There had been tension between the two men from the first. Felton hadn’t liked the friendship that had sprung up between him and Percy. Nor had he liked it when Kenneth came close to besting him on the practice field with the sword one day—an act that he’d perceived as a challenge to his place as Percy’s greatest knight.
Upon seeing him and hearing that Kenneth was changing his allegiance once again, Felton had tossed him in the pit prison until he could find Percy. As it had taken him all night, Kenneth suspected he hadn’t been looking very hard.
The frosty reception from Percy hadn’t been much better, though the chill had warmed considerably when he’d heard what Kenneth had to say. Percy had barely blinked when Kenneth claimed to have had a falling-out with his brother after a heated argument over the recent attempt on Bruce’s life by his henchman (with whom Kenneth feigned sympathy). Shifting alliances were all too common in the long war, and Kenneth’s maneuverings to be in a position to claim his brother’s estates should Bruce lose might be opportunistic, but that also made it understandable. Kenneth also knew his well-known temper—damn MacKay for saying so!—was as much to blame for the ready acceptance of his story.
Perhaps he should be offended by how easily they’d believed him—except for Felton, who’d stormed out a short while ago in a huff—but he was just pleased that his stay in the pit prison would not be an extended one.
His new brethren wouldn’t have to come rescue him. At least not yet. He was being given a chance to prove himself. Kenneth was going to prove his loyalty to the English by betraying Bruce. At least that was how it would look.
He looked around the small solar at the decidedly more friendly faces. With Felton gone, there was only Percy, a handful of his most trusted knights, and Sir Adam Gordon.
Kenneth had been genuinely glad to see the older warrior. Sir Adam had been William Gordon’s uncle and head of the family. He’d been good to Kenneth when they were young, and when William had decided to fight with Bruce, they’d shared the disappointment.
When Kenneth had fought with the English, Sir Adam had looked after him, doing what he could to advance him in Edward’s army with choice words in the right ears. If there was anyone he looked forward to betraying less than Percy, it was Sir Adam.
“We will leave at sunrise,” Percy announced. “That should give us plenty of time to reach Ettrick Forest and intercept the supply carts before darkness falls. You are sure the attack is set for tomorrow night?”
Although English garrisons still held most of the important border and lowland castles in Scotland, including Edinburgh, Sterling, Bothwell, Roxburgh, and Perth among others, keeping them provisioned—especially those not accessible by the sea—proved a challenge. If the English controlled the strongholds, Bruce controlled the countryside, and the cart trains were often attacked by “the rebels.” Advance knowledge of one of these attacks was a difficult lure to resist. Adding Bruce’s phantom army made it impossible.
Kenneth wasn’t surprised that Percy had decided to go himself. The chance to capture members of Bruce’s secret army would tempt any Englishman with ambition or pretensions toward greatness. The reward from the king would be considerable, but being known as the man who’d finally caught the phantom band…that would make him a legend.
He nodded. “Bruce’s men like to attack at night in isolated areas. This pass in the forest right before the junction in the road to turn east toward Roxburgh,” he pointed to the spot on the map near the Aln River and the small village of Ashkirk, “was chosen for exactly that.”
“Furtive tactics,” Percy said with distaste.
“Aye,” Kenneth pretended to agree. “Bruce’s pirate warfare might work to capture supply carts, but it merely proves how ill-equipped he is to meet Edward’s army like knights on the battlefield.”
The coming war had been another reason given for Kenneth’s change of allegiance. But he understood what these men did not: that Bruce had no intention of taking the field against Edward until he was ready.
Percy stood and gave him an assessing gaze. “I hope you are right about this. It will go very badly for you if you are wrong. Now I have a feast to attend and a delay to explain to Gaves—” he stopped and corrected himself—“Cornwall. He may have some questions for you. After you change.” His gaze slid over Kenneth with a shudder. “It seems Felton was a bit overzealous in his greeting. He should have let me know of your arrival immediately.”
Kenneth tipped his head, acknowledging the semi-apology.
“You have some men with you?” Percy asked.
“Just a few of my household men,” he said. “I dared not attempt to leave with more. They are waiting for me in the forest.” His mouth turned. “I was unsure of my reception.”
Percy smiled for the first time. “Your caution was understandable in the circumstances.”
“I will send some of my men to fetch them,” Sir Adam said. “Sutherland can stay with me in my chamber.”
Under guard. Neither Percy nor Sir Adam said it, but Kenneth heard it nonetheless. He wasn’t surprised. They would keep a close watch on him for a while.
Kenneth was escorted a short while later by two of Sir Adam’s men to the Constable Tower, where a bath had been arranged while his horse and the bag holding the few items he’d brought with him was tracked down. Exchanging the mail shirt he’d been captured in for a surcote, he left one of his men to clean it while he was escorted to the Hall. The Earl of Cornwall did indeed have some questions for him.
Unfortunately, as he hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, the tables had already been moved for the dancing and music. He was able to snatch a few pieces of cheese, however, from a passing serving girl who was removing the remaining trays.
The music had already begun and the revelers had formed the circle carol dance. He gave the dancers no more than a passing glance, weaving his way through the crowd to the dais at the back of the room.
Sir Adam leaned over and murmured something to the man at his side. Though Kenneth had never met him, his pretty face, fine ermine-lined mantle, and heavy gold chain with one of the biggest sapphires Kenneth had ever seen hanging from his neck identified him as the king’s favorite. Hell, he looked like the king himself.
The earl frowned, watching him with interest as Kenneth came forward at Sir Adam’s motion.
“Sutherland,” he said. “I hear you have had a change of heart.”
“Aye, my lord.”
The gaze that held his was more intense than he’d expected. For all the hate and condemnation he inspired, Kenneth could see right away that Sir Piers Gaveston was not a man to dismiss. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being a fool—not a complete one, anyway. “I will hear more about it after the feast.”
