“Then he’ll just have to jog her memory,” a voice replied.
“Quiet,” Gavin hissed. “We should be near where the tunnel comes out. Listen.”
Ahead of them the sound of trickling water was growing louder. A gray light in the blackness was just visible in the distance. “Watch your step,” he said. “It falls away pretty - ” There was a splash as one of the men fell from the sewer into the pond outside, “ - steeply,” he finished. “Is he all right?”
“Will’s just having a wee night swim,” Bruce called back. “Me next, I need to get the dungeon stink off me”
There followed one splash after another as the men leaped out of the end of the tunnel, landing in the deep pond below. By the time Gavin jumped most of his men were on the far shore, talking quietly among the trees that shielded the pond from any curious gaze.
He swam over to join them, pulling himself out of the water to lay back on the grass, looking up at the clear night sky above. “I’ve missed that sky,” he said out loud, taking deep breaths of clean air. “And the feel of the grass. And that smell.”
There was no doubting the rumbling sound that followed. “That was me,” one of the men called across. “Sorry.”
They all laughed, the sound music to Gavin’s ears. He looked from one face to another. All men he had known for years. He was responsible for them all. The entire time they’d been held captive not one of them had complained or blamed him. They had trusted him to get them out of there and he had, though it had been a little too close for comfort.
“What about you, my laird?” Bruce asked, leaning over the pond, splashing water on his face. “What are you going to do when we get back?”
“Find himself a wife,” someone shouted. “If Mary’s not taken by then.”
“I will resume my duties,” Gavin replied. “You may have time for courting but I intend to resolve the peace negotiations with Mungo.”
“How can you even say that?” Bruce asked, coming to sit beside him. “What peace can there be with the man who took us captive.”
“I will do whatever it takes to avoid war.”
The men muttered.
“Crivens,” John said, punching the nearest tree trunk. “Do you no ken what happened? Did you leave your memory behind in the dungeon? We told him to come with a dozen unarmed men and we would do the same and what did he bring?”
“I ken what he brought.”
“He brought an army. A man like that cannae be reasoned with. We must mass our forces and take him while he’s off guard. We could take his castle in a day. Avenge your parents at the same time. You said yourself, you ken all the ways in and out of that place.” John had marched over and was pointing at Gavin, his eyes bulging. “We must fight.”
“And then what? Say we take the castle. We could not hold it. You say I forget but have you forgotten Mungo’s fealty to the King? He gave two of his sons to the last crusade. The King would slaughter all our kin while we were holed up in there.”
“Are you afraid to fight, my laird? Afraid to be a man? Too much of a coward?”
“Slaughter only leads to more slaughter. You will not get a rise out of me talking to me that way. It is not enough to simply fight like brutes. You must fight well and wisely only when all other options have been exhausted.”
Bruce scoffed. “Where did you hear that nonsense?”
“You taught it to me.”
“Well, why listen to me? I dinnae have a clue what I’m talking about.”
Gavin got to his feet. “We will continue this discussion once we are at home. Or perhaps we shall stop on the way for an ale at the Frog and Whistle.”
“Dinnae you start,” Bruce replied, waving angrily at the laughing men. “Not a word from any of you about Mary. Understood?”
Gavin led the way out of the trees. He had much to think about during their march. The castle had been without its laird for six months. Anything was possible in that time. Another clan might have besieged it, burned it, slaughtered his kin. He might be walking into a trap.
He shook his head. They were safe. Mungo wouldn’t have been able to resist gloating if something had happened to the MacGregor Clan while their laird was captured.
With that resolved, a new thought arose. What was he going to do when he got back? Recommencing peace negotiations was the obvious answer. It would be a long and arduous task but one he had no choice about. It was that or more years of warfare while the English kept trying to divide the highlands.
He would have to deal with the outlaws too. They had been plaguing the highlands for years and he was finally making some headway at bringing them to justice when he was captured.
In the six months he’d been away they might be everywhere again. It was all such a waste, just so Mungo could try and get a few coins ransom from the MacGregors. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Mungo do something so out of character?
