“What happened to the king?” Maggie wanted to know.
“He’s gone to Edinburgh, I heard, to order a strengthening of the border’s defenses,” Iver answered her.
“He’s alive!” Maggie said in a determined voice.“Fingal is alive!”
“We can pray for it,” Father David Kerr said. He had come into the hall behind Iver and listened silently as the captain told his tale.
“The keep will need to be fortified more heavily,” the old laird said. “God’s foot, I would have a cannon on our heights! A cannon is the best defense in times like these.”
“I’ll go to the brothers at Glenborder Abbey,” the priest said. “They have a foundry and cannon of their own.”
“Holy priests?” Iver was surprised.
“Glenborder is known for its warrior monks,” Father David said. “The English won’t burn them out like they did Kelso. That’s why they keep clear of Glenborder.”
“Ye’ll need gold,” the laird noted.
“Ye have what we’ll need, and more,” the priest replied dryly.
Dugald Kerr laughed darkly. “Aye, whatever ye need is yers if ye can convince them to sell me a cannon. Iver, go with him, and take a dozen men with ye. Dragging a cannon, even a small one, back across the moor and hills will be hard work.”
“Who is going to go search for Fingal?” Maggie demanded. “Is my husband not more important than yer damned cannon, Grandsire?”
“Nay, he is not,” the laird responded in a hard voice Maggie had never before heard him use. “Fingal is either dead and in an anonymous grave, or being held with other Scots nobles in an English dungeon. It will take the English a while to process their prisoners and learn who they are, and where to send the ransom demand. Either way we can do naught, and we need that cannon, Maggie, if we are to defend Brae Aisir.”
David Kerr departed the morning of December first for Glenborder Abbey. He returned on the tenth of December successful, the Kerr clansmen bringing the cannon they had purchased with them along with a supply of powder and shot. The laird immediately oversaw its installation upon the narrow heights of his keep. It had cost him dearly, almost an entire year’s worth of proceeds from the Aisir nam Breug, but now he knew the keep would be relatively safe from invaders.
On the twelfth of December word came that Queen Marie had delivered a daughter, Mary, on the eighth day of the month at Linlithgow Palace. The king had not been with her. He was ill at his favorite palace of Falkland. Less than a week later came the terrible news that King James V had died. Scotland had a king no longer. It had a queen, and she was ten days old.
“God help us all,” Dugald Kerr said grimly.
“God help Queen Marie,” Maggie replied. “The great lords will begin to squabble over who should rule in the little queen’s name. There will be some sort of civil strife, ye may be certain.” Aye, there would be trouble, and here she was with a big belly, an old man, and two lads to look after, along with the Aisir nam Breug. Where was Fingal? Where was the ransom demand from the English? He was not dead.He wasn’t!
The news of James V’s death reached Netherdale when Edmund Kerr found himself host to an unexpected visitor. It was then he also learned that his kinsman’s heiress was again without a husband. His eyes narrowed speculatively at the news.
“We can be of help to each other, my lord,” Ewan Hay said, smiling a cold smile.
“How could ye possibly help me?” Edmund Kerr demanded to know.
“Ye want to control all of Aisir nam Breug, I am told,” Ewan murmured. “If the rumor is true, then I can help ye achieve yer goal.”
“Give our visitor some wine,” the Lord of Netherdale said.
“Beware this man,” his former mistress, now his third wife, Aldis, said softly. “He is dangerous, and wants more than I think yer willing to give, my lord.” She offered him a sweetmeat, and he opened his mouth to take and eat it.
Ewan Hay took the goblet offered him, and drank deeply to gain his courage. He had a plan, but he needed the Lord of Netherdale to complete that plan.
“Well?” Edmund Kerr demanded. “And what will ye want in exchange for aiding me?” he asked cynically.
“Only one thing, my lord. I want Maggie Kerr. With yer help I can take control of Brae Aisir and the pass. Without Lord Stewart they are helpless, for yer kinsman is near seventy now, and surely will not live much longer. They need a man to manage it all, and despite your being their blood, yer English. They will not accept yer control especially now after the battle at Solway Moss, and the king’s death. They will more easily accept a Scotsman even if his name is not Kerr. Did they not accept Fingal Stewart, my lord?”
“Maggie has two lads, and a big belly that will certainly produce another,” Edmund Kerr said. “They are now old Dugald’s heirs.” As the years had passed, he had given up on the idea of marrying his late half sister’s daughter, but he hadn’t given up on controlling the Aisir nam Breug in its entirety. Still, given the bitterness of what had recently transpired, he knew Ewan Hay was right. Brae Aisir would not accept him, or any of his sons, or grandsons, as their overlord. He had, however, thought to one day match the daughter he had had with Aldis to one of Maggie’s sons. Still, who was to manage until then? “Did Maggie not spurn ye when ye tried to court her years back? What makes ye think she’ll take ye now?” Edmund Kerr asked. “Besides, her husband has not yet been proved dead. The traffic through the traverse is done for the year. The snows will soon make the roads impassable, especially the road through the pass.”
“Send me to Brae Aisir, my lord, in yer name, with yer men at my back to defend yer rights,” Ewan Hay said. “Say with Fingal Stewart among the missing, and yer kinsman elderly and frail, ye want to protect what the Kerrs on both sides of the border have protected for lo these past centuries. Say it is yer familial duty to see to the safety of Brae Aisir’s lady, and her bairns.”
Edmund Kerr laughed aloud. “Jesu, ye want the wench, don’t ye? But why? She doesn’t like ye, and will probably kill ye given the opportunity. As for sending my men, nay. It’s one thing for me to send a Scotsman to oversee Dugald Kerr’s portion of the Aisir nam Breug. That can be counted as familial regard and show a certain delicacy on my part. But to send English men-at-arms makes it a threatening gesture. Ye’ll need yer own men. Surely yer brother would be willing to lend you some of his own people. Did he answer yer late king’s call to arms? Did ye for that matter, Ewan Hay?” And Edmund Kerr laughed again. “Nay, I’ll wager neither of ye did.”
“If I have yer assurance that ye support my going to Brae Aisir, then my brother could probably be prevailed upon to give me some of his clansmen to back my actions,” Ewan Hay said. “Ye must write it or he will not believe me. And seal it with yer seal.”
