New opportunity. He wasn't returning to the Guard. If Arthur felt any disappointment at the king's news, he didn't admit it.
It was better if he stayed on his own. He'd never been comfortable in groups anyway. He liked the freedom of making his own decisions. Not having to explain himself or account for himself to anyone. As a knight in his brother Dugald's household, he could pretty much come and go as he pleased.
As was the case for many families in Scotland, the Campbells had been split apart by the war. Arthur's brothers Neil, Donald, and Duncan were for Bruce, but his brothers Dugald and Gillespie were aligned with the Earl of Ross and England.
The division in his family had made placing him in the enemy camp that much easier.
"What kind of opportunity?" he asked.
"To infiltrate the very heart of the enemy."
Infiltrate. That meant getting close. Something Arthur tried to avoid. It was why he'd never attached himself to a noble as most knights did. "I work better alone, my lord." On the outside. Where he could blend in and stay in the background. Where he could go unnoticed.
Neil, who knew him well, smiled. "I don't think you'll mind this time."
Arthur's gaze snapped to his brother's. The satisfaction he read there made him realize what this meant.
"Lorn?" The single word fell with the force of a smith's hammer.
Neil nodded, a smile of anticipation curling his mouth. "This is the chance we've been waiting for."
MacLeod explained. "John of Lorn has put out the call to his barons and knights. Your brothers will answer. Go with them. Find out what the MacDougalls are planning, how many men they have, and who will join them. They're getting messengers past our men and I want you to stop them. We want to keep them as isolated as possible until the truce expires. I have Hawk watching the seaways, but I need you on the land."
It was land that Arthur knew well. Argyll was Campbell land. He'd been born at Innis Chonnel, a castle in the middle of Loch Awe, and had lived there until the MacDougalls had stolen it.
Arthur felt a rush of pure anticipation course through him. This was the moment he'd been waiting for for a long time. Fourteen years, to be exact. Since the moment John of Lorn had treacherously stabbed his father right before his eyes. Arthur hadn't seen it coming. It was the only time his senses had failed him.
Even if Neil hadn't asked it, even if Bruce hadn't offered him lands and the promise of a rich bride to fight on his side, Arthur would have joined Bruce for the chance to destroy John of Lorn and the MacDougalls.
Blood for blood was the Highland way. He wouldn't fail his brother the way he had his father.
Mistaking the source of his silence as objection, MacLeod continued. "With your knowledge of the terrain, there is no one better suited for the job. You've spent over two years establishing your false allegiance for just this type of mission. Lorn might not like having Campbells around, but with the feud ended by Edward and your brother Dugald reconciled to him some time ago, he has no reason to think you are anything other than what you seem."
"Hell, Lorn's uncle fights with us," Bruce added, referring to Duncan MacDougall of Dunollie. "Divided families are something he knows well enough."
"John of Lorn doesn't know what you saw, brother," Neil said quietly, referring to Arthur's witnessing of their father's death. "Do what you always do. Lie low and observe. For someone so big," he said with a fond smile, recalling that it hadn't always been that way, "you're amazingly adept at going unnoticed. Stay out of Lorn's way. And have care--he might be suspicious initially, so don't turn your back on him."
He knew that better than anyone. But Arthur didn't need to be convinced. Any resistance he might have had to infiltrating the household of the enemy had vanished at the mention of Lorn.
"Well?" Bruce said.
Arthur met his gaze, a slow, deadly smile spreading across his face. "How soon can I leave?"
He'd see John of Lorn destroyed and enjoy every bloody moment of it.
Nothing was going to stand in his way.
Two
Dunstaffnage Castle, Lorn, June 11, 1308
Less than three weeks after the meeting with the king near the standing stone, Arthur Campbell was here. In the belly of the beast, the den of the lion, the lair of the devil: Dunstaffnage Castle, the formidable stronghold of Clan MacDougall.
Gathered in the Great Hall with the other knights and men-at-arms who'd answered the call, awaiting their turn before the dais, Arthur tried not to think about the importance of what was to come. If there was a time that John of Lorn would focus his attention on him, this would be it.
He scanned the room with his usual intensity, taking note of all the the potential ways in and out. Not that escape would be likely. If Lorn learned what he was about, Arthur would be hard pressed to make it out of there alive. But instinct was also habit--it was better to be prepared. For anything.
Taking in the details of the room, he had to admit he was impressed. The castle was one of the finest he'd ever seen. Built about eighty years ago, Dunstaffnage was strategically situated on a small promontory of land where the Firth of Lorn met the southern shore of Loch Etive, thus guarding a key western seaward approach into Scotland. Constructed on a base of rock, the massive lime-coated walls extended about fifty feet up from the ground, with round towers on three of the four corners. The largest of these towers, next to the Great Hall, served as the donjon, housing the lord's private chambers.
