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Right. Does he need to take anything home with him from Milliways? ...Can he take anything home with him from Milliways? What is there that won't draw attention? Well--the fan for his mother, the rabbitskins from Shephard. They'd been bought with home use in mind. Can he take a football? No. A stoneware bottle of that good red wine? Yes. The picture of Jamie from the fair? After a moment's pause, he stuffs that into the small sack he's packing.

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Jamie laughs. "Oh, aye?"

The idea makes him feel faintly anxious, but of course he wouldn't show it. That's all they're ever up to in the Lowlands, to hear the Douglases talk about it: raiding English farms and skirmishing on the border.

"Just a little peek, just stick my toes over the border with ten or a dozen friendly lads. Nothing a king might feel obliged to set his face against..."

His smile is hopeful.

At this, Jamie does look slightly alarmed. "Well don't be asking me. I've got naught to do with it, you do what you like."

William laughs and comes over, clapping a hand onto Jamie's shoulder. "That's right. Trust a Douglas to know what he's about when it comes to the border country. But--Jamie--" He hesitates, then gives Jamie's shoulder a little shake. "You'll wish me luck with it? I'll be leading it, this time."

"I'll no wish you luck-- I'll wish it to the poor bastards following you!"

The shake turns into a light punch. "Thanks, thanks. You're a friend. I'll tell them that, will I? Look your best, lads, I heard the king wish you luck myself."

"Just don't go--" He's not sure how to say it, so he fills the space by punching back. "Don't go making 'em think I-- you know-- told you to do it, or..."

He ducks away from the punch and hooks his ankle around Jamie's, easy wrestling. "Oh, I know, you don't know a thing about it. If England comes asking about it, Scotland is shocked anyone would do such a thing. --Want me to bring you anything back?"

"No," he says, wiggling out of William's reach. "No, and I'm no-- it's naught to do with me, alright?"

"--All right." He steps back abruptly. "I wasny really going to tell anyone you'd said anything. I know how to hold my tongue."

He smiles to try to lighten the mood again. "I'm no such a fool as to tell a Douglas aught about raiding."

William smiles back, because it's hard not to smile when Jamie's smiling. "'Course you're not. And--you'll no tell my dad? I want to--" Shrug. Surprise him? It sounds stupid.

Jamie shrugs too. He and the Douglas never really talk about his son. "I willny say a word."

Right He nods firmly. "He's been after me to get back to Threave anyway, before winter. Another bairn on the way. It's no--he'll no go look himself, but he wants a good report. Accurate intelligence. A letter from Mother wouldny count."

"Is there? Well, congratulations, then," Jamie says, though he knows that William probably doesn't particularly care, and his father certainly doesn't. "Don't suppose you'll be able to tell her where you've been."

"Been up at Stirling, haven't I?"

He looks around the room and flops himself down onto the bed, leaving room if Jamie wants to join him. "Nah, I can't tell her any of this. Any of it."

"Not unless you want her to think you're mad," he agrees. "I could, eh? Everybody'd just think I dreamed it. Might be a good plan, at that. Get them off my case a bit longer, send this girl back to Guelders..."

"Christ, they'd have a priest in to be sure you'd no been switched with a fairy."

William lifts his head to look at Jamie. "So what's the news about that? Seems like it's on?"

Jamie makes a face. "It's only wee bairns they do that to, and only in stories."

He scuffs his foot against the floor and shrugs again. "Ach, I hardly know-- one day it's yes and the next it's no-- you'll have warning enough when it happens. Livingston and your father want to leave time for every family in Scotland to come-- and to bring gifts."

Edited 2016-10-22 21:52 (UTC)

He props himself up on his elbows. "Of course I'll come. And bring gifts. You'll have a hunt, aye? --How old is she? Not some ten-year-old child?" He'd almost been set up in a marriage like that himself, but the girl had died. Bit of a relief really.

"Don't know," Jamie says. He hasn't paid much attention even to the little they bothered to tell him. It frankly doesn't matter: he'll do as he's told, whoever she is. "You're no watching, though. I'm no having that, everybody hanging about to see what goes on."

"All the old men will fuss. How're we to know it's the king's own bairn if we don't keep an eye on things? If it was good enough for your father and his father... I'm joking, man! I'll throw anyone out that tries it. Leave you in a bit of peace. --Unless you ask for help. You know, pointers, a bit of advice."

"I'll no be needing any help from the likes of you," Jamie says with a snort. "I know what to do." (basically)

"Aye right. Know all about it, you do." He glances at Jamie. "--Have you--?"

Jamie feels his face going a bit hot. "Have I what?"