His commander nodded and pressed his hands over his tunic. “Aye, they practiced from sunup to sundown, Laird, and even the fledgling soldiers have improved. They are ready for any fracas and anticipate taking to arms.”
“Good, because I saw William Stewart when I passed his land and he told me that he married Danella MacLaren.”
“What say ye? He married your former betrothed? How did that come about? What a knavish traitor. I never trusted the Stewarts.” Gideon practically kicked at the dirt beneath his feet.
Breckin agreed but his ire at the situation had lessened on his ride home. “He said the MacLarens approached him about the marriage. It matters not now because I would not have given thought to taking Danella in marriage, not after they retracted the betrothal. And I suppose that I am somewhat pleased with Eva. Still, William professed to want to gain an alliance with us. Not bloody likely.”
“Nay, what a pile of cosh. The MacLarens are goddamned traitors and no alliance will change that. I suspect ye feel the same about the MacLarens,” Gideon grunted and seemed to be as appalled as he was.
Breckin nodded. “Of course I do, but I have no time to deal with them now. In the future, it may become a matter of concern and if we war with them, believe me, I shall bloody my damned sword to the hilt.”
Gideon scowled hard. “When that time comes, Breckin, we will rout them easily. They will rue the day they decided not to align with us. Ye need to consider what is more important…”
“What do ye mean, Gideon? Go on, ye can speak freely.” Breckin scowled at his commander because it was obvious that he was annoyed with him.
“We waste our time battling for lesser, weakened clans. We should forgo aiding them. Let them fend for themselves. We have bigger fish to skewer, Laird, namely the MacLarens and now, the Stewarts. They affronted ye with their insult of retracting the betrothal. That ye allowed them to get away with it, has long perplexed me. We should have taken arms against them right off. The MacLarens probably deem us weaker now. Have ye thought of that?”
Breckin allowed Gideon to finish his tirade and when silence fell between them, he set a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Ye know why we aid others. Until I find out the truth behind Marian’s death, I will not desist. As to the MacLarens and Stewarts, Gideon, we will deal with them eventually. Be patient for now.”
His commander sighed and with a nod, he drew away. “For now, Laird, but ye need to make a decision soon. Aid the weaker clans or become one ourselves.”
Suddenly, Breckin noticed that Aymer, the gate watchman, was sprinting toward him. “Laird, ye received a missive from Laird MacNab earlier this day. Ye rode by so quickly, I did not have a chance to give it to ye.” When he reached him, his soldier thrust the folded parchment at him.
“Damnation, I have no time for MacNab right now,” Breckin gripped the parchment. He kept his gaze on his aunt’s door in case Eva needed him.
Gideon took the missive from him and read it before he shoved it back. “He says that he must have our aid. Two of his soldiers were killed and he needs the protection of the Buchanans.”
“This could not come at a worse time. I shouldn’t leave Eva when she is ailing and newly arrived. Still, I suppose we should go. We promised them protection and the situation seems to warrant our arms.” Breckin reopened the parchment and read the plea for himself.
“Your aunt will look after your wife until we return. And my ma is the best healer in these parts. Lady Buchanan shall fare well in due time. Are ye worried about her?” Gideon asked.
He was worried but wouldn’t confess such a flaw to his commander. “I suppose we should head out then.” Breckin was displeased at having to attend to his duty because he’d hoped to get Eva settled before he left his land. But he’d told her that he was often gone. Hopefully, Eva understood that he had a sworn duty to his allies and a war that called to him.
*
The north wasrife with petty clan wars. Lesser armed clans didn’t stand much of a chance against the many arms of larger clans. Breckin fought for the wee clans but had grown tired of supporting them. He wasn’t obligated to battle against his ally’s rivals. Unless the matter concerned the Buchanans directly, he shouldn’t have involved his clan but it was too late for regrets now.
If not for his aim to give his sister salvation, he wouldn’t have bothered and only did so to gain God’s forgiveness. Now, immersed in battles that had no bearing on the Buchanans, he understood why his commander was also weary of it.
Soon, he would have to decide if he wanted to keep or end alliances. Now that he was married, Breckin considered that the time to end their participation approached. But what would he do if he wasn’t warring? That question had kept him awake during the nights on the trek to the MacNab land. The answers taunted him with whispers of his parents’ voices, telling him to strengthen the Buchanans, see to theneeds of his people, and beget heirs to carry on their traditions and name.
Was he softening? Was the lure of having a family and finding joy more meaningful to him now? Breckin hadn’t given much thought to having children. He had enough difficulty rearing his brothers. Yet the image of him holding a wee bairn in his arms, a babe that resembled the beauty of his wife, struck him. Could he find happiness with Eva? And that question nudged him to accept that he could. But could she be as happy with him? Such matters never concerned him before and now that they pressed on him, the weight of dejection made him utter a grunt.
“Bollocks,” he muttered, but then his relationship with Eva wasn’t completely hopeless. He’d find a way to get her to accept him.
“Och, what are ye ruminating about? I could guess by the look on your face.” Gideon chortled as he rode next to him.
“Naught but simple thoughts. Let us make haste so we can see to this matter that concerns the MacNabs.” Breckin urged his horse to a canter and rode ahead of his brethren.
At the border of MacNab land, Breckin spotted his ally lying in wait for him. He directed his men to take a rest until he questioned his ally. It had taken them two full days to reach Daniel’s land and he was anxious to find out what had happened to the MacNab soldiers. Breckin marched forward and ignored the awed stares of the men who lazed about at various campfires. None spoke to him or stopped him. He reached the center of their encampment where one lone tent was erected and waited. None of the MacNab’s men lit fires but stood about on guard. Within a moment, Daniel was alerted of his arrival. His comrade ducked beneath his tent’s entry and gave a quick wave.
“Laird Buchanan, Breckin, what took ye so long?”
“Daniel, I received your message and came as soon as I could.”
His comrade was dressed for war with chainmail on his torso and shoulders. A large sword hung from the belt on his hip. With a press ofhis short black beard, he grunted. “I did not deem ye’d come. Gladdened I am to see ye though. Come and I will tell ye what has happened.”
Breckin followed Daniel inside his tent. He stood by a table that held a pitcher full of ale. His comrade poured him a drink and thrust it into his hand.
