Flanders noted that Stephan made no move to approach the gates this time, nor did he send a representative. The Rat Laird remained by his tent, watching from afar.
Robert exchanged a glance with Flanders, then nodded to the guards. "Open the gates. We'll receive ye properly inside."
Atholl raised a hand. "I thank ye for the courtesy, but I must decline. To maintain impartiality, I will hear both sides without interruption." His smile never wavered. "Protocol demands I speak first with the aggrieved party. I shall return on the morrow to hear yer defense."
“I would hear the charges now.” Robert said, the very spit of his fearless father.
"All in good time, Laird Duncan." Atholl tucked the parchment away. "I assure ye, justice will be served."
Flanders stepped forward, unable to contain himself. "The Earl of Moray knows us well. We fought beside him at Bannockburn." He let the implication hang in the air—unlike your father, who fought against us.
Atholl's smile tightened. "Indeed. He spoke highly of ye both. My father often remarked on the...loyalty...of The Bruce's men." The pause was slight but deliberate. "Which is why I'm certain this matter can be resolved without…undue…bloodshed."
"Yer father learned the price of disloyalty," Flanders said evenly. "I trust his son remembers the lesson."
"Some lessons are worth remembering," Atholl replied, his voice cool. "Others, perhaps, are best forgotten. Until tomorrow, gentlemen."
With that, he turned his horse and led his men toward Stephan's encampment. They rode directly to the Rat Laird's tent, as if they'd known precisely where to find him. As if they'd been expected all along.
Robert and Flanders watched them go, their expressions grim.
"We're about to lose it all," Robert said quietly. "Randolph is a fool to trust a Strathbogie."
Flanders nodded. "Aye. It’s no wonder now why Stephan’s been smilin’ in the rain.”
* * *
The war chamberfelt smaller than usual, crowded with worry and the restless movements of Hemming, who paced from window to window, checking each direction with growing concern.
"They're movin'," he reported, his voice tight. "Fanning out to surround us completely."
Robert leaned over the map of Todlaw, his expression dark as if he were bidding the place adieu. "How many?"
"More than before. Many more." Hem shook his head. "More than triple. Must have been waitin' for Atholl. Could have only come from the south or we would have had warnin'."
Snorre cursed under his breath. "We're trapped like rats."
"We're well-provisioned rats," Rolf reminded him. "And these walls have never fallen."
"Aye, but they've never faced a judge with The Regent's seal," Robert said grimly.
The door opened and Gerts entered with Brigid close behind. Their attention darted from one man to the next as they tried to guess why they'd been summoned.
"What's happened?" Brigid asked.
Flanders moved to her side, his voice low and steady. "Stephan's reinforcements have arrived...along with a judge from The Regent."
"A judge?" Gerts' eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl," Robert answered.
Gerts inhaled sharply. "Strathbogie? Are ye certain?"
"Aye. Do ye know him?"
"Well enough." Gerts' face had gone ashen in the torchlight. "His mother was Joan Comyn,Hector’scousin.She died a few years back, but the connection remains."
"Comyn?" Robert's head snapped up. "As inRed Comyn?"
