All in Good Time
Merchants gathered around the vessels docked in Bowness like crows scrounging for a tasty morsel. It didn’t take Darroch MacKeegan long to find one interested in negotiating for the woven goods he carried aboard his birlinn. “Couldna see the point in sailing all this way without a cargo,” he told Broderick.
The Englishman scratched his bald head, visibly taken aback by the terms. “Thee wants two ’osses? For the lot?”
Darroch chuckled. “Nay. Two horses, saddled and in fine fettle in exchange for one bale. And within the hour.”
The merchant spat into his palm and offered his hand. “I’ll teck the goods with me now, and return within the allotted time.”
“I may be recently arrived in these parts, but I’m nay stupid. Ye get the wool when I see horseflesh capable of getting us to Carlisle in a hurry.”
“Two bales then.”
Darroch frowned deeply and folded his arms. After tapping his foot for a minute or two, he accepted the handshake. “Done.”
Broderick watched wide-eyed as the merchant hurried away. “Incredible,” he said.
Darroch shrugged. “He’s too hasty. I was willing to go as high as three bales.”
Broderick smiled ruefully. “My intention was to climb up on the dock and announce to anyone who would listen that I’m the Warden of the Solway and I need two horses.”
“I doot that would have accomplished our goal,” Kyla’s father replied.
“I have a lot to learn from ye.” It was a poignant reminder that Broderick’s own father hadn’t been a mentor to him. “I didna expect to be laird o’ the clan for years to come. ’Tis a big responsibility.”
“Aye, and the king has given ye more duties on top of it, nay to mention ye’ve succeeded a murderer executed by royal decree who left ye with a sister to bring up. I ken how hard it is for a mon to raise a wee lass. At least Lily talks to ye.”
Simply hearing someone else speak of the worries and fears that had haunted him since his father’s assassination of the Lochwood chief lifted a weight from Broderick’s shoulders. “Aye, the clan lost respect for my father. My hope is to reestablish the standing of the chieftaincy. The king’s unexpected honor went a long way towards achieving that.”
Darroch winked. “Aye. Perhaps that’s what His Majesty had in mind. What ye need now is a strong wife to help ye. She’ll bear sons and daughters to carry on yer line.”
Broderick smiled nervously, unsure of Darroch’s intent. “I’d foolishly hoped for love as well, but…”
“All in good time, laddie, all in good time.”
There was no opportunity to continue the conversation when the breathless merchant reappeared on the dock and pointed. “Yonder, yer ’osses.”
Darroch climbed out of the birlinn and narrowed his eyes to look beyond the end of the dock, where two lads held the reins of the horses. He gestured to his crewman. “This is Grig. When I’m satisfied, I’ll give the signal for him to hand over the goods to ye.”
The merchant eyed Grig warily, then smiled. “Agreed. Follow the coast road and thee’ll be in Carlisle in two shakes o’ a lamb’s tail.”
“Much obliged, sir. I guarantee ye’ll make a good profit on the cloth in the English markets.”
“Aye. Bramley’s the name, and thee?”
“The MacKeegan, from the Isle o’ Skye.”
Bramley proffered his hand. “’Tis an honor to make the acquaintance of a legend o’ the sea. I ne’er thought to meet thee.”
Darroch accepted the gesture. “Mayhap, we can do business again in the future.”
The merchant nodded his agreement as Broderick joined them on the dock. “And thee, sir?”
Broderick took the man’s hand, deciding he’d been too hesitant to reveal his identity. He resolved to be as proud of his heritage as Kyla’s father. “The Maxwell, Warden of the Solway.”
To his surprise, Bramley gripped his hand more forcefully and bowed. “My honor. I am, indeed, in illustrious company.”
Broderick was reluctant to leave Aiglon but, within ten minutes, he and Darroch were mounted on spirited geldings, galloping along the flat trail that followed the shore of the Solway.
Two hours later, they joined a queue of people seeking to pass through the castle’s red stone gatehouse, all of them on foot.
“This is yer domain,” Darroch told him. “’Tis yer high standing will gain us entry here. Move ahead.”
Broderick did as he suggested. Folks moved aside without objection when he urged his horse to the front of the line, his companion not far behind. He announced who he was before the gatekeeper had a chance to ask. “Laird Broderick Maxwell, His Majesty’s appointed Warden of the Solway. I am accompanied by Laird Darroch MacKeegan from the Isle of Skye.”
The gatekeeper nodded to the guards stationed further inside the arched gate-tower and they rode into the ancient fortress of Carlisle without further challenge.
“Ye’re right,” Broderick admitted. “I have to start acting like a laird, and less like the son of a murderer.”
“Aye, but that was the easy part. Now we have to secure an audience with the king.”