“So, there ye are,” MacLeod scoffed. “They will be run off.”
“D’ye know who ye killed?” MacFraise asked.
“One o’ them cried out fer Roger,” Kyle said, remembering the clearing and the man in the grass.Mercy, the ghost cried out inside his mind.
“Roger MacLean,” MacFraise mumbled, rubbing his brow.
“What should we care?” MacNear asked with a large shrug. He filled his cup once more and drank it down before continuing. “How many men could they possibly have? Nay enough tae take yer castle, that’s tae be sure.”
“I am trying only tae do me duty as yer Laird,” Gavin said back, leaning forward with his fists resting against the table. They will nay attack us here, but they may attack yer hamlets and farms. Together, we can put a stop tae them before they do more damage.”
“What damage?” MacNear asked. “I have seen none.”
“They will attack, tae be sure,” MacFraise said, commanding the room’s attention. “I knew Roger MacLean, many years ago. Before their clan proved traitors. He was the brither o’ their Laird, Michael. They will want blood vengeance, and our farms will be easy targets.”
“MacFraise is right,” MacRhone said. “Michael MacLean will nay let that stand.”
“Then what’s tae be done?” MacLeod asked, going once more for his cup.
“It is as ye said,” Gavin replied. “They will nay have enough men tae take the castle. So, they will attack the farms and villages. We must find them and beat them before they can wreak havoc.”
“And how many men do they have?” MacNear asked. “How can we protect our farms if we send ye all our men?”
“This is a fair question,” Gavin said back. “It is nay me aim tae leave yer farms defenseless. Yet we must also gather enough men tae destroy them outright.”
“Before they lost their lands,” MacFraise said, stroking his beard in contemplation. “MacLean could muster some three hundred men. They will nay have that many anymore, but they could well have at least fifty.”
“Fifty,” MacNear scoffed. “Then why are we here, me Laird? Fifty men should nay be something ye even blink at. Yer estate is rich; it is nay a secret.”
“I can send out fifty men,” Gavin said. “But we nay know their true numbers. If we are tae meet them, it must be decisive.”
“He is right,” Kyle added. “We must destroy them in one blow. Should they escape, even at half strength, they will prey on the roads until Winter.”
“But ye nay know where they are,” MacLeod said. “How are we tae fight an invisible enemy?”
“A trap,” MacFraise said.
“Aye,” Gavin said with a nod. “That was me thought as well. Let us lure them into the open and destroy them.”
“That is easier said than done,” MacRhone said, taking a long drink between words. “And ye have nay answered our question. How many men d’ye want from us?” There was a long moment of silence as Gavin mulled the question, clenching his jaw. Kyle could see that he was uncomfortable with the pressure, and yet he also knew that Gavin was the only one who could answer.
“I ask ye each fer ten o’ yer best warriors,” Gavin finally said. “With forty men, an addition tae me retinue, we will root out these bastards once and fer all.” Kyle could feel the excitement rising in his chest, yet it was marred by dread. This was what he had been waiting for, a chance to prove his metal for all the clan to see, yet still, the man in the grass haunted him. Poor Roger MacLean, crying out for mercy.
“Ten?” MacLeod gawked. “Ye leave me nay much fer me farms.”
“If ye cannot spare ten warriors,” MacFraise said with a low growl, “then ye have been neglecting yer duties as a landlord.”
“MacFraise is right,” the elderly MacRhone added. “Ten men is fair. But should ye fail,” he said, swinging his gaze back to Gavin, “we will have issues between us.”
“We shall nay fail,” Gavin said. “This, I promise ye.”
“So tell us, Laird,” MacNear asked loudly, once more filling his cup. “How d’ye mean tae trap these outlaws?”
“A caravan,” Kyle burst out. It had come to him naturally, a seed of a plan that grew like a weed in his mind and had quickly blossomed into a battle waiting to happen. “We will give them something too rich tae pass up.”
“Such as?” MacLeod asked.
“Money,” Kyle said. “Taxes for the King, on the way tae Stirling Castle.”
