Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands 

Date: July 1276, Unseasonable Rain & Fog 

While he and Watley ate, Sir De Sessions studied the innkeeper. Since King Alexander of Scotland had recently solidified his power, Edward of England needed a good source of information about the movements of persons crossing through the ‘Batable Lands. Far too many travelers came to and went from England, using that unclaimed territory as a way to disguise their destinations. An innkeeper on the border might be a useful source of information. 

In Edward’s service, De Sessions had employed the same ruse. He had indeed traveled to the MacKai demesne, Dungarob, in the very northwest of Scotland. However, he and his squire had also traveled inland to a number of meetings with various Scots’ nobles who might prove loyal to Edward given sufficient reward and motivation. 

Watley had been present at every meeting along with a Scot’s priest, for nothing had been written, and both Edward and the Scots required witnesses to all agreements in hope of preventing betrayal. Trust of Scots who were willing to betray their king was scanty. Betray one king and a man might betray another just as easily. Now, as he had during those meetings, the squire said little but observed all that went on in the tavern. 

The two men had been on the road for months, and finally turned for home and London just three days past. Edward had not specifically asked Haven to establish a network of watchers on the various routes to Scotland. However, De Sessions knew that information was more valuable when received earlier than needed. 

“So, you’ve come from the north of Scotland,” the innkeeper was saying. “I know that country, and it’s not easy traveling. Where might your destination be?” 

How to test this man’s loyalty to England and its causes? 

“Aye,” De Sessions agreed, and bit into a rasher of pork. “However, we met with greater courtesy in the north than we ever did in the south. ’Tis pleasant to be among friends in such a beautiful country.” 

“The Scots can be hospitable folk.” Innkeeper Alwin stated carefully. “Yet they have formidable tempers and very long memories.” 

Was that a warning tone, De Sessions’ heard? If so, was the warning about trusting Scots to remember bargains made in secret or to be wary of their moods? 

“And what of you, Innkeeper Alwin? You live on the border of lawless lands. How is it your inn and village show little sign of raids from Armstrongs and others in the ‘Batable lands?” He tore off a peace of bread chewing as he waited for Alwin’s reply. 

De Sessions bore Alwin’s study with casual regard, saw how the innkeeper took in Watley as well without revealing thought or emotion. 

“We are a peaceable village and trade with all who travel through. The ‘Batable clans know that reiving here would do more harm than good. The village is prosperous enough at peace, but destroying us with raids would destroy the goods and services we provide. That benefits no one, including the ‘Batable clans.” 

“I had not thought those clans to be so reasonable.” 

Nearby, Watley wiped his near empty platter with a last bite of bread. 

“Where self-interest is involved, little reason is required.” 

De Sessions nodded and sipped his ale. 

Beside him, Watley stared into his mug, as might a man who’d had too much drink. As he stared, this head moved slowly side to side. 

‘Twas a signal De Sessions knew well. His squire was telling him not to trust the innkeeper, but why?” 

“I must tend to my other customers,” Alwin said rising. “I invite you to enjoy the fire and more ale while you wait. Betty will come to show you the way when your rooms are ready. 

“Thank you, Mr. Alwin,” De Sessions said. Watley nodded his accord. 

Both watched carefully as the innkeeper spoke to each customer in turn. They noted to whom Alwin spoke first, as well as the one or two guests who were ignored.