The Tachi: The Rainey Chronicles, #4

By B.G. Cousins

Scotland 1297. The land is ablaze with war.

Angus Rainey is being hunted by a powerful English earl. Fleeing Scotland with the help of a secret order with unknown ties to his family, he finds himself in the Holy Land. But the shadow of the English earl is still present. Looking to disappear, Rainey joins a caravan and travels through lands he thinks are out of reach of his pursuer. But he is wrong…

Samaya is a Muslim princess destined to marry for the political advantage of her father. When that goes terribly wrong, she is forced to flee for her life. With nowhere to go, she finds a friend in a traveling Scot on his way to the fabled lands of Cathay.

An epic adventure in a time of great change, The Tachi is a story of friendship, love, a journey through diverse cultures, and the acquisition of the Rainey hereditary sword at the edge of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.G. Cousins
• Release date: Feb 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777329518

B.G. Cousins

B.G. Cousins has travelled the World, sort of. Trained as a metallurgist, his career took him to many places around World, although not to the touristy places normal people go. Most of the time, all he saw was the inside of the local airport and then out to the local mine. An avid reader of history and historical fiction, he spent many a layover at airports in their book stores. He has always had ideas for stories from his vivid imagination, but never had time to do more than jot down notes. Then in 2015, during a lull in contract work, he took those notes and produced the novel. “The Locket”, which he published in the Spring of 2016. He prides himself in doing extensive research to make his novels as historically accurate as possible, weaving historical anomalies into rich stories of love, conflict and adventure. He has also produced some new short back stories for some characters from the novel B.G. Cousins currently resides in Calgary, Alberta, with his wife, Carmen, his dog Piper, and his ever present bagpipes that he has been playing and travelling with for over 40 years.

Book preview

Prologue

Limoges, France

October 1919 

He heard the door softly click shut behind him. He was now alone among the bookshelves, full of the journals that told the stories of his ancestors and of the sword that each of them had passed on from generation to generation. He glanced down at the journal in his lap. Picking it up, he read the label on its spine.

Angus Rainey 1275-1341

This was the oldest journal. Jacques Monteaux had told him to start at the beginning. Smiling, Robert Rainey carefully opened the binding. The pages were parchment, carefully preserved over the centuries. The writing was Latin.

This is going to be a slow read, he thought.

Rainey examined the first page. It was numbered. All the pages had numbers, which appeared to have been added much later than the fourteenth century. They were much clearer than the text and the ink was a different shade of black. The handwriting didn’t match that on the parchment, either. He decided to ask Monteaux later about the work done to preserve the journals.

He began reading. It started with Angus’ birthplace and year, a little about his father, who was a knight and a Templar, and little more about his mother and sister. Then it jumped forward to when Angus was twenty-two years old.

Rainey stopped to reread a line of text.

Softly, he said, Isn’t that interesting.

Part I

1

The Trossachs

August 1297

He was being watched.

Angus Rainey’s nerves were taut, but he kept his muscles loose as he continued to eat the rabbit that made up his dinner. His bow was within easy reach and he had stuck his arrows in the ground for quick access. His father’s claymore leaned up against the tree behind him and the throwing knives were ready in his belt. He didn’t want a fight, just to eat in peace. Men were watching him from the bushes about thirty yards away. He wondered how many.

He stopped eating to rub his cheek. The stubble was getting thick. In his rush to leave home, he had had to leave the very sharp knife he used to shave. He hated any beard that formed on his face. He had tried shaving with the knife he had, but only succeeded in cutting his face in three places.

The smoke rose slowly from his fire. With his peripheral vision, he saw the bushes move. Whoever they were, they didn’t seem to want to do more than watch.

His attention was diverted by the sound of horses on the road behind him. He could hear the horses being reined in. A voice called out.

An English voice. You there. Come out where I can see you.

What does he want? Rainey continued eating as he heard a horse start pushing through the brush. At least the English knights would keep the other men hidden in the bushes.

I said come out where I can see you.

Out of the corner of his eye, when the horse cleared the tree, he watched the English knight draw his sword. The knight pointed it at him.

This is the king’s forest. It is forbidden to hunt here.

Rainey had finished cleaning the rabbit meat off the bone. He tossed it over his shoulder. He moved his right hand to his waist. Not my king, he said.

Stand up, cretin, the knight demanded.

No, he replied. His wrist flicked. A throwing knife flew out of his hand, striking the knight in the neck. The man made a gurgling sound and fell backward off his horse.

Sir Godfrey, someone called out from the road.

Rainey wasted no time. He had no idea how many more knights were on the road. He grabbed his bow and jumped up from behind the tree, bringing an arrow to bear. He counted five of them. He let the arrow fly, watching it strike a knight high in the chest. Rotating back behind the tree, he notched another arrow and continued his spin, emerging on the tree’s other side. He could see two crossbows, pointed at where he had been, being re-aimed. Rainey shot and hit one of the crossbowmen mid torso. He ducked back behind the tree as a crossbow bolt flew by. He heard swords being drawn and horses charging towards him. Dropping his bow, he grabbed the hilt of the claymore and waited. As the first horse’s head came to his left, he swung high, catching the knight across the arm that held up his sword. The arm came off.

He continued his spin, using the horse to hide himself from the last two knights. Dropping the claymore, he went for another knife. The throw caught the other sword-wielding knight in the face. He moved back towards the tree as a bolt struck the horse he had been using for cover. Jumping away, the horse knocked him down. Scrambling back to the tree, he reached his bow and pulled another arrow from the ground. The last knight was charging. When he figured the horse was ten feet away, he spun from behind the tree and put the arrow right through the knight’s eye.

It had all taken less than a minute. He stood there, looking at his carnage. All the knights were on the ground, unmoving, except one. The armless one, still on his horse, was screaming in pain.

You will pay dearly for this, he yelled. Who are you?

"Aye, Rainey said. You want to know who I am now. Well, I dinna think I’m gonna tell ya. It’s not like you’re going to live long enough to tell anyone."

Blood was spurting from the severed arm. The knight tried to stem the bleeding with his other hand. It was a losing battle. The knight tried to ride off, but eventually fell from the horse.

Pay, Rainey mumbled to himself. The way I see it, I just gained six horses. He returned to the tree and placed his weapons back against the tree. Sitting down, he found his rabbit and ripped off another piece of meat.

Without looking up, he addressed whoever was in the bushes opposite him. I was hoping my display would have run you off by now. Come out and let me see you. I won’t kill any of you . . . unless you make me.

After a brief pause, the bushes began to rustle. Eight men stood up. They were Scots, like him. They stepped into the clearing. One of them was very tall.

A fine display of fighting, said the tall man. And excellent archery. I’m glad I got to see you fight. Do you hate the English?

Only when they disturb my dinner. I might add, you’re disturbing my dinner now.

The man snorted. You don’t know who I am.

Should I?

I know who you are, Angus Rainey of Annandale.

Rainey looked up from his food. Then you have me at a very slight disadvantage since I’m not sure I care who you are.

Another man stepped forward. This is William Wallace.

Rainey stared up at Wallace. Still don’t care.

But you’ve heard of me, Wallace said.

Rainey put down his food. He stood up, hands moving towards his waist. Yes, William Wallace. I have heard of you. Now, what do you want of me?

I want you to help me free Scotland.

Tried that. Didn’t work out.

Wallace scowled.

He must have heard of the defeat at Irvine, Rainey thought

I have a better plan than your young Robert the Bruce did.

Rainey was doubtful. You’re about as young as him.

I’m a little older, but I don’t fight like an Englishmen, and from what I just saw, neither do you.

Rainey looked over the eight men in front of him. They were all hardened warriors, he judged, fighting the good fight against King Edward Longshanks of England. Foolish quest, he thought. But he had been alone for so long. Following Wallace might not be so bad. Not if there was something in it for him.

So he asked. What is in it for me?

Wallace laughed. Spoken like a true Scot. Your sword, your knives, your bow. What else do you own?

Nothing, Rainey thought. Wallace had just described his current life. Then he remembered. I just acquired six horses.

All eight men laughed. Wallace took a few steps forward and placed his hand on Rainey’s shoulder.

Let me put it another way. What would you like to have? Wallace asked. To live peacefully on a free piece of land in Annandale? You won’t see that while the English are here.

Wallace knew more about him than Rainey cared for anyone to know. And he was right. Rainey would like to be able to go back to Annandale and live a peaceful life. But he stood accused of killing that English earl’s nephew for trying to rape his sister. He’d had to run. That had been a little more than a month ago.

He rubbed his head. It’s not like a Scottish king would just give me land.

You have a much better chance of it than with Longshanks. We push the English out of Scotland, you won’t be hunted anymore. You can go back to the land you have.

"Until I kill some Scottish earl’s son for being a shite."

A smattering of chuckles rose from the men again. Wallace lifted his hand to quiet them. I am offering you a chance to be part of freeing Scotland from the English. Your father would have taken up the sword with us.

It was Rainey’ turn to snort. Well, why don’t you ask him then? Of course, you’d have to dig him up at Acre, assuming the Muslims don’t slit your throats first. His father had died for a lost cause. There was no telling whether Wallace’s cause wouldn’t be lost as well.

You won’t know unless you come. Or is there some other place you need to be?

Rainey didn’t answer because there was nowhere else he could go. He was hiding out in the Trossachs because it was easy to stay hidden in the thick forest. English patrols dared not leave the few roads for fear of ambush by bandits and thieves. Longshanks may lay claim to the Trossachs, but he had virtually no control over it. Rainey was safe there, but he had no future. Following Wallace might give him one or get him killed. He lowered his hands, away from his throwing knives.

You came all the way into this wild forest to find me? Why?

Wallace smiled. You come highly recommended by Robert the Bruce, who has asked me to rescue you from your exile and put you to good use.

Rainey shook his head and sighed. Of course he did. Very well. But I’ll tell you right here and now. I ain’t dyin’ for you.

No one plans on dying, Wallace replied. Just fighting.

Where are we going?

Wallace looked to the south. Stirling. There’s an English army heading there from the south. I believe you’ve already met them.

Rainey tensed up. The English army at Irvine had been huge. How do you plan to stand against those bastards?

Wallace raise an eyebrow. We won’t fight like Englishmen. Now let’s collect your six new horses.

2

Stirling Bridge

September 11, 1297

They’ve been over there for four days.

Wallace was looking across the field to the old Stirling Bridge. On the far side of the River Forth, the large English army was forming up to cross.

Why have they not crossed until now? Rainey asked.

Wallace smiled. Negotiations. Moray has spoken to them about the coming battle. They’ve discussed where we should fight. We want them to come over here.

Rainey shook his head. There’s thousands of them. He turned to look at the Scottish army behind him. They looked more like a ragtag band compared to the heavily armored knights on horseback, just starting to cross the bridge two abreast. They will slaughter us.

But Wallace was still smiling. Over there, yes. But not on this piece of land. He slapped Rainey on the shoulder and pointed at the lead horseman on the bridge. You see that man?

Yes.

That’s Hugh de Cressingham. When the time comes, I want you to shoot him.

When will that— Rainey turned to find Wallace disappearing into the ranks of Scots, set roughly in a line stretching across the field. Rainey turned his attention to the archers around him. Since Wallace had spoken to him, they were all looking to him for leadership.

They’re all mad, he thought. Why had he ever agreed to follow Wallace? He had been safe in the Trossachs. Here, the English would have a clear shot at him. He rubbed his face, now nice and clean, courtesy of a fine shaving blade Wallace had given him.

Those horses are huge, a young archer beside him said.

Don’t worry, lad. They’re only as good as the arseholes riding them, another replied.

The chuckling among the archers broke the mood. Rainey stepped up. Just remember. You can’t outrun a horse. Shoot for the riders. Then, when they get close enough, run sideways out of their way. The men behind us will deal with what’s left.

That’s an awful long way to run, came a comment from the crowd.

Yes, it is, but then, I’m not going to have you stand here in the center. Half of you will position about thirty yards to the left. The rest, thirty yards to the right. I’ll be right here. When I yell, run for your life along our lines.

How about you?

Rainey smiled. I’ll be running to the men behind us.

Several nods showed Rainey that the archers felt secure that they weren’t going to become cavalry fodder. They also knew the men behind them weren’t soldiers randomly armed with swords, axes and clubs. They were pikemen. The best defense against knights on horseback.

Who’s your best archer? Rainey asked.

You are, someone answered.

Rainey sighed. Your second-best, then.

The men mumbled amongst themselves for a moment until one stepped forward. I’m fair and so is Fergal. He indicated the man behind him.

Then you go left with half the archers and Fergal will go right with the other half. Sort yourselves out and go.

Rainey returned to watching the bridge. Infantry was coming over now. And archers. Rainey’s sense of doom began to rise. Thanks to the shameful submission at Irvine, he had never been in a full-fledged battle before. Only small clan skirmishes. He wondered how he could survive being in the middle of thousands of men swinging swords and axes at each other. He’d learned how to fight by moving. He didn’t know how much room he would have to move here.

He sensed someone come up behind him. He turned to find Andrew Moray standing there, watching him.

So, you’re the archer Wallace keeps rambling about. Moray smiled. That is a mighty fine bow you have there.

It was a gift from my father, Rainey replied. Yew wood from Wales.

Moray nodded. And are you big enough to wield that claymore on your back?

Rainey glance back at the sword. It was almost five feet long, the tip hanging just inches off the ground. He stood only five feet four.

Aye, he said. I mostly swing it above my head. That’s neck level for those big English knights.

Moray slapped him on the shoulder. Excellent. We’ll be awaiting your signal then.

My signal? Rainey exclaimed as Moray turned away.

Aye. Wallace will be back to tell you when. You didn’t think we were going to let them all over the bridge, did you?

Why would they cross the bridge with us standing here? But Moray was gone.

***

For the next two hours, Rainey watched the English army forming up on the river’s near side. The bridge was full of infantry. About one hundred heavy cavalry were already across. He scanned the field. It was surrounded on three sides by a bend in the river. The Scots were formed up along the only way out to open ground. Rainey was thinking Wallace didn’t seem so insane after all. He glanced back and forth at his two wings of archers. Their leaders nodded to him. He nodded back, beginning to place his arrows in the ground for easy access. His archers began doing the same. The waiting was getting unbearable.

The man identified as Cressingham sat on his horse just ahead of the English cavalry’s front line. He was looking directly at Rainey, standing alone in front of what would have looked to the Englishman like undisciplined infantry. Rainey imagined he was thinking the battle would be an easy win for the English. Rainey, however, was checking the wind, studying the distance between himself and Cressingham. It was going to be a long shot, but Rainey had made that kind of shot before.

Among the Scots, the tension was building. Behind him, Rainey could feel the energy reaching a peak. He hoped Wallace could maintain the discipline until the allotted time for the attack.

And then it came.

Hey, archer laddie. Wallace’s voice carried across the ground from behind him. It’s time.

Rainey took a deep breath and let it out. He pulled an arrow out of the ground and glanced in both directions. His archers began to do the same. Notching the arrow, he pulled back hard and raised his bow. Cressingham, busy with his troops, had turned his back to him. He made a few quick adjustments to compensate for wind and distance and let the arrow go.

It sailed through the air, moving closer and closer to its target. When it slammed into his back, Cressingham was thrown forward on his horse. Pulling another arrow, Rainey watched a wave of arrows begin piercing the front row of English knights and infantry. A loud roar went up all along the Scottish line.

The battle had begun.

Scots were rushing forward on the flanks. Rainey and his archers continued to let arrows fly into the closely packed English army. We don’t even have to aim. Then, he could see what was left of the heavy English cavalry forming up. Within a minute, they started their charge.

MOVE! Rainey yelled to his left. He turned to his right. MOVE! he yelled again. He saw his archers start to run, just as he had commanded. Rainey had one more arrow in front of him. He grabbed it, quickly notched it, and aimed at a charging knight. Letting the arrow fly, he caught the Englishman in the neck. Rainey turned and ran for the line of foot soldiers behind him, pulling his claymore free. He stopped and turned just behind the front line.

The thundering hooves got louder and louder. At the last second, Rainey heard Wallace yell.

NOW!

All the Scots in the front line dropped their short weapons and picked up their pikes. They anchored the wooden shafts into prepared holes in the ground. Then came chaos.

The first thing Rainey saw was a knight in full armor hurtling through the air towards him. He swung his claymore, cutting off the man’s head as he raced by. The heavy cavalry, men and horses impaled on pikes, looked like it had ridden into a stone wall. Knights were being dismounted by their steeds’ sudden loss of momentum. Once on the ground, their armor was too heavy for them to stand again. The Scots dropped their pikes, picked up their other weapons and began slaughtering them. Rainey joined in, but after a while, he lowered his claymore. Enough killing.

Within minutes, all the knights lay dead and the Scots surged forward into the disorganized ranks of English infantry. Rainey stood his ground. A body of Scots already stood on the bridge, cutting off any retreat. Rainey could see that the slaughter would continue until every Englishman on this side of the river was dead.

Killing to defend himself was one thing. Slaughtering a helpless army, he had no taste for.

As he watched, a single mounted knight had made it to the bridge and was cutting his way through the crowd to get back across the river. Looks like we missed one.

The battle was over in less than an hour.

***

As night descended on the Scottish camp, there was music and celebration all around. Alcohol flowed as the men traded stories of the battle. It had been a great victory. The English army had retreated to the south, even though they could have easily held their side of the bridge.

They ran away like pigs, Wallace said as he sat down beside Rainey at a campfire.

Yes, they did, Rainey replied.

You don’t seem so happy tonight.

Rainey didn’t answer. He continued to gaze into the flames.

It was brutal, Wallace said. I know. But if we are to win, the English must be shivering in their boots every time they meet us. It is the only true advantage we have.

So, what happens now?

Wallace shrugged. The English have left their borders open by running away. It gives us a chance to scare them some more. In a week, we will march south and put the fear of God into them. They won’t dare come north again.

Rainey turned to face Wallace. Do you really think Longshanks is going to let this go? You won’t be able to scare him, no matter how brutal you are.

You know Longshanks?

By reputation.

Wallace nodded. Aye. I think if Longshanks had come up at the head of this army, he would still be sitting on the other side of that bridge. But he’s busy fighting his war in France.

You can bet he’ll lead the next army to come north, Rainey glanced down at Wallace’s waist. What is that?

Wallace smiled broadly. The men made me a new belt. It’s made from Cressingham’s skin. Nice shot, by the way.

Rainey swallowed down some bile that attempted to come up. Was he such a bad man to the Scots?

He was so bad, the English barely tolerated him. Wallace got up. We’re meeting up back here in a week to march south.

I won’t be going with you.

Wallace stood silently for a moment before replying. We could use you.

I am not interested in killing to scare people. In the end, it will only anger the English king and he will decimate the countryside.

What do you propose? Talking to Longshanks? Because that has worked so well in the past. Wallace placed his hand on Rainey’s shoulder. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come. But I tell you. The only way to keep the English out of Scotland will be to make them too afraid to come.

Wallace turned and walked into the darkness.

Rainey wondered what future Scotland had. Wallace was right. There was no talking to the English king. But there would be no scaring him either.

3

Annandale

October 1297

With the English retreating, Rainey could return to Annandale. He made his journey via Carrick, where he had taken his sister before disappearing into the Trossachs. Together, they made their way back to their farm. On the journey, Fiona had too many questions for a fourteen-year-old.

What’s Wallace like? I hear he’s tall.

Over six feet, Rainey replied.

Is he a fierce warrior?

The fiercest.

Was he brave in the battle?

He killed a lot of Englishmen.

I wish I could meet him.

He’s in England now killing more Englishmen.

I’d like to meet Andrew Moray, too.

Rainey sighed. Moray had been seriously wounded at Stirling Bridge. No one thought he would recover.

I wish I could have been there, Fiona said.

They don’t let women fight.

The Vikings did.

Rainey chuckled. Last I looked, we’re not Vikings. Besides, even fourteen-year-old Viking girls aren’t allowed to be shield maidens.

Was Robert there? Oh, please don’t tell me he was killed.

Rainey shook his head. His sister had a penchant for tall men, especially his friend, Robert the Bruce, who was about as tall as William Wallace. I did not see him there.

How would you know with all those thousands in the army?

I would have seen the Bruce crest on a shield. He wasn’t in the battle.

Robert the Bruce and Rainey had gone their separate ways after the sorry business at Irvine back in July. Robert had been forced to swear allegiance and give his young daughter over to King Edward as a hostage in order to maintain his lands. Rainey had returned to Annandale only to find Edward de Bohun, the nephew of the Earl of Hereford, in the middle of raping Fiona. After the man was killed, he and Fiona had to flee.

The politics the Bruces had to navigate boggled Rainey’s mind. Robert hoped someday to be King of Scotland, but Rainey wondered who would trust him, considering his penchant for changing sides to suit his goals. One never knew where you stood with Scottish nobles. But not with Wallace. You always knew where he stood. It was his brutality and bloodthirsty nature that bothered Rainey.

Where do you think he is now? Fiona was still asking questions.

I don’t know, Rainey replied. Probably hiding down in Carlisle with the rest of his family.

Robert wouldn’t go into hiding. He’s brave and—

Fiona, Rainey said forcefully. Am I going to have to hear you sing the praises of the Great Robert the Bruce all the way to Annandale? He’s not that great.

Fiona went quiet, much to Rainey’s relief. The last thing he wanted to listen to was his sister talking constantly during the two-day ride. He settled into his own thoughts.

Life was different now. He began to wonder why he didn’t forego joining Robert on his rebellion like the other men of Annandale. It was his loyalty, he figured. Robert was more than his lord. He was a friend. They used to ride across Annandale together before Robert went off to England to train as a knight. Rainey felt compelled to fight for him. The Raineys had been in the Bruces’ service going back two hundred years. Angus was not a knight, but there was a possibility of a knighthood if he stayed close and loyal to the Bruce family. It was a family tradition. His father had joined the Templars at the request of Robert’s grandfather.

Now Rainey had joined Wallace in the great victory at the Stirling Bridge. Still, he had his doubts about the Scottish cause’s final victory. First, he guessed, King Edward would have to die first. The king’s reputation as a shrewd warrior was well known. The fact that he had suppressed a few rebellions of his own barons down in England showed he was a formidable opponent. He would not have gotten caught halfway across the Stirling Bridge. Wallace’s foray into northern England would anger him. Hopefully, Edward would stay occupied fighting in France.

I’m hungry, Fiona said in a small voice.

Rainey looked up at the sky. The sun was high, indicating midday. It was time to stop for a rest.

***

When Rainey and Fiona reached Annandale, they stopped at the farm of Jamie Reay. He had agreed to take care of the crops on the Rainey farm when Rainey went off with Robert the Bruce. They stayed the night, learning about what had been going on in the region since Rainey had taken Fiona off to Carrick. News of the victory at Stirling Bridge had sent all the local English overlords scurrying away to the south. With no Bruces around either, the taxes hadn’t been collected, which pleased everyone in the vale.

That evening, Rainey stepped out with Reay for a walk. At least that is what they told the women. They were really heading for Reay’s still, where he made the best uskebeaghe in Annandale. Rainey usually helped Reay with the distillation, but he hadn’t been in Annandale for over six months. As they sat outside the shed, Rainey took in the night air with its sweet smell. The smell of home. The aroma of burning peat wafted through the air from the still. He looked up at the stars. They were where they were supposed to be, not that they had been anywhere else during those nights in the Trossachs. They just felt more familiar here.

Reay passed Rainey a small cup. Taste this, he said.

Rainey took a sip, surprised at how smooth it was. The smokiness that was usually so strong and harsh in Reay’s uskebeaghe was mellowed down considerably.

"Jesus, Rainey exclaimed. What did you do to make this elixir?"

I didn’t, Reay replied. Found some casks over by the next hill hidden in a cave. I think my father made them. When, I don’t know. Probably the year he died. He filled them with uskebeaghe.

Your father died twelve years ago.

I know, Reay exclaimed. I guess sitting in wooden casks for that long took out much of the harshness.

Rainey nodded in agreement. This is so good, you could probably use it to get the English to leave you alone.

If they ever come back.

Rainey’s mood got serious. "They will be back. If they do come back to Annandale, this uskebeaghe could save your family."

Reay looked at his friend. If they come back, you’ll have to leave again.

Rainey nodded. Let’s not waste this good elixir on thoughts such as those. How did my fields fare this season?

Very well. I have thirty sacks of grain to get you and your animals through the winter.

Thank you so much, Jamie. How much do I owe you?

The five sacks you already paid me.

Rainey was surprised. My little farm produced thirty-five sacks?

Plus an additional five sacks for taxes, Reay said. You never know. Someone might still come by asking for them. It was a very good growing year here. Oh, and you have two new calves.

Rainey was starting to realize just how long it had been since he left home. I’m almost rich, he said with a laugh.

They tapped their cups. Almost, Reay said.

They both took a good drink, emptying their cups. Reay brought out a ceramic jug and poured some more of his magic elixir into each cup.

I’m going to write you a letter to show Robert the Bruce. In it, I will express my desire to have the tenancy to my farm given to you if I have to leave again.

Reay was about to object but stopped himself. You don’t think you’ll be staying.

Rainey shook his head. I want to. He left the but unsaid.

Reay nodded. The Bruce likes you. If you ever do come back for good, I will gladly return the farm to you. Regardless if he gives me a choice or not.

I’ll be sure to put that in my letter.

***

The Raineys left the next morning. Arrangements were made for the thirty sacks of grain to be carried to the Rainey farm. Also, a hunting expedition was planned for mid-week and Rainey’s skill with his bow meant his presence was most desired.

Reay passed Rainey a small jug, a smug smile on his face.

For your dinner tonight, he said. Don’t drink it all at once

Rainey nodded. This is your good stuff?

Aye, Reay said.

Thank you also for the few days of food you’ve given us.

No thanks needed. There won’t be anything to eat at your home tonight. It’s the least we can do. He patted the jug. I will be making regular use of those casks and that cave from now on.

Rainey bid his friend farewell. A few hours later, he and Fiona arrived at the farm. Stepping back into the familiar one-room house, they looked around. It was exactly as Rainey remembered. Two beds stood across the room from each other, a woolen curtain surrounding Fiona’s bed. A single table with four stools sat in the middle. The fire pit was across from the door. There were no windows.

The house is going to need a cleaning, Rainey said to Fiona. I’ll gather some more firewood.

By the time Rainey had returned from stacking up his gathered wood alongside the house, Fiona had a fire burning and dinner cooking in a big pot with the meat, pease and onions the Reays had given them.

Aye, that smells good, Rainey said, stepping into the house.

I got some extra spices from Carrick, Fiona replied. Lady Anne taught me how to use them.

Lady Anne was a cousin of Robert the Bruce. She had been a lady in waiting to Robert’s mother, Margaret. When Margaret died five years earlier, Lady Anne took over running the household at Carrick. She had always had a soft spot for Fiona, beginning when the Raineys visited while escorting senior Bruce lords. When Rainey had to take his sister to a safe place, he knew Lady Anne would not hesitate to help.

They sat down to the stew. They ate quietly, but Rainey had a topic he needed to broach. He wasn’t sure how to do it.

Fiona looked up at him. What are you thinking, my brother?

Rainey’s eyes rested on his little sister. Only fourteen. He could not imagine her getting married this young. But times were dangerous. He knew the English would be back. He had to find her a husband from the highlands, where the English wouldn’t find her. Even Carrick was too close to the border. But he didn’t know anyone from that far away.

I think it’s time, he began.

Time for what? she asked.

Rainey took a big breath and slowly let it out. Time to find you a husband.

Fiona smiled excitedly. Really?

It was not the response he had expected, but it made it easier for him to continue. Yes, but not from nearby.

Good, Fiona said. I don’t like the little boys from around here.

What’s wrong . . . Never mind, Rainey said. This was getting easier by the minute.

I would like to marry a duke or an earl. You must know some.

Rainey shook his head. We are not noble. I’m not even a knight.

You should be. Father was. And you stood beside Robert in his war.

But he did not knight me.

Someday he will, Fiona said with confidence.

I need to marry you off before that, Rainey replied. Considering my time with Wallace, I think I can find you another knight.

Not even a lord? Fiona pleaded.

"A