to topple the king and then seize the crown for himself. Or for his son. He probably even has a claim if you go back far enough.”

“He doesn’t,” Adam said flatly. “Which is why he wanted Cairistiona. And Gormflaith. But he’s more than capable of inventing one.”

“Then you don’t trust him at all,” Somerled observed with a worrying shade of relief.

“We trust him to bring about my father’s release,” Donald said.

“Why? He could never twist Malcolm mac Aed round his finger, even before.”

Donald didn’t look at his brother. “Adam’s seen it.”

Somerled groaned. “Damn it, Adam! I don’t doubt your gift—I’ve seen you right too often. But I can’t make policy decisions based on your dreams.”

Donald stared at him. “You already have. When you began this rising with us.”

Somerled drank a huge draught and banged the empty jug on the table. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I just wanted a fight. Come on, let’s go and eat with the men—they’re delighted to have you back, Adam.”

“I’m not back. We leave for Ross in the morning.”

His uncle threw his arm around his shoulders. “Do you have to be so bloody literal? So you’re back for a night. Enjoy it.”

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