Page 60

Craig stopped and turned. “Let him in!” he shouted.

As he marched towards the opening gates, a man on a horse galloped in. The rider jumped on the ground, and Craig saw his red-and-weathered face. He had clearly been on horseback for a while.

“What’s the news?” Craig said.

“Yer father’s letter.” The man went into his coat and retrieved a parchment.

“Thank ye, friend. What of my father, was he well? My brother Domhnall?”

“Aye, lord. Yer father, uncles, and yer brother have all been well. I came all the way from Garioch.”

Garioch was Bruce’s estate near Aberdeen, all the way across Scotland to the east.

“Rode five days,” the man continued. “The king has taken ill.”

“What?” Craig unfolded the parchment.

But before he could read it, Owen came to stand by his side. “What’s the news?”

Craig glanced around. His men were stopping their training, watching him anxiously. He didn’t want to announce any bad news or start a panic before he knew what the message contained and what he needed to do.

He clapped the messenger on the shoulder. “Ye’re tired. Ye did well, man, coming here so hastily. Go to the great hall, find my wife, she will serve ye something to eat and drink.”

“Aye, thank ye, lord.”

When the man left them, Craig turned to Owen, who watched him with concern.

“Come,” Craig said. “Let us see what father says.”

They retreated to the Comyn Tower, to the lord’s private chamber where they’ve been sleeping. The room was empty and crisp since the fire had died, the sleeping rolls unmade. Craig opened the shutters to let more light in, and the two of them sat at the big table in the middle of the room.

Craig unfolded the parchment and read out loud.

Beloved Craig,

I write with good and bad news. With God’s will, yer father, brother, and uncles are all well and healthy. Cousin Kenneth was wounded in Urquhart but is healing.

Our king has been successful. We followed Great Glen and seized Urquhart Castle of Loch Ness. The Bishop of Moray’s forces joined us, and we took Inverness Castle and burned Nairn. The king has made a temporary peace with the Earl of Ross.

Now another Comyn, Earl of Buchan, is marching against us. Having 700 men, we are in a good position to win, but there are bad tidings.

The king has taken gravely ill. He canna walk or ride. He is very weak, and we have no food or shelter in the woods. We will carry him to Inverurie where he can rest. Pray for yer king’s health because without him, this was all for nothing.

With the Earl of Ross out of the way for now, and Great Glen under Bruce’s control, ye in Inverlochy control access to Bruce’s lands from the west, and the castle’s position is more important than ever to secure this victory. It seems the tide of the war has turned in our favor.

Now everything depends on the king’s health.

Ye’re his left hand from the west. I ken ye would rather die than let him down.

May God bless ye, Owen, and yer garrison.

Yer father,

Dougal Cambel

Craig looked up at Owen. He was frowning, studying the parchment.

“We are the key to Scotland from the west now,” Craig said. “I should have found masons and repaired the damage to the wall right away. But it isna too late.”