“Is something wrong?” Lara asked.

“Nay lass, the woman was just talking nonsense,” he replied. He thought it best to keep what the woman had said to himself, for now. But first, he needed Lara to tell him exactly who she was and why the English had imprisoned her.

Chapter 8

At the end of the market square, Bram spotted a tavern tucked away far from the fray where they could have a meal without attracting unwanted attention.  Entering through the door, the tavern was lively - full of music and energy. The booming sound of men’s laughter could be heard echoing off the stone walls, while drunken dancers twirled around, their ale splashing out of their mugs and onto the floor. There was not a single table or chair that was not occupied. Bram took out a few coins from his pouch.

Slipping the coins into Lara’s hand, he whispered, “Stay here and dinna go anywhere.

“Where are ye going?” Lara asked loudly over the noise of the crowd.

Bram could sense her worry. But his instinct told him that it was best to not bring her to Montrose keep. If Lara was in some sort of danger, he did not know what to expect from Stephen.

“I am off to Montrose. I will no’ be long. I think it is best if I go alone. I have no’ seen Laird Stephen in many years’ time and I dinna ken where his allegiance lies. I may no’ be able to protect ye while I am there. It is best that ye stay here and wait fer my return.”

Even though Bram was unsure whether he should leave Lara here, he wanted to take the warning he’d received in the market seriously. He knew that at least one greedy person knew her whereabouts and who she might be.  He did not want to take the chance of more people discovering until he knew the complete situation.

“I thought ye said that he was a friend. Can ye no’ trust him?”

“Aye, he has been a good friend, but he would stick a knife in yer back to save his own arse if given the choice.”

“What shall I do, if the English come, or if I need to find ye?” Lara asked in a trembling voice.

“Dinna worry lass. Just stay here within the market. Dinna venture off too far and ye will be fine. I have given ye enough coin if ye want to buy something in the market. I will be back soon,” he said as he began to turn towards the door. Just as he turned, he looked back at her and said, “And lass, when I return there are some questions that are in need of answering. I can no’ help ye if ye are keeping secrets from me.”

Without allowing her the time to explain or ask him to what he referred, Bram walked away. Like a startled deer, Lara froze. She fidgeted with her hands as she wondered what secrets he could have been talking about. She stood with her mouth agape, but it was as if he’d taken her voice with him. She had hoped that he would just escort her to Fergusson land without questions. She wrung her hands together, dreading their next encounter.

Bram followed the river several miles south until he reached the gates of Montrose Castle. With the sun well below the horizon, the murky water within the castle’s moat looked ominous. The night air was darkened by a veil of heavy cloud that hovered between him and his final destination. Bram dismounted, strapping his sword to his side. As Bram approached the castle, he could see light flickering from a dim lantern at the top of the tower and guards pacing back and forth between the turrets.

“State yer business or be gone wit’ ye,” a guard called out from a small door of the gatehouse.

“My name is Bram MacKinnon. I wish to have an audience with the Laird of this keep.”

“Our Laird does no’ wish to see any visitors today. Come back tomorrow and ye can make yer request then.”

“I’m afraid that tomorrow may be too late. It is of great importance that I see him. If ye will only give him my name,” Bram continued but the guard quickly interrupted.

“Yer name is of nay importance. It is the dead of night and we have our orders. None shall pass these gates without prior notice.”

“I have visited here before. Montrose used to be friendly and welcomed travelers. Is there a reason why it is nay that way any longer?”

“Aye. But I dinna see why I need to tell ye about it,” The guard replied and turned up his mouse-like nose.

As silence passed between them, Bram grew more impatient with the guard. He knew that he needed to press the guard harder into opening the gates for him. Laird Stephen was the only man in the lowlands that held a high enough position to offer him the services he needed. Bram knew that without supplies, he would never be able to journey all the way to the Highlands before winter weather came upon him.

“If ye refuse to allow me entrance ye can be certain that the English will be the ones barging in these gates, for they may only be a few days ride from here.”

The guard looked at him strangely. His voice changed from a loud growl to a sullen tone as he acknowledged the urgency of the situation.

“I will summon our Laird. Remove yer weapons and I will open the gate.”

Bram did as he was asked and handed his sword to the guard. He followed him to the entrance of the keep and was asked to wait in the bailey while the guard went inside to convey his message.

In the bailey, several guards kept watch at their posts. The atmosphere felt strange. This was not the Montrose Castle Bram remembered. Then again, it had been years since he stepped foot inside the castle walls. The bailey, formerly full of activity with peasants and warriors alike, was now barren except for two masons who were repairing a section of the wall that had been badly damaged. Bram now understood the reason for the increased security and the guard’s hesitation.

Behind him, a familiar voice called out his name, “Bram MacKinnon! I can no’ believe me eyes. I heard that ye were killed in battle. But here ye are.”

“Did ye really believe the English could have bested me? Ye should ken never to underestimate a MacKinnon,” Bram responded, smiling back at the man. “It is good to see ye, Max.”

Shaking the man’s hand, Bram said, “And ye as well. What happened here?”

“Ah, our castle was attacked by the English. Many of my men died in battle. It took us a good month or two to rid our lands of the English. But tell me, why have ye made such a long journey to my keep? Did yer brother send ye?”

“Nay. My brother dinna ken I survived. He must think me dead and rotting in the ground. Nay, I have come to ask ye fer yer help. I need safe passage back to the Highlands but first I must travel through the black forest towards Fergusson lands.”

Bram watched as the skin between Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Fergusson? Why would ye go so far west? And to that bastard’s land?” Stephen growled.

“I am traveling wit’ a lass. I have vowed to protect her and see her safely home to her family.”

“I am no’ allied wit’ the Fergussons and neither are ye. That bastard is the English King’s vassal. Why would ye want to help a Fergusson lass? Did prison turn ye into an eejit?”

“I ken they are not allies. But she saved my life. She dinna ken that our clans feud. She kens nothing of politics and nay about who their enemies are.”

“Well, she must be a clever lass fer ye to be so trustin’ of her. Either that or she is daft.”

“I made a promise, Stephen. I am no’ going to break it.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, “She must mean a great deal to ye for ye to risk traveling through the black forest and Fergusson land.”

Bram glared at him for his suggestion. The man thought to insult him and Lara. He would not stand there and let Lara’s honor be questioned. If he had to, he would toss Stephen on his arse until he minded his tongue.