The Renegade(31)
He began pacing back and forth, holding himself straight as a blade and looking at their faces, watching for Rob knew not what, but then he stood still and added, in an almost whimsical tone, “It will not be easy.”
The listening men, hard, doughty fighters all of them, broke into sardonic laughter. It was not much of a jest, but it acknowledged the realities of who they were.
The MacDonald let them laugh, and when the silence had returned he repeated, “No, it will not be easy. But it must be done. We made agreement today to stop it, and to work together to stop it. And our solemn word was witnessed by this gathering of Kings, princes, and earls, from Scotland, Ireland, and England. We gave our bond, the Macdougall and myself. And within the same God-chosen day, your folly and these murders gave the lie to both of us, making us appear fools and liars. If word of these events reaches the ears of any who is not here present, I swear every last one of you will answer to us in person with your lives. When I am done, you will take these three men and bury them, away from any watching eyes, and if any man asks after them tomorrow, you will say you know not where they went.”
A voice came from among the MacDonald men.
“Ye should’ve told us, Angus Mohr.”
It was the same uncouth voice Rob had heard earlier.
“They are not always right to call you daft, are they, Iain?” Again a ripple of laughter arose. “And what should I have said? That you were to have no more fights among yourselves with the Macdougalls? You would have laughed at me!”
They did, louder this time, and he waited for them to fall quiet. When he spoke again, Rob was aware of a difference in his voice, an altered, deeper resonance.
“Listen now. Much needs to be done after today’s great matters, and none of it to be easily achieved. We have old hatreds to bury, new alliances to forge, old customs to be abandoned and new ones to establish. We all—even you sorry rogues—stand now on the sill of a new age for our people. Our united people. This very day I pledged, on your behalf, to keep the peace here in the west, in conjunction with Macdougall here, for Alexander Canmore, King of Scots.” He whipped up a hand, intent upon silencing a protest that he believed must come, but no one even moved.
“Now, some may say—will say—that the Scots King has no presence here in the west, and thus no right to claim allegiance of any of us. Those people are wrong now and will be more so in time to come. Like it or not, Alexander Canmore is the King of Scots—it is his rightful title—and he claims this west of ours as part of his realm, with the full support of Holy Church. And that is a matter of great import. You might resent that, might deny it and rebel against it. But you will forfeit your own soul’s salvation if you do, in denying God’s own right to dictate the affairs of men.”
Rob listened, rapt, knowing beyond a doubt that he was hearing more of great matter in this darkened place than he had ever heard before. He was aware that the man he was listening to was a warrior chief whose reputation lent itself to pillage, piracy, and arrogance rather than to diplomacy and subtle politics, but his words were holding everyone spellbound—and with that thought the boy real-
ized that he had missed something the man was saying.
“ … damn yourselves, that is your own affair,” he heard. “But damned you will be. Make no mistake on that. And there is no need. The Scots King offers us no ill. He seeks our goodwill—our friendship and support here in the west. His own, true realm lies in the east, and there, from Dunfermline town, he has his work cut out for him in governing to the north and south, the towns and burghs and the fertile lands that feed and support the people there—far, far more people than our isles and mountains could support.”
A new thought tugged at young Rob Bruce as he heard those words, but even as it came to him it vanished. Annoyed, he tried harder to grasp it, but by then it was too late.
“East, south, and north,” the Islay chief was saying, gesturing dramatically in each direction with both hands as he named it. “The Scots King’s realm lies there—with us, our high mountains, lochs, and glens, at his back in the west. He sees no risk from us, and he is right. All of us Gaels combined would not suffice to raise an army big enough to conquer his. But he needs us to guard his back. To keep these mountains safe from threats to him. And to gain that help from us, he offers us the right to govern ourselves as we see fit, without threat of interference from him. So be it we conduct ourselves as worthy allies, the man will leave us alone and in peace. The King’s peace, he calls it. And I, for one, have no quibble with that, so long as the King who claims that peace leaves us in peace.”