Blair never stopped smiling when she replied, “I’m eight and ten summers now, and promise ye there’s nae much under the sun with the power to shock me anymore, Mister Hardie.”
She drank off the rest of her ale and said, “Mither is all of a dither, that’s what brings me here. I have no reason to snoop, I assure ye.” She lowered her eyes and her voice, trying to sound as conspiratorial as she could. “If...if Faither has a fancy lady he’s run off with or some other deed he wishes to go unnoticed by his family, dinnae ye think he would take more pains to make it less obvious than to simply disappear without one word?”
Mr. Hardie looked uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. He placed the mug down gently on the counter and backed out of the room, saying, “P’raps I better go fetch Mistress Hardie to ye, Blair, she being a woman an’ all…”
The innkeeper must have had quite a discussion with his wife before allowing her to come and answer Blair’s questions. In the time she was waiting, Blair ordered a bannock and an apple to eat from the serving boy, as she had left home that morning without breaking her fast. It was already too late in the day to ask for porridge.
By the time Mistress Eileen Hardie came out to where she was waiting, the taproom had begun to fill up with folks in need of refreshment and nuncheon. The lady beckoned Blair to follow her to one of the upstairs parlors.
When they had settled themselves inside the parlor, and the tavern keeper’s wife told one of the cleaning maids to bring them up some tea, Mistress Hardie began telling her story.
“Blair, ye are a clever young woman, and I have every faith that ye’ll nae drop into hysterics after ye hear the news I’m about to tell ye.”
She waited for Blair to nod her head to this before continuing. “Yer faither was always one to seek out adventure. Me own grandmither can remember him when he was a wee lad, always looking to stick his nose in where it didnae belong, on the search for some intrigue or exciting caper. Growing up and having a family didnae change that—”
Blair interjected, “He loves to tell us stories about his exploits at home.”
Mistress Hardie shook her head sadly. “Whether he heard them from the ship captains or mercenaries who clutter this town with their nonsense, I dinnae ken. But this much Idoken...yer faither became dissatisfied with simplylisteninga few years back. That’s when he began to seek out daring escapades for his own.”
Blair knew this for the truth. It was when Angus had begun leaving home more often and coming home later.
“First, he was content to sit in the taproom and offer to run errands for the upright citizens and good seafarers who patronize our establishment. Then, after a year or so of making himself useful to virtuous men, he stopped drinking and eating at our tavern and started going to the Phoenix.”
Blair could not help herself from gasping in shock. Whenever they had ridden past that notoriously dubious place, Angus had always warned her away from it: “Dinnae ye even think of comin’ here on yer own, lassie,” Angus would say. “Ye will be snatched off yer horse and onboard a slave ship before the cat’s had time to lick its paw!”
“Aye, I see ye ken about that tavern,” Mistress Hardie said with a sigh. “Many an innocent young girl has wandered through its cursed portals, never to be seen again. When ye used to come here with yer faither, I would ask him, ‘Angus, auld friend, why have anything to do with the Phoenix when there yer daughter sits, unaware of how things stand between ye and the blasphemous wretches who operate there?’ and all he would do is look sheepish and say, ‘What the eye doesnae see, the heart doesnae bleed for.’ It ‘twas enough to make me want to wring his neck!”
Blair could just hear her father saying such a thing. One of his most endearing, but irritating, characteristics was his overconfidence and his love of drama.
“Now, here’s the thing. We get to hear a little bit about how Angus has been helpin’ out those thugs up at the Phoenix and so what I say is the truth; when it’s time for his return journey back to the farm after he’s sold his chattels, he takes whatever his Phoenix tavern mates want delivered and drops it off for them on his way home. Ye’d think it would be as easy as pie, right? But there ye’d be wrong. The longer he stayed working for them, the harder and more evil his orders became.”
Blair stiffened when she heard this.
Does this mean me Faither is a bad man? How could this be? And yet, his deeds have been staring us in the face the whole time. What other farmer’s wife can afford half a dozen pairs of mules? Who else in the neighborhood gets a new poppet or tin soldier whenever they lose one or tire of the old one?
Eileen saw Blair’s reaction and leaned forward to pour her another cup of tea. Feeling generous, she dropped in an extra spoonful of sugar.
“Two or three sennights ago, lass, yer faither came here all in a panic. His ‘deliveries’ and ‘packages’ were no longer inanimate ones. He was asked to take a pair of rustled horses down to Croachy, where a buyer was waiting. When he refused, they threatened him with the usual set of menaces—killing his family, poisoning his well, making it impossible for him to do business in the market anymore. So, he did it.”
Blair flinched when she heard what her father had done. It could land him at the end of a hangman’s noose.
“There, there, dear, dinnae worry. Yer faither’s not in prison...yet! He must mend his ways and part company with those scoundrels. He might have to give them back every penny they’ve paid him over the last few years, but it will be worth it just to be free of their demands.”
“Do ye think they will stop? If Faither hasnae come back yet, he could be somewhere in jail or caught up in an even nastier affair!” Blair looked around the room for her bags and cloak. “I must go and find out what and where was his last delivery! He might have run into some trouble with which I can help.”
Mistress Hardie stood up and caught the hem of Blair’s sash before she could run out of the parlor. “Just a moment, lass. Yer faither was ever the heedless fool, so be clever and dinnae follow in his footsteps! Go home, and wait with yer mither to see how the cards may fall. Ye shouldnae get yerself involved in this kind of thing. Anythin’ to do with the Phoenix, I mean.”
4
A Refusal and a Meeting
“If I were a man, me faither’s firstborn son, ye wouldnae be askin’ that of me, ma’am,” Blair said to the innkeeper’s wife as they went down the stairs together. “In fact, I’d be called a coward if I dinnae!”
“But that’s just the thing, Blair, ye’re nae a man! And even if ye were, lass, I wouldstillcaution ye against the Phoenix. Go on, tell her, Mister Hardie.”
Eileen urged her husband, who was waiting for them downstairs, to add his opinion to back up her own. Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, Blair cut in.
“I’ll nae give up trying to find me faither, though I do thank ye most kindly for all yer help in the matter. At least I ken where to start and what Faither’s been up to.”
