Read The Renegade: A Tale of Robert the Bruce for Free Online Page B

King. Alexander had been King of Scots for more than twenty years, he knew, but few of his common subjects were ever fortunate enough to meet him, especially here in the wild southwest. And now King Alexander himself would be in Turnberry , there for his birthday …
    Rob had known he would be returning home for his birthday, because he did so every year. This year, though, he had not been altogether sure he wanted to go back, and he had been feeling guilty about that, uncomfortable with what he suspected were stirrings of disloyalty. Now, though, he felt a great wave of relief sweep over him, banishing his earlier feelings and filling him instead with eager anticipation. Notwithstanding the King’s visit and the excitement it would engender, he found himself thrilling to the thought of seeing his mother again, and even his father, Earl Robert, though the man seldom recognized Rob’s existence other than to growl a warning at him from time to time when his patience grew thin. And it would be good to see his brothers and sisters again, though most of them were too young to be of any real interest. His elder sister, Christina, he knew, would be happy to see him, and so would his closest younger sibling, Isabel. Even Nigel, the sturdy, smiling, sunny-natured child whose name was really Niall, after their maternal grandsire, would make him welcome. Isabel was eight now, and Nigel must be six and a half, but below them in line, spaced roughly a year apart, came three more boys, Edward, Thomas, and the recently born Alexander. All three of those, in young Robert’s eyes, were little more thansources of never-ending noise, ranging from screams of rage to whines and bleats of complaint, separated by unintelligible outbursts of squabbling.
    No wonder, he thought for the first time, that his father was so impatient and short-tempered all the time. Robert Bruce of Carrick was a conscientious, studious man who took his duties as the earl seriously and was consequently seldom at home. Whenever he did come home, though, the constant noise of brawling, squabbling children must have driven him mad. Realizing that he shared that much in common at least with his father, Rob decided, then and there, that meet the King or no, he would far rather spend more time with his uncle Nicol, in his home at Dalmellington, than among his own clamouring brood in Turnberry Castle, and he was surprised, for a moment, by how happy the decision made him feel. He turned his eyes slightly to glance at his uncle and was relieved to find that Nicol was deep in his own thoughts, his narrowed eyes gazing off towards the west as though they could pierce the hills and show him the distant sea.
    Rob Bruce could not remember when he had decided that his uncle Nicol was his favourite person in the world, but for as far back as he could recall, no one else had come close to claiming his esteem in the way Nicol MacDuncan had. He had done it effortlessly, too, simply by being the only adult male in the boy’s life who treated him as a person, rather than as a simpering, unformed, half-witted child. Nicol had never spoken down to his nephew and never belittled him. He had always treated him as a real person—not as an equal, certainly, for Rob knew he was no such thing, too young even to lay claim to such consideration. Yet none the less Nicol had always treated him as a thinking being, someone whom he expected to have an opinion on any subject, no matter how ill informed that opinion might be. And not only did he assume that Rob had opinions, he insisted upon hearing them and discussing them. He never scoffed at what he heard, never sneered, never belittled anything his young charge said. Instead, he would fill in the gaps in the boy’s knowledge, enlarge upon the pros and contras of each element ofRob’s opinion and frequently end up leaving several more options in his nephew’s mind for further consideration. Looking at him now, Rob felt a flush of warmth and