Page 221 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

He had not aged well. His greasy hair straggled everywhere, like an unwashed sheep. His eyes were heavy, with the toll of whiskey upon them, and his jaw, slantern and weak. But when he turned his face to Mal, it was clear he did not recognize him.

Instead, Bruce pawed the knapsack greedily, his thick fingers struggling with the fastenings. Taking it from him, Malcolm smiled.

"Allow me," he said, unfastening the roughly hewn sacking. Out of the knapsack, he produced a necklace - a beautiful string of beads. This kept Bruce happy, and for a few minutes he eyed it avidly, before handing it back.

"Tis bonny, how much for it?"

Malcolm paused. "Yer lairdship," he said, thoughtfully. Bruce glared like he was insane, then, he stopped and laughed.

But Malcolm stopped him. "Nae," he said, sullenly. He saw the face that Bruce was making, and shook his head. "I am nae jesting... I nae joke about such things..."

"T’would be too great a price," said Bruce, still smiling. He was quizzical, but not yet skeptical.

"Well then, I've got some other wee trinket... that would be more suited, for the price," said Malcolm, sitting down to unpick his bag..

A low murmur went through the crowds. They seemed to be growing. Out of nowhere, it seemed, people had arrived. Now they all watched, as Malcolm pulled a small sack from the bag.

Watching him also, Bruce. His gray-brown eyebrows arched amusedly. "So then, show us what ye have got, wee man..."

Bruce gave a low laugh, and Malcolm stirred, at Bruce's calling him wee man. The crowd fell dead. Perhaps they sensed something.

"Naething," said Malcolm, suddenly serious. "Just this..."

He produced the black clan ring. He shoved it under Bruce's nose and waited. Quickly, his eyes flitted to James. He followed Bruce watchfully, with his gaze.

Malcolm waited. He watched, as Bruce's eyes roundened with recognition. Then, he switched.

"Where did ye get this?" he snatched the ring greedily out of Malcolm's hand.

Malcolm stood up. He reached to take the ring from Bruce, but he refused.

"Nae," said Bruce. He stood defiant, but Malcolm squared up. Behind him, James pressed closer. "Nae until ye tell me where ye got it!"

Malcolm's eyes flashed. He swiped the ring straight from Bruce's hand. Bruce came at him, but then, with a smile, backed down.

"Och," he said, stepping back. His low, gray eyes danced between Malcolm and James. "Nae fash, I just want to ken how ye got it. That is stolen property, an' I willnae pay for it. Instead, I will take it from ye... or toss ye in the dungeons!"

Malcolm felt his patience crumble. "Tis nae stolen, Bruce, for father gave it to me!" his eyes gleamed, as he fixed them at Bruce.

The whole room fell so silent, it was as if the crowd were not there. Bruce stood still. Malcolm walked around him, staring.

For several minutes, Bruce was unresponsive. Finally, he lifted his colorless eyes to Malcolm.

"Nae," he said, but as he looked, his eyes told another story. "Nae," he said again, and then he stopped. A strange light came into him. "It cannae be..."

"Ye thought I was dead?" said Malcolm, his temper heating up. Instinctively his hands went to his sword. He did not draw it yet. Patting it, he felt it secure inside its scabbard.

Bruce's eyes rushed around. He looked panicked.

"Aye, convenient for ye, that, Bruce," said Malcolm, pressing closer to where Bruce stood.

A murmur from the guards rippled. Swiftly, the dark-haired steward pushed forward. "Sir," he said, swiftly. He shoved himself physically in between Malcolm and Bruce. He was about to drag him back, when Bruce waved his hand.

"Nae fash," slurred Bruce. "I want to hear this..."

Bruce's eyes went to Malcolm, then to James. He looked them up and down. In the background, the steward, and a couple of his men, drew their weapons slowly. With a nod, Malcolm acknowledged them.

"There's naething to tell, Bruce. Father gave me the ring, an' ye sold me as a slave, for ten years..."