Free Highlander Unmasked by Monica Mccarty Page B

MacGregor. The injustice and atrocities perpetrated by the king sickened him, and it wasn’t long before Alex had become the leader of the proscribed men. Fighting his way across the Highlands, he’d found a modicum of peace.
    The ten o’clock drum sounded. He quickened his pace through Lawnmarket, keeping to the main streets and avoiding the maze of narrow wynds and closes that permeated the city. After turning left on West Bow, he wound down the steep hill into Grassmarket. A thriving marketplace, Grassmarket also had the dubious distinction of being the place where public executions were held. Not an area of town frequented by courtiers. Alex was hoping to minimize the possibility of seeing someone from the palace.
    Having reached his destination, he opened the door of the White Hart Inn and had to duck his head to pass through the doorway. Musty air and the scent of un-washed bodies accosted him. The main room was small and poorly lit, holding perhaps a score of patrons who were scattered about at small tables; a few stood near the bar area, where a “luckie” alewife stood ready to dispense her brew. He ordered a tankard of grozet from a serving maid and passed through to another chamber, this one slightly smaller than the first. Low ceilings continued, and Alex repeatedly had to stoop beneath the wooden beams as he crossed the room.
    Screens of brown paper separated the tables, offering a semblance of privacy. After quickly locating Robbie, Alex slid in opposite him on a wooden bench, facing the door. He was pleased to see that the lad had followed his direction and secured a table in the back corner of the room, minimizing the potential for prying ears.
    His squire looked relieved to see him.
    Amused by Robbie’s obvious concern for his welfare, Alex said, “So eager to see me, lad? Apparently, I’ve been negligent in my duty. I’ll have to see that your training is stepped up when I’m done here.”
    Robbie blanched, then ventured a tentative grin when he realized that Alex was only teasing. He cranked his head around a few times and whispered, “I don’t much like this place.” He wrinkled his nose. “The entire city smells something horrible.”
    Neither do I. But it would do no good to mollycoddle the boy; they had a job to do. So instead Alex asked, “Any problems?”
    With so many of the king’s men about, Edinburgh was a dangerous place for a MacGregor. Normally, Alex would have his squire with him at court, but he couldn’t take any chances that the lad would be identified.
    Robbie shook his head. “No, my laird.”
    “Patrick and the others?”
    “They’re ready.”
    “Good.” While Alex discovered what he could at court, Patrick and the rest of Alex’s warriors would blanket the taverns and alehouses frequented by mercenaries and soldiers, listening for rumors of any forces leaving for the Isles. Robbie would take messages back and forth between Alex and his men. His youth and comparatively less imposing stature would make it easier for him to slip in and out unnoticed.
    “Have our friends arrived?” Robbie asked in code, referring not to friends, but to the Lowland scourge intent on sailing for Lewis.
    “As we expected, not all of them could make it.”
    Robbie’s eyes lit with understanding. The absence of key Lowland gentlemen at court supported the rumor that the Fife Adventurers were gathering for a second attempt on Lewis.
    “Will they be traveling this summer?” Robbie asked.
    “I don’t know yet. But if they want to be settled by winter, they will have to leave soon. I hope to have more information by the end of the week.”
    Robbie nodded.
    Alex cast his gaze around the room, making sure they were not the subject of undue attention. “We will meet again on Saturday a week hence. We should be able to speak more freely then.”
    “Where?”
    “Beyond the city gates. A place called Sheep’s Heid Inn. Have you heard of it?”
    Robbie shook his head. “No, but I’ll