Five men stood at either end of the cramped room. Two torches had now been lit by the attendant, but the contours of the room still cast lurking shadows, hiding from the light. Standing in front of their men, the King of England and the Chief of Clan Kerr stood locked in conversation.

"Now what I am proposing is an alliance between the Crown and Clan Kerr."

"Is that so?" said Kerr rhetorically. "And what would be the purpose of such an alliance?"

"As you know Clan Donnachaidh has continued to renounce my authority as King of our great country, yet has grown fat from the riches of our land." At the sheer mention of Donnachaidh, Athelstan could see the staunch hatred rise on the faces of Kerr and his Chieftains.

He continued, "It is time for a change...We have no place for such barbarous peoples in this country."

"You're afraid of the lynx folk aren't ya?", said Kerr, pushing the table away from himself. "Petrified that if they have their fill with Scotland they'll move south... and sink their fangs in that pretty neck of yours," smirking once more, believing he had revealed Athelstan's desperate intentions.

Kerr was not far wrong. Although the King knew that the Donnachaidhs had no desire to conquer Scotland, the prophecy he had received rang clear in his mind. He could not ignore it. The Donnachaidhs had to be exterminated. Athelstan knew Micheil sought revenge for his father's death on the sprawling moors of Rannoch.

"Once we have united this country, I will appoint you Warden of the North. With the Kerrs as the most powerful clan of them all. All of Scotland will answer to you, Kerr!"

The room was left silent. Those in the chamber froze like statues in a living museum, where no one dared move until the Clan Chief gave his response.

Kerr mulled it over for some time, the stifling silence dominated the atmosphere.

"I suppose you'll have us go to war with the Donnachaidhs then?" He already had a good idea of where the conversation was heading.

"Impossible," Kerr continued. His shadow moved ominously around the walls behind him as he began to move closer to Athelstan.

"My father's army was decimated last time we clashed with the Donnachaidhs at Rannoch Moor. We have spent the last two decades rebuilding the mess he left behind due to his pride... I will not let history repeat itself and fight another man's war." Kerr turned to face his Chieftains, solemnly folding his arms.

"We do not intend to go to war with the Donnachaidhs," Athelstan announced with vigour. "We will annihilate them!"

Speaking up for the first time the Chieftain Droch stepped forwards and snarled back at the King, " How do ye plan on pulling that one off eh? If they dinnae see you coming from a mile away, they'll pick up that putrid smell of yours." He was right, inheriting the power of the lynx, allowed the Donnachaidhs to have an unrivalled sense of sight and smell. Getting close without alerting them would be impossible.

"You're forgetting that sceptre Duncan carries with him," Sgreuch added. The sceptre he was referring to encapsulated a pure crystal stone that the Donnachaidhs named the "Clach-na-Bratach." The magic endowed stone was discovered by Duncan's Great Grandfather and had been treasured by each Donnachaidh Chief since. The wielder was granted advanced healing power that could alleviate all but the most severe injury or ailment. However, the Clan Chiefs exalted the stone's ability of foresight the most, clouding over when enemies were near.

"You think I would have travelled here in person without giving this due diligence?" the King spouted as though offended.

"One of Donnachaidhs servants has been feeding us information about the internal affairs of the clan for years. One week ago we heard the news of the birth of Duncan's first son, Fionnlagh."

Kerr's eyes lit up as he realised, "Duncan will be throwing a celebration fit for the arrival of a Clan heir," his grin broke through the matted dark hair that overpowered his face. If one thing could be counted on, it was the Donnachaidh Chiefs affinity for alcohol and good conversation; both of which were plentiful at a party.

Athelstan knew he had Kerr right where he wanted him.

"Correct, and with the aid of Clan Kerr we will put an end to the Donnachaidhs."

"We would tear the living flesh from Duncan and his clansmen." A plume of rage erupted in the Chief. "We will wipe his lineage from the pages of history!" His men began to stir behind him, thirsty for blood.

"So you are accepting my proposal, Kerr?"

"Hmm... my Clan would require fair compensation for oor involvement in your affairs Athelstan," said Kerr immediately switching his mind from vengeance to business. "Ten chests of gold and all of the Donnachaidhs land." He knew this was a preposterous offer. It was more than double the fortune held in Cessford Castle, and the Donnachaidhs land was the most fertile (and profitable) in the country.

"My land Kerr, mine!" Athelstan momentarily broke character but quickly regained control. "As Warden of the North that land would be yours to manage, for your clansmen and women to prosper from its riches. I only ask for your fealty to the Crown, and fair compensation for its generosity at the end of each harvest."

"And what of the gold?" said Kerr eagerly.

"It will arrive with our return to Cessford," said Athelstan without a moment's hesitation. "Three weeks... have your men ready."

The King extended his hand which was met by Kerr's in a firm exchange. The deal was done, Clan Kerr was set to avenge their forebears in a matter of weeks.

*****

Kerr was left with a lingering sense of suspicion from the unexpected assembly that had just taken place.

"Lads, leave me to my thoughts," his words were accompanied with a gesturing motion.

"Aye Chief," said Droch. His Chieftains were pleased to be dismissed, after all, wolves had to satiate their hunger for flesh. Twilight presented the perfect opportunity to hunt in the Bowmont woods north of the castle. With eyesight that nearly rivalled the Donnachaidhs, the Kerr wolves could detect their unfortunate victims in the inky curtain of the night with terrifying accuracy. Without showing partiality for man or beast, they would relentlessly stalk their prey until they tasted the thick metallic crimson that signified a life at its end.

The Kerrs posed such a threat for travellers that special houses called spittals were erected all over Scotland's southern and central belts. These houses were made entirely of solid brick, with no windows and internal locking. Often found along the highways linking Siorrachd Rosbroig with Dùn Èideann and Glaschu. For a time, merchants refused to venture further south than Dùn Èideann, enraging many of the Northern Clan's Chiefs who relied on the business of the Douglas, Dunbar, and Gordon Clan.

Kerr would not join his men this night. It seemed too good to be true, what has Athelstan to gain from this arrangement? The thought ran over and over in his mind.

Whatever the case, he had three weeks to prepare his army to take on Clan Donnachaidh.