“I ken how you can bring about peace with Mungo,” Bruce said to him when they stopped to rest just before sunrise. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Are you going to say what I think you’re going to say?”
“Marry a Frazer.”
“I might have guessed.”
“Is that such a bad idea? Take one of Mungo’s daughters for your own and the clans are unified. That way he’d have no choice but to accept peace.”
Gavin’s shoulders sagged a little. “I wish there was another way,” he said quietly. “But I fear you’re right. I may have no choice but to marry a Frazer.”
“You look as if I’d told you to drink poison. Is the idea of marriage so abhorrent to you?”
“Marriage is a duty all lairds must perform,” Gavin replied. “You used to tell me that a lot.”
“And you used to say it was up to your parents who you wed.”
“And now they’re dead.” Anger rose up inside him. Dead because of the Frazers. The thought of marrying one of them filled him with revulsion.
“Swallow your pride. It wouldnae be that bad.”
“The thought of it fills me with rage.”
“But why? It is merely a means to an end, a way of cementing alliances and expanding your territory.”
“They killed my parents, Bruce.”
He thought of Wallace and Natalie, their kind faces, the way they had of making every problem seem small. They ran the clan so well people had called their reign a golden age. Then the feud began. The feud that seemed to come from nowhere. It was as if Mungo became a different laird, belligerent, aggressive, hard to deal with.
Gavin marched past his men, striking out alone, leaving them to catch up. The castle would be visible soon. The first rays of dawn were already lighting up the mountain tops. Not far to go.
He could not bring his parents back. Could he sully their memory by marrying a Frazer? If it wasn’t for the Frazers they would still be alive.
Bitterness took over so quickly he was barely aware he had clenched his fists and broken into a half run.
He would never marry a Frazer. Perhaps the men were right. Perhaps he should simply kill Mungo and take his castle. They might not be able to hold it but there was always a chance he could persuade the King to spare him, explain his reasons.
Up ahead a figure was emerging from the morning mist. For a brief moment he could have sworn it was his mother but that was impossible.
Then he saw who it was. “Mary,” he said, skidding to a halt in front of her. “Behind me comes a man who has much to say to you.”
She blinked and then dropped the pail of water she was carrying. “My laird?” she said quietly. “You are here. I feared you were dead. Is he…?”
The other men emerged from the mist, coming to a stop in front of her. Bruce stepped forward to the front and coughed, clearing his throat loudly. “Morning, Mary,” he said at last.
“Bruce,” she replied with a polite nod. “It has been a long time.”
There was a silence that lasted an age. Gavin willed one or the other of them to say something to break the tension, to talk of how much they had missed each other, to let the emotion out that he could see bubbling under the surface of the pair of them.
“Could my men get a drink?” Bruce said at last.
Mary looked disappointed. “Aye, come this way.”
They followed her along the track to the inn. Bruce had not moved. “Could my men get a drink?” Gavin said, punching him in the shoulder. “Are you mad?”
“I didn’t ken what to say.”
“Ask her to marry you? Tell her you’ve missed her? Tell her you spent most nights talking to me about how good her eel pie is.”
“Her trick is she uses more salt than most,” Bruce said, his eyes misting over. “You suppose she has some baked this morning?”
“Maybe.”
Bruce hurried after the men. Gavin stood alone for a moment. The sun had just crested the mountaintop to the east and the mist was burning through. Another moment and the castle would come into view. His castle.
In that moment he missed his parents so much it was like a blow to the stomach. He couldn’t breathe. They had done no harm to anyone. They did their best to bring peace to the land and what had been their reward? Death at the hands of the Frazers, the clan that had held him captive for half a year, set back his efforts to free the land of outlaws.
“I hate all Frazers,” he said out loud as the first rays of sunlight hit his castle. He paused and then added loudly. “And I swear I will never think of marrying a Frazer for as long as I live.”
