He wove us through the crowded courtyard. “It will definitely be safer to inquire about the kingdom from a lowly pub-goer than to demand answers from the king.”
“Tis my way, Hammond! How am I tae be cowed intae silence by that usurper of the crown? I think not.”
We left the gates of the castle at a brisk pace and went down the path, headed in the direction of the village beyond the walls.
In the Red Lion pub, Hammond ordered two ales and paid with gold. Thereafter though, he had tae look menacing by keeping his hand upon his sword hilt, as we sat at our table near the hearth.
He shook his head. “I swear you will be the death of me, Mairead.”
I said, “And ye will be on yer deathbed, complaining about how I hae nae one ounce of care and attention for ye, but who would ye be complaining tae?”
“You.”
“Aye, I would be at yer deathbed, listening tae ye list my faults.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate that.”
I joked, after a sip of ale, “Ye should put that on yer list of my positive attributes, I was an excessive irritation and with certainty brought yer untimely death upon ye, but I was with ye tae the end. There is at least that.”
“You joke, Mairead, but it is your most admirable quality, you are loyal to a fault.”
“Except with ye tis nae a fault. Being loyal tae ye has been a verra wise thing, ye hae been a good friend.”
“I have done my best, Mairead. I have always wanted to be of service to you.”
I pulled my book from my pocket and a pen tae write. “When we are done with these dramas, we should return tae our previous task: listing all of Donnan’s sons and nephews. We ought tae hae a record of them, so we arna caught unawares.”
“I have found four so far, yes… I will begin the search as soon as we are done with this. What are you writing there?”
“I am listing that I hae come tae the year 1290 and dinna find Mag Mòr a king. So I can keep the memories straight.” I put the book back in my pocket.
We sat quietly and then my eyes settled on a couple of farmers. “Ask them about the king.”
General Hammond called one of them tae the table and slid a coin across. “Has there been a Mag Mòr around Stirling? Mag, Magnus, a Campbell, from the Campbell Clan, a friend of Caillean?”
The farmer’s brow knit. “Caillean Mòr?”
“Perhaps?”
“I ken of a Caillean Mòr from Loch Awe.”
I had promised myself tae allow Hammond tae be the one tae speak, but broke the promise immediately. “Yet ye haena heard of a Mag Mòr?”
The farmer shook his head.
General Hammond said, “Are there any men contesting King John for the throne?”
The farmer leaned forward and quietly said, “Just William Wallace, he is raising troops near Falkirk.”
“On what grounds?”
“He wants tae overthrow the King of England’s power here in Scotland. I am nae part of it though, no’ at all, I am satisfied with the present king, God keep him.”
I met Hammond’s eyes.
He said, “Thank you for your time,” and sent the man away.
I said, “Tis as if Magnus has never been here, yet when I was in the future in our kingdom, the history books listed Mag Mòr as king.” I fished the book from my pocket again and wrote: the common farmer has nae recognition of the name Mag Mòr.
