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of day. The heat eased and the men set about
their arms and tested their strength while there was still enough light to see.
    He was always awed watching the men
throw the cabers, go at each other with axes, and fight hand-to-hand combat.
One day, he promised himself, he would be one of those men—a powerful force to
be reckoned with as his father proclaimed. Until then, Grey studied their
movements, noting each flick of the wrist, each tumble in the dirt, the
effectiveness of using the body. War was part of their existence and the only
way to protect what was theirs. Grey wished he was old enough to fight beside a
warrior, though he needed more training before he’d be allowed to war.
    Duff, Kenneth, Colm, Sean, and James
joined him on the rise of the hill above the soldiers on the training field.
Each had been friends since their swaddling years. Grey would one day give them
each a place of honor within the clan. For he swore they would be his guard.
Being laird, they would protect him and all or any that he commanded.
    “Where’s the wee sultag?” his friend
Duff asked.
    “Did ye tie her to a tree, Grey?
Hope ye tied the rope nice and tight, for that lass can escape all,” Greer
said, laughing.
    The lads joined Greer in laughter,
knowing that was exactly what Grey wanted to do all day. But Grey didn’t
appreciate the jest or the insult, and frowned at his friends.
    “Nay, she’s resting. And don’t ye be
calling her a beast, Duff. She will one day be your clan’s lady. Dare you
affront me by insulting her?” He shoved Duff in the chest and knocked him
backward on to his arse. Grey wouldn’t let any of them insult Albrey, even in
jest. His duty insisted her protect her honor even if he agreed with his friend’s
remark.
    Duff took offense to his action and
jumped on him, making him fall to the ground. He rolled over Duff and punched
him square in the nose. Grey tried to bloody him, but the lad was far too
thickheaded to damage. The only way to rile him was to … Collecting a good bit
of saliva in his mouth, Grey started to let it slide from his lips. A stream of
spit wadded downward toward Duff’s face.
    “Get off me, Grey! I swear if you
spit on me, I’ll knock ye senseless.” Duff squirmed beneath him and tried to
buck him off.
    Grey sucked up the stream of saliva
and spit it far off. He shook his head and swept the hair away that had fallen
in his eyes. “Aye, Duff? Get off your arse and don’t be offending Albrey. She’s
just a wee lass and can’t help being a pest.”
    The lads continued to watch the
soldiers, their earlier fracas forgotten. After the late-afternoon sparring
ended, his da and his closest ally Donal Ross found him. Laird Ross and his
father had been friends for many years, and great allies of King William.
    “Lad, I’ve been looking for ye. Have
you learned anything this day?” His da tilted his head in the direction of the
soldiers.
    “Aye, Da, I’ve learned never to take
your eyes off your opponent,” he said, eyeing Duff.
    Laird Ross chuckled low. “Good
lesson, lad. Never underestimate him neither. Always be ready for anything and
ye shall never be defeated.”
    His da said, “That goes for all of
ye. Be off, Grey has duties to attend.”
    His friends left and Grey stepped
between his father and Laird Ross. He’d grown tall enough to look at their
faces without raising his face much. His head nearly reached his father’s
shoulder.
    “I best get back to watching Albrey.
She’s probably awakened by now.”
    Laird Gunn patted his son’s
shoulder. “Aye, ye do your duty well watching the lass. It was honorable of ye
to do so all day, lad. We should get to the betrothal ceremony; all are likely
in their cups by now and won’t get to enjoy the announcement.”
    Laird Ross stopped him with a hand
to his shoulder. “Before we do, I want to give ye this.” He pulled out a steel
dagger from a leather sheath. The dagger was well made, encrusted with a row of
red jewels on