not underestimate the MacDonalds. They’ll be marshalling their forces in the north as well as the south.”
Duncan’s lips thinned and he sat back. “The bastards.”
“That is why we need the enforcers to lead sorties along the western seaboard.” The king snapped his fingers at the sentry guarding the door, who swiftly exited. “I want three separate forces. Duncan, you and MacDougall will combine and train the troops at Dunstaffnage. Iain and Robert will lead my men at Tabert.” His Grace looked to Eoin. “I want you to prepare the forces at Mingary in the north.”
Eoin glanced from the king to Duncan and gulped. “Mingary, your Grace?”
Duncan spread his big palms to his sides. “’Tis a MacDonald keep.”
The king ran his fingers over his smooth chin—yet to grow a full beard. “Aye, but Aleck MacIain MacDonald has stripped away the MacDonald name and has sworn fealty to the crown.”
“I knew about the name, but can you trust him?” Duncan asked.
“You question me?” The king snorted. “God’s teeth, he’s your brother-in-law.”
Duncan bowed his head. “Forgive me, your Grace.”
King James leaned in, gesturing for the men to follow suit. Then he eyed Eoin. “’Tis why I chose Mingary. If you’re based at MacIain’s keep, the MacDonalds will be none the wiser, and you can watch the chieftain’s every move.”
“Then why are you not sending the Lord of Glenorchy up there rather than me?” Eoin would much prefer to be stationed at Dunstaffnage. There were a host of reasons why he’d do anything to avoid Mingary, not the least being its vulgar lord and master.
The king rapped his knuckles on the table. “Because I agree with Campbell. The greatest threat comes from the south where the bastards are closer to the throne. Glenorchy needs to be stationed at Dunstaffnage because he has the largest army at his disposal.”
The door opened and in walked Aleck MacIain—the very man they had been discussing. He was a thick Highlander with a scraggly black beard. His beady eyes darted around the chamber until they rested on Eoin. Looking away, Eoin’s upper lip curled. He didn’t know Aleck well, but the few times he’d encountered the man, he hadn’t been impressed. He was loud and gluttonous. Worse, he was Helen Campbell’s husband. Aside from Aleck MacIain, the last person on earth Eoin wanted to see was Lady Helen.
Aleck bowed to their sovereign. “Your Grace.”
“Sir Aleck.” Duncan stood and offered his hand. “How is my sister?”
MacIain looked at Duncan’s outstretched palm a bit too long before he shook it. “Birthed a bloody lass.”
Eoin clenched his fist and ground his knuckles into his palm. If the bastard utters a single insult about Lady Helen, I’ll wring his unshaven neck—providing Duncan doesn’t beat me to it.
“Aye?” Duncan grimaced. “The good news hadn’t yet reached me.”
Aleck took a seat across from Eoin and shrugged. “Such is the tireless duty of a chieftain. I’ve not yet set quill to parchment.”
“Gentlemen,” said the king. “Allow me to apprise Sir Aleck of our plans.”
Eoin regarded the black-bearded rogue across the table while the king talked. What Helen saw in the man, he had no idea. Other than being uglier than a hairy arse, she might be attracted to his size—though MacIain had a belly like a pregnant heifer.
Eoin again glanced to Duncan. Helen’s marriage had been arranged by her elder brother. Though Eoin had never asked, he’d always wondered if the lass had encouraged it. He swiped a hand across his mouth. It didn’t matter now. She’d been married for ages and she’d just given birth to a daughter. Eoin doubted Lady Helen would even remember him from their childhood.
When he was a lad, Helen’s mother had asked him to stand in as an occasional partner for the lass’s dancing lessons. Aye, he’d spent his youth as a squire for the Lord of Glenorchy, Duncan’s da. Eoin smirked. Sitting across the table, Sean MacDougall had also attended those lessons. The Chieftain of Dunollie always managed to be partnered with Helen’s elder sister, Gyllis, who happened to now be his wife of five years. Lucky bastard.
“How fast can you and your men relocate to Mingary?” the king asked.
Eoin looked to his sire and realized the question had been directed toward him. “Ah...If I leave for Glen Strae at first light, we should be in Ardnamurchan before the month’s end.” He turned to Aleck. “Have you cannons?”
“Bloody oath, I do,” the braggart gloated. “Two black shiny barrels arrived from Portugal but two months ago.”