Felton’s stiff English control cracked. “I’m not worried, damn it.”
“Good,” Kenneth said curtly. Ignoring the blustering knight, he turned to Percy. “The pass I mentioned is just ahead. You’ll want to have your men in position and hidden well before Bruce’s men arrive, in case they send a scout ahead to watch for the supply train.”
Percy’s plan was to hide a short distance away from where Bruce’s men intended to launch their “surprise” attack. The carts and armed soldiers from Carlisle would proceed as originally planned, but when Bruce’s men attacked, the soldiers would be ready for them. Once the two sides were engaged in battle, Percy and the rest of his men would circle around them, catching them in an impenetrable net.
But “impenetrable” wasn’t enough to hold the Highland Guard.
Kenneth might have been worried about the number of men Percy had brought with him—fifty in addition to the soldiers from Carlisle guarding the carts (he wasn’t taking any chances in letting the illustrious phantom warriors slip through his fingers)—but he’d seen the Highland Guard in action. He doubted a hundred men would be enough to hold them. Moreover, Striker—Eoin MacLean—had planned the “attack” with a second route of escape if it proved necessary.
Percy turned to Felton. “Your men are ready? I will be counting on you to make sure they cannot break through. I don’t care what it takes, do not let them escape!”
Felton appeared unconcerned. “If Sutherland is telling the truth, my men will be ready. The place on the road they’ve chosen leaves them little room to maneuver.” He knelt down to draw a crude map in the dirt. “It is dense forestland with a steep rise on one side and the Aln River on the other. We will circle around from all directions once they have launched their attack. As long as the soldiers protecting the cart can hold them off while we get in position, we will have them.”
Percy looked at the ground for a long moment, studying every possible escape route. If he considered the cliff, he quickly discounted it. Who would jump over twenty feet into a narrow river in the darkness? “Good,” he said with a curt nod of the head.
When he’d moved off, Kenneth turned to Felton. “Don’t forget about the lad,” he said, indicating the young Earl of Atholl. “I don’t think his mother would appreciate if you got him captured.”
Even in the fading daylight, Kenneth could see the angry flush flood Felton’s face. “The boy is none of your concern, and neither is his mother.”
Kenneth was being warned off, and if he were wise he would have walked away. But Felton had driven one too many stakes in his claim.
He smiled. “Are you so sure about that?”
Felton’s fists clenched, and for a moment, Kenneth thought—hell, hoped—he was going to strike him. But instead, he looked Kenneth over with a coldly assessing stare and returned his smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve competed for something. And like all the other times, I’m sure the result will be the same.”
Outwardly, Kenneth showed no reaction to the taunt, but inside was a different matter. He would love nothing more than to prove to Felton just how wrong he was, but Bruce had warned him to keep a low profile. To do nothing to bring attention to himself or his skills. Besting Percy’s champion would sure as hell do that.
Kenneth had newfound sympathy for MacKay, who’d been forced to do much the same thing in the face of Kenneth’s taunts last year.
All he could do was grit his teeth once again. “Just be ready.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Kenneth’s Highland Guard brethren—or the majority of them at least; MacLeod, MacRuairi, and MacSorley had stayed with the king—arrived about an hour after dusk to take their positions. Campbell and MacGregor had passed within a few dozen feet of the English position, as they’d ridden south to supposedly scout the arrival of the provision train. Kenneth knew they’d been spotted, although the two warriors gave no indication of it. Campbell was too good to miss them. The clear night and full moon provided enough light to see the signs on the landscape left by fifty men.
Not long after Campbell and MacGregor passed by, they heard the clomp of horses and the clatter of carts being pulled along a bumpy road. Felton motioned to one of the soldiers in the carts as they passed, alerting them that the place was near, but taking care that he could not be seen from the road ahead.
The air was thick with tension now as the train rumbled by them. They would not be able to see the attack, but they would be able to hear it.
The minutes tolled slowly. Kenneth could see the anxiousness on the faces of the men around him as they waited for the first sounds. The familiar battle scent of fear laced with anticipation hung in the air.
Finally, a fierce battle cry tore through the night, and a moment later, there was the answering clash of steel. Felton sprang from his position on the opposite side of Percy and began barking commands. His men took off in all directions, fanning around the attack to cut off all means of escape.
Kenneth, Percy, and Felton approached slowly, taking care not to alert Bruce’s man of their presence.
Percy’s men were good, he’d give them that. For Englishmen they were doing a damned find job of imitating Bruce’s “furtive” methods. If this had been a real attack, the Highland Guard might have been in trouble.
But his friends knew what was coming, and they’d be ready.
Finally, Kenneth and the English reached a turn in the road where they could see the battle. About a hundred feet ahead of them, pandemonium reigned. Swords, pikes, axes, hammers—a symphony of weaponry flashed like a lightning storm in the night air before them. If he hadn’t known better, the sight of Bruce’s “phantoms” would have taken him aback as well. Wrapped in dark plaids, with their blackened faces, helms, mail coifs, andcotuns, the Highland Guard did indeed look like wraiths, flying through the night air in a whirl of death and destruction. He noticed more than one man startle beside him.
“They’re only men,” Percy reminded them softly, but there might have been a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Then he stood, brandishing his sword about his head. “For England!” he shouted, leading the charge.
Only Kenneth hesitated. He looked around to where Felton had instructed the young earl to remain, protected by a half-dozen soldiers who would prevent the Guard from escaping to the south. “Remember,” he warned the lad. “Stay back, and out of the way.”
Wide-eyed, transfixed by his first glimpse of battle, David nodded.
Kenneth raced forward, taking his position on the east flank where Percy was shouting out his commands. The Highland Guard had already fought their way through the first line of defense—the soldiers protecting the cart—and Percy was ordering the outer line forward, tightening the noose.
The plan was for the Highland Guard to create a hole in the defense and slip through before the English were in position. It should have been simple enough. With Percy’s remaining men spread all around, the eight guardsmen could easily defeat the dozen or so closest men and slip into the cover of darkness.
