They’d been back at the caves almost a fortnight, when Friar Hemm sent one of his stable lads with a message. The lad stood taller than Gilroy, but he wasn’t as courageous as their squire for he stood back, and when they neared him, he retreated.

“Be still, lad, we won’t harm you. Tell us the message from Friar Hemm.” Graeme bid him to stop moving with the palm of his hand. “Hold still.”

The lad nodded. “The friar bid me to come at once because the village is being besieged.”

“Know you who invades? Is it the English?”

The lad hunched his shoulder. “Nay, I know not. The friar only told me to say the village was being attacked and that you should come at the soonest. I should get back to the abbey.” He turned and fled before they could question him further.

Heath didn’t think the English still resided nearby, for most had sojourned back to their homeland upon their king’s death. Yet he discerned some had no reason to return, especially to the young ruler who apparently cared not for his soldier’s welfare. He turned to his comrades to put voice to his thoughts.

Graeme motioned for them to follow and they entered the cave where warmth permeated. “’Tis too damned cold to stand out yonder and discuss the matter. We should leave and aid the villagers. Rohan might have need of us.”

“Aye,” Brodin agreed, “Do ye think the English are wont to cause trouble?”

“Mayhap since many are leery of returning to their homeland,” Liam put in.

Heath nodded. “Aye, and why would they? Their king is a sniveling wagtail.” He turned to Liam, “Is it all right if Lillia stays with Makenna whilst we’re gone? If James comes, I don’t want him to see her.”

“Aye, I’ll tell Makenna to expect her.”

Heath hastened to the ossuary where Lillia spent much of her time lately. He entered and found her tending to Graeme’s horse. With a brow raised, he questioned Gilroy who caught his meaning.

“M’lord, she insisted she help with the horses. She’s only brushing him.” Gilroy took the currycomb from her and tossed it aside.

“Heath, what are you doing here?” Lillia asked and retrieved the brush.

“Graeme would be ireful if he found out you attended to his horse. He is adamant about the care of his animal. Let Gilroy tend to the horse.” He took her hand and retrieved the brush and gave it to Gilroy on the way out.

“If you’ve come to yell at me again, I’ll have you know—”

He kissed her. Heath wished he didn’t have to leave her yet again, but he had his duty to his comrades. Even if they’d gain no coin in their pursuit in the village, at least they would protect its residents from the knaves. There was justice in that. He pulled back and smiled. “I haven’t ever yelled at you. What do you mean again?”

She scoffed. “You do too yell at me. Likely you don’t realize you’re doing it, but you do. I was just wondering what I did now to incur your wrath.”

Heath laughed, for she had to be jesting. “If I’ve yelled at you, Sweetness, it is because … Well, there’s no really excuse. I came to tell you that I must go to the village. I don’t ken how long I will be, but I wish you to stay with Makenna whilst we’re gone.”

“Very well, but only because you asked me kindly. Why must you go to the village?”

He wasn’t sure how much he should tell her. “There’s a scuffle there and the friar bids us to see to it. Hopefully we won’t be gone too long.”

“I’m gladdened to hear it’s only a scuffle. I shall miss you.”

Heath pulled her in his arms again and took his time telling her how much he’d miss her. Graeme shouted his name. “Stay in the cave with Makenna, be warm.” He’d added the last because he didn’t want to worry her. The last thing she needed to know was that James Douglas made it his mission to take her to King Robert.

He joined his brethren and they rode out. The ride to the village didn’t take long, and as they trekked on the road, many of the villagers ran past them. Heath picked up the pace and rode for the walls. When he entered, he found several buildings aflame. Women held their children, weeping at the sight. A stench of burnt wood and hay permeated the air.

Ireful and disgusted by the criminal injustice, he jumped from his horse and pulled his sword free. Before this day was over, he’d be sure to add a few strings to his boots, warranted and justly so. His comrades joined him and they separated. Heath skulked behind the cottages and sheds, but found no one. In his quest to find the miscreants, he roamed through the lanes and grew impatient.

When he neared the mead hall, he spotted Graeme. “Have ye seen anyone?”

“Nay, they must’ve fled. Let us visit Rohan, mayhap he’ll know who did this atrocity.” Heath bounded inside the mead hall and found his robust, burly comrade sitting in the corner, being tended by his serving women.

“Rohan, are you hurt?”

“Ah, ‘tis glad I am to see you. Nay, be gone women. I tell ye I am unharmed. I fought off a few of the loggerheads, but they left after they destroyed two of my finest tables.”

They stood about surveying the damage. Graeme and Brodin righted a few of the tables, and Liam pulled benches near enough for them to sit.

Rohan was privy to their secrets and entrusted with their endeavor to aid the king. He’d been a good comrade well before they were exiled with the Bruce. Heath detested seeing his commerce in such disarray. The man worked too hard as it was.

He directed his servants to clean and toss the batches of ale. “They spit in me ale. Can you believe that? Who would do such a thing? Waste good ale all for naught? I suspect the friar sent for ye? I had one of my lads go and tell him of the attack.”

Graeme nodded. “Aye and we came straight here.”

Liam leaned against the table. “Do you ken who they were? Was it the English?”

Rohan shook the wisps of his brown hair, his ruddy cheeks trembling with his movement. “Nay, I thought at first it was the wily MacDoughalls for you ken how they dislike our being here. But och, it were not they who did this.”

Brodin scowled about the chamber. “God almighty, they ruined your batch of brew. The blighters. I hope they rot in hell.”

Rohan found a grin. “Och, lad, no worries. I have aplenty stored below. I’ll send some home with ye.” He directed his servers to bring a fresh batch ale that had yet to be served. “The men who came, I deem them to be English supporters. They asked where we might find the king’s guard. They also sought two lads who were said to be abducted from Bothwell Castle. Of course, I had no knowledge of that.” He winked, letting them know he was on to them.

“The Comyns. They trailed us here.” Heath stood hastily, and wanted to be on his way back to Lillia. Rohan stopped him with his next summation.

“James Douglas’ lads came before the loggerheads. They asked if I’d seen ye. I told them nay. They spoke of a scuffle near Loch Awe and that Good Sir James was after the MacDoughalls. But I tell ye, they weren’t the MacDoughalls that came here.”

Graeme rounded up a few cups and dunked them into the ale barrel. He handed them out and sat wearily. “So that’s where James has been and why he didn’t follow us back to the caves.”

Liam finished his drink hastily. “He didn’t send word to us about an imminent battle. If the king is with him, he should’ve included us. He knows we continue to uphold our oath to protect Robert.”

Brodin finished his drink and poured more before he asserted his view, “He’s deliberately avoiding us. I say we go to Awe and find out about this scuffle.” He shot a quick glance at him. “Your wife will be safe enough until we return.”

Heath supposed she would be since James was busy and the Comyns didn’t know where they resided. “Aye, I too want to ken what’s up James’ arse. If Robert is there, so should we be.”

They finished their drinks and left several coins for Rohan. As they left the village, Heath glared at the destruction around them, the smoke that waffled from the burnt structures, the women and children who feared for their lives. He wanted to squelch every last Comyn in retribution.

The ride to Ben Cruachan, a high mountainous peak that sat adjacent to Loch Awe, took long to navigate for many of the slopes steep. Their horses slowed the pace, sometimes sliding on the loosened rocks. Once they reached the bottom of the pass and rode along the loch, Heath spotted a regiment a short ways off.

“That must be James and his band. Let us confront him,” Graeme said.

Before they rode into the camp, they used the oil and soot to camouflage themselves. If Robert was present, they needed to ensure he didn’t recognize them. Their task quickly completed, Heath was the first to head in the camp’s direction.

He kept his eyes trained for James, his burly comrade was taller than most. And his dark hair easy to spot for he never wore a helmet for protection. Heath pointed at a group of men who sat around a small fire.

“What make you of that?” Graeme asked.

“Appears we’ve missed the action,” Brodin said in a surly tone.

“Aye, the fighting is over by the looks of it,” Liam said, dejected.

They reached James who stood hastily when he noticed them. He sent his men off and bid them welcome. “Come and rest yourselves.”

Graeme dismounted and nodded to James. “Is Robert here?”

“He was, but has left for his lodging in Turnbury.”

Heath dismounted and scowled. “Why did you not send for us? We should have been here to protect the king.”

James spat on the ground and motioned them forward. “I didn’t deem it beneficial to have ye here. You ken why, you lied to me.”

This was Heath’s fault and he needed to make it right. Their oath given for the king’s protection was of great importance to them and he’d be damned if James wouldn’t allow them do their duty.

Once his comrades joined him and they stood by James, Heath moved forward. “James, we need to speak privately.”

His comrades shook their heads, but he knew what needed to be done. “Come, let us walk a bit.” James followed him. “Our oath to Robert still stands. We will not be left behind when he needs us. I am the reason you are perturbed. There is a lass at our caves. Lillia Hunter, ah, Fraser now for I’ve married her.”

James didn’t speak, but his eyes spoke volumes, as they darkened with his irritation.

Heath continued, “I’ve known the lass all my life and I couldn’t let her be taken to Robert. You ken she would’ve been stashed away, never to be seen again.”

“You should’ve told me, Heath.”

“I would have, but I was more concerned for her safety. The Comyns continue to search for her. Until they are thwarted, I will persist in keeping her hidden. Will you vow to include us in further missions? We care greatly about Robert and want to ensure his safety.”

James nodded. “Come, join me at the fire and I will speak of the fray.”

Heath rejoined his comrades and they sat about waiting to hear James’ tale. Their comrade passed around bread, which was too hard to eat. None of them partook.

James cleared his throat. “At the old MacDoughall’s behest, John Bacach came with a good number of men. Robert received word of his enemy’s movement and decided to meet them at the pass. They thought to ambush the king’s army, but Robert has become too clever to fall into such a simple trap.”

Graeme interjected, “Were they seeking retribution for the battle at Dalrigh?”

“Likely, but they were probably disappointed at the outcome for we overcame them from behind taking them unawares.”

Brodin whistled. “Damn, I wish I was here.”

James laughed. “Aye, the king and his army drove them upward, and me and my men downward. They were caught betwixt us. Many of my men chased them toward Dunstaffnage where I hope they perish from their wounds.”

“The MacDoughalls are finally defeated?” Liam asked.

“Aye, ‘tis likely the lot of them will pay homage to Robert, once they get their arses from hiding. Bacach escaped and is probably on his way to England with his tail betwixt his legs, the dog-faced traitor. But this day, we can at least claim victory.”

Graeme rubbed his face in obvious agitation that they weren’t there to see to the king. “At least Robert is safe and wasn’t harmed in the battle.”

James laughed. “It wasn’t much of a battle. Robert is growing more composed, and not as passionate as his sword arm once professed. I deem he’s finally thinking like a commander now. I am a mite proud of him.”

“That is good to hear,” Heath said. “What of the Comyns?”

“What of them? I promise you, by the end of the year, mayhap early next, the Comyn and their supporters will be exiled to England where the knavish dogs belong.”

“Regardless, there will always be those who supported the Comyns on Scottish soil.” Heath grew morose because their enemy would never be gone and he detested that Robert would have a never-ending battle on his hands.