The Duke

29.

Heavy steps of young Duke echoed in the air. One by one. Firm, steady. Ground under his boots was no longer frozen, the spring came and first flowers began to bloom. Birds came back to Inveraray and their songs were now after long months audible in the top trees and top of roofs. Or just in the sky as they were flying above heads of people standing in Inveraray's square. They were watching Duke, Duke of Lorn, who walked toward his loyals. His eyes tired, features showed deep exhaustion. If his sword could tell how many men died under his sword during last few months, if his sword should tell stoey of every single one, it would be a telling of story that would last days and weeks.

Yes, Charles and nobles were not willing to give up, they were determined to keep duchy, they were determined to attack and win slowly also Islay.

However Campbells, they are never losing faith and war. James fought with his men daily and nightly. Slowly they fought their way back to the duchy, to every single town and village. And of course, that they met both. Warm welcome as same as resistance. With support of Crown they fed poor, mostly women and children, who were left behind as men went to war. To war with their Duke, so they could follow the fake one.

How foolish they were and how they regreted their decisions.

Vain were Charle's promises and his words shallow and hollow. He kept none of his promises and every single shilling he used for his comfort and for war. He didn't bring people freedom and fortune as he swore to do so. He brought them slavery, starvation and misery.

Alas, for some was too late to regret and to beg. In short time period this was the second riot and battle and James felt absolutely no urge to spare a single men, who pointed his sword at him.

His footsteps halted in a middle of a square and he looked around. James inhaled the spring fresh breeze, that was playing with his coat. Like it was welcoming him back to his city, to his home. His home,

James looked in front of himself and smiled. There in front of him was standing the reason, that made him to  keep fighting every day. His family.

His wife, Marion, who was holding on her hands their son. Her brown eyes looking at him calmly and peacefuly. He had to smile, when he remembered that fire and all that hatered she kept in her glare for first few weeks in Inveraray. Could he blame her? No. Would he do that again? Yes. He felt how selfish he was, yet for her and their son, he would fight again until the end of the world. Just to see them smile. He came to them and kissed Marion's forehead. The warmth and her essence. Honey and vanilla, how he missed it and how he welcomed it now. Like heaven she felt in his arms and he stood there withe eyes closed until his son made him chuckle, when he began to jerk his beard.

"You should shave a little, My Lord," Marion giggled and softly released him from baby's grip.

"But he seems to like it," James looked at small Alfie, who was stretching his small arms to him again. He took him to his arms and smirked slightly. His eyes were looking at him, that combination of green and blue. Same eyes as has his father. His other hand landed on small back of his wife and he wrapped arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "It's time," he said calmly and they turned toward the group, that was waiting for them.

Side by side, James with Marion were walking toward Alfred, Marie and Lena. And James, while he felt that comfortable warmth from body of his wife, he couldn't help himself, he had to ponder of everything... Everything that happened during last few days.

***
One week ago, Inveraray

"Where is he?" Duke's voice like threatening destiny echoed in a hallway of Inveraray castle. After months of fighting, there was only one last man to be caught and captured. Charles.