Chapter 13

“You’re hypocrites!” Lachlan shouted.
James watched his youngest brother pace over the rough wooden floor. His mind still tried to fathom how Lachlan could work with the English, and just who this man Kilgore might he be. An English spy, or worse, Mafazi? Lachlan, hearing that his three brothers would not attend the wedding of Helen and Alexander, had returned to his indignant tone.
“She is kin. How can you refuse my invitation?”
James looked toward the ceiling beams letting Lachlan continued a rant. A small rodent ran along the beam first one way and then the other, seemingly unable to choose a path toward safety. Finally it chose to leap to a parallel beam closer to the outer wall. The jump was short. It caught the edge of the beam and held on by skinny front legs, its grey furry body and long thin tail hanging down directly above Lachlan, who had stopped pacing and was glaring at John.
“I don’t ask what you do with the pieces I make for you. That fleet of ships you are building for Henry Sinclair…” He swirled round to face James, who kept one eye on the struggling rat and one eye on Lachlan, “and that small army you have recruited. I doubt either will be put into the service of Scotland.”
“You know nothing of our business.” James was waiting for the rodent to fall. The rat’s tiny beady black eyes stared at the beam but its back legs flailed, finding no purchase as it continued to struggle.
“My point exactly,” Lachlan fumed. “Why should you know mine?”
John rose in his place and stared down Lachlan. “You can be sure that neither our ships nor the clansmen on them will be used against Scotland. Can you make the same claim for your weapons?”
The rat fell. It landed silently, directly behind Lachlan. James marveled at how the creature survived such a fall, seemingly without harm. It took a moment to collect its wits then scurried under some wooden ale barrels stacked against the rear wall.
Rats, it seemed to James eyeing Lachlan, had a way of surviving. “I’ve heard enough.” he turned to John. “Let’s launch and intercept those arrowheads. Take the two McGregor boys, Ian Stewart, John McNeil and Angus Ross, along with a small crew. Those four can handle a dozen Englishmen. Sink the ship carrying that cargo. Make it look like piracy. Robert, you and I have other business to discuss.”
“I expect a considerable discount on those brass fittings.” John caught Lachlan by the collar, and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s conclude the only honest business at hand.”
Lachlan shook off his brother’s hand. “What I do is honest business,” he protested as John pushed him out of the hall into the bright sunlight.
“He’s done it to us again you know that; protesting his innocence to the end.” Robert had remained silent for some time but his disgust at what had transpired was not lost on James. The two stood at the door to the clan hall and watched Lachlan and John round the corner of the sail shed.
“Aye, I suppose he has.” James thought of the rat as he closed the heavy wooden door. “Please, sit a moment longer.”
James walked to the back of the hall. Seeing the furry little rodent hide under the ale barrels made him think a swig might be in order. He reached up for two mugs that hung on rusty hooks jutting out from a scarred ceiling beam. He rocked the top barrel.
“There’s enough for a few mugs. Will you drink with me?” James pulled the cork from the barrel and let a small amount of ale pour into one of the mugs. He lifted the mug to his nose and instantly pulled away.
“Is it too foul to drink?” Robert laughed. “That barrel has most likely been uncorked for weeks. Little wonder it’s sour, I can smell it from here,” he said leaning back in his chair, putting his feet up on the end of the table.
“Not sour, brother, aged…” James filled both mugs and slid one the full length of the table into Robert’s open palm. “It will get sweeter with each mug we drink, slange.” He emptied the mug and wiped the foam from his beard, and burst into laughter at the twisted look that came over Robert’s face, as he swallowed the bitter ale. “Was I wrong?”
“It’s aged for sure, raw boughin’ I’d say. As to whether it will get better with each mug? We shall have to see.” Robert slid the empty mug back down the table to James, who filled it and slid the mug back down the table, before refilling his own.
The brothers drank for a moment without speaking. “This is not a good time to be chasing Lachlan’s misdeeds.” James said breaking the silence.
“Aye well, here’s to John and the men you dispatched with him,” Robert said raising his mug and gulping a mouthful.
“I will drink to that. Let’s hope this will end well.” James drank and took a seat at a corner of the table. “You met Kilgore, is he Mafazi?”
“I didn’t spend enough time in his presence to mark him,” Robert replied. “He is a mercenary there is no doubt about that.”
“Aye, paid by the English,” James replied wiping spillage off the table.
Robert nodded and swigged his beer. “William said that he asked questions about you, the clansmen and the ships. Maybe he thinks the ships and clansmen are to support Scotland in a war, but maybe not.”
“What do you think?”
“I doubt Kilgore cares much about the source of his money. The King of England, perhaps, but it is possible he works for Mafazi or the Pope in Rome. One thing is certain, if he learns of the true purpose of our mission, he will sell the information to the highest bidder. How much does Lachlan know?” Robert tapped his mug on the table.
“Not enough.” James felt sure that Lachlan, self-centered and hungry for money, would only pay attention to the work at Freswick from which he benefited. “That’s not what worries me most.” He emptied his mug of beer, held out his hand and flicked his fingers in a silent request for Robert, who appeared reluctant, to slide his mug down. “Keep up with me, brother, I won’t drink this mare’s piss alone.”
“What worries you the most?” Robert asked, yielding to another drink.
“This mission with Sinclair will not be short,” James said, filling their mugs. “I am leaving at a time when Scotland is going to war with England, and a time when, thanks to young Henry and his cousin Torquil, the bad blood between our clan and the Keiths has never been worse.”
“There is John –“
“Who is a fine shipbuilder, but no match for you, when it comes to the sword. We have our duty, Robert, but we also have to protect our family. I worry about the lads, especially Henry and William.”
“Torquil has shown a real interest in joining the Order,” Robert said. “I have sent him to find Henry. When he does, he is to bring him to Spittal. As for William, do you not think he will stay here with John and Mary?”
“William is, as we speak, in Braemore trying to win Helen.” James laughed. “He made quite an impression on Helen which is, I suspect, the reason for her marriage to Alexander this Sunday.”
“One more,” James offered.
Robert held up his hand and shook his head. “I have a ride ahead. Tell me, what news do you have of the Zeno ships?”

1. Lee Says:
   March 10th, 2010 at 8:26 am

   And so the world turns. And the worm. Hmmmmm…….

2. Lachlan Macdonald – Australian Professional Actor | Acting Lessons & News Says:
   April 5th, 2010 at 7:00 am

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