“What’ll you have boy?” The innkeeper was a fat, pleasant-looking man.
“Whatever,” I said. “I’ve little enough money.”
“Do y’ not be thinkin’ o’ that! I’ve a son m’sel’!” The man with the red whiskers clapped me on the shoulder. “Sit close to the fire, lad, and drink up. A drop will do y’ no harm this e’en.”
When I had the glass in my hand and a plate of bread and gruel before me I said, “Can you be tellin’ me now where I’m likely to find Fergus MacAskill?”
They stared at me, and my friend put his glass down hard upon the table. “Fergus, is it? Aye, there be a plenty would like to see Fergus, but there’s many more would wish for no sight of him.” He drank and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Why would a lad like you be wanting to find Fergus?”
“I do not know him, nor him me. Yet it has been said that he is a great fighting man, and I would learn.”
“To fight? A man can fight or he cannot. ‘Tis all!”
“Na, John! Y’ know that isn’t true, what y’ say! A man may have the heart but no’ the skill. Cannot y’ see? The lad wants the skill! He wishes to learn!”
“Why, then?”
So I told it simply, how I fancied myself a swordsman, although I was only a boy, and how those who set upon me proved my skill was nothing like enough.
“And when you’ve the skill, what then?”
“I shall go back. I shall find Rafe Leckenbie again. I shall make him show me his best and then I shall beat him.”
“Hah? Well, I’ll be thinkin’ y’ll have to talk y’ best to get aught from Fergus. He’s no’ the one to teach any who come, only those who seek him out for a fight—and they pay dear for what they get.”
“Where to look, that’s the question,” I said.
The men exchanged glances. “Go north and ask for him. If he wishes to see you he’ll find you soon enough, and if he doesn’t y’ will be whistlin’ to the wind for all y’ll see of him.”
My gruel was hearty enough, and warmed my insides. The ale was good, and soon the chill began to go from me.
“Do y’ have the Gaelic then?” He who was my friend put the question.
“Aye, although a different sound than yours, no doubt. But I have it, never fear.”
“You’ll need it. There’s some say he takes notions time to time and will speak only that.”
One man got up. “It be late. I’ve a fair piece to go.” He went out, shutting the door behind him. My lids were heavy and I nodded above the last of the ale.
“John? The lad’s dyin’ for sleep. Can y’ not put him down before the fire? He’s not the pailing kind, I’ll warrant.”
“I am not,” I said. “I would steal from no man.”
“There’s a bit of rug b’ the fire, lad, if y’ can make do wi’ it.”
“I could sleep on a stone,” I said, “and think it soft, that tired I am. I crossed the Solway this night from England and traveled some before that.”
“And hurt, too.” John indicated my face. “But it heals.”
The man who spoke for me helped to move back the table and they unrolled their bit of rug before the fire. He made do upon a bench, but I trusted no such place for fear of falling off in the night. John added a chunk or two to the fire, driftwood brought up from the sea it was, looking like a bit of some great spar from a lost ship. I said as much.
“Aye, a few have been lost yonder off the Mull. Some fine vessels, too, and some fine folks.”
John left us then for his own bed. The candle was snuffed and only the firelight lit the room, and all was still enough except for a drop now and again as rain fell into the fire. It hissed at each drop, and sometimes a spark flew. The room was warm, but tired though I was, I could scarcely sleep.
Suddenly the man upon the bench spoke with a whisper. “Lad? Be you awake still?”
“Aye,” I said, not trusting him, although friendly enough he had been.
“Lad, if you’ll come along wi’ me when morning comes, I’ll show you on your way and more. I’ll pay you a bit. I need a sturdy lad who’s not afeared to fight.”
“Fight? I have no wish for it. Only in my own good time, and wi’ those I choose.”
“Lad, lad! D’y’ think I ken not your Gaelic? You’re Irish as Paddy’s pig, and so am I, but there’s those who would have my heart if the chance offered.”
“Here? In Scotland?”
“Aye, even here. I need other eyes to watch, and you’ve a smart way about you.” He paused. “Who are you, then?”
“I did not ask you,” I said.
“That you did not. So be it. My way is your way, lad. I’ve a man to see in the Highlands, a man who is friendly to the Irish, but there’s English spies about. Mind you, I find no harm in the Englishmen. I’ve friends among them, but they’re Queen’s men … ah, that’s another thing!”
“I go to the Highlands, and I seek Fergus MacAskill. If my way lies with yours, so be it.”
“Good, then! They look for a man alone. Together we’ve a chance, and we can take turns sleeping.”
“And tonight?”
“No … I think tonight is safe, but if you hear a sound outside, touch my foot. I’ll come awake soon enough.”
The wind was rising, and the rain increasing. I liked it not and wished to travel alone, yet a fellow Irishman? A man seeking help for Ireland no doubt … Well, I would see what the next day offered, and take each day as it came. I wanted no fight with any man except Leckenbie, and that only in its time.
I slept, awakening only to stir the fire and to listen to the hard rain fall, and the wind. It was an angry sea yon, and I knew why he who brought me turned so quick from the shore, for he smelled it on the wind. He knew the storm was coming. What was it the old wives said? “God have pity on the poor sailors on such a night as this!” Aye, and all who had no shelter, as I might not have had.
Gray was scarcely in the sky before my companion was up and outside, looking about at the weather.
John handed me a bowl of hot soup. “Drink it, lad. You travel a great distance, and I wish you luck.” A movement of his head indicated the man outside. “You walk with him?”
I shrugged. “It was spoken of. For a distance, perhaps.”
“He is a good man, make no mistake, but he walks a dangerous path. All who are with him are in danger, for what he does is close upon treason. If anybody could find Fergus MacAskill for you, he could … but do not become involved with what he does, and if danger comes, think of yourself and get away. He would wish that, too.”
He paused; breaking a chunk of bread from a loaf, he handed it to me. “My mother was from Ireland so I’ve a sympathy for them there. Be careful, lad.”
We walked away in the morning upon a winding road across the moors, and in all the wide land we saw no others but ourselves, save here or there some sheep, and once, a cow.
“Ahead lies Glen Trool,” my companion said. “It is a dark and bitter land, yet with rare beauty, and stories! Ah, the stories it could tell! Murder and mystery and old things found! Spearheads pushing up from the soil after a rain, and once I came upon a length of ancient sword while hiding in the trees there.
“It is a place to lose a man, if he wishes to be lost, or a body if the killer wishes to make no explanation. There are thieves and outlaws hiding there, too, and not afar was where Robert the Brace won a victory over his pursuers. A small victory, but a victory.”
He looked at me. “What do they call you, lad?”
“They call me Tatt. It is enough.”
“What they call me is another thing, but for the time I am a Scotsman, Angus Fair. I am a seafaring man returning from a long time at sea.” He paused, turning to look back the way we had come. “You know nothing of me, lad, if questioned. Simply say honestly enough that we just met, and you understood I was returning home after twenty years at sea.” He smiled. “That allows for me having no connection, no land, and only a destination.