of the desk, his face just as stony as Gregor’s.
“Tell me.”
Gregor’s dark gaze flicked to Birdie. “It isnae for the ears of innocents.”
“I’m no’ leaving,” she stated, imbuing her voice with every drop of resolve she possessed.
Her father hesitated, but when she gave him her most determined frown, he sighed.
“Unfortunately, I havenae always been able to shield Birdie from the harsh realities of the world outside Castle Bharraich. She has taken on much for the sake of the clan of late. Ye may speak freely before her.”
Gregor nodded grudgingly, though his gaze lingered on Birdie as he began.
“I joined Robert the Bruce’s army when I was but five and ten. As ye might imagine, I was a big lad, and strong, even then. I missed the Battle of Bannockburn, but I fought for him at Berwick, Myton, Boroughbridge, and more. So I didnae hesitate to join the fight when Balliol made his move against David’s claim. Dupplin Moor wasnae like those other battles, though.”
“The odds were that poor against ye, then?”
“Nay, the opposite. We outnumbered Balliol’s men four to one, and we had the advantage in position on a rise above the River Earn. We camped out for the night, ready to crush the usurper and his army of Englishmen come first light.”
Gregor exhaled between clenched teeth before continuing.
“But a traitor in our midst snuck out of camp and helped Balliol’s men ford the river nearby. They set upon us in the dead of night, slaughtering us where we slept. Most of the loyalists slain that night didnae even have time to lift a weapon in defense. They fell in great heaps, cut down like so much grain under a scythe.”
Birdie had to swallow against the bile rising up the back of her throat.
Her father had been generous. Aye, she’d had to take on more responsibilities for the clan’s sake ever since her father’s accident. That had meant she’d dealt with fights among clansmen, illness and death, and now this mounting feud with the Gunns.
But she knew naught of warfare, true violence and bloodshed. The brutality Gregor described—that he’d endured first-hand—sounded like something from a nightmare.
“I fought back as many as I could,” he murmured, his gaze drifting sightless toward the floor. “But eventually they overpowered me. I wasnae strong enough.”
A heavy silence fell over the solar. Birdie held her breath, even as emotion burned in her chest. After a long moment, Gregor blinked, his dark eyes seeming to see the room once more.
“I would have been executed there and then, but someone from Balliol’s army took me for a leader and thought it would be better to make an example of me. I was taken to Scone Palace and left in the dungeon for a fortnight, waiting for death. The day after Balliol crowned himself King, my cellmates and I were dragged out for our public hanging. But instead…”
To Birdie’s surprise, a wry smile tugged at the corner of Gregor’s mouth. He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he was about to say next.
“Instead, an act of God spared us. Or the Devil. Either way, we didnae question it. A bolt of lightning hit the tree we were meant to hang from—that we were already hanging from.”
“Remarkable,” her father breathed.
For her part, Birdie wouldn’t have been able to find words, nor her tongue, even if she’d been ordered to speak.
“My cellmates—three other Highlanders—and I managed to escape. We made a pledge to each other that we would use our second chance at life to crush Balliol and oust his supporters from Scotland. We fancy ourselves the four horsemen of the apocalypse, raining vengeance and hellfire down on that usurping snake.”
Her father pondered that for a moment. “I take it that is where yer army comes in.”
“Aye. I returned to the Highlands a month past, seeking out Lairds, asking them to pledge their support and commit their men to face Balliol again.” Gregor huffed a frustrated breath. “But none would help, even though they all claimed to support David over Balliol.”
“Then what were ye doing at the Caithness Games?”
“Fighting,” Birdie replied before Gregor could answer.
He cocked one dark brow at her. “‘Building my army one man at a time’ is another way of putting it.”
He shifted his attention back to her father. “When I received naught but nays from the Lairds I called upon, I decided to do things my own way. I laid out a challenge wherever I went: every man I bested in