Read Online Turn of the Tide by Margaret Skea - Free Book Online Page A

so that he looked, for once, more the laird than the mercenary. Alexander was leaning over the table, scribbling a last few words, scoring out here,
adjusting there. Hugh paced up and down the small chamber, and unconsciously undid any good that he had done to his hair by running his fingers through it again. Patrick, having smoothed his
natural curls into submission with a practised hand, tossed the comb back towards him, and in a reflex action, Hugh caught it, but looked at it in surprise.
    Patrick forestalled him. ‘Do it again and this time put your hat on before you wreak havoc. Thank God for a windless day – there is a chance you may pass muster, supposing we do not
wait long on the King.’
    Alexander turned from the table, his arms full of papers. Hugh expected another lecture: on the value of swallowing pride, of taking a little care to his position as the new laird of Braidstane,
of the responsibilities which made conforming to expectations no longer an option, but an obligation. He was steeling himself to respond and so was caught off guard by Alexander’s
question,
    ‘How do you for horses?’
    ‘Fair enough, I suppose.’
    ‘Have they stamina, and a fair turn of speed?’
    ‘In an ordinary way, yes, though not in the hunting league.’
    ‘It isn’t yet arranged but, if you were to invite the King to take the chase. . . .’
    Hugh shook his head. ‘That isn’t an expense I thought to make, especially as we are not on home territory and it wouldn’t just be James but half the court that
followed.’
    Alexander waved his sheaf of papers and said, ‘There are those who would wish to join our poetry circle. I do not think it impossible that I could arrange some accommodation. Do you take
care of the swearing of friendship with Glencairn, and issue an invitation to all to join with you on Thursday: as our guests. Do not say where exactly. James enjoys a mystery.’
    ‘There isn’t a fear that you can’t make good the invitation?’
    Alexander’s voice was cheerful. ‘A gamble maybe.’
    Patrick made as if to speak.
    ‘Rest easy. It is but a small risk. And the better the chase, the higher your stock will rise. Glencairn will be fair scunnered for not thinking of it.’
    From the relish in Alexander’s voice, Hugh accepted fully, for the first time, that his uncle matched his own dislike of the Cunninghames. ‘My thanks, uncle and . . .’ he
tapped the page in Alexander’s hand, ‘. . . with luck we may catch more than a fox or two, if things fall out well.’
    There was the sound of running footsteps in the passageway outside.
    Alexander turned, ‘I’d better be away. The King set us a task yesterday, and I mustn’t be behind with my response. Don’t wait long to follow, but don’t be over
hasty either. James will wish to hear our verses first before he turns to your cause.’ From the doorway, he finished, ‘We need but half an hour for our mutual congratulations and if you
are to hand then, my softenings may have made James disposed to look kindly on you. I trust,’ Hugh heard the hint of steel in his voice, ‘you won’t disappoint me, or we shall all
suffer for it.’
    Hugh acknowledged both the advice and the warning. ‘I shall play the game, uncle, have no fear. You shall find me almost a poet in my swearing. God knows I have practised enough, that I
might not retch at the sound of my own voice.’

    The Great Hall at Stirling, where James had chosen that the Montgomeries and Cunninghames should publicly swear to end their family quarrels, was full to bursting. Hugh followed
Patrick in, squeezing through to join Robert Montgomerie, positioned near the front of the hall. The King sat on the dais surrounded by his poetry circle. Others hovered close, betraying by the
stiffness of their posture a mixture of nerves and expectation, their desire to catch a glance, an invitation to join the favoured few. Members of the council clustered in the large bay window
area, among