Читать книгу The Maid of Lorne - Terri Brisbin - Страница 9

The 11th day of August

In the Year of Our Lord, 1308

The stench of blood and sweat and death permeated the air around the field. The victory here had assured Scotland’s embattled king that he would gain the foothold he needed in the west, and break the power of some of the more dangerous “lords of the isles.” Thinking to ambush his troops as they made their way toward the coast, the MacDougalls had underestimated his abilities and those of his supporters.

As he stood before the man who had handed him victory at the battle of Brander Pass that morning, the Bruce was covered in not a little blood. Robert smiled grimly.

“You have your orders, Sebastien. Carry them out. Those who will accompany you to Dunstaffnage know their duties and will support anything you do there in my name.”

His most trusted warrior and spy simply nodded as he always did, and turned to leave. Sebastien of Cleish had presented him with their enemy’s ambush plans and a clever strategy in response to it.

“Wed or dead by nightfall, Sebastien, and I’ll be wanting proof of either one.”

“Aye, sire. Wed or dead.” The warrior bowed to him and was already on his way out of the tent when he spoke the words.

Robert took a deep breath before calling his squire to help him undress. Dunstaffnage Castle, the MacDougall’s lands and his eldest daughter, the Maid of Lorne, would be within his grasp before the sun set this evening.