I drank from m’ale. “Young Will Wallace wants tae war with England? Och, he is sharpenin’ his sword without ever havin’ been faced with the sharp end of one.” I shook my head. “On my lands, he is wantin’ a war with a king. Next he will need me tae fight. The young men of the world will be the death of us.”
“Ye are nae so auld Mag Mòr.”
I chuckled. “Aye, but thirty, but I hae aged with every sharp end of a sword I hae faced.”
Caillean raised his ale and we drank.
I said, “He is a young man with a drive for mayhem — can we reason with him? He ought tae fight for Mag Mòr! I hae negotiated with Edward. I ken how tae subjugate him.”
“Aye, my liege, tae hold Stirling is tae hold Scotland. Ye rule with a strong hand, Edward winna dare cause trouble.”
“This is true. I hae nae need for a young Scot with an overblown estimation of his abilities tae begin a war.”
“There is much tae deal with, my liege, I will ask Wallace tae come speak with ye, ye can tell him that if an army is gathered it must be under yer command.”
I laughed. “That is a diplomatic way of puttin’ it.”
“What would ye say?”
“I would say, ‘Wallace, ye are a radge, a revenge-seeking war-monger,’ and then I would say, ‘Ye need tae calm yer arse down or I will calm it down for ye.’” I spun my flagon of ale. “Keeping in mind of course, that these words hae been used tae describe me verra often.”
Caillean laughed and drank from his ale and banged it on the table. “Mag Mòr, I hae kent ye tae be a thoughtful leader, ye are nae cocksure nor warmongering.”
I smiled. “Ye hae tae say it, cousin, as ye are often at m’side during the warring.”
He chuckled. “Yer side has often been a just cause.”
“I am sure Will Wallace thinks his cause is just as well. Hae ye heard anythin’ of Ormr or Domnall?”
“Nae, and Wallace hadna heard mention of them, he believes they died in battle — ye did soundly defeat them for the crown. Perchance they hae retired tae a wee pigsty tae the north?”
I said, “A pigsty would be too civilized for them.”
He chuckled.
A wind blew through the walls, adding a chill to the hall. I called for one of the men tae raise the flame in the hearth.
We ate a plentiful supper as there had been food delivered from Cambuskenneth Abbey and I had asked for a feast tae be prepared tae celebrate the return of Kaitlyn.
I had hoped after dinner tae take her tae m’room, wooin’ her with banter and some modest fondlin’, perhaps tae bed her along the way — maybe in the stairwell of the stone building we called the King’s House.
When we had been stuck in the sixteenth century, we had visited Stirling while on a tour with Mary of Guise, and one night we had been verra drunk and I had taken liberties with her in a spot behind the stairs. Returned tae Stirling as king, I thought I might like tae do that once more. I kent she would like the doing of it, she did like tae be taken on stairwells, and she would have enjoyed the historical reference of it
I exhaled.Where had she gone?
I left the Great Hall and slowly walked up the stone steps tae the top floor, Haggis paddin’ along beside me. I wondered about Fraoch and Quentin. They ought tae come inform me if there was somethin’ wrong with the timeline. Why hadna they come? M’thoughts on it were verra dark — that whatever had happened, had happened tae all of them at once.
For now I would hae tae watch the skies.
I entered m’room with m’guard stationed outside.
M’room was nae the best. The best room was farther down the hall, twas warmer as it had a longer time with direct sunlight on its walls, but I had heard Caillean grumble enough about how the chill pained his joints. He felt it dearly in his knees — I had given the room tae him.
And I had chosen this one because twas the same room I had stayed in when Kaitlyn and I had visited Stirling in 1552. At that time, it had been a guest room in the oldest part of the castle, in this time twas one of the newest rooms. I convinced everyone that I believed it just right for my needs as it was defensible, bein’ in the middle of the building. Its drawback was that it had a view of the courtyard instead of the lands.
It was sparsely decorated: a bed, canopied with heavy fabric, thick wool and fur bedding over a thin wool-stuffed mattress. The floor was covered with woven rugs. I had a desk and a chair, and a carved seat for two, its backrest covered with pillows. And a large fireplace, with a smolderin’ fire. I used the poker on the coals and added a log tae bring up the flame. It reminded me of the summer of 1552, when I was buildin’ a fire tae warm the room and turnin’ around had found Kaitlyn undressed, beckonin’ for me from the bed.
I slumped ontae the couch and leaned on the carved arm, my chin resting on the heel of m’hand. “Where are ye Kaitlyn?”
