Chapter 10

I vor reined in and dismounted beside James just as the chap who had been thrashing another boy tossed aside the strap and reached

to grab the prince. Seeing Ivor, the townsman paused, his right hand still outstretched toward James.

Keeping his own hands well clear of the dirk on his left hip, Ivor forced calm into his voice but said nonetheless sternly,

"What is amiss here?"

James, clearly angry, looked from the townsman to Ivor. Then, shifting his gaze to the other boy, still clutched by his jerkin

in the fellow's left hand, he said, "That chap there knocked that lad off his horse. Then he jumped down tae beat him, as

you saw. When I commanded him tae stop, he dared tae threaten me ."

The man had lowered his outstretched hand as James spoke. Now he glowered at Ivor. "What manner of bairn is this that he dares

to interfere with his elders?"

Ivor raised his eyebrows in the way that usually made men back away from him. But the one he faced now stood his ground, wanting

an answer.

Ivor said evenly, "You have cause to be wroth with the lad. But you will not put your hands on him unless you want to answer to me. If you would complain of his behavior, complain likewise to me."

"I will then, aye," the other snapped. "This lad is mine own servant, charged with tending my horse's gear. When my rein broke,

I spoke sharply to him. He answered insolently and so deserved punishment. Your lad behaved even worse."

"He should not have done so," Ivor said, giving the angry James a look that banished the boy's indignation and brought a flush

to his cheeks.

Ivor continued to gaze sternly at him as he added, "I will explain his error to him. Moreover, I will do it in a way to ensure

that he never behaves so again, at least not until he is fully grown and it is his business to do so. Apologize to this gentleman at once, sir, and show proper humility when you do."

For a long, tense moment, James looked mutinous. But Ivor held his gaze until the boy expelled his inhaled breath and turned

to the irate townsman.

"I do apologize for angering you, sir," James said. "Your business is none of mine. I should not have interfered in it."

"Aye, well, that be true enough. If I were your da, though, I'd take good leather to ye, just as I were a-doing wi' this 'un."

Ivor saw James's jaw tighten. Before he could speak again, Ivor put a hand on his shoulder and urged him firmly back to his

horse. Then, he picked him up, and as he set him on his saddle, he said curtly, "Not another word or gesture unless you want

to feel my hand on your backside here and now. Sit properly on your saddle, and ride back to Aodán. I will have more to say

to you anon."

James's jaw remained rigid. But he gave a jerky nod, threw his leg over, and reined his horse around as Ivor had commanded.

Ivor returned to the townsman, saying, "I apologize for his behavior, sir." Remembering Marsi's tale of her own life, he added,

"I fear that I have left him in the care of servants too often when I must be away. They have sadly spoiled him. But I will

see that he swiftly mends his ways."

"Leather," the other muttered. " 'Tis the best teacher." With that, he drew the other lad away. As Ivor remounted, he heard

the latter's cries and winced, remembering more than one such painful interlude from his own childhood.

Rejoining Aodán and James, he found the latter unrepentant. "You let him beat that lad unfairly," James said.

"He has every right to punish him," Ivor replied.

"But—"

"You will be silent now and listen to what I say to you, or you will count the cost when we stop for the night. You and I

had an agreement."

"Aye, we did. But I never saw such a thing before. I could not just sit by and let it continue."

Noting that Aodán was trying to catch his eye, and seeing the other man raise his eyebrows in query, Ivor said, "Stay where

you are, Aodán. I want you to hear what I say to him. If a time should come when I must entrust him to your care, I want him

to know that you have my permission to do what you must to see that he obeys your orders as he would mine. He promised me

that he would leave his royal ways behind at Turnberry and behave like an ordinary bairn."

"I am not a bairn," James said. "I am—"

"For our purpose now, my lad, you are what I say you are," Ivor interjected. "And I say that, prince or none, you had no right to interfere with that man. The lad cheeked him

and deserved punishment for it. I agree with you that the penalty is gey harsh for the crime. But that is no more business

of mine than it is of yours. You may talk as if you were a man of forty instead of a lad of nearly eight, but you are still a bairn and must act like one. Ordinary

lads of your age do not order adults about with impunity. That man is going to talk of your behavior to all and sundry, and if you think that your

uncle will not suspect that the boy who dared accost such a man and order him to desist was you, you are not as smart as I thought you were."

James was facing forward, his chin jutting. But Ivor saw tears in his eyes and knew that he had made his point.

Nodding to Aodán then to drop back, Ivor waited until he had done so before he said quietly, "What did you think you were doing, Jamie-lad?"

Still staring ahead, James bit his lower lip. Then, visibly drawing breath, he turned to Ivor and said, "I just wanted to

make him stop. You are right, sir. I didn't think. I just acted. I meant to help, but 'tis likely that I only made it worse

for him."

"You did show courage," Ivor said. "But you did not show wisdom. And courage without wisdom is nearly always foolhardy. You

must learn when to act and when to hold your peace, lad. You are still young, though, and wise for your years."

"Do you really think that that townsman will talk about what I did?"

"I do. I want you to ride with Aodán or with Sean Dubh now, whilst I talk with Mistress Hetty and Lady Marsi. We need to make

a change in our plans."

James continued to eye him warily. But Ivor waved him toward Aodán and reined his own horse in near Marsi and Hetty.

As Sir Ivor drew in beside her, Marsi said, "I hope you were not too harsh with Jamie, sir. He is unaccustomed to people scolding

him. Come to that, he rarely does anything to deserve a scolding."

"As beset with protectors as he usually is, I don't doubt you, lass. But he deserved one then. He should not have drawn attention

to himself as he did."

"What did you say to that man to make him go away?"

With a guilty smile, he said, "I used your own tale, or my interpretation of it. I told him that I'd left the lad too long

with servants, and they'd spoilt him."

"You lied, in fact."

"Aye, that is exactly what I did."

She shook her head at him, adding, "I doubt that Jamie is spoiled, sir, but there was some truth in your words. Not only have

we both had the benefit of Hetty's care but we have also both spent our lives almost solely with adults, rarely having contact

with persons of our own age. I think that is one reason that we have become such friends. Although there is a great difference

in our ages, we often understand each other better than others understand either one of us."

"Have you ever seen him leap to another child's defense as he did today?"

"I cannot think of a time when he might have had the opportunity. Was it really so bad a thing for him to do?"

"Nay, it is good that he reacted so to mistreatment of a common lad. I fear, though, that his behavior will stir that merchant to speak of it wherever he goes."

"I see," she said. "Aye, a laddie confronting a grown man like that…"

"Just so," he said. "I think we need to alter our appearance somewhat."

"We must do something," Hetty agreed. "Many of the duke's men have seen James before. And riding right through town as we

will…" She grimaced.

"We cannot avoid Doune," Ivor said. "But we'll ride straight on to Dunblane. And if my men and I change into Highland gear,

we will look like a different party. We'll change in that thicket yonder and wait until any folks we pass will be new to us

and we to them. I've noted that when we don our plaids, folks gape at the garments rather than at those wearing them."

"You'll fly another banner, too, will you not?" Marsi asked.

"We will, aye," he said. "Our Mackintosh banner."

"Not Clan Chattan?"

"Nay, my lads are all Mackintoshes, so Mackintosh will do."

"But won't that help people identify you? We will be the same sort of party, too, with two women and a boy. Many have seen

us traveling so."

"No one has paid us much heed," Ivor said. "And no one kens my name."

"With respect, sir, I think you underestimate Albany. He travels swiftly and his men are legion, so he must be back in Stirling

by now and will have men on every road. He does that in any event. We have seen them daily since we made landfall."

"Aye, perhaps, although black is a common color, so we should not assume that every man wearing it is Albany's. Also, we've

set a good pace. From Dunblane, we will be less than forty miles from St. Andrews, and I know the roads of Fife well. If we

avoid the main ones, we'll be safe enough."

"But don't you see that you are thinking only of what you agreed to do, whilst I suspect that no one has stopped and questioned

us yet because the men we have seen had received no orders yet to look for us. But, prithee, do not make the mistake of thinking

they paid us no heed."

"What makes you so sure that they did?" Sir Ivor asked with a frown.

"Because Albany trains his men to be observant and trains them harshly. Doubtless, as soon as he reached Stirling, he began

to collect reports from his men. Sithee, unless one sails from Turnberry round most of Scotland, one must pass through Stirlingshire

or Menteith—and Fife—to reach St. Andrews. I expect Albany will assume that you want to get there as directly and quickly

as you can."

Ivor was still frowning. To her surprise, though, when she stopped talking, he nodded and said, "You are right about seeking

another route from Dunblane, lass. Whilst we shelter in yon woods, we'll talk more. Wolf also suggested considering alternative

approaches to St. Andrews."

"Captain Wolf?"

"Aye, but before we talk more, we'll change the look of our party."

When they rode out of the woods a half-hour later, their party looked as if it numbered nine persons instead of ten. Ivor

and Aodán led the way, and Hetty and Marsi followed them. Hetty had changed her gray gown to a rose-colored one and wore a formal caul instead of her usual plain white

veil.

Marsi had donned a russet-colored kirtle and wore her hair in plaits coiled at her nape with Hetty's veil to cover them. A

braided blue band across her forehead secured the veil, concealed her hair, and gave her a young maiden's look.

Both women wore their hooded, fur-lined cloaks and gloves, but Marsi wore hers with the fur lining outward and the gray wool

inside.

Although the men had kept their breeks and fur-lined boots on for riding, they wore tunics under their blue-and-green great

kilts, or plaids. The voluminous Highland all-purpose garments consisted of long woolen yardage, kilted up and belted, with

the remaining length flung over one shoulder to flow behind.

In the Highlands, few men rode because much of the landscape was too rugged for any but the sturdiest, most sure-footed Highland

pony. So men wore their plaids every day there and slept in them if they were out overnight, wrapping the garments around

them like blankets to sleep.

At present, much of Ivor's excess yardage ballooned behind him as he rode, because he had apparently sat on the end of it

when he'd mounted his horse.

The other men in his tail rode behind the women, his squire Sean Dubh first with Ivor's sword slung across his back, Sean

having strapped his own weapons to a sumpter pack. The four men-at-arms rode two by two behind him, one of the latter pair

leading their three sumpter ponies in a string.

The nine riders had covered half the distance from the woods to the bridge when a muffled voice behind Ivor muttered, "One dislikes tae complain, but ye ought tae know that it be

fearsome hot under all this wool."

"Be glad I did not sling my sword across my back," Ivor retorted.

"Aye, well, it would look gey odd if ye had," James said. "Wi' your plaid billowing out as it does whilst ye ride, I'm no

as noticeable as I'd be were your claymore sticking out across me."

"Hush now, riders are approaching us. Keep your head tight against my back and your feet well in, lad. It will not do for

a foot to poke out now."

"Aye, sure, they might think ye'd got an extra one, and mayhap a few other extra parts as well. How far do we ha' tae ride

like this?"

"Until we go far enough," Ivor said. "Think of your discomfort as penance for drawing so much attention earlier. Now, hush.

They're upon us."

As Ivor said the last few words, he glanced at Aodán, so that anyone who could see that he was talking might assume that the

two of them were conversing.

Aodán met his gaze with blue eyes atwinkle.

"Did you want to say something to me?" Ivor asked him dourly in Gaelic.

Aodán grinned and replied in the same tongue, "I doubted that wrapping him up in your plaid like that would serve, sir. The

lad is a good sport."

"It's his future at stake—if he will face it under Albany's thumb, or not—and he knows it. But keep smiling, Aodán. It appears

to be a busy day for travelers, so keep your eyes skinned, and if you see any taking undue notice of us, speak up."

"The lass… that is, I did hear her ladyship suggest we go to Kincardine Castle. I know it lies off the Perth road near Auchterarder.

How far is it from Dunblane?"

"Barring trouble, a day's ride through Strathallan. But I don't know Sir Malcolm Drummond, and her ladyship barely does. Also,

I must decide if we'll need Wolf's help. He said I could send him a message through the Abbot of Lindores."

"Sir Fin and his lady may be in Perth by now," Aodán said when Ivor paused.

"I may need him, too, before this is done. Let me think now."

Marsi glanced at Hetty and saw that, although she held her head high and looked as much a Highland noblewoman as any Marsi

had met, she also looked tense.

They had heard Sir Ivor talking with Aodán, and she wondered if he assumed that neither she nor Hetty spoke the Gaelic. The

Drummonds were a Highland clan, too, after all, albeit not from as far north as Clan Mackintosh.

She knew little about the tribes of Clan Chattan other than that they were scattered through the high country from Strathspey

to Strathdearn and paid more heed to the Lord of the North than to the King of Scots or lords of Parliament. They were a fierce

clan. The banner flying now showed a Highland wildcat on its back legs with its claws extended. Their motto was "Touch not

the cat but with a glove."

Trying to picture Sir Ivor as a cat of any sort strained her imagination. But from the deeply respectful way that his men

behaved when his temper was short, she easily believed that he possessed the wildcat's ability to snarl when angry.

The Drummonds were more civilized, or so she had been told, and were much more important, having given Scotland two queens.

Even so, men respected the ire of the Drummonds, whose motto—also a warning to others—was "Gang warily."

She smiled at the absurd image of Sir Ivor "ganging warily" in her presence. He was unlike any other man she knew. He was

clearly not one to bow before those of higher rank. But she did not think he was uncivilized or of lesser importance than

any Drummond. Not in the least.

He had advised her to look straight ahead as if she had no interest in the town or castle of Doune as they passed through.

She was not, he had said, to look at any passerby, let alone to smile at anyone. True Highlanders, he said, kept themselves

to themselves even in the Highlands and lower glens.

Although she obeyed him as well as she was able, she could not help noticing that people stared at them, and she wondered

if any might recognize her. Highlanders were a colorful lot, and she knew by the way that people gaped that they would be

unlikely to remember much about her or Hetty. Even so, drawing so much attention after trying to avoid drawing any made her

a bit nervous.

They passed through the town of Doune without incident and pressed onward.

The sun had gone down before they reached Dunblane. In the lingering dusk, with no more than a glance back at Hetty and Marsi,

Sir Ivor turned northward through the narrow streets of the village.

As they passed Dunblane Cathedral with its tall, square tower overlooking the Allan Water, Marsi breathed a sigh of relief

and said quietly to Hetty, "I think he does mean to go through Strathallan rather than heading straight across Fife, don't

you?"

"Aye, perhaps," Hetty muttered. More quietly yet, she said, "My lady, ye must not expect too much of Sir Malcolm. He may help

ye if he's of a mind to. But he is a man who seeks his own benefit, not that of others. For all that he is our dearest Annabella's

brother, he may be unwilling to set himself against Albany."

"But he need not confront Albany, Hetty. He need only speak to his grace and remind him that Annabella promised…" The words

dried in her mouth. She had told his grace, the King, what Annabella had promised, and he had replied kindheartedly. Even

so, he had said that Albany was determined, as if that were that.

Pushing the dark thought out of her mind, she added firmly, "Uncle Malcolm will understand, Hetty. He cannot want Cargill

to go out of the family."

Sir Ivor and Aodán were turning into the yard of an inn at the north edge of the town, and lackeys ran to attend their horses.

Marsi watched as Aodán dismounted and went to take James when Sir Ivor handed him down.

If the lads running to help had noted the boy concealed beneath Ivor's plaid, none seemed to think such a thing was odd. Mayhap

they thought that Highlanders' bairns always rode that way, or else the lowering clouds and the icy chill in the night air

suggested that the lad had ridden so just to keep warm.

She was smiling at the thought when Sir Ivor turned to her. "Art tired, lass?"

"It has been a long day," she said. "But I'm not as tired as I am hungry."

He smiled then and put a hand to her back, steadying her as she deftly shifted her offside leg over and turned so that he

could lift her down. "We're all hungry," he said. "Let us see what they can produce quickly for us to eat."

Aodán had relayed their needs to the landlord. So, after the men took their belongings upstairs, Hetty, Jamie, and Marsi saw

to their personal needs and settled into the two rooms allotted to them. It occurred to Marsi as she plumped a pillow on the

bed she would share with Hetty that she was getting used to staying at inns and alehouses. The amenities were not what she

was accustomed to at Cargill, Turnberry, or any place she had stayed when traveling with Annabella. But the hostelries served

their purpose, and for the most part she was enjoying herself.

Once again, they took supper in the common room.

Three other men were eating there, too, who seemed to be friends traveling together. But Marsi was not surprised when, the

minute Ivor saw them, he said he thought that perhaps she and Hetty would prefer to sup in their room.

Marsi had said reasonably, "We cannot sit in our room, sir, except on the bed, which takes up most of the space there."

Hetty nodded agreement. "The bed is large enough for the two of us, but it is a tiny wee room, sir."

"Very well, you may take your supper down here. But we won't dawdle over the meal. Our lad looks as if he may fall asleep

at any moment."

"Nay, I'll do," Jamie said, straightening. But Marsi saw him cover a yawn a moment later and knew that he was as tired as

the rest of them were.

Glancing at Sir Ivor, she saw that he, too, had noticed the yawn. When he looked at her and smiled, she felt its warmth spread

through her, stirring other, less familiar feelings as it did.

Holding Marsi's gaze, Ivor wondered what it was about the lass that kept drawing his attention to her even while James remained

his primary concern. The lad was staring at his food as if he wondered what it was. But Ivor knew that James was just tired.

It had been a long trip and one fraught with circumstances wholly unfamiliar to a lad who had been cosseted all his life.

The incident with the townsman had upset him, too. Although he had protested against riding under Ivor's plaid, he had soon

fallen silent and had slept at least part of the way. Once, Ivor had felt him slip and had clapped a hand over the two linked

smaller ones at his waist to hold James if he slid any further. But James had steadied himself, and if he dozed again, Ivor

had not noticed.

Conversation was minimal until James said, "I think it is going to snow."

The weather had begun to look threatening shortly before the sun had dropped behind Ben Lomond in the west. Clouds that had

hovered above the mountain all day had provided a colorful sunset then. But before the light had gone, the clouds had lowered

and darkened. The air was definitely colder, as well.

"You may be right, lad," Ivor said. "We've been fortunate so far, meeting nobbut occasional flurries."

"Will we have to ride on tomorrow even if it does snow?" James asked.

"We'll see," Ivor said, hoping that he'd not have to make such a decision. Bad weather could hold them up for days and give

Albany's men more time to find them. The fact was that they had been extraordinarily lucky so far to have avoided the worst

that Scotland had to offer. Although it was nearly the first of March, winter might linger for another eight weeks even in

the lower glens.

He had not liked the look of those fretful, thickening clouds.

Marsi, watching Sir Ivor, could almost hear his thoughts and knew that he was worried about the possibility of snow. But if

they did travel through Strathallan toward Kincardine, they would avoid the Ochil Hills to the southeast and others north

of Strathallan that were even higher.

If the weather turned bad, those hill routes would be icy, snow-packed, and as good as trackless to anyone who did not know

them well. So those routes would be more dangerous than the lower one along the Allan Water.

When they finished supper, Ivor went to be sure his men had settled in while she, Jamie, and Hetty went to their rooms. From

her window, Marsi could not see a single star in the sky. The air was so cold that she wished the room had a fireplace.

She performed her evening ablutions quickly. But no sooner had she begun to unlace her kirtle than she heard a burst of hastily

stifled, boyish laughter from the next room. Turning to see that Hetty had her head cocked as if she, too, had heard the laughter,

Marsi said, "That was Jamie, I think. But I have heard no one else pass our door, have you?"

Hetty shook her head, and since she had taken off all but her shift, in which she customarily slept, Marsi said, "I think

I will ask Jamie what was so funny."

"Dinna be long," Hetty said. "Sir Ivor is likely to return at any moment."

Marsi knew that, and she knew, too, that she was rather hoping that he would come up before she returned to Hetty. That thought

fled instantly from her mind, however, when she opened Jamie's door with only a perfunctory rap and looked in.

Her gaze alit first on Jamie, who sat on the sole narrow bed, grinning. But his grin vanished when he saw her, and his gaze

shifted abruptly, drawing hers with it.

On Jamie's pallet, with his knees up and his arms wrapped around them, sat the boy Jamie had tried to rescue from the irate

townsman.