Brian MacFingal grinned at his brother. “Ye do look a wee bit like a drowned rat, Simon.” He glanced up at the sky. “’Tis done now and I am thinking the sun will soon peep out to dry us.”
The way Simon and young Ned glanced up at the gray skies and tried, but failed, to hide their doubt, nearly made Brian laugh aloud. He suppressed the urge because they might think he mocked them. At five and twenty, Simon was a strong, handsome man, skilled with sword and knife, but a lot of his boyish uncertainty lingered. Ned was but seventeen, all arms and legs, and none of them blessed with much grace. Brian remembered that awkward time all too well. He would not sting the boys’ young pride with laughter.
“Trust me,” he said, “the sun will soon be shining upon us. The clouds move away fast.”
Simon nodded. “Aye, I can see that now. So, at least we willnae be poured upon as we collect our goods.”
“Something to be thankful for.”
“Do ye think we will gain as much coin from this ship’s cargo as we did the last?”
“We should. In truth, I have recently spent many an hour trying to think of a way to make this venture easier on us and on those bringing us the goods to sell.” Brian frowned. “Yet, the secrecy of this venture is difficult to give up.”
“Aye. The more people who ken about it, the more chance there is of our goods being stolen.”
“That is the problem that weighs heaviest on my mind. But we are too far from the safety of Scarglas whene’er we make this journey. While our profits are good enough to compensate us for the trouble, ’tis nay always time we have to spare. The long journey home laden with goods also puts us at risk. Howbeit, I have nay found a safer way to do this.”
“Mayhap we should just change the route we take a wee bit. It might add time to the journey, but we could seek shelter with trusted friends and kin each night.”
Brian nodded. “That is also a plan I have been thinking on a lot. Yet, I wonder if that would then require us to share some of our bounty with the ones who shelter us, mayhap even have to protect us from time to time.”
“Losing a wee portion of the profit would be better than losing the whole of it as weel as a few lives.”
“It would. There is no arguing that truth.”
And it was just that truth that kept Brian returning to the plan that included stops at places where they could shelter in safety. They would also be places where a few extra swordsmen could be gathered if trouble rode at their heels. Brian knew it all made sense but he had to fight to subdue his reluctance to lose even one coin brought in by this new venture he had begun. The money was helping Scarglas grow stronger. Even more important, it was helping him to gather enough coin that he might, one day soon, be able to get a piece of land for himself.
The mere thought of holding his own land or owning his own home twisted Brian’s heart with a longing that grew stronger every day. He did not envy or resent his brother Ewan’s place as laird of Scarglas. He also cared for every brother his father had bred, the illegitimate as well as the legitimate. Yet he ached to have something of his own, and there was always someone with acreage or a manor who was willing to sell off a small piece of the family’s land because of a need for some coin. Marrying for a piece of land or house was another way, but he refused to leash himself into a marriage for such gain. The only other way to get some was to gain the king’s favor, and the chance of a MacFingal doing that was very small.
Perhaps envy did prod him, he decided with an inner grimace. He not only wanted his own piece of land, he wanted what his brothers Ewan and Gregor had. Even what those irritating fools his cousins Sigimor and Liam Cameron had. He wanted his own home, his own family. He wanted a woman to come home to, one who actually cared if he came home at all. He wanted children. The only thing he would not do to gain the land he wanted was marry for it. His craving was also for a woman who truly wanted him, one to love him and the children they would have. Marrying a woman for money, a house, or land was not the way to get that.
It was a craving he kept to himself. Brian knew that, if he admitted to such a need, some of his brothers might take a moment to think carefully. If they did, they would soon realize he had no bastard children. Even worse, they might realize that he did not take as many opportunities to produce one as so many of them did. Brian had heard more than enough of the teasing his eldest brother, and laird, Ewan had endured for having “monkish” ways to know that he did not want to suffer it, too.
“Ye are looking verra solemn, Brian,” said Simon as he rode up by his side.