Highland Hero

by Amanda Scott

  “That would suit me, aye,” James said, looking at Ivor.

  Aware of the helmsman nearby, Ivor said mildly, “I believe that Mistress Henrietta will expect you to join her when that basket arrives.”

  James gazed steadily at him for a long moment before he said, “I’ll remember that, sir, aye. I’ll no disappoint her.”

  “Good lad,” Ivor said.

  “I can arrange for that food now if you’d like to walk forward with me,” Jake said to Ivor. As they turned from James and the helmsman, he added in a lower tone, “That lad kens his worth, I’m thinking. Do you expect difficulties from him?”

  “None I cannot handle,” Ivor said. “He is used to command and to being obeyed. But I remind myself of how difficult I could be… and others of us, come to that, who arrived at St. Andrews with our pride flowing. He is a good lad, Jake.”

  “Good, because with Albany and his men nipping at your heels, as we both ken fine that they soon will be, you will likely run into trouble enough when you near Stirling. That is Albany’s country, after all, as are Fife and Menteith. You’d be wise to avoid the royal burghs and most of Fife by heading north into Perthshire.”

  “Albany posts men in Perth, too,” Ivor said. “He knew last year when Davy Stewart headed north from there, and learned that he had come to Rothiemurchus.”

  “You should keep clear of the town of Perth, aye. But, sithee, I have access to ships on the east coast as well as here in the west.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “D’ye ken aught about the Earl of Orkney?”

  “The younger Henry Sinclair? Aye, sure. He owns a great fleet of ships.”

  “I knew his father,” Jake said. “More to our purpose, the Sinclairs know me, and I have access to their ships whenever I need one. They nearly always keep one at Leith harbor near Edinburgh. Sithee, Traill told me to make myself useful to you in any way that I can. So I was thinking that, since my helmsman can take the Sea Wolf home after we see to our business here, I might travel to Edinburgh from Glasgow. That way, if you find it safer to sail to St. Andrews from some point along the Firth of Tay, you can send a message to me through the abbot at Lindores Abbey near Newburgh. Any cleric on your way would carry such a message to him.”

  Jake paused to give orders to a resting oarsman, then motioned toward the forecastle cabin. “I’ll show you a map, Hawk, and explain what I have in mind.”

  Realizing that Jake had had longer than he had to think about any potential trouble they might encounter, Ivor followed willingly.

  An oarsman soon brought a basket of food to the aft cabin with Jamie following at his heels. As soon as the man had gone, the boy opened the basket. Surveying its contents, he said, “I think ye’d best tell Hawk who ye are, Marsi.”

  “I will,” she replied. “In good time.”

  “I think ye should tell him now,” Jamie said. “Sithee, he’s a stern chap and makes his feelings plain. When I said I dislike deception, he said he doesna like it either, that this business of pretending tae be other than what we are goes against his nature. Usually, he said, he punishes deceivers. Forbye, if ye tell him yourself—with me and Hetty by ye as ye do—and explain tae him why ye left Turnberry, I think he’ll listen. But if ye continue as ye are, and he finds out—”

  “I cannot tell him yet,” Marsi said, glancing at Hetty but knowing she would find no support there. Hetty had not stirred from the lower bed, although Marsi saw that she did have more color in her cheeks than she’d had earlier.

  Although Marsi tried to explain her reasons for keeping her secrets a bit longer, Jamie shook his head at her.

  “Ye needna tell me,” he said. “I ken fine that ye dinna want to go back. Sakes, anyone o’ sense must fear Albany. He makes it plain that he thinks Scotland would be the better had Davy never been born and that a strong king, namely himself, would be better than any king my age. Nae one o’ sense would argue that, either. The country has had its fill o’ governorships. Even my da says so.”

  His words stirred Marsi’s ready sympathy and she moved close enough to touch his shoulder. Her fear of Albany was real, but as Hetty had said, the worst that she would face was an unhappy marriage. What Jamie faced could be deadly.

  Hetty said, “I think that you would both do better now to eat something.”

  “She is right,” Marsi said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Hawk will keep us safe, and I will tell him the truth as soon as I know that he cannot send me back.”

  Taking an apple from the basket, she handed it to Jamie and piled a bread trencher with slices of beef for him.

  As he set it on the table, he looked at her from under his brows and said, “D’ye think Hawk would trust ye tae keep quiet at Turnberry if ye’ve guessed where we be going, Marsi? Because, if he feared that Albany might winkle it out o’ ye, belike Hawk would do all he could tae keep ye with us.”

  “But I would never—”

  “Enough,” Hetty said firmly. “Both of ye will sit down at that table and eat your meal. If I am to pretend to be your aunt, sir,” she added with a look at Jamie as direct as any of his own, “I think I had better begin to behave so at once.”

  He chuckled. “Then ye’ll have tae remember tae call me Jamie, I think.”

  She smiled. “Sit, Jamie, and eat.”

  “Aye, that’s better,” he said, sliding onto the nearer bench. Then he added, “Pour Hetty some water, Marsi. The captain said she must keep drinking now and now. Mayhap she can stomach one o’ them hard rolls in yon basket, too.”

  As Marsi moved to obey him, she shot a look at Hetty and was glad to see an appreciative smile on the older woman’s pleasant, round face.

  Marsi was handing her the mug when Hawk entered after a perfunctory rap.

  “We’re approaching the Island of Bute,” he told them. “This ship will be visible from shore and from passing vessels now, so, I want you to stay in the cabin until we make landfall. I brought the chessboard and pieces, James,” he added. “Mayhap you can teach Mistress Henrietta or Marsi to play.”

  Marsi fought to suppress a saucy grin and an equally impertinent urge to inform him that she already played an excellent game of chess.

  Handing the chess set to the boy, Hawk looked from one face to the other, his gaze lingering on Marsi longer than on the others.

  She gazed silently and, she hoped, solemnly back.

  Clearly satisfied that they would obey him, Hawk went out again.

  Catching Jamie’s quizzical gaze, Marsi said, “Do you want to play?”

  “Perhaps later,” he said. “Or we can play dames instead. I’m cleverer at that, as ye ken.” He hesitated until she cocked her head, then added, “I was just thinking I should tell ye that Hawk doesna approve o’ folks letting me win.”

  “If you think that I’ve ever let you win at dames, my lad, I’ll have you know that I have done no such thing. At least, not since you were a wee laddie of six.”

  He grinned, and they turned their attention to their meal. By the time they had finished eating, Hetty was asleep.

  James set up the chessboard to play dames, and he and Marsi played quietly, one game after another, until the light in the cabin grew dim.

  Standing on his bench, James announced that he could see a harbor.

  “The sun is nearly down,” he added, looking to his right.

  “That porthole faces south,” Marsi said. “Hawk said earlier that we would make landfall on the north bank of the firth. Nay, do not go outside,” she added quickly when he turned with clear intent to do just that.

  He grimaced. “It is too dark out now for anyone ashore to recognize me.”

  “Try persuading Hawk of that,” Marsi retorted.

  With a sigh, he got down and began to help her put the game pieces away.

  The boat slowed, and they heard noises of increased activity outside the cabin. Hetty awoke then, expressing surprise at how long she must have slept.

  “Aye, ye did, but I think w
e’ve arrived,” Jamie said.

  Hawk confirmed that when he entered minutes later, saying, “We have dropped anchor off Milton now. Wolf will send men ashore to see if the inn can put us up for the night. If it cannot, we will consider what other options we have.”

  “There is a tiny clachan—nae more than a wayside alehouse and a cottage or two—some two miles beyond Milton, sir,” Hetty said. “If we go farther, we’ll be joining the main road to Stirling, which is heavily traveled.”

  “The captain mentioned that, too, mistress,” Hawk said. “We need to take shelter for the night wherever we can find it. But I’ll want to leave early in the morning, before most travelers staying in Dumbarton will have broken their fast.”

  “What of your own men, sir?” Marsi asked. “Won’t they be joining us?”

  “Aye, but it will take them another day or two to reach us. They must take precautions to avoid giving anyone cause to connect them with James’s departure.”

  “But Albany may not even have reached Turnberry yet.”

  “We’d be wise to assume that he has,” he said.

  James said casually, “It seems to me that he nearly always does know things, often even before they happen. Also, if he asks his grace, my father…”

  Marsi noted that when James paused, Hawk’s expression softened.

  He said, “His grace does know our eventual destination, lad. But, in troth, your uncle is likely to deduce that for himself. I know that, and so does Captain Wolf, and we will protect you. Moreover, the King does not know our route.”

  “My uncle will fly into a tirrivee when he finds me gone,” James said.

  “He may, aye. But you cannot stay hidden for long, and he is astute enough to know that few Scots would support his seizing custody of you whilst your father and Rothesay remain alive. Therefore, I doubt that he will pursue us with much vigor. He is more likely to want to see that we go where he expects us to go.”

  Swallowing hard, Marsi resisted the temptation to look at Jamie.

  She knew that although Albany might hesitate to pursue him, the duke would have no hesitation about sending his men after her. If their pursuit also yielded him Jamie’s small person, Albany would view that event as just an additional gain.

  Ivor noted the lass’s reaction and added it to a mental list of certain details he wanted to sort out as soon as he could be more private with her. As it was, it would have to wait at least until they were safely ashore. Earlier, she had seemed mischievously amused at something he had said. Now, she was twisting that ring of hers, something she seemed to do when she was worried, nervous, or sad.

  He could read her with unusual ease and wondered why that was so.

  Reminding the three of them to stay inside, he went back out on deck, where he learned that Jake had sent the coble ashore. Despite the daylong overcast, rays of the setting sun had found openings between the clouds and the western horizon, where an orange glow shot fiery paths across the water.

  It was a splendid sight. But it meant that they had no more than an hour before dusk would fade to darkness.

  The coble returned sooner than expected. One look at the fair, curly-haired man who nimbly climbed the rope ladder told Ivor that the news was not good.

  “Six o’ Albany’s men be staying at Milton’s inn, captain,” the chap said.

  “Art sure they are Albany’s, Mace?” Jake asked.

  “Aye, sir, all wearing black as they do and bearing his badge. I ambled into the inn, ordered a quaich o’ ale, and talked wi’ our friend there. He’ll tether two horses in them woods east o’ the inn—a sumpter pony and one tae carry a woman.”

  “Good,” Jake said. “We’ll put you ashore a bit farther along, Hawk. There’s a track right from the far end of the beach straight into those woods. Mace will go with you. That way, if you are able to hire horses at the alehouse, he’ll bring the two Milton ones back. If you cannot, he’ll make all right for you with our man.”

  Thanking him for all that he had done, Ivor collected the others. He was concerned about Mistress Henrietta. But when he said as much, she replied briskly, “Don’t you fret about me, sir. Once my feet are on solid ground again, I’ll do.”

  When they disembarked on the beach, she seemed to recover as swiftly as she had promised. Nevertheless, after they found the horses and loaded all they could onto the sumpter pony, tying the remaining bundles to the second horse’s saddle, Ivor said, “You are going to ride, mistress.”

  “Oh, but, sir, I should not!” she said, looking in dismay from James to Marsi.

  “Don’t argue,” Ivor replied firmly. “Do as I bid you.”

  “Aye, Hetty,” James said. “We want tae walk after sitting all day.”

  With Mace leading the sumpter, and Marsi and James following him, Ivor walked beside Mistress Henrietta’s horse. The relief he had felt when James made no objection to walking told him that he was still worried about trouble from that quarter but gave him hope that the boy was settling into his role.

  They made their way through chilly hillside woods where a thin layer of snow crunched underfoot until the track met the road again well beyond Milton. To Ivor’s relief, Mistress Henrietta proved to be a competent horsewoman and they saw no other travelers on the narrow road.

  The alehouse, when they found it, was a squat building with a thatched roof that sat in a clearing near the road, with two smaller outbuildings behind it.

  Mace said, “I’ll go in first, sir. Doubtless, ye’d liefer stay tae look after the women and the lad till I see what’s what.”

  Ivor agreed, but ten minutes later, when Mace had not returned and James shot a worried frown at him, Ivor murmured for his own sake as well as the boy’s, “We must be patient. There may be men inside whom Mace does not trust.”

  James nodded, and their wait ended minutes later when five men, all cheerful with drink, strolled out of the house and away down the road.

  Mace appeared shortly afterward. “All’s well, sir,” he said. “The man has only two small rooms, but ye be welcome tae them. He’s got good whisky, too, I can tell ye. I asked about horses, but he’s none tae spare. So I’ll be telling the chap at Milton that ye’ll send these two back from Balloch or Drymen.”

  The lass cleared her throat, and when Ivor looked at her, she gazed back intently, as if she had had the same thought that he had.

  To Mace, he said, “I’d liefer you tell no one else our direction.”

  “I must tell that Milton innkeeper about his horses, sir. And I dinna ken where else along this road ye might go.”

  “If I may make a suggestion,” Mistress Henrietta said, “mayhap you could tell him that we’ll send them back from Callander, sir. That would put anyone asking about us on a path well beyond where we’ll be leaving the main road.”

  “That’s what we’ll say then,” Ivor said and saw with a touch of amusement that the lass was nodding her agreement. He reached for his purse to give Mace money for the Milton innkeeper, but Mace refused it with a grin.

  “The captain said ye’d offer, sir, but ye’re tae keep your gelt. Sithee, he takes good care o’ that innkeeper, so he’ll oblige us whenever we need him. If the men at Milton hadna been Albany’s, our chap would ha’ turned them out for ye.”

  “Aye, well, this place is more discreet and suits us better, I think,” Ivor said.

  Less than a quarter-hour later, they had settled into two tiny rooms above the taproom, each with a narrow bed and a pallet on the floor. It being clear that neither had room enough for James to share one with Mistress Henrietta and Marsi, Ivor took the lad in with him and soon learned that he was a restless sleeper.

  Midway through the night, the boy’s fretful muttering woke him. Realizing that James was in the throes of a nightmare, Ivor got up and knelt over him.

  Touching the boy’s shoulder, he murmured, “You’re safe, Jamie.”

  Squirming, James muttered fretfully, “Where am I?”

  “You’re with me.”


  The thin, rigid shoulder under his hand relaxed, and the silence continued until James’s breathing sounded normal again. Ivor went back to bed. As he plumped the pillow under his head, he felt a warm sense of accomplishment and realized that he was coming to like Jamie Stewart very much.

  It was the last thought he had before he slept. When he awoke Tuesday morning, the first fingers of dawn light were stretching into the room.

  Turning onto one side, he saw the boy watching him.

  “At last,” James said. “I feared I’d wake ye if I got up.”

  Ivor grinned at him. “Well, you can get up now.”

  James popped up off his pallet and headed for the night jar in the corner to relieve himself.

  “Use that basin and ewer on the washstand to wash your face and hands whilst I pull on my breeks and boots,” Ivor told him as he got up and shoved a hand through his hair. “Then we’ll go down and see about breakfast.”

  “What about Marsi and Hetty?”

  “We’ll bang on their door as we pass it.”

  He did so, heard a female mutter in response, and paused long enough to say clearly, “We’ll break our fast downstairs and be on our way, so don’t dawdle.” Then he urged James downstairs to see what they could find to eat.

  The alewife was bustling about in her kitchen. “Aye, sure,” she answered cheerfully to Ivor’s question, “I’ll have porridge ready in a twink, sir, and eggs and bannocks if ye like, as weel.”

  Reminding her that there were four of them, he and James moved to take seats on benches flanking a table in the taproom.

  They had just sat down when the outer door opened and Marsi walked in.

  Ivor’s temper flared, bringing him to his feet. “Where the devil have you been?” he demanded.

  Marsi stopped on the threshold, her heart pounding in response to his evident fury. But when he took a step toward her, her chin came up of its own accord, and she said, “Faith, would you murder me? I promise, I just stepped outside to—”

  “I told you to stay in side.”