Stories submitted by: The Order Archive - Brother Rowan

Editor’s Note: The following account has been preserved from the Order’s archives. Some minor adjustments to wording have been made for modern readability, but the spirit and substance of the original telling remain unchanged.

You’ve heard the stories, aye? How the nineteenth spread from St Andrews to Edinburgh, Musselburgh, and beyond? They say it was fate. I say it was me. And one night, it almost cost me everything.

Edinburgh, 1792. Bruntsfield was buzzing with merchants and lawyers, Musselburgh with fishwives who swung a club as boldly as any laird. I played a few holes in each town, but my real game began after the last putt. The taverns were my fairways. The landlords, my caddies.

I taught them the phrase: “Have you finished your round?” That was the key. A merchant in Edinburgh hears it, and suddenly he’s buying a drink for a man who will change his fortune. A club-maker in Musselburgh hears it, and a caddie gets his chance. I stitched Scotland together with ale and whispers. No charter, no committee, just doors that opened when the right words were spoken.

For years, it worked. Quiet as smoke, strong as oak. Then came the night at Golfhall. A young lawyer, drunk on victory and whisky, decided to boast. He told the room about the secret phrase, the hidden network, the way I could make a man’s troubles vanish with a nod.

The room went silent. Then the questions came. Who else knew? What deals had been struck? Accusations flew like sparks from the hearth. I thought the whole map would burn.

I stood, raised my glass, and said, “Gentlemen, the only secret worth keeping is the one you share tonight.” Then I bought the next round. Laughter returned, grudges softened, and by dawn the network was safe.

I thought I was building a chain of inns. I didn’t know I was weaving a legend. They call it tradition now. Back then, it was just a phrase and a promise.

So drink to me, lads. To the night the map almost unraveled, and the man who held it together with nothing but ale and nerve.