“Who is he?” the king asked his page as Ewan approached him confidently.
“The brother of Lord Hay, a border lord. He’s unimportant, my liege.”
“Then why am I speaking with him?” the king wanted to know.
“He said the matter is of great importance to Scotland,” the page murmured.
Ewan Hay had reached the chair where the king sat. He smiled toothily and then bowed low. “My liege, I appreciate your seeing me,” he began. His eye, however, shifted briefly to the beautiful woman who leaned against the king’s chair. She had fine big breasts and full, lush lips. He forced his gaze away from her.
“What is so important to Scotland that you would ride from the border to Linlithgow to speak with me, Ewan Hay?” the king asked. He had seen the man’s gaze shift to his mistress, Janet Munro.
“The future of the Aisir nam Breug is in terrible danger, my liege,” Ewan began.
“What is the Aisir nam Breug, and why should I care if it is in danger?” James Stewart wanted to know.
“Why, my lord, it is a passage between Scotland and England that has for centuries been used as a safe traverse between England and Scotland. It is controlled on our side of the border by the Kerrs of Brae Aisir and on the other side by their English cousins, the Kerrs of Netherdale. These two families have kept it free of warring parties so commerce and honest folk may travel between the two countries in safety. The Kerrs have become rich over the years from this passage,” Ewan said.
“Indeed?” the king replied, now interested. How was it he had not known of this?
But then his border lords were very difficult and independent men. He had only just gotten firm control of them in the past few years. But, curious now, he said, “What is the problem, then, Ewan Hay?”
“The laird of Brae Aisir is in his dotage, my liege. His only heir is his granddaughter, Margaret. The lass is of marriageable age, but the old man will nae part with her. If Dugald Kerr dies, what will happen to the Aisir nam Breug with no strong man to oversee it? The girl can be given a dower for a husband, but she canna control such a valuable asset to Scotland, my liege. And what if she takes an English husband? They are a close family, Brae Aisir and Netherdale,” Ewan lied, for he didn’t really know.
“Are they?” the king said. What was it about this young man? From the moment he had opened his mouth, James Stewart hadn’t liked him. “Would ye wed the lass?” he asked, curious as to the answer he would receive.
“Nay, my liege. She refused my suit, and I would nae hae a wife who did not want me,” Ewan said. But he would have her, he thought, if only to crush her spirit.
“But ye want her inheritance,” the king remarked.
“Aye . . . nay, my liege! ’Tis my brother and all the local lairds who fear for the fate of the Aisir nam Breug. They sent me to bring this situation to your attention.” He lied again, hoping it was not obvious.
“And now ye have,” the king said with a small smile. “Go home, Ewan Hay. I must think on the information ye have brought to me, but rest assured that I will see the status of the Aisir nam Breug solved so that the laird of Brae Aisir may go to his God knowing that both it and his granddaughter are in safe hands.”
Ewan opened his mouth to speak further, but the king waved a dismissive hand at him, and the king’s page was immediately at Ewan’s elbow escorting him from the royal presence before he might say another word. It had not gone at all as he had intended, but the king had not refused his subtle request. He would go home and tell his brother that the Aisir nam Breug was near to being in their hands.
James Stewart watched him go. “A dishonest fellow, I have not a doubt,” he said.
Janet Munro slid into his lap. “I didn’t like him, Jamie,” she said. “There is more to it than he is admitting or telling.” She nuzzled his ear.
He slid a casual hand into her bodice, cupping one of her gloriously large breasts. “What would ye do, Jan?” he asked her as he caressed the soft flesh absently.
“Ye need to send someone ye can trust into the border to learn more about it before ye decide. Ye canna take that man’s word for anything, I am thinking,” she said.
He nodded. “Aye, but whom shall I send?”
Janet Munro thought for a long moment. Then she said, “What about yer cousin, Lord Fingal Stewart?”
“Do I know him?” the king asked. He didn’t think he knew a Fingal Stewart.
“Nay, ye do not. Like ye, he descends from King Robert the Third through his elder son, David, whose bairn was born after that prince was killed and was protected by his mother’s Drummond kin. He was one of the first who swore loyalty to James the First when he returned from his exile. James the First gave his nephew a house in Edinburgh. The family are called the Stewarts of Torra because their house is near the castle beneath the castle rock. They have always been loyal without question, to James the Second and Third, and then to yer father, James the Fourth.”
“How do ye know all of this?” the king asked his mistress.
She laughed. “Fingal’s grandmam was a Munro. We’re cousins. He’s a good man, my lord. Honest and loyal to the bone. Tell him what ye want of him, and he will do it without question.” She gave him a quick kiss on his lips.
The king withdrew his hand from Janet Munro’s bodice and gently tipped her from his lap. “Send to yer cousin,” he said. “I am interested to meet this relation I never knew I had. If this Aisir nam Breug is all Ewan Hay claims it is, we cannot have it fall into the wrong hands.”And it will provide me with a new source of income, he thought to himself. A king could never have too much coin in his treasury.
Janet Munro curtsied, her claret red velvet skirts spreading out around her as she did. “Aye, my lord, I will do yer bidding,” she said. And then she left him.
