"What was my brother thinking?"
"I doona know that he was," the messenger replied dejectedly. "They were well besotted with whisky."
"Had he been drinking with the English again?" Robert's lips curled in a sneer.
The messenger nodded, afraid to speak.
"How dare he be the one to determine the time and place for my battles?" Robert thundered. He couldn't believe what the messenger had imparted: His brother Edward, who was in charge of the siege against Stirling Castle, which was being held by the English, had made a "wager" with the Englishman holding it. A wager! A drink-induced challenge, and booty far more valuable than Stirling itself was the prize.
An admission of defeat was the prize, a full retreat from the battle for the crown. Robert could nearly feel his kingdom slipping from his tenuous grasp. His men weren't yet ready for this battle. He needed more time.
"You may be underestimating your men," Niall McIllioch said. "I know it often seems the present is not the right time, but perhaps it is."
Robert shot him a furious glance. "Exactly what were the words exchanged?" he demanded of the ashen messenger.
The messenger winced and glanced around the dim interior of the Brace's tent, seeking help. No one came to his aid. Two blue-eyed Berserkers watched his every move from the shadows—as if that wasn't enough to make a man collapse in a puddle of fear! He sighed, resigned to further infuriating his king.
"Sir Philip de Mowbray, the current commander of the English forces at Stirling, wagered with your brother thusly: If a relieving English army does not approach to within three miles of Stirling Castle by Midsummer's Day, he will surrender the castle to you and your brother and leave Scotland, never to return. If the relieving army successfully attains Stirling, you will give up your fight for Scotland's independence."
"And my dim-witted brother Edward accepted this?" Robert roared.
"Aye."
Robert shook his head. "Does he not realize what this means? Does he not realize that King Edward will gather every troop he has—English, Welsh, Irish, French, supported by every mercenary he can hire—and drive them into my land in less than two weeks' time?"
No one breathed in the tent.
"Does my idiot brother not realize that England has triple our mounted men, quadruple our spearmen and archers?"
"But they're our hills and valleys," Niall reminded softly. "We know this land. We know what advantages to exploit, and doona forget, we have Brodie and his Templars. We have the gentle mists and bogs. We can do this, Robert. We've been fighting for years for our freedom and we have yet attained no decisive victory. It is time now. Doona underestimate the men who follow you. We have two weeks to rally the forces. Believe in us as we have believed in you."
Robert drew a deep breath and pondered Niall's words. Had he been too cautious? Had he been willing to fight only small battles because it wouldn't be such a terrible loss if they failed? Had he unwisely restrained his men from a major war because he feared the possibility of defeat? Circenn had been impatient to war. His Berserkers were impatient to war, aye—and his own impatient brother had wagered their future. Perhaps they were all impatient because it was time.
"Let us summon Brodie. This is what you've been waiting for," Niall said firmly.
"Aye, milord," said Lulach, Niall's brother. "If we prevent Edward's army from reaching Stirling, we will have turned the tides. We will be unstoppable, and if ever the time was now, the time is now. Plantagenet grows weaker in his own country; many of his own lords will not follow him into our land. I say we face this wager boldly, as a gift of fate."
Robert nodded finally. To the messenger, he said, "Get you to Castle Brodie with all haste. Command Circenn to bring his men to join us at St. Ninian's Church by the Roman road. Tell him time is of the essence and to bring every weapon he possesses."
The messenger expelled a relieved breath and fled the tent for Inverness.
* * *
Lisa and Circenn explored each other with uninhibited joy, withdrawing completely into a world of their own making. Circenn laughed more than he had in centuries. Lisa talked more, voicing thoughts and feelings she hadn't even suspected lay dormant within her. In this way they rediscovered themselves, opening up closed compartments that needed the light of day.
The two of them roamed the estate, picnicking in the fresh spring air, dashing off to the bothy for a private moment. It was there that Lisa confided to Circenn what she'd seen Duncan doing with Alesone.
"Did you look?" He scowled possessively. "Did you see him entirely in the blush?"
"Yes." Lisa's cheeks heated.