Chapter Twenty-One: Sharing the News
The trail they followedwas well traversed and clear, and they made great time across Dumfries, veering southward toward Locherbie where the supposed meeting was to take place.
James had informed Shabib of their plan to camp in Lochmaben wood northwest of the manse. As they approached, the red dragon banner peeked through the lush green oaks and rowan trees, guiding the trio to the king’s small encampment.
Thomas and one of MacCollough’s men approached them as they neared, grabbing at Shabib’s and Tosia’s reins to control the horses.
Shabib bowed low at the men and slid off his steed. Though these men might not know him directly, the Moorish kin of Black Douglas held his own renown, and they asked no questions about who Shabib desired to see.
Tosia followed behind Shabib, hiding in the flapping folds of his robes. Visiting a military encampment, even a small one of only five tents as this one was, unnerved Tosia. The sheer number of gruff Highlanders with their swords nearly as long as she was daunting. Tavish fell in line right behind her, and some of the rigid tension left her shoulders being buttressed by both men.
James’s dark head poked out of a tent near the center of the camp, one he assuredly shared with the Bruce. Her assumption proved correct, as the Bruce’s own burnished head followed out of the tent.
“Shabib?” James exclaimed, his shock only evidenced by a slight elevation of his thick black brows. Those brows rose higher when he noted who hid behind his man. “Tosia!”
James pushed past the tent flap and rushed for her, his powerful hand seizing her upper arms with such vehemence as to bruise her fair skin. She grimaced at his grip, but he didn’t loosen his hold.
“What are ye doing here?” Then, keeping his fierce grasp on her arm, he whipped his head to Shabib. “Why did ye bring her here? Do ye no’ know the danger ye’ve put her in?”
His voice, normally gruff to begin with, took on a more hostile tone, one that made her cringe from him in fear. Tavish puffed up his chest and stood next to Tosia, trying to place himself between Tosia and her husband.
The James she’d come to know and love was gone, abandoned back at Auchinleck. The Black Douglas stood in his place, the full monster of reputation. She feared him in a way she hadn’t experienced since they’d first wed, and even with her brother, Shabib, and the King of Scotland surrounding her, the fury that burned off him sent waves of shuddering panic through her entire being. He’d just as soon kill her as he’d listen to anything she had to say.
Shabib, however, didn’t seem to fear the snarling beast and placed a sinewy hand on James’s shoulder.
“Sir James. You assume much. Temper yourself and permit the lass to share her tale. Do you think me so lack-witted I’d risk bringing her if I didn’t believe it was absolutely necessary?”
James’s eyes were naught but slits, and his furious gaze shifted between among the three of them. The Bruce joined Shabib and offered his own counsel.
“James, it would behoove us to hear what your wife has to say. She did ride all this way.”
The mocking tone of the Bruce’s final words forced James to tilt his face sidelong at his king.
“’Twould appear I am outnumbered,” he said, dropping his crushing grip from Tosia’s slender arms.
He didn’t move from her, rather he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close to his side. James led her to a tree stump for use as a seat and settled her on it. Robert sat on another tree stump next to her. James elected to stand above them, his arms crossed over his rigid chest.
Shabib and Tavish moved behind her, serving to support her as she shared her news with her infuriated husband and her king. Shabib flapped his hand at her.Go ahead,he gestured.
“James, I was working in the garden, near the wood, and I heard a sound. I ventured in to find a man.” She lifted her golden-amber eyes, pleading. “’Twas Simon, dear husband.”
At that name, he stiffened, the hardness in his face shifting into something akin to interest.
“Simon, the soldier lad?” he asked with meaning.
Tosia nodded.
“What soldier lad, James?” the Bruce asked. James cut his king a treasonous look, then turned his face back to Tosia.
“What did Simon tell ye?”
“That he owed us, me, a debt, and ‘twas time to repay. He detailed the trap the English are setting for ye as we speak.”
Several men who’d been eavesdropping glanced around the wood, as if the English were trapping them right there.
