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us and deliver our enemies into our hands. In the holy name of our savior, Jesus Christ, amen.” He raised his head and scanned the room, making eye contact with a specific handful of men. “Lairds, prepare your men to your posts. The battle is on! Tulloch Ard!” The leaders of each clan took their men off to receive their assigned posts. The Earl descended the stairs and addressed his own group. He barked orders, all pomp and circumstance gone from his speech now.
    I saw Aiden in the back of the line, waiting to come forward and receive his assignment. He was as riled up as the rest of them, standing tall with his chest puffed out, eyes wild with excitement and ferocity. His older brother Duncan received his orders to man the bridge, nodded sharply to the Earl and strode out of the room. Aiden stepped forward to receive his station and the Earl paused. He looked Aiden up and down, considering.
    “ Aiden MacRae, you will take Señor Delgado,” he gestured with his head to a pale, thin man with stringy black hair who was standing against the wall, “and guard the entrance to the cellar.”
    Aiden’s face fell and he shook his head in pleading protest. “But Uncle, I am ready. I can do more than guard the door! I am a man now and I want to fight! I…”
    The Earl backhanded him hard across the face and all conversations in the room stopped. Aiden turned to look at his uncle, his face unreadable. The Earl said, “A man knows when to speak and when to be silent. I have given you your post. Go.”
    Aiden turned on one heel and stormed out. Señor Delgado scrambled wordlessly after him. He didn’t slow his pace for the Spaniard to catch up, but threw a venomous glare at the direction of the bridge where his brother had gone. He swore and spat on the ground as he made his way to the rear of the castle and down the stone steps to the cellar.
    The entrance to the cellar was a heavy wooden door with a metal handle. Aiden strode back and forth, muttering under his breath in a language I didn’t understand. The Spaniard clearly didn’t understand it either and sat on the wooden chair next to the door, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, his anger dissipated enough for Delgado to risk conversation. His accent was thick, but it was obvious he was going to great pains not to upset Aiden further.
    “ Excuse me, sir, but what is in this cellar that is so important it takes two grown men to guard it?”
    Aiden’s glare made it clear he thought this a stupid question. “The gunpowder,” he barked and resumed his pacing.
    Delgado’s eyes flittered around the small space and he shifted his weight in the chair. “Surely it can’t be that much, can it?” he asked.
    Affronted, he retorted with pride, “Aye, we’ve collected 343 barrels of powder and 52 barrels of musket shot for our march on Inverness. Those bloody lobsterbacks will get what is coming to them!” Delgado’s eyes grew wide and Aiden went on, boasting. “We’ve another stash in the kirk down the hill so we can hit them from both sides.” Convinced that he’d impressed the Spaniard enough, he went back to pacing.
    The battle had begun outside and faint cries wafted down the staircase. Occasionally, the walls and ground would shake as a cannon ball struck the outside of the stone walled castle. Delgado fidgeted nervously, not speaking, and Aiden paid him no attention, lost in his own thoughts.
    Another shot rattled the enclosure. The Spaniard leapt to his feet. “I must relieve myself.”
    Aiden waved his hand absentmindedly. “The privy’s out behind the stable.”
    Delgado looked ready to flee, but turned and asked, “Will you be all right while I am gone?”
    “ I think I can bloody well manage to guard the door while you take a piss!”
    Delgado streaked up the stairs and out of sight without another word. Time seemed to crawl by as Aiden paced, then sat, then kicked the cellar door, all the while muttering to himself. The sounds of battle and