didn’t rise to it.
‘Oh yes,’ and then, with a smile that failed to reach his eyes, ‘There are more ways than one to catch a fox, nephew, and you would do well to remember it.’
‘My apologies, uncle. I didn’t come to disparage, only that. . .’
‘Nor have I a wish to quarrel with you, Hugh, but do not think I feel the pain of your parents’ deaths the less, because I do not broadcast it.’ There was an odd note in
Alexander’s voice. ‘Your mother . . . we were fond . . . but she didn’t fancy a life at court . . . and perhaps she was right. She went to bide awhile at Giffen and Adam found her
there. And she came to love him and he her. And there is much to be said for that, however short their time was cut. If you are as fortunate. . .’
Hugh studied a mark on his doublet, but aware of the light pressure on his arm felt obliged to look up.
‘. . . You will be fortunate, indeed.’ There was a slight involuntary tremor under Alexander’s eye. ‘There are worse ways to die . . . and living a widow one of
them.’
Heat coursed through Hugh. Despite that he had begun to make his own plans, or perhaps because of them, all the while since his mother’s death it had been as if he had lain under a fallen
tree, his movements constricted by the weight of the trunk. Now, with this new perspective that Alexander provided, he found the weight lifting, the anger that had been smouldering in him dying
away. In its place a more kindly understanding of his parents; and with it, respect and fondness for this uncle who, laying aside his own pain, would put himself out to further Hugh’s cause.
For the first time in the whole exchange, he looked Alexander full in the eye.
‘I am grateful, uncle – perhaps it is the soldier in me that doesn’t see what a poet may discern.’ He struggled to find words that would express what he felt without
sounding maudlin and was relieved when Alexander interrupted.
‘Let’s not dwell on what is past. You have your sword, I have verse.’ His smile extended a little, ‘And for what it’s worth, I am at your disposal. I imagine you
have some little favour to ask?’ A chill crept back into his voice. ‘A word in your ear – favours come easier salted with respect.’
Hugh dipped his head, acknowledging the rebuke. ‘I see you were at work. We didn’t mean to disturb – only that we would wish to appear presentable to the King, and thought to
take advantage of your lodging, our own proving less than adequate.’ He was scratching at his leg.
Alexander’s face now showed genuine amusement. ‘You came to Stirling without a potion for flea bites? Surely you left Braidstane in a hurry. It’s not like Grizel to let you
away unprepared. Here . . .’ He moved to a chest at the other side of the room and rummaged through it, emerging with a small bottle that he lobbed at Hugh, before gesturing towards a table
with a basin and ewer, ready filled. ‘Be my guests, though I’m afraid the water is cold. It is rather too pricey to expect service of real quality two storeys up. And supposing I did
pay for hot water, it would likely be cold by the time it arrived. It’s easier, and better, to save the silver.’
He produced a towel and tossed it to Patrick, who held it while Hugh splashed water over his face and neck, and ran his damp fingers through his hair.
Patrick said, ‘At the risk of being cried for a lassie, there’s a comb in my baggage that might serve you well.’
‘There is nothing amiss with my hair that a few minutes in the air won’t sort.’ Hugh turned for support to Alexander, who said, with a twitch of his lips that might be
construed as a smile,
‘A wee pickle of a straighten wouldn’t go amiss. You aren’t in the barracks now and do not go before James as a soldier. You may despise the Cunninghame’s presentation,
but believe me, a little effort in that direction may serve you well.’
Hugh found the comb and attacked his hair,
‘Oh yes,’ and then, with a smile that failed to reach his eyes, ‘There are more ways than one to catch a fox, nephew, and you would do well to remember it.’
‘My apologies, uncle. I didn’t come to disparage, only that. . .’
‘Nor have I a wish to quarrel with you, Hugh, but do not think I feel the pain of your parents’ deaths the less, because I do not broadcast it.’ There was an odd note in
Alexander’s voice. ‘Your mother . . . we were fond . . . but she didn’t fancy a life at court . . . and perhaps she was right. She went to bide awhile at Giffen and Adam found her
there. And she came to love him and he her. And there is much to be said for that, however short their time was cut. If you are as fortunate. . .’
Hugh studied a mark on his doublet, but aware of the light pressure on his arm felt obliged to look up.
‘. . . You will be fortunate, indeed.’ There was a slight involuntary tremor under Alexander’s eye. ‘There are worse ways to die . . . and living a widow one of
them.’
Heat coursed through Hugh. Despite that he had begun to make his own plans, or perhaps because of them, all the while since his mother’s death it had been as if he had lain under a fallen
tree, his movements constricted by the weight of the trunk. Now, with this new perspective that Alexander provided, he found the weight lifting, the anger that had been smouldering in him dying
away. In its place a more kindly understanding of his parents; and with it, respect and fondness for this uncle who, laying aside his own pain, would put himself out to further Hugh’s cause.
For the first time in the whole exchange, he looked Alexander full in the eye.
‘I am grateful, uncle – perhaps it is the soldier in me that doesn’t see what a poet may discern.’ He struggled to find words that would express what he felt without
sounding maudlin and was relieved when Alexander interrupted.
‘Let’s not dwell on what is past. You have your sword, I have verse.’ His smile extended a little, ‘And for what it’s worth, I am at your disposal. I imagine you
have some little favour to ask?’ A chill crept back into his voice. ‘A word in your ear – favours come easier salted with respect.’
Hugh dipped his head, acknowledging the rebuke. ‘I see you were at work. We didn’t mean to disturb – only that we would wish to appear presentable to the King, and thought to
take advantage of your lodging, our own proving less than adequate.’ He was scratching at his leg.
Alexander’s face now showed genuine amusement. ‘You came to Stirling without a potion for flea bites? Surely you left Braidstane in a hurry. It’s not like Grizel to let you
away unprepared. Here . . .’ He moved to a chest at the other side of the room and rummaged through it, emerging with a small bottle that he lobbed at Hugh, before gesturing towards a table
with a basin and ewer, ready filled. ‘Be my guests, though I’m afraid the water is cold. It is rather too pricey to expect service of real quality two storeys up. And supposing I did
pay for hot water, it would likely be cold by the time it arrived. It’s easier, and better, to save the silver.’
He produced a towel and tossed it to Patrick, who held it while Hugh splashed water over his face and neck, and ran his damp fingers through his hair.
Patrick said, ‘At the risk of being cried for a lassie, there’s a comb in my baggage that might serve you well.’
‘There is nothing amiss with my hair that a few minutes in the air won’t sort.’ Hugh turned for support to Alexander, who said, with a twitch of his lips that might be
construed as a smile,
‘A wee pickle of a straighten wouldn’t go amiss. You aren’t in the barracks now and do not go before James as a soldier. You may despise the Cunninghame’s presentation,
but believe me, a little effort in that direction may serve you well.’
Hugh found the comb and attacked his hair,
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