“And choices that line your pockets?” another elder calledfrom the back.
“Nay, ’twas not my father’s way, nor is it mine. My uncle is a detestable, ruthless man who cares naught for those beneath him. Once I claim my birthright, I will rule with a fair hand, and the Romani will always be welcome on Dalkirk land, that I swear.” He scanned the crowd. “But I need your help.”
“Our ranks are not enough to seize Tiran Castle,” said a thin, bearded man seated paces away.
“Your aid will lend much to the campaign. I have already spoken with a man at the castle who is now working with those he trusts to build our ranks.”
Taog grimaced. “His name.”
Cailin hesitated, not wantingto divulge it.
“You ask us to risk our lives for your cause,” the leader stated, “we willhave his name.”
A fair request. Cailin gave a rough exhale. “SirPetrus Beaton.”
“The master-at-arms.” Taog raised his brow. “I am impressed. How did you manage to contact him without being seen?”
“There are secret entries into the castle. Ones we will use during the attack.” Cailin paused. “Once I leave here, I have several more influential people with whom I will speak to garner further support.”
“What if you canna raise a significant enough force to confront your uncle?” a slender woman tothe side asked.
Cailin met her gaze squarely. “Failure is not an option. I will not rest until Tiran Castle is back in its rightful hands.”
Silence fell upon the group.
And,” Cailin said, meeting each person’s gaze before continuing, “my loyalty is not to Lord Comyn, but to KingRobert Bruce.”
Gasps of surprise melded with hums of approval.
An elder with a long white beard stood. “I have never supported thebastard Comyn.”
“Nor I,” said a woman at his side.
Shouts supporting King Robertfilled the air.
Taog stepped beside Cailin. “Those who wish to join Sir Cailin to oust his treacherous uncle and restore the title of the Earl of Dalkirk to its rightful heir and swear their fealty to the Bruce, say aye!”
Ayes filled the air, and the elder who’d asked a question raised her fist in support, a smile widening the slender woman’s face.
Cailin glanced at Elspet. Though they had a ways to go, pride filled him at what they’d accomplished.
“’Twould seem,” Taog said as he offered Cailin his hand, “that you have our support.”
With a nod, Cailin clasped his hand. “I am forever in debt to you and your people.”
Taog turned toward the throng and lifted his hands. “’Tis timeto celebrate!”
Cheers rose from the group. Someone brought out a lute and anotherbegan to sing.
Cailin accepted each person’s vow of fealty as he moved through the crowd and thanked them for their trust. A long while later, his mind a whirl with names and a blur of faces, he searched for Elspet.
She sat near the fire, Taog at her side. A sad smile touched her face as her hand rested on the warrior’s arm and they spoke in low undertones. What did they discussso intimately?
Body tensing in what he refused to believe was something as simple as jealousy, Cailin walked over, nodded to the formidable leader, then met her gaze. “You are exhausted from travel. I thought you would be long asleep.”
Her face was wan in the soft glow of the fire as though the night’s chaotic events—despite their happy conclusion—had caught up with her. He must have looked somewhat fierce as she withdrew her hand from Taog’s arm. “’Tis a nightto celebrate.”
“Aye.” He settled beside her and accepted a cup of mead from a nearby man. Cailin took a sip, appreciating the strong, tangy brew, glanced toward Taog, and tried to ignore thinking of him as a rival for Elspet’s affections. He had no tie to her, other than a common goal. “My thanks again foryour support.”
