Perth, December 22, 1378

Ambrose Ruthven paced his small bedchamber furiously. The only accommodations that he’d been able to arrange were in a somewhat seedy tavern that had seen better days. He accepted them at the time assuming he would only be in Perth for a night or maybe two before the issue was resolved. After all, the sheriff had summoned him to appear immediately. But he had spent two nights there already and he still didn’t know when the sheriff would hear the case. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Ambrose had washed, dressed, and eaten something to break his fast. Now all he could do was wait.

As patience had never been one of his strengths, waiting was not something Ambrose did well.

Finally, by midmorning, word came that the sheriff was ready to hear the case. Ambrose’s temper by this time was foul. Gregor rode beside him and as they neared the court, he said, “Laird, I know this has been stressful for you. I know you are angry at having to wait so long. I don’t wish to make you angrier, but I feel I must say something.”

“Then say it,” growled Ambrose.

“You are going before the sheriff. I’m certain Laird Lindsay will come prepared with witnesses to your conversation. I fear you’re only going to have reason to grow angrier.”

Ambrose glanced sideways at him. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but you are making me angrier.”

“I’m sorry, Laird, I’m only trying to point out that if you go into court this upset and you lose your temper to an even greater degree, you will also lose any chance you have of the sheriff showing you the slightest bit of compassion. Please, Laird, for your sake, Lady Vida’s sake, and for the sake of the entire clan, you must try to calm down.”

Ambrose clenched his jaw and looked away. He knew Gregor was right. “I don’t know how,” he ground out.

“I think you need to imagine Vida is standing behind you.”

Ambrose sat there for a moment, shaking his head. “Aye, you’re right. If Vida were here, this would be easier. I’m probably too old to play pretend, but I’ll try.”

It still took ages before the sheriff was ready to hear the case. As they waited, some part of Ambrose clung to the hope that Lindsay really just wanted his money back and it hadn’t been about a betrothal to Vida. Then he saw the men who stood with Lindsay. Of course, his brother, the Laird, was there. Additionally, Laird Ogilvie, several of his sons, and Laird Rattray were with him. To his surprise so was Laird MacNab. Ambrose smiled when he realized Laird Gow wasn’t there. The reason was probably because Tomas had showed some leniency to Gow’s men after the raid. But Lindsey had enough other witnesses that it didn’t really matter.

The Lord Sheriff called the assembly to order. “Gentleman, we are here today to discuss a case of indebtedness. Laird Ruthven, a complaint has been filed against you by Laird Lindsay on behalf of his brother, Naughton. He alleges last August during a game of chance you borrowed a considerable amount of gold from Naughton.”

“Aye, that is correct,” agreed Ambrose.

“He further alleges that you guaranteed said loan on a shipment of goods expected from Genoa.”

“Aye, that is also correct.”

“Has this shipment of goods arrived?”

“No, it has not. But the loan in question doesn’t come due until the last date of December.”

The sheriff addressed Laird Lindsay. “Is this true?”

“I will allow my brother Naughton to address this question.”

“Sir Naughton, is this true?”

“Aye, it is true, however, I have reason to believe Laird Ruthven’s shipment from Genoa will not arrive. Other ships bound for Genoa, that left port well after Laird Ruthven’s ship did, have long since returned. And the captains of those vessels report that Ruthven’s vessel, the Mermaid Queen, never arrived in Genoa.”

“But Laird Ruthven may be able to make good on the debt without the income from that vessel. If you agreed to allow him until Hogmanay to pay the debt, he has not yet defaulted.”

“That is true,” agreed Naughton. “However, Laird Ruthven and I had a verbal agreement, witnessed by all of these men who were present that night,” he motioned to Lairds Ogilvie, Rattray, and MacNab, “that should he not be able to pay his debt, he would give me his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“I did not agree to that. My Lord Sheriff, Naughton made a jest about my daughter’s hand, but I did not agree to it.”

“Were these other men present as Sir Naughton says they were?”

“Yes, but I thought it a jest. I would never have wagered my daughter’s hand.”

The sheriff frowned. “Gentleman, you were all present the night in question?”

All of the other men confirmed this.

“And do you believe, as Sir Naughton does, that Davida Ruthven’s hand was part of the bargain or was it a jest?”

Ambrose was not surprised that they all agreed with Lindsay.

The sheriff nodded. “In the absence of a written agreement, I can only make a determination based on witness testimony. Laird Ruthven, while you may have interpreted Sir Naughton’s comment as a jest, I find in his favor that should you be unable to pay your debt, a betrothal to your daughter will be given in lieu of payment. But in so doing, all parties have already agreed the loan has not come due yet.”

Naughton gave a slight bow of his head. “That is true, my lord sheriff, but I have recently learned banns have been posted announcing Davida’s pending marriage to someone else. I suspect Laird Ruthven is unable to pay what he owes and he is trying to circumvent our agreement by this hastily arranged wedding.”

Ambrose couldn’t hold his tongue. “There is nothing hasty about it. After all, everything is being done in the open. As you said, the banns were posted.”

The sheriff shook his head slowly. “Perhaps, but the timing is suspicious. To whom is she betrothed and for how long?”

“She is betrothed to the commander of my men, Sir Tomas MacHenry. They have known each other for a while now and are very much in love.”

Laird Lindsay barked a laugh. “Are you trying to tell us you are marrying your daughter to one of your men? And this isn’t a convenient way to avoid making good on your debt?”

Ambrose shook his head in angry frustration. “As it happens, the young man is one of the finest warriors I have ever encountered. He is a natural-born leader and a better man to one day hold the title of Laird of Clan Ruthven than any I’ve ever known.” He took some satisfaction in Naughton’s affront. “Furthermore, anyone who knows me knows how precious Vida is to me. If I can make her happy and secure skilled leadership for my clan, I will do that.”

“But you can’t do that. She is betrothed to me until you pay the debt,” roared Naughton.

The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “Hold your tongue, Sir Naughton. This is my court.”

The fact that the sheriff wasn’t immediately falling to the whim of the Lindsays encouraged Ambrose a little.

The sheriff addressed him. “Laird Ruthven, I accept that your motives for the wedding seem reasonable. However, the timing still remains suspicious. But this can all be solved rather simply. Do you, or do you not, have the funds required to pay off the loan?”

Ambrose waffled. “I still have over a week to pay my debt.”

“That is not what I asked. Do you have the funds, at this time, to pay off the loan?”

“My lord sheriff, even if I do not have the golds at present, that doesn’t mean I won’t have it in a week’s time.”

“Laird Ruthven, my patience is wearing thin, you will answer the question I asked.”

Ambrose heaved a sigh. “I have nearly all the gold necessary to make good on this loan.”

A triumphant smile spread across Naughtons face. “Nearly isn’t all.”

“Sir Naughton, I will not warn you again,” said the sheriff. Then he addressed Ambrose. “Are you expecting funds from some source before the end of next week?”

Ambrose shook his head. He didn’t want to give too much away. He certainly didn’t want the Lindsays to be watching the northern road for Highlanders bearing gifts. “There is a chance my other ship might arrive…or something else might happen.”

“How much are you lacking?”

“I have enough to pay eighty to ninety percent of what I owe. And should I not have the money by the end of December, I would happily renegotiate the remaining amount and pay additional interest if Laird Lindsay is willing.”

The sheriff turned towards Laird Lindsay. “Are you willing to renegotiate? After all, it is a significantly smaller amount.”

Laird Lindsay puffed out his chest. “No, I certainly am not. I am owed what I am owed. Laird Ruthven has had more than enough time to ensure he could pay off his debt. I am under no obligation to extend him further credit. He will pay what he owes, or he will agree to a betrothal between his daughter and my brother.”

The sheriff sat quietly for a few moments clearly deliberating on what he had heard. He gazed around the room as if taking the measure of every man present. “Gentlemen, there’s a great deal at stake here. I would be remiss if I made a judgment too hastily. I would like to take some time to think on this further, so we will to reconvene tomorrow and I will render my decision at that time. Until then, Laird Ruthven, I find that your daughter is not free to marry. And, in the intervening hours, I strongly urge you to find someone willing to loan you the shortfall.”

“Yes, my Lord Sheriff.” But if Ambrose were honest with himself, he believed there was very little hope of that. Regardless of what Tomas believed, there was absolutely no reason why his parents would loan money to a man they didn’t know. He had only one option now. He would send a messenger back to Cotharach and instruct Tomas that if his parents hadn’t arrived, he should escape with Vida to the Highlands.