I boarded the ferry leaving the mainland behind, my steed took the opportunity to cool down. I inspected my fellow travellers. They ignored me for my travel worn appearance belied my station. At the Castle they would have a shock when their laird turned up.
Last year my first officer thought to consign me to the bottom of the ocean as my ship sank.
Perhaps my trusted lady would have the biggest shock, as my claymore sliced her and him: her lover in half.
Later I would introduce the poor child who had saved me, her child would ensure me of a strong heir.
Footnote: When I first saw this prompt my muse failed to respond, so instead I started to write a record of a holiday trip to the Island of Arran in 1975. I needn’t have worried my holiday record transformed itself into this story!!!