With a frown, he shoved the missive into his doublet and looked to Grant, completely ignoring Helen’s question. “The king has requested my presence at Stirling Castle. We must leave on the morrow.”
“Stirling?” Helen clapped her hands together. “Oh it would be lovely to purchase some new fabric at the castle fete.”
“Aye, but you will not be accompanying me.”
Helen frowned. It was no use asking if he would bring back a bolt of gold damask. He wouldn’t do it. And making such a request would only give him another opportunity to berate her.
Grant stood and bowed. “I’ll ready the men.” He looked to Aleck. “We’ll take the galley to Dunstaffnage and ride from there as usual?”
“Aye.”
Helen nearly melted when she heard the henchman say Dunstaffnage. She had many fond memories of that castle. It was only a short ride from Dunollie where her sister, Gyllis, lived with her husband, Sean MacDougall. If only she could stow away on Aleck’s galley with Maggie. Helen could visit Gyllis and then travel east to Kilchurn Castle and see her mother. How wonderful such a holiday would be. She hadn’t seen her kin in years.
Alas, Aleck would be in too much of a hurry to take her and Maggie to Dunollie—only four miles south of Dunstaffnage.
However, in her usual mien, Helen chose to see the positive side of this turn of events. Perhaps this journey would take Aleck away for an entire month. She smiled. Indeed, his absence was something she would welcome.
Chapter Two
Eoin MacGregor, Chieftain of Clan Gregor, sat at the king’s table. The gathering was a clandestine assembly, conducted in the king’s antechamber, one doorway from his royal highness’s bedchamber. The room was appointed with landscape tapestries woven with iridescent silk threads. The particularly rich greens made the scenes appear almost lifelike. The table itself was a work of art, hewn from walnut with carved lion’s heads at each corner.
Eoin was flanked by Duncan Campbell, Lord of Glenorchy, and his brother, Sir Iain Campbell, who had recently been granted the title of Chieftain of Lawers.
Across from them, Eoin’s good friends Sir Sean MacDougall and Sir Robert Struan completed this group of nobles who comprised the upper echelon of the king’s enforcers. Each one a fierce warrior adept in weaponry, not even the English could stop their armies when united.
Seated at the head of the table was King James IV who, at the age of twenty, still looked like a lad with his brown shoulder-length tresses curling out from under a gold crown. But Eoin knew better than to underestimate his monarch. The king had risen to power five years earlier, having taken part in the rebellion against his father, the very unpopular King James III. Even though youthful, this James exuded authority with iron-clad confidence, and Eoin respected him as Scotland’s sovereign.
Lord Duncan flicked a speck of lint from his velvet doublet. With a thick head of black hair combined with a neatly cropped beard, the baron could pass for a pirate on a sunny day. “Word has it the MacDonalds are rebelling to the north.”
The king’s eyebrows arched and disappeared beneath his gold crown. “’Tis why I summoned you. Now that I’ve stripped John MacDonald of the Lordship of the Isles, it appears his nephew, Alexander, has taken up his mantle and is raiding the entire west coast.”
“Miserable, spineless dog,” Sean MacDougall said from across the table. He had good reason for concern. His keep, Dunollie, sat on the western seaboard.
“Aye,” the king agreed. “I’ll not tolerate insurrection from any one of my subjects.”
Duncan eyed each of his men—the inner circle of the Highland Enforcers. Though nobles and clan chieftains, each man was a sizeable warrior, every one willing to lay down his life for the other. “Spies report Alexander has made contact with all MacDonald Clans down the coast. He’s planning a rebellion.”
Eoin nodded. “Any idea when…or where?”
King James tapped his lips with his pointer finger. “My guess is he’ll amass his army first.”
Duncan studied the map on the table. It was dotted with red-inked circles and, leaning closer, Eoin realized each marked a MacDonald stronghold. Glenorchy pointed to the Isle of Islay. “They control this entire region. It makes no sense to mount an attack on the crown from the north. I’d wager they’ll be building their forces at Dunyveig or Finlaggan.”
The king ground his finger onto a cluster of red dots on the Isle of Skye. “Aye, but they also control the northwest. Do