ALISDAIR. Why not try and take it in fair fight.

BIG JAMES. ’Stead of weaseling it out of us with laws.

MURDAC. Big James, be quiet!

JAMES. You will pay her restitution.

WALTER. Make me.

JAMES. Fine. We’ll do it that way.

JAMES launches himself at WALTER. They wrestle. BIG

JAMES. Salup!

ALISDAIR. Christ, Walter, get him, get him!

BIG JAMES. He’s got nothing, Walter! Finish him!

JAMES pins WALTER.

(Surprised.) Oh, hullo!

JAMES has beaten WALTER.

JAMES (to WALTER). You are bound by the laws of this country!

You have to keep that law as much as the poorest beggar hiding in your barns. Do you hear me!?

WALTER. Oh, I hear you. I hear you.

JAMES. Will you pay the woman restitution?

MURDAC. He will.

ISABELLA. No, not our land…

MURDAC (cutting her off). He will! Walter!

WALTER. Aye. I’ll pay her.

JAMES. Then here’s my hand.

JAMES helps WALTER up, WALTER grips him and pulls him close.

WALTER. King Henry’s prisoner. Not my King. Not my fucking King!

MURDAC. Get him away from here! Get away from here, all of you!

The Stewart brothers look at him a moment.

ALISDAIR. Papa’s not happy, Big James.

BIG JAMES. Tant pis.

They exit.

ISABELLA. All I’m saying… she could be annoying, that Ada Stewart.

MURDAC. Isabella, just don’t!

ISABELLA. Murdac! We are not giving up one spade of our earth! He’s not having our land! Never!

MURDAC. Get out of here! Before I… get out!

ISABELLA exits. MURDAC looks at JAMES. A bell sounds off, distant.

JAMES. It’s time for the afternoon session of parliament.

MURDAC is still stuck.

Tell them I’m on my way.

MURDAC slowly exits. JAMES is getting himself together. MEG helps him.

I could take him now.

MEG. Who?

JAMES. King Henry.

You see that? I win an argument and I win a fight and she doesn’t even see it.

MEG. I’ll tell her.

JAMES (bitter). Aye. You woo her for me, Meg. That’ll work. Nothing else has.

JAMES exits. After a moment MEG follows. As soon as she’s gone BALVENIE starts helping himself to cakes.

JOAN enters, BALVENIE startles and drops all the cakes.

BALVENIE. Oh Christ. They can make more though, eh?

JOAN. There’s no time. They need a slow oven.

BALVENIE groans in frustration. He starts beating his own head.

BALVENIE. Aaaaaaach! You stupid greedy lump, Douglas.

God I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

JOAN. You think I care? I just came for the onions.

She starts eating them.

BALVENIE. The thing is… I never get any. Those bastards above me on this table never pass them down.

It hurts me to watch them. They shovel in… (Searches for word.) ambrosia… like this and never even taste it. They don’t care what they put in their mouths, all they care about’s the booze. And they won’t even pass me crumbs. You had nutmeg put in those, didn’t you?

JOAN. And white cheese.

BALVENIE. Was that it? Man, that’s genius! Makes them moist as Italian peaches. Now there’s a taste of heaven, have you ever had one of those?