The sentence had been death.
After the knights had been dispatched, regardless of the pleading that one knight had done to spare them, men from Clan Maxwell had gone through their things and been able to read the dispatches they were carrying from a place called The Keld. It was the fortress of the House of de Bourne, just over the border near Keilder Water, so the bodies of the knights and their possessions—sans anything of value—had been sent back to The Keld with a decisive message.
Spies will be executed.
Unfortunately for Clan Maxwell, Ares de Bourne did not heed their message. In fact, he gathered his allies, of which he had many, and raided Maxwell lands, including Bailie Castle. The women and children were captured and the men scattered, but only temporarily. Although no one in the Lowlands of Scotland particularly cared for the Maxwell of Westerkirk, the fact that the English had crossed the border did not sit wellwith other Lowland clans. That meant that the Westerkirk Maxwell found themselves with unexpected allies in this fight—and that started a series of vicious battles that went back and forth between the English and the Scots. The latest battle had been literally in the Valley of Blood and the Scots had found themselves facing an English army that outmanned them three to one.
It had been a massacre.
That particularly vicious battle had made it back to Bailie and the devastation dealt out by the English had caused the Scots to back off a little. It had been more than a month since that particular battle had taken place and the situation in general had calmed. This was not only due to the brutal nature of the last battle, but also due to the fact that the allied clans began to learn that two English knights had been killed without provocation. Westerkirk had managed to keep that detail from them, only telling them of the brutality of the English and lying about their intent. Now, Westerkirk found themselves alone in this battle against the English and that was enough to cause them to rethink this entire situation. Out of three hundred men, they were already down by half. The clan itself was facing extinction.
No one wanted that.
But the clan chief of Westerkirk had an idea and ideas in his world were dangerous things.
Ean Maxwell was that clan chief. He was young for a chief and extremely hot-headed, which was how his clan found themselves in this situation in the first place. Ean’s father, Arduil, had died the previous winter of a poison in his chest, which elevated the young man to chief status, something he was wholly unprepared for. His father was a recluse, making the clan an isolated clan, but at least Arduil had been somewhat cool in temperament. That kept Westerkirk out of trouble.
But Ean had been the opposite.
His clan was dying now.
The hall of Bailie was a mix of the healthy and unhealthy. Sick men slept in the corners while those who could function took meals near the hearth. Dogs slept around their feet and filthy rushes covered the floor as the men sat and drank and spoke of the future.
What there was of it, anyway.
With Ean’s plan, they weren’t even certain there would be a future.
“Lad,” an older man in tattered clothing said in a low and raspy tone. “I’ve sat here and listened tae ye speak for the past day. I’ve heard yer plan and I’m here tae tell ye that ye canna do what ye intend tae do. If the other clans discovered the truth, they would end us. They already want tae end us after ye refused tae tell them why ye had a fight with the English in the first place.”
Ean frowned at his uncle. In truth, the man was his grandfather’s brother, an old man who was wise and respected. But, in Ean’s opinion, Gordie Maxwell was a fool.
“I told them the truth,” he fired back to a table of men who knew he was lying even as he said it. “I told them the Sassenach wronged us.”
“They dinna wrong us.”
“They were on my lands!” Ean shouted. Then he jabbed a finger at his uncle. “Ye’re weak, old man. Ye’re too weak tae stand up against the English who want what we have.”
“And what do we have, young Ean?” Gordie said, lifting a bushy white eyebrow. “Before those knights came across our lands, we at least had some peace. We had food. Men had their herds, their homes. Children had fathers. Wives had husbands. Now, the wives and children are gone and half of the men are dead. Why? Because ye punished two knights who crossed ourlands and built lies around them. I still dunna know why ye did that.”
“They were spies!” Ean said with the same tone he’d used in the previous statement. He was shouting at men older than him, men who had never believed he could rule well as chief. Well, he had to show them, didn’t he? “They came tae see our lands and report back tae their Sassenach lord. Ye know The Keld is just over the border. Ye know they want what we have!”
Gordie looked at the others around the table. Where there used to be about thirty, there were now twelve. Most had been killed in the recent battles, but some had drifted over to other Maxwell clans where a spoiled lad didn’t control their fate. No one left at the table had any love for Ean, and there had been a discussion about removing him from power, but that was always a slippery slope. Once one man was removed, another could be removed, and still another. There was no stability when the rightful chief was removed. Therefore, they were trying to mitigate Ean’s damage.
But that had proven to be quite difficult.
“So ye want tae court our allies again by telling them that yer young daughter has been taken by the Sassenach?” Gordie said. “I want tae be clear on this, lad. Ye want tae lie again?”
Ean was only growing angrier. “We need victory,” he said, slamming his fist on the table in front of him. “If we dunna achieve victory over the Sassenach, then all of our brethren will have died in vain. Can ye not see that? The reason I use tae draw the clans together again will not matter in the end when we have victory over the English. The lads will be proud of themselves and they’ll forget why we were there. All they’ll remember is the victory.”
Gordie didn’t think that was a good idea at all and that was evident in his manner. “Ye canna build a victory on a lie,” hesaid. “And yer quarrel is with The Keld, not de Wolfe. ’Tis a de Wolfe fortress ye’ve made yer target.”
That drew a smile from Ean. “The most obvious target of all,” he said. “Gleann na Fola. She sits at the end of our valley. She belongs tae us.”
“She belongs tae William de Wolfe.”
Ean brushed him off. “The man is as old as Methuselah.”
“He has forty sons and grandsons that will fight for him,” Gordie said, losing some of his cool. “Old William de Wolfe doesn’t need tae fight because he’s got dozens of wolf cubs tae do it for him. Ye’ve been tae battle against the older ones. Ye know how they fight. We aren’t strong enough tae overcome their armies.”
