Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do Braveheart, save my own creations.

Author: Please everyone, I would like to know what you think of this first chapter.

Màiri

Chapter One: Orange Men and Stolen Pennies

‘Màiri (1) come away from the window will ye?’

Bennett’s voice cracked through my musings and I tore my eyes away from a small group of orange clad riders, melting into the distance. I felt his glare burning a whole in the back of my head, so I lightly hopped off the stool by the window and sat down.

‘Who are those orange men?’ I asked, in a voice full of the innocence of childish wonder.

Bennett’s steel gaze flew past my head to the window and he moistened his upper lip, this was an occurring habit of his, which I soon learnt was when the man was feeling uneasy.

‘Bad men, Màiri,’ he grunted darkly, he then stomped away with his heavy boots clunking across the floor, cuffing my head as he went.

I was only young at that time. The mere age of nine, with a mind too simple to understand what Bennett fully meant. And so it had been from that moment, that I simply distrusted any being clothed in the colour orange, for if even Bennett was to look upon those men darkly then I would have to avoid them.

Overtime, I began to have childishly wild visions of hulking orange monsters, the size of mountains with large gangly feet that stretched the breadth of crags. I even went onto imagining that these demons carried large tree-like, angular spears and they rode on the wisps of fire, as easily as a boat crosses the sea. Aye quite childish I know, but it is the things you experience from your childhood which stick with you all your life and crafts you to who you really are.

I could say the same thing about a certain man who pokes out vividly in my memory. His name was William Wallace. Now, a man who lived and breathed the notion freedom as much as he, there had to be an evident cause, maybe from when he was a wee lad. Like there was always a cause for everything in the world.

That time I ever contemplated that notion, was the first time I had ever laid eyes on the Englishmen. Bennett, the man, was not my father. He was a dour middle-aged ex veteran turned merchant who had taken me under his wing because he needed “help” about his tiny shop. Me, I was a measly orphaned street urchin, skulking in Edinburgh when he first met me. Sounds terrible doesn’t it? Nay, I never minded my life … my parents were long gone: they died from a plague when I was only four, so long story short. That was life, and you couldn’t help it. I swarmed in a small gang of children my age, and we soon became slyly skilled thieves in the market. On one of those days, that was when I first saw Bennett enter the tall, large gates of Edinburgh. He came trotting in with a burly, black shire pulling a cart full of sacks, coolly surveying his surroundings with steely, pale-blue eyes.

Slightly intrigued, I immediately made a beeline for him. He must have spotted my scrawny self, a bush of wiry, tangled mousy hair walking curiously up to him, for he abruptly stopped the shire. He stared down at me and I grinned toothily back.

‘Ello my kind sir, you couldnae spare a few bit o’ money for me?’

Bennett’s austere face didn’t flicker; it remained impassable and incorruptible for several moments.

‘Nay,’ he growled and he tugged the reins violently on his steed and the shire veered past me. I watched him trundle off down the street but within me, something urged me to follow him.

I scrambled up to the cart again, as fast as my twiggy legs would allow and stopped right in front the horse.

‘Come on, sir, I only want a penny.’

I allowed a big grin to plaster my face as Bennett eyed me beadily.

‘You donnae give up do ye lad?’ he said grudgingly.

My face twisted in both amusement and aversion.

‘Laddie!?’ I exclaimed in a frenzy of giggles, ‘nay am a wee lass!’

Bennett snorted and his opal-like eyes scrutinized me intensely for several seconds. ‘I wouldnae expect such spirit from a starved wee bairn (2) like you.’

I forced a laugh at this and Bennett glanced at me. He continued to trundle slowly along with me tagging closely to the cart, like an excited puppy.

‘The name is Màiri, I – ‘

But before I could finish my sentence Bennett cut sharply across me, ‘- I’ll remember the name, but stop following me lass otherwise I wannae be careful if Donn here was to crush you.’

He indicated his strapping steed with a casual wave of his arm but I simply continued to hassle him.

‘Still gonnae give me a penny from ye?’ I enquired but before I could press the man any more, a piece of metal collided with my head. It clonked to the floor and I saw it was a penny. Yes, a penny! I became breathless with delight and held it up to examine; the amount was enough to feed me and the lass’ and lads for a week! I stared after him as his cart trundled away through the crowds, disappearing from view.Who would of thought it eh? A wholesome fish with maybe even a full loaf of bread!

As I stood there in the street, consumed by my ecstasy I felt the sharp slap of a hand smack my forehead. The strength of it compelled me to collapse pathetically to the floor and my eyes flew up to see the source of the attacker. A burly lad, spanned with the awkward stature of a teenager, leered down at me and placed one filthy foot on my chest.

‘Gi’ up the penny! ’ he snarled, ‘I saw that man gi’ one to ye, now it’s mine.’

I found myself surveying him with my jaw slightly slacked and the lad laughed cruelly at me. He bent down and wrestled my tiny fist, forcing my spindly fingers to prise open. Eventually they did and he scraped the penny out of my grasp, laughing stupidly as he did so.

I had not even had the chance to scream, or yell but it was too late, the tall lad had run out of view into the bustling Edinburgh crowds. I remember just sitting there in the mud for a few, ringing moments but then, I leapt sprightly to my feet and wandered back to the markets. I was too young back then to ever contemplate on getting the penny back. I even believed that the lad maybe had the right to claim whatever he wanted for he was much older. Nevertheless, new matters would arise and I would no way be able to deal with them if I stewed over the loss of a single penny!

The very next day, and to my utter delight, Bennett entered Edinburgh again and like yesterday I followed his cart closely.

‘Gae morning!’ I sang happily up at him. Predictably Bennett snorted his reply but continued to register me.

‘You haeve a good meal las’ night lassie?’

‘Nay,’ I answered, my tiny childish face crumpling in disappointment as I remembered the penny being stolen, ‘as soon as ye gave me the penny, I was thieved by a fucking, damned ruffian an’ he ran orf with it. But ne’er mind, I managed to get a slice of bread and half a fish wi’ the lads’ n ‘lass’ last night.’

‘You did eh?’

‘Aye, wasnae terribly full though, mind you.’

‘Why?’

‘There be five of us and so we had tae ration out the food carefully.’

‘There are five of ye?’ said Bennett in surprise, showing the first sign of emotion since I met him.

‘Aye,’ I replied darkly, ‘but ne’er mind, we manage.’

Bennett’s face lapsed into its typical impassiveness but he occasionally spared me a few glances as I serenely followed him along.

‘I admit child, you’re a one, have never seen a beggar child keep as optimistic as ye.’

I shrilled with laughter at this remark, ‘life isnae all that bad, if ye have your wits about ye,’

Bennett flashed me a sardonic smile. It curled his lips but strangely he appeared to have the look of a much younger man underneath the austere lines carved into his face,

‘Hop in tae the back,’ he mumbled with a jerk of his thumb.

‘What? Get in tae the back of the cart?’ I asked, speeding along to his level in my renewed excitement.

‘Aye,’ said Bennett, ‘You best dae it soon because I’m going tae forget about you in a moment.’

‘That would be difficult sir.’

In a daze of increasing anticipation and ecstasy stirring inside of me, I hopped nimbly into the back of his cart and hid under the many tied up sacks. The man had not said not to leave, so I believed he wanted me to stay.

It was then, that I learnt the man’s name: Bennett and that he used to be a veteran serving in the Scottish Army, under the rule of the noble Lochlan. But Bennett, fed up of war, gave up his station and decided to become a merchant, a retailer of fine clothes and tartan for the rich folk. He lived, not in the city of Edinburgh itself, but quite a few miles outside it. His house was a small but cosily built into the roots of a small valley, quarter of a mile from a small road, so his buyers and suppliers could reach him. I also learnt that the reason he took me on board was because he needed a “helping hand” but what I could really tell was that, this man wanted the company.

(1)Màiri – Gaelic form of Mary. Pronouced: Mar - Ree