Rivals for the Crown by Kathleen Givens

did not stay in Edinburgh long and soon were on the road again, far from alone. They rode south with a steady stream of travelers, arriving on the bank of the River Tweed opposite Berwick late on the afternoon of a grey November day. The city had an interesting history. It had originally been Scottish, then had been granted to England's Henry II as part of the ransom paid by Scotland's imprisoned King William the Lion for his freedom. Richard I of England sold it back to the Scots to raise money for his Crusade, and England's King John destroyed it in 1216. Berwick had survived the changes and had thrived despite them.
    Rory had no trouble finding a ferryman to take them across the estuary to the city itself, and before long he and Kieran were on the flat barge, looking around them with interest as the ferryman navigated the current. Berwick harbour was filled with watercraft of all sorts, small fishing boats moored alongside merchant ships from the Continent. English galleys bobbed next to long ships . Coracles and ferries competed for passengers who crossed the estuary like insects on new growth. There did not seem to be any pattern: there were as many leaving as arriving. Rory's first task was finding a place for them to sleep.
    "D'ye ken a good inn for us, sir?" Rory asked the ferryman.
    The man snorted. "For the two of ye? Down by the water, just within the city, there are places that will house ye. And women willing enough there to serve ye whatever ye desire. Even Highlanders."
    "What?" Kieran asked indignantly.
    "Even Highlanders?" Rory asked the ferryman mildly. "They're that undemanding?"
    The man laughed. "Your kind is not always welcome in the south, but Berwick has very few scruples about its visitors. If ye stay peaceful ye'll do well."
    "We're here to do business, not cause trouble."
    "Then ye'll do just fine. Berwick understands making money." He slanted a look at Kieran, then at Rory. "Young to be merchants."
    "We're not merchants. Any advice for dealing with them?"
    "Don't let them know you're Highlanders. Change out of your Highland clothing and talk proper Scots, not Gaelic, and ye won't be taken advantage of."
    "We're not idiots," Kieran said.
    The ferryman gave him a long, appraising look. "Ye asked for advice. I gave it. If ye act like that ye'll just convince everyone that what they've heard, that Highlanders are akin to savages, is correct."
    "Is that what ye think?" Rory asked.
    "I don't think. If the coin is genuine, I ferry them across. If not, I don't."
    "Fair enough," Rory said, and the ferryman laughed.
    They were silent the rest of the trip, but as they climbed the hill, Kieran complained about the ferryman's remarks. Rory shook his head.
    "Let it go. Ye'll be starting that war we were discussing all by yerself."
    "Did ye hear what he said about Highlanders?"
    "Aye. They think we're barbarians. They ken us for what we are as soon as they look at us. See anyone dressed as we are?"
    The differences were notable. The citizens of Berwick wore long, dark tunics and leggings, or long, dark robes with under robes of a contrasting color. Their cloaks were often unlined, or lined with the softest wool. Rory and Kieran wore saffron-colored heavy linen tunics over knitted trews. Their cloaks were long, dark and lined with fur, and over that, tossed over a shoulder, was the plaid length of wool every Highlander knew, dyed with the plants of their homes. Their hair was different as well, braided away from their faces and loose down their backs, whereas the townsmen's hair was cut shorter or hidden under felt caps. The only similarity was their boots, all of leather, most with a low heel.
    "Aye, but look around us," Kieran said. "There are people here from all over, and far more outlandishly dressed than we are."
    He was right. There were visitors from many places—Italians wearing silk and brighter colors, Norsemen bedecked with furs and gold, dark-skinned Spanish moors, soberly but finely dressed burghers