* * *
The day passed as if dragged by a stone, and with the ring of each bell announcing the next hour, Thomas willed the time to hurry. He worked his injured arm to loosen the taut muscles, grimaced at the shot of pain. Soon he and Alesone would depart Dair Castle.
In the solar he shifted in the chair before the hearth, returned his attention to his father, too aware of his brother, who sat at his side. Though Donnchadh had offered forgiveness, much still stood between them.
“Thomas, what of King Robert’s intent?” his father asked.
“He is leading his forces through the Garioch and deep into loyal Comyn territory,” Thomas replied.
The duke nodded.
“And Comyn?” Thomas asked.
“With the stakes so high, I believe he will detour around the king’s men and attack Dair Castle to capture his daughter in order to finalize the agreement with King Philip.”
His father grimaced. “With Bruce’s forces closing in on Inverurie, I didna think he would take the risk.”
“My thoughts as well,” his brother said.
A solid rap sounded at the door.
“Enter,” the duke called.
Wood scraped, then Sir John MacLairish limped inside, fading bruises still marring his face.
Thomas surged to his feet. “What is wrong?”
“On my way over here,” John said, “I came across the Bruce’s man critically wounded.”
“What!” the duke boomed as he and Donnchadh stood.
John bowed and then held out a missive secured with the king’s seal. “Your Grace, I carried the king’s man to Dair Castle, and he bade me deliver this to you.”
Eyes hard, the duke broke the imprinted wax round, unrolled the parchment, and skimmed the penned lines.
On edge, Thomas met his brother’s worried gaze, then turned to his father.
The duke slammed his fist against the table. “A sword’s wrath! Robert Bruce’s health is declining with the auld sickness. He has delayed attacking Comyn and has rerouted his forces to Slioch until he is well enough to fight.”
Donnchadh muttered a curse. “Nay doubt Comyn will be informed of both the king’s shift in plans along with his ill health.”
“Aye.” Thomas agreed. “News that will have Comyn increasing the number of men that he brings to attack Dair Castle.”
“Extra guards will be placed on the wall walk, and everyone within the castle is to prepare for an assault.” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Any questionable activity will be immediately reported to me.”
Donnchadh stepped forward. “I will pass along your command.”
The duke nodded.
Though pleased with how his family was coming together, Thomas damned that ’twas because of his arrival, one that placed those within Dair Castle in jeopardy. However much he didna wish to raise the point, it needed to be said. “With your fealty sworn to King Robert, neither will Comyn be coming for his daughter alone.”
His father scoffed. “I wouldna think much of Comyn if he didna confront me. Except any loyalty that I had to him is long since dead. ’Tis a grievous day when a Scotsman is in bed with the English, and betrays their country struggling to unite.”
“Aye,” Donnchadh agreed. “Beneath his bluster of aiding Scotland, King Edward wanted naught but to claim Scotland for his own.”
“Regardless of his reasons,” the duke said, “when Comyn arrives, we will be ready.”
However prepared for the upcoming battle, Comyn’s force was significant. If only they had the backing of the Knights Templar. Thomas stilled. But they did! “Father, several of my men travel with the Bruce. We must send word, explain the circumstance to our king. Given the gravity of the situation, I am confident he will honor my request to have my men, along with a contingent of his knight’s, ride to Dair Castle.”
