It was late spring at Brae Aisir, and the hillsides were green with new growth, and white with new lambs. The frost had finally gone from the ground. The few fields were quickly plowed and planted. Traffic through the Aisir nam Breug had picked up with the better weather. In early June, Fingal Stewart was surprised to be visited by Janet Munro, his cousin, and her husband, Matthew Baird, Lord Tweed. They arrived one bright afternoon, traveling from Edinburgh.
Maggie was delighted to have the company, for there had been no visitors to Brae Aisir in months. And particularly as Lady Tweed was her husband’s kinswoman, she welcomed the pair warmly. “Grandsire always enjoys company,” she said cheerfully. “And especially that of a pretty woman,” Maggie complimented Janet.
“Why, ye are far lovlier than I had anticipated,” Janet said frankly. “I suspect if the king had known how fair ye were, he might not have been so generous to our cousin. He’s always had an eye for a pretty face.” She dismounted her horse.
“Come into the hall,” Maggie invited the couple. “Are ye traveling with another purpose, or have ye come to see us especially?” She led them inside the stone house, signaling to her servants to bring wine and biscuits as she invited them to sit.
“I see ye’ve birthed yer bairn,” Fin said as he considered why Janet was here.
“A daughter on March third, baptized Margaret as it is a Stewart family name,” Janet said brightly. “She’s at Tweed House with her wet nurse. It’s safer for so young a bairn. The king has returned. His delicate French queen is dying. I have not seen her; few have. But from what I’m told, she’ll not last the summer.”
“How tragic!” Maggie exclaimed. “Did ye hear, Grandsire? The young queen is dying, poor lass.”
“She was frail to begin with, if one can believe the gossips,” the old laird said.
“Aye, it has been said,” Janet agreed. She looked to Fingal and to the laird. “My lords, I need yer aid in a certain matter.” When he nodded at her, she continued.
“The king promised when he saw me wed to my good lord that he would provide for our child, for that responsibility is not my husband’s. If a lad, the child would be given a living, a priory or monastery as his other sons have received. The king also swore that if the child were a lass, she would be given a small yearly income and a generous dower portion. Alas, with the queen so ill, his promise has not been fulfilled. Now, with her death imminent, I fear the king will be so deep in mourning that he will not want to be troubled by this matter.”
“Yer a clever lass, and a good mother to want it settled soon,” Dugald Kerr said.
“How can we help ye, Jan?” Fingal Stewart asked.
“Ye promised to give the king a portion of the revenues ye receive from the tolls ye collect from the Aisir nam Breug,” Janet Munro said. “But the king could transfer that right to his daughter to meet his obligation. Margaret would be taken care of at no out-of-pocket expense to James.”
“Yer cousin is a bold woman to put her hands in our purse, Fin,” Maggie said bluntly. She looked straight at Janet Munro when she spoke.
“Ye owe the king in any event,” Janet replied stubbornly.
“If he promised yer bairn a living,” Maggie snapped, “why not remind him of his promise? While I have heard the king was tightfisted, I was also told he was good to his offspring. Why do ye not solicit him directly and remind him of his promise?”
Janet Munro was surprised that her hostess was so forward, and she wondered why Fingal, her cousin, did not speak up. The look on his face was one of amusement. Did he consider the matter of her child’s financial well-being something to be laughed at? But then, to her relief, Lord Stewart did speak up.
“If the king is as deeply in love with his dying wife as has been reported,” he began, “he will hardly be in the mood to be reminded of an old obligation to a child born on the wrong side of the blanket. And we do owe him a third of all the tolls we collect to be paid in coin each St. Andrew’s Day. That was what was agreed upon when I came to Brae Aisir. Dugald knows it. The king wanted half, only that I bargained him down.”
“Why should he have any of our income?” Maggie demanded to know.
“Because he saved Brae Aisir’s fate by sending me to be yer husband,” Fin told her. “Do ye not think I’m worth a third of the monies we collect each year? I think ye more than worth the two-thirds we retain.” He grinned at her.
“Yer a fool, Fingal Stewart,” Maggie said. “I’m worth it all!”
“Aye, Maggie mine, ye are,” he told her. “Now let us return to Janet’s dilemma. I think it an excellent solution that the king’s portion from the tolls collected be used to support his daughter. But how can we manage to make such an arrangement? He must be very diverted at the moment with his queen’s poor condition.”
“He is,” Janet said. “Her health is so perilous that she cannot even be moved to Stirling or Linlithgow. She is in the royal apartments in Edinburgh Castle. We can get into the castle. I have a kinsman among the castle guard. And the king’s secretary owes me a favor I shall now collect from him. But I need ye with me, Fingal, to assure the king that ye are content with this disposition. Will ye come back to Edinburgh with us?”
“Ye will needmeas well,” Maggie said. “I am the heiress to Brae Aisir.”
“But Fingal is yer husband, and surely ’tis his right to make such a decision,” Janet Munro said primly. She was a woman of tradition.
Fin laughed aloud. “Nay, Jan, Maggie must come with us, for she is the heiress, and whatever I now possess I possess through her.”
“We must leave on the morrow then,” Janet Munro said.
“We will depart the day after,” Maggie replied. “Ye are barely past childbed, madam, and have raced into the Borders from the city. Ye and yer horses will have a day of rest before we begin our journey. Now I must go and see to yer comfort while ye are with us, and the cook must be informed there will be two more at the high board this day.” With a smile she hurried from the hall.
The laird chuckled. “She has had her way since her birth,” he said to their guests. “There is no changing her now.”
Fin grinned. “The king gave me quite a responsibility, didn’t he? It takes a particular skill to manage it, Cousins.”
