Page 2 of The Eagle

Even from a distance, it was easy for Stuart to tell who The Maclean was as he rode toward Darach. An older man with gray hair shinning in the sunlight was one of the few who’d brought a horse. He was slight and looked almost childlike compared to Darach, who was younger, taller, and well built.

At times like these, Stuart was not fond of his role as archer because it meant remaining in the background. An archer’s position was behind the warrior lines, which meant being far from the conversations and many times also a distance from the actual battlefield.

Not that he expected there to be any sort of fight. The Maclean had only brought a small contingent of men with him ashore. And only those warriors flanking him were on horseback.

“This is an interesting turn of events,” his brother Ewan, also an archer, said. “The asylum seekers have not caused any trouble since arriving. Why does the laird himself come to retrieve them?”

Stuart shrugged. “Obviously, there had to be a strong reason for the men to leave. Lennox has been reluctant to give any explanation, other than the laird believed them to be disloyal.”

The Maclean’s arrival meant that Lennox would have no choice. He would have to give Darach a good reason to allow him and his men to remain.

As a signal, Darach lifted his right hand and flicked his cupped hand toward the keep. It meant that he’d invited Laird Maclean to visit. As the two lairds led the way, the warriors and then he and the archers followed.

“I really am not in the mood to hear whatever this is all about,” Ewan said. “I must go home and see about Catriona.” His brother’s wife had recently given birth to their second child—a healthy boy they’d named, Gawin—and since then, Ewan was rarely away from his family.

Stuart did not blame him. It was good to see his brother so happy and settled. With a shrug, he replied, “No reason for ye to remain. I doubt our presence is required. Go home, I will let ye know if anything of interest happens.”

It would take roughly an hour to arrive back at the keep. Stuart replaced his bow, strapping it to the side of his saddle and rolled his shoulders. He’d not slept well the night before, accosted by restlessness. Being less rested made him extra alert. He never wished to be the cause of others coming to harm.

Just then a rider neared. It was his cousin, Artair Ross, whose primary duty was as a scout. “The laird requests that ye go speak to Lennox. Tell him what has happened and ask that he come to the keep.” His cousin looked past him for a moment before continuing, “When ye and Lennox arrive at the keep enter through the side gate, so not to be seen by the Maclean warriors.”

Stuart hated missing the discussions that would occur once the laird’s arrived at the keep. “Did the Maclean state what he wants?”

Artair shook his head. “They only spoke greetings and talked about the late laird, yer father. Then the Maclean asked if he could speak to Darach in private regarding who he called ‘the traitor’.”

Stuart blew out a breath. “I best hurry if I am to retrieve Lennox and be back in time to help if needed.” He motioned to two warriors. “Come with me.”

“I think I will come as well,” Artair said.

The abandoned building where the asylum seekers were housed had been transformed during the winter. True to his word, Lennox and his men had made extensive repairs to the walls and roof restoring the house to its former state. There was even a garden on one side that a man was tilling when they rode up.

The night they’d first discovered strangers on the shore, twenty men had set up a meager camp. Once settled into the current building, nine made the choice to leave before the weather turned any colder and had traveled south to seek a home with another clan. The eleven that remained seemed content with their new living arrangements.

Upon Stuart and the warriors nearing the house, Lennox came out, his gaze wary.

“Has the Maclean arrived then?” he asked.

“Aye,” Stuart said dismounting along with Artair. “He and my brother are at the keep now.”

“Is he demanding we be turned over to him?” the man who’d been tilling asked, as he walked over and joined Lennox. Another pair of men came from the house and listened with interest as well.

When Stuart hesitated, Lennox motioned to the door. “Should we discuss this inside?”

He and Artair walked inside what had been a dilapidated structure. Stuart was impressed with all the work they had done. The interior had been transformed into a beautiful home.

Support beams had been replaced, and furniture built. A long table with benches filled half of the large room. There were a pair of chairs by the large hearth, and cots lined two opposite walls. Five on one side, six on the other.

The men gathered and Stuart motioned to the table. Understanding their worry, he had to tell them something, but there wasn’t really any information to impart.

“Laird Maclean, along with a small contingent came to shore today. He and my brother are to have a private conversation upon their arrival at the keep.”

The men murmured among themselves, several looking toward the cots, probably mentally deciding what to take. They had not come this far only to give up.

“We can leave.” The statement from Lennox was soft, but resolute.

“Nay. My brother wishes to speak to ye. He asked that ye come to the keep with me. We are to enter through a secret entrance so ye are not seen by the Maclean men.”

“How do we know ye will not take us captive and turn us over to the Maclean?” one of the men asked.