“I canna afford a mistress,” Fingal Stewart answered the king. “I am nae a rich man, my lord. My parents are both dead. Nor do I have siblings. I have my house, but naught else. I hire out my sword to earn my living, and possess but one servant.”
“So ye are free to leave Edinburgh quickly,” the king said almost to himself. It was perfect. It did not occur to him that Lord Stewart might turn him down. He couldn’t. This was a royal command, and to be obeyed without question.
“Aye, my lord,” Fingal Stewart replied. He was agreeing to this madness because he had no other choice. It was his family’s tradition to be loyal without question to their kings. Still, he made a small attempt to reason with James Stewart and learn more of what was expected of him. “Why must this lass be wed quickly, my lord? May I know what more is involved in this situation? What will the laird of Brae Aisir think of your sending a cousin to wed his heiress? What if he says nay?”
James Stewart barked a short laugh as he realized in his eagerness to solve this problem he had told Fingal Stewart little or nothing of it. “The Kerrs of Brae Aisir possess control of a pass through the Cheviots into England. The pass is called the Aisir nam Breug. Their English kin, the Kerrs of Netherdale, control the other end. The pass has always been used for peaceful travel; never for war nor raiding. The Kerrs on both sides of the border have defended it against such use. The laird is old. He has one heir, his granddaughter. She will not choose a husband from among their neighbors. Indeed, she is said to be called Mad Maggie, for she is willful and wild.
“The laird fears his neighbors will attempt to wrest his control of this crossing from him, or from his granddaughter when he is gone, but the lass has him at an impasse. He’ll nae refuse my command that she take ye for a husband. If old Kerr had his own choice for the lass, the matter would have been long settled. He obviously did not. His neighbors are already eyeing the Aisir nam Breug, I’m told. If this Hay fellow had the stones to attempt to steal a march on them, and come to me in an effort to gain an advantage, then he fears someone else gaining what he covets. Ye’ll be the answer to Dugald Kerr’s prayers, Cousin. Now get ye into the Borders before there is blood-shed over the matter. I have only just gotten the lairds there settled down after years of running roughshod over my authority,” the king said. “Return to Edinburgh on the morrow to fetch yer servant. Shut up yer house. Then go south, Fingal Stewart. Hopefully the lass will be pretty enough to please, but if she isn’t, just remember that all cats look alike in the dark.” And James Stewart laughed. “Bring her back to court when I have returned with my queen.”
“Yer taking me from relative obscurity, gifting me with a wealthy wife, and giving me control of an asset that is valuable to you, and to Scotland. I will be a man of power, my lord,” Fingal Stewart said quietly. “Other than my undying loyalty, what will ye require of me in return for this bounty?” His candid gaze met the king’s eyes, and James Stewart laughed aloud.
“Yer a canny fellow, Cousin,” he complimented his companion. “I will take half of the tolls ye collect from travelers, payable on Michaelmas each year in hard coin.”
“One-third,” Fingal Stewart dared to counter. “The pass must be maintained in good condition, and the laird I am certain supports his people with these monies. Remember I am a stranger coming at your behest to wed its heiress, and take control no matter whether the old laird welcomes me into their midst. Nothing must appear to change for the Kerrs of Brae Aisir other than a husband for the heiress. Remember, my lord, I have naught but my sword and yer word to recommend me. My purse is empty.”
James Stewart nodded. He was known to be tightfisted, but he was also no fool. A third of the yearly tolls from this traverse was a third more than he had previously had.
He held out his hand to his cousin. “Agreed!” he said as they shook.
Lord Stewart rose from his chair, recognizing that he was now dismissed.
“Thank ye, my lord. My sword and my life are yers forever.” He bowed low.
The king nodded his acknowledgment of the words, and with a wave of his hand he dismissed his cousin from his presence.
Fingal Stewart turned and left the privy chamber. He found Janet Munro awaiting him in the dim corridor, and he told her of what had transpired.
“Yer a man of property now,” she said in a well-satisfied voice. So many royal mistresses enriched themselves and their families during their tenure. She had not, accepting only what was offered. She knew her parsimonious lover would see her and her child comfortably supported. She was satisfied now to have done something for the cousin she had always liked. He was a good man and deserved a bit of good luck.
Digging into her skirt pocket, she pulled out a small pouch. “Ye dinna have to tell me the condition of yer purse, Fin. And ye canna travel without coin. The king wanted ye to have this.” Janet thrust the purse at him. “Yer men-at-arms are just paid for the year. Ye may retain them for yer own, but next Michaelmas ye must pay their wages yerself. Ye have a house in the town, gold in yer purse, a servant, and twelve men-at-arms. Ye will nae appear a poor man when ye come to Brae Aisir,andyer the king’s own blood to boot.” Then standing on her toes, she put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. “God bless ye, Cousin.”
He returned her embrace. “Thank ye, Jan. I know ’tis ye who have brought me this good fortune. Should ye ever need me, ye have but to send for me,” Fingal Stewart said. He suspected the gold in the purse she had given him was from her own small store.
“Come along now,” she said briskly. “There is food in the hall, and I’ve found a place for ye to lay yer head this night.”
He followed her and while he ate at a table far below the high board in the king’s hall, he looked about him. The chamber was filled with the mighty. Before she left him to join her lover, Janet Munro pointed out the Earl of Huntly; the young Earl of Glenkirk; Lord Hume, who was now warden of the East March; the provost of Edinburgh, Lord Maxwell; and George Crichton, bishop of Dunkeld, among others. Fingal Stewart watched the panorama played out before him, listening to all the gossip spoken.
He was, he decided, glad to be a simple man.
When the evening grew late, Janet Munro came to him again and brought him to the stables where his horse had been taken. “Ye can sleep here, Cousin,” she told him, “but be gone by first light. Yer men will join ye at yer house tomorrow before ye depart.”
He thanked her a final time, noting she did not reveal aloud to where he was traveling, for she was wary of being overheard. His mission was after all a clandestine one; a preemptive strike to be carried out before anyone could prevent it. He slept several hours before rising in the pale light of the predawn, saddling his stallion, and riding back to Edinburgh. It was a chilly ride beneath the light rain now falling.
His manservant, Archie, was awaiting him anxiously. There had been no need for him to go with his master the previous day, but he had been concerned when six men-at-arms had arrived with Lady Janet to conduct Lord Stewart to Linlithgow. “My lord!” The relief in Archie’s voice was palpable. “Yer home safe.”
“Pack up all our personal possessions, what few we have, Archie,” Fingal Stewart said. “I’m to have a wife, and a great responsibility that goes with her.”
“My lord?” Archie’s plain face was puzzled.
His master laughed. “Is there something to eat?” he asked.
“I’m just back from the cookhouse, my lord. Aye, come into yer hall,” his servant said. “I’ve fresh bread, hard-boiled eggs, a rasher of bacon.”
“Then let’s eat, man, and I’ll tell ye all,” Lord Stewart said.
They went into the small chamber that served as the house’s hall. The fresh food was already upon the high board, for Archie had taken the chance his master would return sooner rather than later. He quickly served his lord, poured him a small goblet of watered wine, and was then waved to a place by his side. The two men ate silently, quickly, and as the last piece of bacon disappeared from the plate, Fingal Stewart spoke.
Fingal explained all to Archie, concluding, “So, Archie, we are leaving Edinburgh and settling down with a wife, and a real home, and probably a covey of bairns eventually. Do ye think yer ready for such an existence?” Lord Stewart chuckled.
