Sir Adam looked around again and lowered his voice. “Bruce is reported to have a high-placed spy in the English camp, and with the campaign ahead, the king has made it a priority to uncover him.”

Alex was well acquainted with this spy. “The Ghost,” as the spy was referred to in the Guard, had provided some key information to them in the last few years. But when he realized what the other man meant by it, he was incredulous. Bloody hell. “And they think it is me?”

Sir Adam shrugged. “Your name was mentioned as a possibility.”

The ludicrousness and irony of the situation were not lost on him. Alex had made enemies of his friends and brethren to fight for the English, and the English thought he was still working with the men he’d betrayed. He drew himself up. “It isn’t true. I despise subterfuge and deceit. Besides, how would I have been passing this information all the way from London?”

“I didn’t say I believed them—or that it made sense. But your pleas for peace and urge for negotiation have not gone unnoticed.”

“So because I am tired of seeing my people suffering and want an end to the war I am a spy?”

Alex knew Sir Adam understood—he was in the same position. As barons with lands in the Borders, they were caught in an impossible situation. Damned by the English if they supported Bruce and damned by Bruce if they didn’t—with the brunt of the war being waged on their lands and their people being the ones suffering no matter which side they fought on.

“I feel the same as you, but they suspect anyone who is not calling for Bruce’s head. They don’t want a peaceful solution. Edward will never recognize Bruce as king—he has that in common with his father, at least.”

There was very little Edward II of England had in common with the powerful Edward I, the self-styled Hammer of the Scots, but Alex was beginning to think Sir Adam was right. Despite his efforts the past two years, Alex was no closer to persuading Edward to recognize Bruce’s legitimacy to the throne—something that he knew Bruce would demand before a permanent truce could be reached. More and more, it seemed as if the only solution—the only way to end the war—was going to be on the battlefield by right of arms. The righteousness of the Scot cause would be determined by God. But if Bruce continued to refuse to take the field against Edward, what then?

This damned war could go on forever. And everything Alex had done would have been for nothing. Alex muttered a curse of frustration. He wasn’t going to let that happen, damn it.