5
James lifted his mug of ale and took a healthy swallow, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. Normally ale was warm, but somehow their host had found a way to cool the ale and make it taste far better than normal.
Not that it mattered to many. All around him there was ribald laughter, with some of the clans banding together to share in the free-flowing ale. Since the gathering was on neutral ground, there was less fear of being gutted in one’s sleep and more worry about one’s aching head in the morning.
In fact, his father and Irvine were amongst the revelers, though there was no thought to joining the Wallace clan on the far side of the pasture. No, the two clans would come together at first light to start discussing a truce, something that James was expected to be in attendance.
He just hoped it was before the games began. He had made no mention of his pledge to the games on behalf of his clan, knowing that there was likely a warrior or two that had signed up as well. Matteau had informed him that some of the men had been discussing the very thought earlier.
There were no rules to clans entering more than one Scot in the games, as long as they were prepared to fight against their own kin. The games, according to the discussion that James had overheard, were limited to fifty Scots and no more than three per clan.
It was going to be a great surprise when the participants were announced in the morning, and James knew that he and his father was not going to be pleased that he had signed up.
Shaking his head, James placed his mug on the ground and stood, stretching his tired body. He didn’t care what his father thought or anyone else, for that matter. He had been sheltered far too much in his lifetime, all because he had been the only bairn destined for something he had no intentions of following through with. If he could win the gathering games, his father would have no choice but to consider James’s wishes.
That and the warriors would have no reason to ruin his very existence any longer.
“James?”
James turned to see Matteau standing a few feet away, a mug in his hand as well. His closest friend was wearing his warrior tartan, draped over one shoulder and clasped with the pin that marked him as part of the laird’s fiercest warriors.
“I didnae expect tae see ye this night,” James chuckled as his friend joined him.
Matteau arched a brow. “Why is that?”
James motioned to the gathering that was occurring only a few feet away, the bonfires blazing high into the night sky.
“I figured ye would be in the arms of some lass that thinks yer getup there is fierce.”
Matteau leaned his head back and barked with laughter. “Aye, that is the plan later, mah friend. Later.”
Smirking, James let his eyes drift over the numerous clan members before them, feeling a bit wistful that he couldn’t say the same.
“Did ye do it?” Matteau asked after a moment.
“Aye.”
“Yer da is going tae murder ye in yer sleep when he finds out.”
“Aye,” James answered, resigned to that very fact.
His father could do a number of things, such as order him back to the clan or appeal to Irvine to stop James. He could embarrass his own son greatly, but James didn’t feel like that was going to be the case. Irvine, no matter how loyal he was to their family, would understand why James had felt the need to do so, and he could only hope that the laird would be able to talk some sense into his oldest friend.
Matteau swore, clapping his hand on James’s shoulder. “Well, I guess wot is done is done. I just hope that ye are prepared, mah friend. It will be vastly different than ye fighting me every day.”
James’s mouth set in a line. “I know. I’m not some sort of invalid who cannae fight on his own.”
“Calm yerself,” Matteau warned in a low voice, pushing his mug in James’s direction. “I didnae say that at all. Ye know I think ye can handle yerself in those games. Dinnae put words intae mah mouth.”
“I apologize,” James said gruffly, letting some of his anger bleed out of his body. “I know. I’m just fed up with it all.”
Matteau removed his hand from James’s shoulder. “Aye, I know. Ye need tae show them that ye are more, James, if that is wot ye feel will help.”
James felt like it was the only course of action. He couldn’t fault his family for what they had done in planning his future, but it wasn’t his future. He wanted more. He craved more fromhis life than to spend it beside the laird, advising him on matters like a lack of grain.
He wanted to be a hero to his clan, to ride with his head held high and hear the murmurs of approval as he passed by. Even Matteau couldn’t understand what James dealt with daily. The jest on their journey was just a small piece of what he had put up with in his lifetime.
“Come with me,” Matteau was saying as James was lost in his own thoughts. “Come and drink with the rest of yer clan taenight! Taemorrow will come soon enough.”
