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He turned to face her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure you can cope? He is not pleasant company when he is ill.” And, these days, the Earl of Roxburghe was rarely other than ill. “’Tis not just looking after him. The clan requires leadership, and there are those who would exploit our father’s weakness.”
“You mean Angus,” Flora stated. She referred to their father’s cousin who never ceased to argue that he deserved more power, more respect within the clan.
“Mainly. But he is not the only one tae bear a bit o’ watchin’. The clansfolk will avoid payin’ their tithes if they can, an’ our father is liable to forget to send for the money.”
“I can deal with Angus MacKinnon. He is arrogant and greedy, but also a fool. And I shall make sure the tithes are called in and our coffers kept filled. Have I not been doing so for the last two years?”
He kissed her forehead. “I know I can rely on ye, wee Flora. We all can. Ye will be sure to send for me, though, should it be needful? He is becoming unpredictable, an’ I do fear for all of Clan MacKinnon while our earl is in this sorry state. Edinburgh is just a day’s ride from here. If you summon me, I shall return at once.”
“I will. And do not fret about Roxburghe. We shall do well enough without you. When do you leave?”
“I had planned to set off at first light tomorrow. I dinnae ken when I shall be back, but it may be several months.”
“I shall write to you with news of home, and I expect to hear from you regularly.”
He offered her a lop-sided grin. They both knew he was poor letter-writer. “Remember, sweetling. I can be here within a couple of days, should you need me.”
The summons, when it came, was not from Flora. Robert was interrupted during a meeting of the king’s privy council by word that a messenger had arrived and required to speak with him at once. Robert excused himself and hurried outside to the forecourt in front of the royal residence. He was surprised to find young Andrew MacKinnon, the son of his cousin, Angus, waiting for him.
“Andrew? What brings you to Edinburgh?”
“My lord, ye’re needed at home. There is such trouble brewing…”
“Over here, where it is quieter.” Robert led the youth to a more secluded corner where they would not be disturbed. Or overheard. “Tell me.”
“It were at Byrness, my lord. The English…” The lad paused, clearly not sure where to commence his tale.
“What of the English?” Robert demanded. “What has happened?”
He knew Byrness well. It was one of the larger MacKinnon settlements, the home of Angus MacKinnon and several more of their clan chiefs. An attack by the English would be unexpected and, potentially, disastrous.
“There was a reivin’ on the Otterburn lands. Me da, he said it would be easy pickings, an’ it was, I gather. Not that we got away wi’ much. It was more that we flattened their harvest.”
“Otterburn?” Robert recalled the death a few months previously of the Marquis of Otterburn. Doubtless Angus had seen fit to take advantage of the situation, and the fool had chosen to ignore the fact that Henry of England had replaced the fallen nobleman with one of his most battle-hardened commanders. The new marquis’s reputation went before him. He was not a man to be trifled with by all accounts. “I assume the attack was for revenge.”
“Aye, my lord. So Matilda says. I was not there at the time, but she sent word tae Roxburghe.”
Matilda MacKinnon was the wife of another cousin, Charles. Robert had far greater regard for both Charles and Matilda than he had for Angus.
“Go on,” he growled. “What actually happened at Byrness?”
“The English arrived an’ surrounded the village. It was around noon, I was told, an’ all so sudden. Our people had no chance to defend themselves. Everyone was made tae assemble in the middle, and the men were rounded up. Some o’ the women, too.”
“Rounded up?” Robert was perplexed. He struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. “The attack came at noon, you say?”
“Aye.” Andrew nodded.
“Were there no lookouts?” To be set upon in broad daylight, in their own homes…? It beggared belief.
“There had been some celebratin’, I gather. After the reivin’, like.”
Robert snorted in disgust. So, Angus had been drunk in his bed, along with most of the men of Byrness, when the English struck. No wonder they put up such a shoddy fight.
“What happened then? Tae the men and women rounded up?” Had his kinsfolk been murdered in retaliation for the ruined harvest and left rotting in some field, food for the crows?
“They was took away.”
“Took away? As prisoners?” This just became stranger and stranger. Why would the English take prisoners?
