They had come over the hills and mountains under a cloak of darkness, and the peasant boys who guarded the fields and alerted the soldiers had seen them coming. One of them had ran from his vantage point, with bare feet, cut and bleeding from the rough ground, his chest heaving with exertion so that he could get there in time.
“An army,” he gasped. “It’s coming this way.”
The soldiers had instantly stood guard and drew their weapons, they had charged the fields, out past the loch and down into the valley. But when they had arrived, all they saw was the trail of around twenty horses and the tartan of a clan they knew all too well.
Clan Drummond.
Not foes, but not friends either. Their history with Clan Grant had always been warped and tested in tumultuous times.
The soldiers could see the grave expressions on Lord Drummond’s face as he halted his horse and raised his hands in peace.
“I need to speak with James Grant,” he said proudly. “It is a matter of great urgency.”
Two soldiers returned immediately to the castle, slapping the peasant boy on the back of the head as they went for causing such an alarm by calling the Drummonds an army. When the soldiers had found Lord James Grant, he had listened to what they had to say and agreed to speak with Lord Drummond… After all, if he stated it was a matter of urgency and had come all that way in the dark and cold, surely he should give them a chance.
He had met him down by the drawbridge. His armor fiercely bound to him, that last tiny bit of doubt rising up in him that it could all be a rouse.
“Lord Drummond,” he said as he stood with his legs wide and his arms crossed. Behind him, James Grant had an army of men waiting to strike, but the second he saw the look on Drummond’s face, he knew he wouldn’t be needing them.
“Grant,” Drummond said wearily. “We are in trouble.”
Lord Grant studied him for a moment, unsure of whether to wait for him to continue or whether he should interject and ask what was happening over at their castle.
“All of us,” Lord Drummond said as his eyes fixed sternly on Grant’s.
“What do you mean?” he asked with suspicion.
He could see that Drummond was sweating, that his men looked worn out and pale. Something terrible had clearly happened to these men, their faces were drawn, as if they had all spent the evening being haunted by some vicious ghosts.
“You’ve heard the legends?” Drummond said as he swallowed.
And, in that moment, Lord James Grant’s stomach dropped to the floor; he too felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat.
The legend… it couldn’t be…
“They have taken Castle Cawdor,” Drummond said. “And from what we have managed to gather, they are heading this way…”
Lord Grant’s blood ran cold.
It had been a long time since the Legend of the Highlands had been spoken about… He had almost drawn the conclusion that it must have been myth… But now… What if…?
“We need to band together,” Drummond said. “Or we will all be damned.”
Lord Grant nodded and tried to think fast.
“They want our women,” Drummond said with a snarl. “They want our land and our men for their army. They want to destroy our clans and take over the Highlands. Now is the time that we fight, and we MUST win.”
Lord Grant knew that he was right, but the idea of breaking bread with the Drummond’s was not something he had been expecting to be doing when he had woken up that morning.
“Aye,” he nodded. “We shall talk.”
Lord Drummond nodded in return and climbed back up on his steed. As they galloped off into the night, Lord Grant was aware that everything he had ever known was about to change, and even though in a perfect world, he would be able to fight, in reality, he knew that if what he had heard was true, he would be powerless to stop it.
The legend said a clan so powerful would one day rise and the rest would fall. The idea made him shudder with terror and go weak at the knees.
He thought of his wife, of his daughters and of how his sons would be enslaved and treated like peasants.
He thought of what would happen to them all when he wouldn’t be there to protect them, should the castle be stormed and he be killed.
No! He would not let it happen.
Lord James Grant was a powerful man and he would ensure that his family survived. No matter what the cost, he was going to protect Castle Grant and everyone in it.
As he marched back to the main hall, he had a new sense of purpose, but that didn’t stop his nerves from mounting.
They would want his daughter Bonnie, he was sure of that for certain. With a rare beauty such as hers, he was going to have to do all he could to protect her.
The fight was only just beginning, but he wouldn’t stop until it was dead and buried.