James laughed, for Trudy, Sean’s daughter, was an adorable lass, och she liked to talk and wouldn’t stop unless you found food to quiet her. She’d be a stuffed goose by the time she reached the age of ten. He could’ve laughed at his thought.

“He didn’t say why he wanted us there at this hour?”

Sean shook his head. “Nay, all he said was get everyone and something about meeting when the cocks crow.” He bellowed a laugh. “’Tis the truth, I don’t allow the nasty, noisy birds within the castle’s walls.”

James didn’t find his friend’s comment the least bit humorous.

They reached the keep and were the last to arrive. Besides he and Sean, the rest sat around the long table, looking as put-out as he was. Grey, Duff, and Benson, the keep’s commander-in-arms, as well as a few other seasoned soldiers, were staring at each other. He gave a quick glance to his close comrade, Colm, who was a guardsman like himself. His friend gave nothing away and returned his gaze with a raised brow.

James took the seat opposite of Grey. “Laird, you got us all out of bed, you mind telling us why?”

A trencher was sent in front of him, but James couldn’t even think of eating at a time like this. He waited impatiently for the news, of which he dreaded. They’d be sent to war.

“James, eat first. Then we’ll have our discussion. I’ll need everyone’s full attention when I speak of it.”

But James wouldn’t consider touching the trencher laden with the delicious smelling food for he’d lost his appetite. He put his last encounter with Muriel from his mind, knowing he had to concentrate on the tasks that lie ahead. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, discontent to wait.

Grey stared at him as he ate his fill. “Tell Mistress Maddie, Sean, the meal was delicious.”

Mistress Maddie, the keep’s cook, was a fair one at that, and rivaled Grey’s wife at making foodstuff. James was ensnared by the scents wafting to him and he was hungry. He managed to pick a few bites from his trencher.

Sean nodded and pushed his trencher forward. Likewise, when everyone else finished, they did the same. Grey didn’t appear to want to begin the discussion so James took it upon himself to get him started.

“What did the king say?”

“I met with Alexander and he explained Llywelyn’s need. His men were killed when a truce had been called. I know you want to hear what’s been decided. We must travel to Snowdonia.”

Sean leaned forward. “How many men will we be taking? I want to leave enough behind to see to my family’s safety. After this past year, I won’t have my Frances living in fear.”

James affirmed his agreement by grunting. After they’d dispatched the knave who tormented Frances and killed a few of the lassies in these parts, Sean and most of the Humes were distrusting and deservedly so. Sean kept his fortification secure and protected regardless of the fact that the madman was caught and killed.

“We’ll need every available man.”

“We’re to war?” Colm asked.

“Not exactly,” Grey said, and leaned back. He wore that expression James knew well. It was a look of concern with a bit of ire.

When they all looked at him expectantly, Grey let out an exasperated breath. “When I met Alexander, he bid me to make a stop before I returned here. I was to parlay with Marshall to discuss his betrayal and to see if we could get him to cease his attacks. I met up with Donal, and he and his soldiers went with me.”

James frowned, not liking the fact that Grey had to call upon Donal Ross to accompany him to the meeting. That meant tempers were flared. Donal, the chieftain of their neighboring clan, was often called upon by their king to soothe riled warlords.

“Did ye meet with Marshall?” James pounded his fist on the table, certain his laird was delaying and stalling. His impatience grew ten-fold during the conversation and it seemed Grey didn’t want to expound.

“We caught up with Marshall by the border. He gave me his terms of withdrawal. He will desist on attacking Llywelyn’s fiefs and we may be able to thwart a war if we can convince Llywelyn to wed his daughter to Marshall.”

Why Grey looked pointedly at him, James couldn’t fathom, nor would he be insolent and question his laird.

For several seconds, a nerve-wracking silence came over them. James didn’t like hearing this, because the poor lass would be used as a pawn. Such a thing never turned out well. From what he’d heard of Marshall, the lass was in for a harsh life if she even lasted long in his care.

“Cosh! Llywelyn won’t likely agree. I trust he enjoys quarreling with Marshall too much to concede. Which daughter?” Sean asked.

“The one named Emlyn. He’ll not accept any other. We’ll present the offer and if Llywelyn accepts, we’ll escort the lass and peace will reign.”

James laughed mockingly. “Peace my arse. I doubt those two will ever come to peace. You deem this treaty and marriage pact will end years of fighting? Each has taken many fiefs in the last year alone …”

Duff slammed his cup on the table after drinking down the remnants. “I agree with James. News always reaches us about their squabbles. I doubt it, too. Marshall wants all of Llywelyn’s lands and won’t cease his marauding until he has them.”

“And Llywelyn may not want to sacrifice one of his daughters. I think he enjoys the warfare too much and won’t parlay,” Sean said.

Grey shook his head. “We have to have hope he will. Otherwise we’ll be drawn into their fray. I won’t lose any of my clan, or yours, Sean, for their petty causes.”

A rock sat in James’ stomach hearing this news. “What of Kenneth? Will he be joining us on this excursion?” James hoped not. They’d been raised with Kenneth and had entered training at the same time. Kenneth became laird of his own clan, the McInnish, and had a vast amount of land and clan to see to. He had no time to care for such matters as Llywelyn’s or the king’s. Then James reconsidered for Kenneth’s land wasn’t too far from that which land was being fought over.

If Marshall won Iorwerth’s lands, he’d be close to McInnish land, and could verily wish to obtain those lands as well. James knew unless they stopped Marshall, England would pursue all of Scotland and Wales.

“Aye, I sent word for him to meet us near the border where we’ll camp. It didn’t make sense for him to travel all the way here when he’s a stone’s throw from Llywelyn’s land.”

Sean tossed a hunk of bread he’d taken of bite of onto his trencher, and sat sideways in his chair. “We’re to be glorified matchmakers then? Aye?”

Grey rubbed his eyes, looking bleary and as apprehensive as they. “Seems so.”

James hoped Llywelyn agreed to the betrothal. The last thing any of the Gunns wanted was to insert themselves in a war that had no bearing on their lives.

“If Llywelyn doesn’t agree to send his lass,” Grey said, and again looked at him as if he were trying to say something without actually saying it. “we will to war. At least Llywelyn is used to warfare and his men are well trained. Marshall hasn’t fought his full army yet and has only besieged his smaller fiefs and clashed with a few lesser groups. I am not sure what to expect when it comes to hand to hand combat betwixt their two armies. Aye, we might be fighting for our lives.”

Everyone around the table became staid then for no one wanted to voice what they were thinking. After a few minutes of silence, Grey said, “You’ve all be given ample time to take care of your matters. We’ll depart in an hour.” With that, their laird left the hall and them to their trepidation.

James walked out of the keep with Colm, who like Sean, was due to have his first bairn in the spring. He couldn’t fathom the unease Colm or Sean must be feeling. Though they’d put their lives on the line for causes as insignificant, James wouldn’t want to be trekking off to Wales to a war if he was in their position. They were just starting their families and had pregnant wives to see to.