43. Chapter 43 - Magnus

CHAPTER 43 - MAGNUS

ROYAL TENT IN THE MIDDLE OF KIPPEN FIELD - JUNE 20, 1291

M y men and I climbed down from our horses and stalked toward the tent. Haggis was covered in mud and spattered as he walked.

I held the flap up on the side and paused before entering — twas dark but I could sense there were many men, making this a dangerous situation. My men filed past me intae the shelter, one pushing our hostage, Thomas Hayden, tae the side. I nodded Archibald toward the back wall.

I ducked my head, the last tae enter.

It took a moment for m’eyes tae adjust — tae see the English King, Edward, sitting on a carved throne with about fifteen men behind him. Beside him was a table, and on the table was a battery-powered lamp.

When I noted it, I met his eyes, and he smirked.

My eyes traveled across the other men. I dinna recognize any of them, twas dark in the tent and they looked shadowy, the look of men who had been livin’ in an encampment for a long time. I couldna tell if any of them were time travelers, but Edward’s lamp was meant tae signal tae me that this was not an ordinary medieval negotiation.

I glanced at Fraoch, he sneered, his battle face on.

Cailean looked around irritatedly. “Where is Mag Mòr’s chair?” Without waiting for an answer he told one of my men tae draw a chair over from their side.

Edward spoke. “I’ll say when he gets a chair, first, this man must bow tae me.”

“I hae told ye, when I was but a lowly man putting forth a claim tae be a king, and I will say it only once more — I am a king. I winna bow tae ye, Eddie, I am Mag Mòr, cousin tae Cailean Campbell of Loch Awe, of the lineage of Normand the First, son of Donnan the Second, winner of the jousts in yer games, and I was foretold tae be the next King of Scotland by Morag, the Seer of Glencoe. She was correct, by the by, I a m king. Crowned at Scone, in the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred ninety, King of all Alba, Magnus the First. Ye are on my lands, in the shadow of m’castle, ye ought tae bow tae me.”

“Never.”

I nodded. “Tis what it is then, we both sit.”

Cailean nodded at m’man, he dragged the chair across the mud-covered rug, and set it behind me. I lowered myself into it. Haggis sat down beside my feet. I raised my brow. “And tis amusin’, Eddie, that ye believe ye can offer yer opinion on anythin’ we do with our kingdom.”

I watched him shift.

I saw his eyes go tae the lamp.

I said, “Ye hae learned some things about the world since I saw ye last.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been to the world where these lamps are made?”

I leaned back in my chair, sprawling my legs. “I am a king in the world where those lamps are made.”

I kept my eyes on Edward, but in the periphery I watched the faces of the men behind him, looking for the time traveler. He must be here. But where?

Then I realized that I did recognize one of the men. I said, over m’shoulder, “Fraoch, dost ye see who is there in the back?”

“Nae, I daena recognize anyone.”

“Tis William Wallace.”

The young man set his jaw.

Fraoch said, “The scoundrel who cut ye?”

“Aye, he was younger then—” I said, louder, “Take yer hood down, Wallace. Let me see ye.”

The man shook his hood off and glared.

I said, “Ye are a son of Alba! What are ye doin’ on that side of the tent?”

He grunted.

I said, “I am yer king and I asked ye a direct question.”

He said, with youthful righteousness, “I am on the side of King Edward.”

I shook my head. “Ye hae become a traitor.” I asked Fraoch, “What think ye on the young William Wallace becomin’ a traitor?”

Fraoch said, “I think we hae a problem.”

I muttered, “Aye, a big historical problem.” I said tae Wallace, “Ye ought tae step away from the English King. He inna yer friend. He is buyin’ yer allegiance with weapons and tales of yer future glory but ye are on the wrong side of this... I warn ye.”

He grunted again, but I saw him falter.

“I once met ye in combat — dost ye remember meetin’ me, striking me with a sword?”

He shook his head.

Edward said, “We order you to cease addressing Wallace?—”

“Nae, I winna, he is a young man, a young Scotsman , unclear on what he is doin’.”

Tae Wallace I said, “Tis just as well ye daena remember strikin’ me, ye dinna kill me, and ye gained nothin’ but m’disdain, but I will forget all of it as well. Tis behind us, time is a wheel, ye ken, Wallace — I will give ye a chance, right now, tae step away from Eddie and yer current treasonous path and cross over tae my side. I am the rightfully crowned Scottish King, Mag Mòr, and I will forgive yer traitorous impulses as long as ye join me.”

Fraoch said, “Think carefully, lad, yer king is givin’ ye a chance tae live.”

The rain grew louder, the deluge drowning out any chance of a conversation. I waited for a moment, watching him, quietly.

Then he shook his head.

“Fine.”

The burst of loud rain calmed and I focused on Edward. “Good Scottish weather we are havin’, daena ye think?”

He said, “Scotland is a miserable curs’d land, and the weather is nigh insufferable. We are only here to offer our assistance in?—”

“We daena need assistance. Ye are mistaken in it. Therefore ye can remove yerself from our lands. Take yer traitors with ye.”

He cocked his head tae the side, a habit he had when tryin’ tae gain the upper hand. Twas as if he were ingratiatin’ himself, but it came tae my eyes as weak.

I leveled m’gaze. “Ye are usin’ Berwick as if it is yers, yet tis part of Scotland. I command ye tae remove yerself and yer men from the properties ye hae seized. I demand yer army depart from the lands around it. Once yer soldiers hae fallen back tae the other side of the borders, then we will speak.”

A slithery smile across his lips. “Yet we rather like Berwick-Upon-Tweed and we want to keep it.”

Fraoch, standin’ by my right shoulder, muttered, “Och, the royal we, tis irksome tae hear it in use.”

I said, under m’breath, “Aye, tis not nearly as endearin’ as when we use it on the deck in Florida for fun.”

I said, louder, “Eddie, are ye disputin’ that Berwick belongs tae Scotland?”

He said, “Yes.”

“Ye will not pull back, ye will not accept that I am king, and ye will not stop meddlin’ in Scottish affairs?”

He pointed in the air. “No, no, and no.”

I shook my head. “Then, as ye are unreasonable, I hae decided that I will be meeting with Philip of France tae form an alliance.”

He cocked his head. “You would ally with the French? It would be a mistake. England will frown upon the decision.”

I shrugged. “Frown all ye want, cousin, Berwick belongs tae me, and ye are bein’ unreasonable. I will see ye removed. Either ye will gather yer men and leave out of self-preservation and good will. Or I will force ye south. Which will ye prefer?”

“We would prefer for the man in front of us to stop being so insolent.”

“I am a king. My bloodline demands the throne. God placed the crown upon my head. I am more than a mere man — daena forget yerself.”

“Yet once you begged us to back your claim to the throne.”

I scoffed. “Fraoch, dost ye remember any beggin’?”

Fraoch, his thumbs hooked in his belt, said, “Nae, as I remember it, ye won the joust then ye looked Eddie right in the eyes and demanded he back yer cause. When he refused, ye won the throne anyway.”

Cailean added, “Mag Mòr fought many a-battle against the men ye backed, and won them all.”

I said, “I laid waste tae the armies of Ormr and Domnall, who, I will remind ye, ye backed for the Scottish throne.”

Fraoch added, “Then m’brother Lochinvar and I killed them in the arena.”

From behind Edward, in the crowd, a man’s voice sounded, “And how is Lochinvar? He is well?” Whoever it was, I couldna tell as he was cloaked and shrouded in darkness.

Edward commanded over his shoulder. “Quiet, no speaking.”

Fraoch narrowed his eyes. “Who said that? Show yerself.”

I scanned the crowd, narrowing it down tae one man. I glanced at Fraoch, he had followed my eyes.

He nodded.

I glanced at Sean, his gaze was directed on the same man.

I returned my attention tae Edward. “Why are ye here, attemptin’ tae intimidate us?”

Haggis beside me growled low and deep.

Sean tapped my shoulder. I followed his eyes to the man I suspected, I couldna make out his face, yet I felt certain he was the time traveler — twas Asgall? It could be, though I had only seen one photo of him.

But the lamp made it clear, Edward was fraternizin’ with time travelers.

“…We have come north because we believe you have forgotten that you sit on a throne because we have allowed you to possess it.”

I said, keepin’ my voice steady, “Ye are not our overlord, ye must remove yerself from our land. If ye remain I will meet ye in the battlefield.”

He said, “We will not continue this conversation. You have already lost, Mag Mòr, king of the medieval Scots. We lead a mighty force. We understand you are not used to being told what to do, but we demand you surrender your throne. Now.”

The man who I had been watching pushed through the crowd to the back of the tent, ducked under the canvas, and left.

I met Sean’s eyes. He nodded, and left the tent tae follow him.

Then Edward said, “We see you have brought your son.”

Haggis growled.

I narrowed my eyes. “Daena speak on him — where is yer man goin’?”

“Which man?”

“The man who was behind ye, over there.”

He said, “He is not our man.” His voice sent a chill down my spine.

I said, “I hae had enough of ye, Edward. Ye will gather yer men and leave the way ye hae come, or I will bring down a force upon ye that will?—”

There was a scuffle outside, men yellin’.

Cailean whispered, “I will go see about the uproar, Mag Mòr.”

I glanced behind me, Zach had pulled the boys close. Haggis was behind them, facing the wall of the tent, growling. Had someone been sneaking up on my son?

Fraoch took a step back and drew a gun.

I stood.

The disturbance outside grew louder, it sounded like a brawl.

I blocked the boys, drawin’ my gun.

Edward stood, his guards fell around him to protect him, drawing swords. I counted three who had drawn guns.

Then I heard Sean’s voice, yelling in fear and anger.

“Och nae.”

I rushed in the direction, but the flap raised, and three men barged through, with a struggling Sean between them. Everyone drew their weapons. We were in a standoff, guns pointing, tension as my eyes swept the men in the room.

Then a shot fired behind me. I ducked and turned tae see Zach holdin’ a smokin’ gun, standing over Thomas Hayden on the ground.

Zach yelled, “He was lunging at the boys!”

I turned back and saw Sean struggling. I yelled, “Unhand him!”

Fraoch fired, killing a man. I fired, killing another. But before we could kill them, a man reached down, pulled back Sean’s head, and slit his throat there on the ground. “Nae!”

All I could see was red and horror, the sound of m’brother dying in the mud of the field. I fired, killing that man. Fraoch fired, killing another.

There were gunshots everywhere, a huge melee, and some of my men lying on the ground, and reaching my ears, as if from far away — the sound of Haggis barking.

Edward was leavin’ the tent surrounded by his guards. The whole crowd was in disarray. Some of the men who had murdered Sean were down, but others had escaped intae the mayhem and fled the tent. The time traveler who I had been watchin’ was long gone — my heart was poundin’. My sight turned crimson. The bloom of blood from Sean soaked the rug. I was frozen in horror…

Fraoch grabbed my arm and pulled me back. But I had trouble pullin’ my focus from the lifeless body of m’brother, dyin’ alone. “Nae!”

He shoved me through the canvas flap intae the rain, the colorless landscape drained of life, the rain-soaked muddy ground. My men on horseback ready tae fight, their horses stampin’ in the mud, earth and steel and storm — Archie!

I swept the crowd tae see him — Cailean pushin’ Archie and Ben up ontae their horse. Zach getting on another. I saw a glimpse of Archie’s eyes, terror and despair, a great deal of fear.

I had to get them away from the battle.

I asked Fraoch as I was pushed toward Dràgon, “Where is Edward?”

“He left, but Og Maggy, we hae tae decide — do we stand and fight or flee? I must tell the men?—”

“We canna flee?—!”

A large rumbling sound shook the earth. We turned tae see a verra large modern military tank, shoving against the tent, collapsing it with a crash, and rollin’ up ontae it. The tank stopped in the middle, the turret turned, and it aimed at me.

Fraoch pulled me hard, stumbling tae the horse, yellin’, “Retreat!”

A voice from the war machine counted down, “Ten! Nine! Eight…”

We had never mounted our horses so fast — we raced intae the woods, crashing through the trees. Ahead of me, Archie and Ben were bent over, ridin’ fast, with Haggis runnin’ alongside. Cailean was leadin’ the way, Chef Zach was followin’ them.

The war machine fired.

I looked back, but the blast missed. They werena shootin’ at the woods, but behind us — as if it were missing on purpose. Or we would all be dead.

We were outgunned, outmaneuvered, fleein’ for our lives through a medieval forest.

My son just ahead of me.

I had tae get him tae safety.

Dràgon galloped, I rode low, my sight leveled on Archie, keeping him safe through pure will.

Thinkin’ over and over — m’brother is dead .