Turn of the Tide by Margaret Skea Read Free Book Online

shouldn’t have to waste our breath on such as he.’
    There was a downdraught in the chimney and a dusting of ash sifted into the room, peppering their shoulders, so that William beat at it scowling.
    ‘In truth, William,’ Munro’s tone was deliberately light. ‘You hate him.’
    ‘In truth, I do not. One doesn’t hate a cur for his bad breeding, but one may kick him for it.’ William turned back to the window. The pedlar was packing up, the folk melting
away, one or two clutching a ‘cure’ that would no doubt turn out to be worthless, while the child skulked in a doorway, out of sight. ‘Wait on us at six.’
    An angry flush spread across Munro’s cheeks.
    ‘And close the door when you leave. The draughts are something cruel.’
    Outside, Munro kicked his way through the muck and stour of the streets that straggled below the castle complex, imagining William on the end of his boot.
    The urchin sitting on the doorstep looked up as Munro’s shadow fell across him. ‘You have a visitor. I showed him to your room.’ He fixed Munro with black, button eyes, holding
out a grubby palm, his other hand straying to his jerkin.
    Munro, guessing correctly, made his voice stern. ‘You needn’t be asking twice.’ He took the stairs two at a time, and pushed the door. Archie, who had been stretched out on the
narrow cot dozing, shot to his feet and then seeing Munro relaxed again onto the bed, pulling his legs up and leaning back against the wall. Munro grinned, ‘Well, well, too many late nights,
I fear.’
    ‘Early mornings, more like. I have seen more dawns in the last month. . .’
    ‘There is some gain then in your new employ. That’ll commend Glencairn to our mother.’ Munro kicked off his boots, and flung himself down on another bed, as yet untenanted.
‘What of the court? Is it as you fancied?’
    ‘Well there are plenty lassies . . .’
    ‘And at what cost?’
    ‘A ribbon or two, and the learning of a ween of poetry . . . ’
    ‘That I don’t believe.’ Munro broke off, remembering his mother, ‘Serious though, have you not an understanding at home?’
    ‘Oh, that.’ It was Archie’s turn to grin. ‘A means to an end,’ and, holding up his hands, ‘Don’t worry, Sybilla Boyd isn’t
broken-hearted.’
    Laughter bubbled in Munro’s throat. ‘Sybilla was it? She’ll not be broken-hearted, not over you, but what’s in it for her?’
    ‘I’m not the only one who wishes to rise. I’m to send her word of the court and speak for her in the right quarters.’
    Munro’s laughter died. ‘I’m not sure if we are in the right quarters. The Cunninghames are a gey quarrelsome lot. James has this notion for a nobility at peace, and I’m
thinking that it shouldn’t be discounted. It would be better for all of us if we didn’t have to walk down the street with a ready eye to our backs. And, as for rising, better not to
carry such a weight of family. Aye and safer too.’ He saw that Archie’s grin had slipped. ‘Don’t fret, however much I may wish it, I can’t distance myself from the
Cunninghames yet awhile. It isn’t easy to change sides, and to abdicate altogether from old obligations is a chancy business, especially at present. Any whiff of disloyalty and the
responsibility for Annock would likely be laid to my charge. Besides . . .’ he summoned a grin, ‘I wouldn’t like to have to answer to mother, if I spiked your chances.’

Chapter Six
    For Hugh Montgomerie, the journey to Stirling was an uncomfortable reminder of that undertaken by his father not five weeks since. Though they didn’t make by Langshaw,
yet much of the route was the same and he tormented himself: this rain-washed scree, that outcrop newly scarred, this line of trees, freshly greening; thus and thus it must have looked to father
also. The others followed his pace, stopping at his choosing, rising again at his beck. He didn’t lag, knowing that he would likely be less rather than more ready to