After the noon-meal, the travelers started upon the road. James, the Scottish knight, noticed that two were missing from the ranks and went searching in near woods. There he found Kellieth disheveled beneath the lusting Irish knight.

      Halpert moved with quiet step back toward the road and waited for their approach. First came the knight Howard with satisfied grin and happy gait. “If you seek flesh, hers is tender,” the Irishman offered before setting off to join the pilgrims upon the road.

     Some minutes passed before the tear-stained girl emerged. Without word, Halpert held out flask of liquor that she might calm. Then he lifted her silently into his saddle for her legs were weak.

     He quickly jogged horse that he might catch sight of the band upon the road. Once viewed, he slowed to walk and watched as the Irish knight deigned to join Roy of Nuneaton and Andrew of Warborough.

     Phyllida and Stanley with careful watch made slow progress back to the tall steed of the Scottish knight. James was the first to speak, “We must keep watch. The Irish knight is a rogue.” These words brought tears from Kellieth as she protested her love for the blue-eyed knight.

     Stanley sighed and moved forward without glancing upon the serving wench. Phyllida walked at her side and offered sweetmeats to soothe her tears. The Scottish knight felt most miserable. There was no way this pompous knight would take a simple maid for his goodwife. He had defiled her and left her a whore.

      James looked up to see the Lumberman Stanley pause upon the road to speak with Philomena. In surprise, she looked back into James’ eyes before traveling on to her wretched serving women. She gave Stanley reply afore he moved off to walk between Aethelinda and Anne. They noticed him not for they listened in rapt fascination to Roger Roy’s bold claims of heroic exploit.

     Philomena paused to gather dandelions upon the roadside. When the horse came abreast, she stood and walked alongside, stroking the stallion’s chin groove.

     She looked to Kellieth but spoke in strained voice to the Scottish knight. “Sir, you owe me story. Who is this James the Reever and for why are you named after him?”

      There was small pause as the man searched for the fragments of the story he had contrived. “This tale begins in the Trossachs near Loch Lomond,” Halpert began.

      Immediately he was interrupted by Philmena, “the true-sacks near luke…”

      “The Trossachs being the forest wild near Aberfoyle where I was a bairn. There you can see the proud red deer dart where the gentle roe hides. And Loch Lomond’s fame is widespread. It is a deep Loch. You know of Lochs?” He looked inquiringly across his steed’s muzzle to the English lass.

     “Aye, my mother’s dowry chest has one,” she looked encouragingly at him to continue the story.

     “Och, no. That be a lock. A loch is a…. a pond. But large. Fair large. And deep. Such as….” he could think of no body of water beside stream or pond in his travels to Warborough.

     “Such as the deep ocean,” Philomena finished the description.

      He had not seen the blue sea but felt it served well, “Aye, but with water as fresh as the Avon if twere enclosed by slate and heath.”

     She nodded, pleased that she understood so well a place she had not seen. “And the tro-sacks are a wood full of oaks from which you get your…”

     Here he shook his head fiercely, “Nae, there isna oaks, but beech and ash.”  Philomena fell silent at these words, chastised.

     Discomforted James looked about him for agreeable pardon. “Ach, I have in mind. There are trees similar but not as large or fine as these hereabouts. Oak they may be as well as holly and willow. Warborough is fortunate indeed to have such wealth of lumber.”

     The girl continued to walk downcast. She knew not what slate, heath, loch or trossach were and felt the fool in front of her servants. The Scottish knight scratched neath the horse’s chinstrap that he might place hand near hers.

     He started the story anew, “Upon the road walked James the Reever, descended from the Clans MacGregor and Campbell who ruled that area.” He looked to see if she was listening and could tell not. “There upon the road he met a lone woman, richly habited, who had fled her family’s home.”

    Out of corner of his eye, he saw Philomena look up in interest. His voice improved. “She was sent to Cloister at Brig O Turk. There she had encountered a harper who had seen a wyrm upon Craigmore.” James stopped when he saw her look down again.  “Och, och. I tell this story poorly.”

     They walked on apace as none spoke. The Scottish knight tried once more, “This singer told the woman, richly habited, that as he climbed mountain near Aberfoyle he had seen a giant dragon, a worm of most prodigious size.”

     “A dragon lives near your village truly?” Philomena grabbed his sleeve in worry. The horse sensed her distress and stopped his walk. Phyllida stood with mouth agape at mention of Dragon. Philomena continued, “Mayhaps this beast brings plague to your village. You must…I will tell Roger Roy and the Irish knight Ronald, they will go with you to destroy this…” 

      James grabbed Philomena’s soft hand and brushed it lightly, “The Irish knight Ryan is no match for beast or man. And Roger Roy would not leave his betrothed untended if he be sensible. Nae, listen to the tale of how James the Reever killed the wyrm and brought riches to the village of Aberfoyle.” 

     “Oh!” Philomena removed her hand from his grasp and brought it to her cheek in distress. She had forgotten herself in her worry for his poor stricken Scottish town. “Blessings upon God and I beg pardon for my forwardness.” Phyllida looked from mistress to Kellieth and small look passed between the cook and the serving wench.

      Halpert began to walk again giving her no pardon. The horse lifted hoof following his master’s lead. “The woman, richly habited, removed herself from cloister for she was deeply in love with this harper… singer, Donald of the Campbells. Her family had wished her to wed Roger of the MacGregors but she would have him not.”

       Philomena spoke quietly, to show she was unmoved by the touch of his hand, “Was James the Reever kith or kin to the singer Donald or Roger of the MacGregors?”

        James contemplated aspace and said, “I recollect that he was brother to one and cousin to the other. He was warder of the gate at his Uncle’s fortress near Aberfoyle and had been sent by his cousin, Roger of the MacGregors, to abduct the cloistered girl.”

       “Oh, tis dreadful! He has caught her unawares upon the road!” The ladies looked fearfully up and down the road and into shadows of the forest to spy out if similar villains did lurk.

       “Fear not, good ladies. For Roy…Roger of the MacGregors knew not that his cousin, James the Reever, had sworn upon the altar that as long as one stone remained upon another of the walls of the Kirk…of the Church of Aberfoyle, he would himself wed the woman.”

       Philomena looked at the Scottish knight in surprise, “Oh! She must have been a very beauteous woman to inspire such men!” Phyllida nodded in agreement.

      “Indeed she was. She was a quick wit, and yet, most humble. And pleasing in voice. And gentle. She was a lady of most high degree,” Halpert looked away into forest to control his glances. Kellieth gave slight kick to draw Phyllida’s eye. Each arched an eye at other and looked in Philomena’s direction.

      “But had she no retinue upon the road? How comes she to be alone in the wilds of Truch…” Philomena faltered. 

       James quickly spoke, “Trossachs, aye. The harper.. singer Donald Campbell had devised ruse. He used cantrip to cast a spell upon her. First, he cut a lock of her auburn hair and then he cut her palm to make pledge. With droplets of her blood he soaked the lock of her hair. Once done he gave her potion which made her a young squire. To James the Reever she looked a nine year old boy.”

       Philomena exclaimed, “Ah! Most wondrous! Be a harper a form of magician?”

       The Scottish knight thought it best to let the definition pass, “So some say. He can cast small magic. Now with the blood-stained locks, the harper left the woman at Cloister bidding her to hie to Aberfoyle while he rode to the Fortress of his cousins the MacGregors.”

        James glanced Philomena’s direction to see if she followed and was enboldened upon seeing her devoted eye, “Once reached, he cried ‘Alas, Alackaday, your love has been eaten by the Wyrm of Craigmore!’ Er…‘the Dragon of the Mountain Crags!’ All the while the wily harper planned to meet his love upon Aberfoyle Green and marry her at the Kirk…church while all mourned her death at the Cloister in Brig O Turk.”

       Once more, Philomena stopped in the road with distressed look, “But why did the harper not bring his love with him to the Fortress?  Why did she walk so unprotected when a prodigious dragon lay so near? He seems not a….”

       James looked upon Philomena with such approval that she did blush, “Oh, he was daft. Foolish in love, and foolish in life. He knew small spell but not small wisdom. He had left her to find her way to Aberfoyle alone for he had but one horse and wished to hurry his step.”

        Philomena drew disgusted face at this news, “And how did the lady feel of this treatment?”

        “She was sore angry. She liked not the thistles upon her cloak, nor the pebbles neath her thin slippers.” The Scottish knight looked down upon Philomena’s sturdy boots which she immediately hid from sight.

         He smiled and continued on, “When she met James the Reever upon the road, she told him of the Wyrm… dragon…forgetting that she was a boy and hoping that he might protect her. She was sore glad to see that he wished to kill the dragon to show his courage to the countryside. But rued her words when he commanded her to be his squire in the hunt.”

         Philomena drew in breath, “Oooh, what could she say? She had the look of squire. What could she say?”

        Kellieth and Phyllida had long since lost thread of story for they were fixated upon the glances and gestures of the two a-courting before them. Phyllida oft looked forward to see if Roy of Nuneaton’s jealous eyes looked back for his betrothed. She was glad, yet angry, yet scared, that his eyes did not.

       “Aye, there was nothing she could say. So she joined him as he climbed the Crags. As they climbed, James the Reever told her of the treasures they would find. He promised 1/10th tithe to the church, 1/10th tithe to the Laird, 1/10th prize to the squire, and one half to his true love.” Halpert looked meaningfully down in to Philomena’s sparkling eyes.

       She whispered, “Did she know that she was his true love?”

      “Soon she did for she asked of whom they ventured so much for. When he described her many charms, the lady knew her name and was most honoured,” James whispered back.

      Philomena said nothing as she looked down the road in dreamy fashion. He bent closer that he might speak in lower voice, “And she watched James the Reever kill the Craigmore Wyrm with his great two-handed sword.”

       Philomena looked up into the knight’s green eyes and asked, “Was there great treasure?”

       “More than maiden can dream. A dragon’s trove. And that night when the spell was broken, the lady and the Reever did marry in the Kirk of Aberfoyle while the Harper Donald seethed.” James looked happily down the road. “With his riches, the Reever settled in Aberfoyle with wife and became Laird of the land. It is said they had seventeen children who never knew want or care.”

       Philomena sighed in pleasure. Phyllida and Kellieth gave knowing looks and commended the story. As James looked with pleasure upon Philomena’s contented face, he heard not Kellieth’s question, “But what of the poor harper, Ronald of Campbell? Whom did he marry and how did they fare? Had the beauteous maiden a servant that he took fancy to?”