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Fergus glowered, and he didn’t seem to be reassured by the promises of the laird.

“Now, let us gae and tell the rest of the clan, and we shall celebrate long intae the night! For taemorrow, we ride, and we will meet our destiny!” Laird Wallace gripped both their shoulders and squeezed them tightly before he turned away and walked to address the rest of the clan.

Fergus turned to Douglas before they fell into step behind the laird. “Ye are fortunate that ye share his blood, otherwise I would be standing here alone,” Fergus said with derision etched upon his face.

“I am nae here just because of my blood,” Douglas replied, but Fergus wasn’t willing to listen to any of it.

“Think what ye like, Douglas, but by the end of this, I will prove myself tae be the superior warrior and the only choice tae follow in the laird’s footsteps. I will be the one tae take his place, sae ye might as well get used tae it.”

Douglas wore a bemused smirk, which was about the only expression he could wear when he was faced with such a clash of personalities. “Whenever ye want tae fight me, I am ready for the challenge. If ye want tae prove yer prowess, then we can duel.”

“I would nae dare insult the laird by challenging his nephew. Yer blood is the only thing that protects ye, Douglas, but soon enough, that will change. Once I prove myself in battle, Laird Wallace will see that I am his rightful heir.”

Fergus walked away, and Douglas followed in turn, shaking his head and laughing without humor. Fergus was the type of man to always boast about his strength yet always had an excuse ready whenever a battle was offered to him. Douglas was quite happy to challenge him, but Fergus was a wily man and would only fight when he knew he was going to win. Douglas was going to have to watch himself on the battlefield because sometimes stray arrows could hit allies, and if Fergus ever had a shot at Douglas’s back, Douglas couldn’t be certain that Fergus would refuse the opportunity.

They returned to the main area, and the rest of the clan cheered when they saw their laird. Meat and ale were shared out as Laird Wallace spoke of the plan and of his ambitions. The Wallace clan was small yet mighty, and they were proud of their heritage. The thought that they might be able to reclaim some of the glory they had lost over the years was an incredible one, and it galvanized them into believing the impossible was possible. The mood in the clan was a celebratory one, and there was a great cheer as Laird Wallace chose a wench to take to his bed.

Despite feeling hopeful for the future, Douglas’s heart was heavy. He lifted his gaze from the fire to the heavens, where the stars danced around the moon, who was sitting on her celestial throne. Sorrow filled Douglas, for he lamented the fact that his father would not be here to see the clan reclaim its glory. He hoped they would be proud of him for all he had done and all he would do.

His gaze dropped and found Fergus, who was standing with a cluster of men, laughing loudly and boasting about how many Englishmen he was going to kill. Their eyes met, and Douglas saw a savage desire within the eyes of his clansman. The battle was certainly going to be an unpredictable one, and Douglas hoped that he only had the English to worry about.

Douglas nodded to some of his allies as they clasped his hand and volunteered to be a part of his battalion. It had been a great honor to be chosen by Laird Wallace, and it did not escape Douglas’s attention that one eye had to be set on the future. His uncle was an intelligent man and often saw things that other men did not see. If Scotland were to be theirs, then an heir would need to be named to solidify power. Such a man would have to prove himself in the eyes of Laird Wallace. A bond of blood would not be enough, but when Douglas looked to the future, he could well imagine himself sitting upon a throne with a crown atop his head.

A knot tightened in his stomach, and his jaw clenched as his ambitions churned within his mind. There was much that he had been deprived of in life, but to be a king, why, that would be the greatest honor of all and would prove that he was the strongest in the land. He grit his teeth and made a vow that he would do everything he could to ensure that he proved himself to his uncle, and then his destiny would be set in stone.

He left the feast to practice forms with the sword and prepare for the following day. It would be a momentous day, not just for him, but for Scotland in general, and nobody but their clan knew it.