The Ranger (47 page)

After the fall of the castle, her mother and sisters had been permitted to follow her father and brothers into exile, but Bruce wanted her grandfather’s support. Whether he would earn it from the old warrior, she did not know, but she was glad to have at least one member of her family here on her wedding day.

And of course she had Squire. One day she’d force Arthur to tell her how he’d managed to sneak the puppy out of the castle when it was under siege. She’d blubbered like a fool when she saw him, having to explain to a confused Arthur that she was happy. He’d claimed to regret it every day since when the besotted puppy followed after him, but she knew he didn’t mind half as much as he pretended to. Accepting—nay, trusting—affection came easier to him now.

That Arthur had gone to such efforts to see to her happiness had moved her beyond words.

When he’d done the same with her brother Alan the day before the castle fell and her family had fled to England, she’d been nearly inconsolable with joy. Seeing her brother, knowing that he did not agree with her father’s decision and would not cut her off completely, was more than she could have hoped for. Alan was loyal to their father, but that loyalty did not come at the expense of his love for her.

Aye, she had much to thank her new husband for.

“And what of you, Arthur? I know you must be disappointed that not all your fellow guardsmen could be here.”

Anna had not been told all the details about Bruce’s elite guard, nor did she ask, knowing that secrecy was what would keep her husband safe. But she knew they were the most elite warriors in Scotland—the best of the best in all disciplines of warfare. She’d always suspected there was something special about Arthur, but she’d never imagined how special.

She’d figured out a few of their identities as well. Her uncle. The two men with him who’d helped to free Arthur—Gordon and MacKay. The ridiculously handsome Gregor MacGregor, who’d been part of the attack all those months ago—his face was one that was hard to forget. And it seemed she was correct to suspect that the fierce-looking Islander Tor MacLeod was one as well, as was the wickedly charming Norseman Erik MacSorley. Both men had been seated near the king with their wives, although now only the women remained.

She might not know all the details, but she knew enough to understand how important these men were to him—even if he didn’t.

But he would.

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. “There is peace in the north, but along the borders there is still unrest. I’m sure they would have been here if they could. Gordon is to be married soon; perhaps I will see them all then.” He paused. “There is much to do before the king holds his first parliament next spring.” His gaze traveled to a table just below the dais. “I’m glad my brothers could be here. It’s the first time all of us have been in one room in years.”

Sir Dugald and Sir Gillespie had submitted along with her grandfather and Ross; surprisingly, they seemed to harbor little ill will toward Arthur. But from the expression on Sir Dugald’s face as he argued with Sir Neil, the same could not be said of Dugald’s feelings toward his elder brother.

“From the looks of it, maybe it could have waited a few more.”

He chuckled. “They’ve always been like that. Fierce rivals even when they were lads. I think that’s why Dugald allied himself with the English for so long—so he wouldn’t have to follow orders from Neil. They’ll work it out. Eventually.”

Anna could see him start to look around the room again. “Are you ready to dance?” she asked anxiously.

He lifted a brow. “I’m ready to go to bed.”

Unconsciously, her gaze shot to Gregor MacGregor again. Much to her relief, this time he nodded.

When she turned back to Arthur, however, his eyes had narrowed. “Do you mind telling me why every time I mention bed, you look at MacGregor?”

She blushed.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he demanded angrily. “You’re up to something—and don’t try to tell me you’re not, I can feel it.”

She lifted her chin, annoyed by his perceptiveness. “I thought I was supposed to be your blind spot.”

“You are,” he gave a sharp wave of his hand, “but he’s not.”

It wasn’t easy trying to surprise someone who picked up on every nuance, noticed every detail, and sensed every thing around him. He’d even noticed the changes in her body before she did—informing her that they had better move up the wedding or their child was going to be very large for two months early.

She gave him a smug look. “You’re jealous.” She let her gaze slide back down the table, taking a long, considering look. “He’s quite handsome, your friend.”

Arthur’s scowl only grew darker. “He won’t be so pretty much longer if you keep looking at him like that. And you’re stalling.”

She gave up in a huff. “Very well, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“
What
to be a surprise?”

A short walk outside the castle gates later, he discovered the reason for the subterfuge. Standing in a clearing before a single standing stone with the orange halo of the setting sun behind him, King Robert the Bruce stood in full kingly regalia. Flanking him, spread out like an iron wall, their features masked by the darkened nasal helms, were the other ten members of Bruce’s secret guard.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, giving her a swift look of incredulity. “Did you have something to do with this?”

She shook her head. “It was King Hoo—” She stopped at her husband’s look. “King Robert’s idea,” she amended, though it still didn’t fall easily from her tongue. “My mission was to distract you.” She made a face. “A mission it seems I failed.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I think you succeeded admirably.”

She beamed. “Go. They’re waiting for you.”

Arthur was finally going to have the ceremony he’d never had. The one denied him by his role as a spy. These men were a part of him, just as she was. She folded her hand over her stomach. And soon, as their babe would be.

He gave her another kiss. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Always
. Just as he would always come back to her. The man who’d once looked at the door as though he wanted to leave had found the place he belonged. And in a world where peace was as fragile as a sliver of glass, Anna had found her rock.

She watched him walk toward the others, a fierce swell of pride and happiness filling her chest. When he reached the others, she started to walk away.

She’d made it only a few feet beyond the circle of trees, however, before two women stopped her.

“Where are you going?” Tor MacLeod’s wife, Christina, asked in a hushed voice.

Anna tried not to be awed by her beauty, but it was impossible. Christina was as exquisite and refined as a faerie princess—especially compared to her terrifying-looking husband. He looked torn out of the pages of some ancient Norse myth. “I ... I thought I was not supposed to watch.”

The second woman smiled. Though not in the same realm of beauty as Christina Fraser, there was something calm and pleasing about the brash seafarer Erik MacSorley’s wife, Elyne. Anna had been shocked to discover she was the daughter of the Earl of Ulster, a close friend to the English king. But she was also sister to King Robert’s imprisoned wife, Elizabeth. Another divided family, it seemed.

“We’re not,” Elyne said. “But that’s not going to stop me. I didn’t get a chance to see my husband’s. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

“Won’t they be angry?” Anna asked.

Christina gave her a saucy grin. “They’ll get over it. Besides, I want to see what kind of marking they give him.”

Anna gave her a perplexed look. “He already has one. It’s the lion rampant. I thought all the men had one.”

“They do,” Christina answered. “But they decided to add to it after the spider in the cave. Have you heard the story?”

Anna nodded. The story of Bruce’s spider in the cave had already become legend.

“To honor the occasion, Erik decided to add a band around his arm like a torque,” Elyne said. “It looks like a spider web. Because he’s a seafarer, he incorporated a
birlinn.
” She smiled. “Once the other men saw it, they all decided to get one.” She laughed, rolling her eyes as if to say,
Men
.

“Come.” Christina grabbed her hand and dragged her back through the trees. “It’s begun.”

Together, the three women watched from the shadows as Arthur kneeled before the king, taking his rightful place among his fellow guardsmen—and friends.

Steadfast
, the sword the king gave him said. Anna couldn’t agree more.

The Battle of the Pass of Brander was a key battle of the Wars of Scottish Independence. It stands not only as an example of the shift in Bruce’s war tactics (he ambushes the ambushers), but also harkens the precipitous fall in fortune of the MacDougalls and a shift of power in West Highland politics to another branch of descendants of Somerled, the MacDonalds, and to the Campbells, who were to profit from the MacDougalls’ misfortune.

There is some disagreement among historians as to the time of Bruce’s Argyll campaign, when John of Lorn fled to Scotland, and the fall of Dunstaffnage Castle. I went with the more conventional date of the summer of 1308, but some have argued that the final capitulation of Argyll did not occur until 1309.

Although I give a fictional account of the battle, I incorporated many of the actual events, including John of Lorn commanding his men from a
birlinn
in the loch as he was thought to be still recovering from the illness that had necessitated the truce the year before. When the attack failed, Lorn was said to have retreated down the loch to one of his castles.

But one detail of the battle in particular gave me the idea for the story, when I read about a scout who was supposed to have warned Bruce of the ambush, thereby saving the day. It sounded like the perfect job for my elite scout, Arthur Campbell.

The character of Arthur Campbell is loosely based on “Arthur of Dunstaffnage,” the brother (or possibly the cousin) of Neil Campbell. As his designation suggests, he was appointed the constable of Dunstaffnage Castle after the war. This fit in nicely with my MacDougall heroine—although Anna is a fictional character and the name of Arthur’s wife (if any) does not survive. Interestingly, however, a betrothal agreement between Arthur and Christina (MacRuairi) of the Isles did exist, though they were never married.

What also fit in nicely is that Arthur—along with another brother, Dugald—was said to have been aligned with the English for a time, later coming over to Bruce.

“Arthur of Dunstaffnage” is probably not the Arthur who is the progenitor of Clan MacArthur. It seems most likely this Arthur was from a different (and possibly senior) branch of the family, the Campbells of Strachur (the sons of Arthur). But there is plenty of confusion and different theories about the MacArthur lineage, including a direct descent from King Arthur. An old Highland proverb says, “There is nothing older, unless the hill, MacArthur, and the devil.”

Neil Campbell was one of Robert the Bruce’s most important and loyal supporters. Indeed, Neil would eventually marry the king’s sister Mary when she was released from her cage above Roxburgh Castle (around 1310). As was common for an age with so many widows and widowers, Mary would wed again on Neil’s death. Readers of the first book in the series,
The Chief
, may be interested to know that her second husband was Alexander Fraser, Christina’s brother.

An interesting aside about Neil gives a little color to the age: Neil’s first wife was said to have been a daughter of Andrew Crawford. Neil and his brother Donald, who had been made guardians of Crawford’s two daughters, decided to take the sisters for wives—literally—by abducting them.

John of Lorn, also known as John Bacach (lame John) and John of Argyll, was a key figure in West Highland politics, responsible not only for Colin Mor Campbell’s death at the Battle of Red Ford, but also for the death of his kinsman Alexander MacDonald, Lord of Islay (Angus Og’s brother).

Allied with the Comyns by marriage, Lorn suffered greatly for his loyalty to that family and his hatred of Bruce—which, given Bruce’s murder of the Red Comyn, was probably understandable.

Lorn’s use of female messengers was my invention, but the frustration with messages gone astray is not. A number of letters from the period survive, including a recently deciphered letter from the sheriff of Banff to Edward II, where he complains of messengers being killed.

Similarly, Lorn’s frustration at being left alone to deal with Bruce and the difficulty in garnering support from the local barons is based on surviving correspondence from Lorn to Edward II, where he claims to have been forced to truce with Bruce because he was ill and the “barons of Argyll give me no aid.” (
Robert Bruce
, G.W.S. Barrow, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh, Scotland, 2005, pg. 231.)

The source of Lorn’s illness does not survive. The heart attack and subsequent heart problems were my invention that happened to go along with his propensity to have violent fits of temper. Similarly, the source of the debilitating illness that hit Bruce in the winter of 1307 is also not known. Although some historical rumor had it as leprosy, the latest supposition is that it might have been scurvy. Whatever the cause, it hit the new king hard—reputedly nearly killing him. Bruce was supposedly carried into battle at Inverurie by his men.

The brooch Lorn wears in Chapter Two, reputedly ripped off Robert during the Battle of Dal Righ, is still in the hands of the MacDougall chief and made an appearance as recently as fifty years ago. However, some experts have suggested that the brooch in question dates from a later period.

The Battle of Red Ford happened differently than the way I portrayed it. Rather than an ambush, Colin Mor and John of Lorn met near a burn that fed into Loch na Streinge (later called
Allt a chomhla chaidh
, the burn of the meeting). Discussion degenerated into argument, and then into battle. The MacDougalls were outnumbered, and it looked as if they would lose, until Great Colin was shot and killed by an archer from behind a boulder.