“Too bad that arrow wasn’t a little higher,” Magnus added. “You might actually look like a warrior.”
The man renowned for his handsome face let off a string of ugly oaths.
Magnus actually smiled as he walked away, a rarity of late. It was a source of constant annoyance to MacGregor—and thus a constant source of amusement among the Highland Guard—that no matter how many battles he fought, his face came out unscathed.
For a warrior, scars were expected. A badge of honor and impossible to avoid, especially on the face. But it was almost as if MacGregor’s mother had dipped him headfirst in the protective waters of the River Styx like Achilles: no matter how hard he tried, his face healed smooth and unmarked.
Poor bastard.
It didn’t take Magnus long to gather his belongings and make his way to the river behind the castle to bathe. Though it was a warm spring day, the river of melted snow from the mountains retained its wintry chill.
The numbing effect on his muscles drove away the pain almost as effectively as the mandrake, poppy, and vinegar concoction Helen had left for him. He’d taken it—at first. But dulling the pain also meant dulling his thinking and reactions. So when he resumed training, he’d weaned himself off the foul-tasting brew.
He took his time in the water, allowing the cold to restore his aching muscles. But as the hour drew close, he became anxious to return to the castle.
MacLeod had been testing him, he realized. And if “you’re ready” was any indication, he’d cleared Magnus at last to rejoin the others in the west. MacRuairi and MacSorley were in the Isles, keeping watch over John of Lorn, who was stirring up trouble again from Ireland. Seton, Boyd, MacLean, and Lamont were in the southwest, keeping the peace in Galloway with James Douglas and Edward Bruce. Campbell had been with Magnus, MacGregor, and MacLeod, but had returned to Dunstaffnage the month before for the birth of his first child. A son named William, named after their fallen friend.
Magnus was tired of infirmity and eager to rejoin the others. He needed action. A mission. Here with the king’s court he had too much time to think. It was harder to escape the memories. Memories that hung over him like a dark cloud and were far more painful and raw than any broken bone.
The guard posted at the solar must have been expecting him. He opened the door as soon as Magnus approached.
He was greeted with the hearty sound of laughter. The king sat in a large, throne-like chair before a small fireplace, a goblet of wine in his hand and a broad smile on his face.
Peace suited the Bruce. For the first time in over three years, since he’d stabbed his nemesis John “The Red” Comyn before the altar of Greyfriars Church, the king looked at ease, the lines of suffering and defeat on his battle-weary face less noticeable. After all he’d been through, God knew he’d earned it.
“MacKay, there you are,” he said. “Come, have some wine. MacLeod was just telling us about your training today. It seems our fair friend didn’t fare as well.” The king chuckled. “Nor does he look so fair.”
It didn’t surprise him. Only a handful of them could keep up with MacLeod. Although MacGregor was highly skilled with a blade—they all were—his weapon was the bow.
MacLeod shrugged, a rare smile curving his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll heal.”
The men laughed. In addition to MacLeod, a handful of the king’s closest companions and favored members of his large retinue had joined them. Among them were the venerable knights Sir Neil Campbell, Sir William De la Hay, and Sir Alexander Fraser, MacLeod’s young brother-in-law.
“I’m sending MacLeod west.” The king’s face darkened. “The Lord of Lorn is making trouble again. MacSorley said he’s gathering a fleet. Even in exile the bastard manages to defy me, and now his treasonous father has joined him!” The king stiffened with fury, no longer looking so relaxed. “Six months after he submitted and not two months since he attended Parliament, the Lord of Argyll has fled to Ireland.”
Magnus could understand the king’s anger. The MacDougall chief’s submission had been an important coup, a sign of the reconciliation of enemies to form a united Scotland. The quick defection of the powerful clan who were closely tied to the Comyns was bound to cause unrest in Argyll. Arthur “Ranger” Campbell would have his hands full at Dunstaffnage.
It would have been better had Campbell gotten rid of Lorn when he’d had the chance. Magnus understood why he hadn’t—he’d married the man’s daughter, after all—but Lorn and his father wouldn’t get a second chance.
Magnus felt a little bit of the dark cloud hovering over him lift. He couldn’t wait to get back to action. He’d be too busy to think about her. But sometimes it felt as if it would be easier to forget a missing limb.
“When do we leave?”
MacLeod shook his head. “You aren’t going.”
Magnus stiffened. “But I’m ready—you said so yourself.”
“Aye, but you and MacGregor have a different mission. You will be guarding the king.”
“I’ve decided to make a royal progress through the Highlands to thank the chiefs who offered shelter in those dark days after Methven.” King Robert’s face clouded as the memories struck of his days as an outlaw. Men like William Wiseman, Alexander MacKenzie of Eilean Donan, and Duncan MacAulay of Loch Broom had saved his life. “As well as ensure that those who have recently given me their pledge are not inclined to follow the example of the Lord of Argyll.”
Meaning the king wanted to ensure he didn’t have any more defectors.
“With the truce and the country at peace,” MacLeod interjected, “there is no better time.”
Magnus swallowed his disappointment. A peacekeeping jaunt through the Highlands didn’t sound like a mission for the illustrious Highland Guard. The king had a large retinue of knights. Even were trouble to arise, he would be well protected. With trouble brewing out west, wouldn’t Magnus be better utilized with MacLeod? Why did he feel as though he was being given this mission because of his injury?
“I’m putting you in charge,” MacLeod said. “The king will travel north through Ross and Cromarty before turning west through the mountains to the coast.”
