The gathering. It was a time for the clans to come together under the flag of peace and discuss truces. This season was to beheld at the Mcdaugh clan to the north of them, and they were due to travel a few days from now.
“Discussions would have never won a battle in years past,” James said evenly, rising from his chair. “I mean nary disrespect, mah laird, but we cannae be seen as strong if we are always retreating.”
“That is enough!” his father roared, grabbing James by the scruff of his neck and escorting him out of the study, shoving him against the rough stone wall just outside. “I told ye this doesnae concern ye, James. Ye are tae be a fly on the wall, nothing more!”
“Even ye must see that this does nothing!” James replied angrily, pushing against Irvine’s hold until he released him.
“’Tis not our place or yers tae interfere!” his father shouted, his voice carrying down the long hallway that led to the keep’s main room. “The laird makes the decision, not ye and not me.”
James balled his fists at his sides, struggling to get his anger under control.
“And as ye have pointed out, ’tis yer decision tae change his mind.”
His father shook his head, clear frustration filtering through his expression.
“Go before I force ye tae apologize tae yer laird.”
“There is nothing tae apologize for, Da,” James said stiffly. “I’ve spoken mah piece. That is the role of an advisor, as ye keep telling me.”
He walked off before his father could respond, making his way through the keep until he was outside so he could breathe in some fresh air. His father was always telling him how an advisor was to sway the decisions of his laird if they were in the best interests of the clan, but he had never seen his father do such a thing.
If nothing more, all his father was right now was a report reader.
Sighing, James slumped against the stone wall of the keep, the wind ruffling his hair. It was yet another reason why he shouldn’t be an advisor.
“Did ye get kicked out again?”
James looked up to find Matteau grinning at him, dressed in his warrior garb with his sword strapped to his back.
“Aye,” he admitted. “Again.”
Matteau shook his head, laughing as he did so. “I told ye that ye are going tae have tae figure out a way tae keep yer trap shut.”
“I dinnae want tae,” James said, the fury of the discussion rising within him once more. “Mah da and the laird are wrong. We cannae stand idly by and let the Wallaces just have their way with us.”
Matteau took the place next to James, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well, there is a reason that Irvine is our laird, James. I dinnae think he would make a rash decision like that without thinking of all the consequences tae the clan first.”
“He never makes rash decisions,” James muttered, his eyes focused on the fields beyond the keep. “’Tis part of the problem.”
He wasn’t attempting to discount what the laird had done for the clan. He was fair and impartial, and the villagers appreciated everything that he did. James appreciated everything that he did and how he had treated them as family.
But sometimes he felt as if he was a bit too cautious in his thoughts and actions, and the last thing that James wanted to hear was that their clan was seen as weak.
“Well,” Matteau finally said, pushing off the wall, “would ye like tae blow off yer anger with a bit of swords? Some of the warriors are going tae the creek tae fight in the sand.”
The thought caused some of James’s anger to dissipate. If he stuck around for too much longer, his father would likely come to give him another lecture on how he had disrespected his laird.
“Aye. It would be a welcome distraction.”
“Come on then,” Matteau said, slapping James on the back. “Let’s see just how much ye have learned.”
Later, after the sun had sunk low into the sky, James made his way to the main hall for dinner, flexing his hand as he did so. His father was already seated and barely gave James a nod as he took his own seat.
“Son.”
“Da,” James replied, clearing his throat.
