“Laird Niall Campbell,” Niall added.
“The turncoat arrives,” the guard hissed.
It was as Robert had expected. He whipped his sword up to the man’s throat. “I’m nae a turncoat. My family did nae support Balliol, but that does nae mean I will nae fight for Scotland against Edward.”
“Come along, then,” the guard relented in a begrudging tone. “The others will decide if ye should keep yer head.”
“Everyone always wants my head,” Robert said light-heartedly, “yet it still sits upon my shoulders.”
Niall chuckled, and the guard glared at the two of them. He guided them up the stone steps, past more guards, and into the torchlit castle. Silence blanketed much of the estate at such a late hour, but muffled voices drifted from down a dark corridor. A flicker of light flamed at the end. The guard stopped and motioned toward it. “The leaders of the rebellion are in the great hall discussing strategy.”
Robert nodded, and he and Niall fell into step behind the guard once more. As they made their way down the corridor, the voices coming from the great hall grew louder and more distinct.
“I’m nae going to risk my life to put Bruce on the throne!” someone bellowed.
Robert flinched, knowing they were referring to his father.
The guard who was with them snickered, and Robert glared the man into silence.
“Bruce is the rightful claimant,” came another voice.
“Bah! Bruce swore fealty to Edward as overlord of Scotland!”
“Ye ken he did that to avoid swearing allegiance to Balliol!” someone else shouted.
“Where is he, then?” the other man thundered. “Balliol has abdicated, and Bruce, the elder, does nae return to Scotland to help us stop Edward. What does he do instead? He sits in his lavish English estate! He has no backbone to rebel! Let us look to John Comyn to lead us in Balliol’s absence. He has managed to escape the imprisonment that befell many in his family.”
Their words were like harsh blows to Robert’s chest. John “the Red” Comyn came from one of the most powerful families in Scotland—Robert’s being the other—and that was the heart of the conflict between his family and the Comyns. The Comyns wanted all the power, including the throne, but not for the good of Scotland—for greed. Comyn cared for the rebellion only insomuch as he wished to protect his vast estates and current power. He did not truly care for the people and their freedom.
Robert gritted his teeth. He would have to fight beside a man who wanted to destroy him in order to save the land he loved. He shoved the guard out of the way, but a hand came to his arm. He turned to find Niall staring at him. “I’ll nae bend the knee to a Comyn,” Niall said. “Ye ken as well as I do that they will do all they can to gain the throne if there is nae any hope to return Balliol to it.”
Robert nodded. “We will fight for Scotland.” He didn’t say that he hoped his father would join them, though the hope lingered.
Suddenly, the door was flung open, and a giant of a man appeared at the threshold. He had to duck to exit the great hall. He strode toward Robert and Niall, his boots thudding against the floor. He stopped in front of them and smiled, a genuine expression that reached his clear blue eyes and made them crinkle at the edges. “I thought I heard a noise out here,” he said in a deep, friendly voice.
“Ye heard us despite all the commotion within?” Robert asked, exchanging a quick glance with Niall.
“Aye.” The Scot nodded as he scratched at his russet beard. “I’ve had to learn to listen carefully, especially when surrounded by chaos. ’Tis how I still survive though the English hunt me. I’m William Wallace of Elderslie.”
“We’ve heard of ye,” Niall replied. “I’m sorry to hear about yer wife.”
Grief swept over Wallace’s face for the space of a breath before murderous rage replaced it. “I thank ye. The English are suffering for the murder of my wife and will continue to do so. And ye are?” His curious gaze took in both Robert and Niall.
“Niall Campbell.”
“Carrick,” Robert said, giving only his title, as was customary.
“Ah, Bruce,” Wallace said, ignoring the given title. “Word of yer deeds have been brought to us by a messenger from Lady Moray.”
Robert nodded Wallace grinned. “Seems ye made a friend in the lady and she thought to save yer head should anyone want to take it off.” He gazed intently at Robert. “Why have ye come here to us?”
“To help retain Scotland’s freedom, just as ye, Wallace.” Wallace looked unconvinced, so Robert added, “I’ve heard some things about ye as well.”
“Aye? What do they say?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
“That ye fight like a brute beast.”
Wallace chuckled. “How would ye have me fight?”
