The Beauty of the Mist (39 page)

John looked from face to face.

“It is all a lie,” he responded simply.

With a satisfied look at Lindsay, Ross turned to Ambrose Macpherson, who had been standing quietly against the hearth, his arms crossed over a massive chest. “And you, Ambrose? What do you say?”

“John’s right. It’s a scheme,” Ambrose pronounced with the utmost confidence. “Angus and his Douglas clan will never willingly relinquish their rule over the King...or over Scotland.”

“If we accept your view,” Lindsay put in, “what we are to do? We’ve tried to push Angus before, and he’s been more than ready to crush all opposition. We had six thousand men at Linlithgow only a year ago. We thought we’d free King James for certain then. I don’t have to remind you of the price we paid? I don’t have to name the good men who were hung and quartered at his order?”

The man held out his hands to the others. Their faces grew dark with the memory of Angus’s brutal retribution. John could hear the note of frustration in Lindsay’s voice as the earl continued.

“And naught is changed for the better, as I see it. He still has the King, and now he has the Holy Roman Emperor’s sister to be Queen. With James under lock and key, and this woman, Mary of Hungary, on the throne giving him support, who knows what will become of Scotland.” The other men murmured their assent. “Aye. For that matter, who knows when Charles’s troops will be pouring in.”

“They’ll be pouring in right after the wedding.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Ambrose Macpherson, including John’s. Ambrose straightened up and took a step forward.

“But at last we have something in our favor,” he announced, putting a hand on Lindsay’s shoulder. “We have a future Queen who has taken our side.”

John watched in silence, his jaws clamped shut and his mind a whirl of confusion as he waited for his brother to continue. The gathering suddenly grew animated, firing their questions at Ambrose.

“Aye, it’s true,” Ambrose said, waving them off. “My wife, Elizabeth, met with the Queen yesterday at the Abbey of Holyrood. And the subject of their chat was not painting her wedding portrait as Angus’s message had conveyed. Maria Habsburg only used that as a ploy to get a message to us.”

Everyone started at once. John kept his silence. Was this another one of her ploys? Should he tell them she could not be trusted...whatever she said? Should he tell them of...everything? John pondered his brother’s words. What if she truly was willing to help them?

“Quiet, friends,” Ambrose shouted over them. “Do you want them to hear us all the way to Edinburgh?”

“To start with, Ambrose, I’m a wee bit surprised that Elizabeth and the emperor’s sister could get along!” Colin Campbell stated. “After all, isn’t Henry of England trying to divorce Catherine of Aragon–this Mary of Hungary’s aunt–so that he can marry Anne Boleyn–Elizabeth’s sister?”

“Let me put it this way,” Ambrose answered. “Elizabeth went to Holyrood Abbey not expecting much. But when she returned, Elizabeth felt quite differently about Maria Habsburg. My wife told me that the Queen’s opinion of the English business is very much the same as her own. And apparently, neither felt compelled to defend or condemn the actions of their family.”

Alec Macpherson’s impatience began to show. “Then tell us the gist of their exchange. What did she convey that we don’t already know?”

“She told Elizabeth that Angus is making a deal for the Holy Roman Emperor to supply him with troops immediately after the wedding. She also told her that the Lord Chancellor admits to his intention of keeping James under lock and key–in spite of his pledge to the King.”

“We speculated as much, ourselves,” Huntly put in.

“Aye, but there is more,” Ambrose continued. “Maria Habsburg has a plan.”

John couldn’t remain silent any longer. “What are her motives for wanting to help us? What does she hope to gain?”

Everyone’s eyes turned on him.

“You know her, certainly better than any of us,” Alec answered bluntly. “Considering that you plucked the woman out of the sea, you’ve had more opportunity to spend time in her company than Elizabeth. Did you see anything in her behavior that bespoke what sounds like defiance to her brother’s plans? Is this Maria a Habsburg only in blood and not in soul?”

She was looking forward this wedding. She had been on her way to see to her ailing mother when her ship had sunk. The Emperor had spoken these words directly to John.

“There was naught that I witnessed between the Emperor and his sister that bespoke enmity between them.”

“John has a right to be concerned,” Colin interjected. “We are ready to barter, but we know naught of her price.”

“Aye, we can’t see in the fog,” Huntly agreed. “She is a Habsburg. I am willing to wager that we cannot afford her price!”

The others began to murmur their own concerns.

“In league with us before the wedding,” Huntly continued, “is no assurance that she will remain friendly once she is Queen of Scotland. With Angus gone, there is very little to stop her...”

“Not to fast, m’lord.” Ambrose raised a hand. “Aye, Lord Huntly, you are correct to assume that she is after gain. And Colin, you too are correct to assume that there is a price to be paid. But I firmly believe that what she is after has naught to do with controlling Scotland. I also believe that her plan for rescuing the king places her in as much risk as it does any of us. Perhaps more.”

John’s hard gaze fell on his brother, and his tone was severe. “What is she after, Ambrose?”

“Though I know, I cannot tell you any more of that than I already have.”

“We can’t bargain when she is holding back the truth,” John pressed.

“She has spoken the truth.” The two brothers glared at one another. “And she wishes to keep her intentions private.”

In the awkward pause that ensued, John wondered briefly whether Ambrose knew of their affair. Nay, he decided. She would not undercut her own position with such an admission.

“Then tell us of her scheme, Ambrose,” Huntly encouraged. “There is very little time to raise an army, but with the planting still a few weeks off, we might still do it.”

“Her plan does not call for any army of warriors,” Ambrose answered, turning to him. “Not for rescuing the King, at any rate.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lord Lindsay asked. “How could that be possible? Angus has the Palace at Falkland protected by a hundred cannons and the devil only knows how many men. How could we break through that without a massive force?”

“Let me tell you her plan.” As Ambrose motioned for all to gather around a table by a window, John remained where he stood, Maria’s face before him. What she intended, suddenly he couldn’t be sure of. What did Ambrose mean when he said that her price had nothing to do with the control of Scotland? And how did Kit’s welfare fit into her plan? What of their marriage?

And Ambrose had the answers, John could tell, glancing at his waiting brother. But knowing him, John was also certain that Ambrose would never reveal the truth until Maria herself stepped out of the mist.

Jedburgh Abbey, The Borders

Dismissing the wine-sodden physician with a wave of his hand, the Earl of Angus sank heavily into the hard wooden chair and picked up Caroline Maule’s letter once again.

As much as he detested the miserable wretch, Angus saw little reason to doubt the physician’s half-hearted support of his cousin’s accusations. Perhaps there was something to her letter, he mused.

Nay, it’s absurd, he thought, arguing with himself. When he’d first read her letter, Angus had first dismissed it as the work of a jealous woman. He knew, as well as anyone, that Caroline had set her cap on John Macpherson. When Angus had heard of her marriage to Thomas Maule, he knew it was no love match, but with the Borders in tumult and so many of the nobles once again in near open revolt, the Lord Chancellor had more important matters than the marital affairs of his cousins to concern him.

But this letter had the definite sound of a woman scorned. To say that Sir John had knowingly seduced Mary of Hungary was preposterous. Angus had spoken with the Habsburg queen himself. Aye, she was bonny enough for the Lord of the Navy, but she was just a simple and agreeable lass. There was nothing deep about the woman, at all, so far as he could see. Nay, she wasn’t capable of conspiring with John Macpherson and keeping it so well hidden. And she was safe enough in Edinburgh.

Angus read through the letter again. Lingering over Caroline’s warning that Sir John was not to be trusted, he considered the order he’d already issued for the man to convey the King to Edinburgh. True, he was to be accompanied by 500 Douglas warriors, but...

He shook his head. In two more weeks of hard driving, he’d have these Border rabble under control. A few more key hangings, a burned village or two, and he could move the bulk of his army north. But if the King were not to reach Edinburgh–if Caroline’s predictions came true–then all would be lost.

Throwing the letter down, the Lord Chancellor leaped from his chair. He was not going to take any chances. If John Macpherson, Angus thought with a sneer, had any idea of hindering the wedding of King Jamie and the Habsburg wench, then he’d personally see to it that the commander’s head would decorate a pike at the wedding feast.

Striding out onto the landing outside his chamber, Angus began to bark orders at his waiting attendants.

“Get a messenger to Edinburgh Castle. I want Sir Thomas Maule to take a thousand men to Falkland Palace, and I want them there NOW!” He turned on his heel. “And get a cleric in here to write the message. I want no confusion over what I want done.”

The Abbey of Holyrood

For the past five days, every day, she had written a letter.

Quickly learning her habit, the Abbot, on the orders of Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, made certain that every morning a messenger waited at her door, while two more stood with their horses in the courtyard. Long before the monks filed in for their prayers at prime, three men spurred their horses out of the Abbey gates, carrying with them a sealed parchment from their future Queen to their King.

Maria placed her quill pen into its inkhorn and blew on the ink on the parchment before folding the letter. Another day, another letter, and still no sign of any movement. There were so few days left, and she wondered when exactly they were planning on carrying out her plan. It had to work. Maria’s own distress over an unhappy future was nothing compared to the life of imprisonment James would face if he could not be freed from Angus’s clutches before this dreaded wedding took place. And after the wedding, Scotland would soon bend to the dominating power of the Emperor Charles. This was their last and only chance.

Maria had met with Elizabeth every day for the past week and knew from her new friend that her first letter had been delivered into James’s hand with no difficulty. Angus’s armed warriors, encamped in the land around Falkland Palace were accustomed to correspondence between the young king and the outside world. Hearing this, Maria breathed a sigh of relief. She’d desperately hoped they would not suspect three innocuous messengers arriving daily at the Palace.

Maria held the sealing wax over the wick lamp on her desk and allowed it to drip onto the folded parchment. Removing her ring from around her neck, she sealed the letter.

“Come in,” she called. As the door to the chamber swung open, she whispered, “Just in time.”

Blowing onto the wax, she glanced at another letter that sat in the corner of her writing table–a letter she was almost finished with. The one she had written and rewritten...to John. But as she gazed sadly at the lines, she wondered if she would ever find the courage to give it to him. Even if she did, though, would he ever find enough forgiveness in his heart to read it. She pushed the letter carefully into the corner.

Rising from her seat, Maria pulled her shawl tighter around her neck and picked up the sealed letter. She turned to the man.

“Please thank your fellow riders for me.” She came to a stop, realizing the hunched and brawny messenger had not even stepped into the chamber. The hood of his cloak kept the man’s face in shadow.

The Highlander’s heart thundered in his chest as he watched her from the chamber door. He wanted to hate her, to remember her by her ambition, by her deceit. But seeing her sitting quietly at her desk, unadorned and demure, the picture of innocence and beauty, his heart leaped to her defense against all reason.

After this woman had left him, to John she had become the queen of darkness, the mistress of deception, a fiend to elude. But now, as she glided to within a few steps of him, her white veil covering her glorious hair, her simple blue dress hiding her angelic beauty, he could not believe her anything but Purity itself. He looked down, not daring to gaze on her for long. She was to be his Queen, he reminded himself. And he was here on a mission to save his King. He had lost his heart to her once, drowning in the depths of her emerald green eyes. He would not tempt his resolve. He knew he could not risk it.

“Aye, your grace,” he whispered in a low, raspy tone that he hoped would hide his true identity as he reached for the letter.

Maria took a hesitant step toward him, then her heart leapt in her chest. His powerful arm, the callused hands. Sailor’s hands, he’d called them. Her body thrilled as she looked on the rough fingers that had so gently caressed her and loved her. Her eyes drifted up the tall frame to the face still hidden in shadow. As she looked at the Highlander, a sharp pain pierced her heart, driving out all emotions except fear.

“Why? Why does it have to be you?” Her strained whisper reflected the full realization of what she had proposed. A castle full of soldiers, a few men breaking in to carry out a plan that an army of thousands could not do. “Why can’t they send someone else?”

John swore under his breath and backed up a pace. He should have allowed one of the other men to come up and get her letter, but his stubbornness had bested him. He had wanted to look upon her face one last time. He had wanted to remind himself of the reason for his anger. What he had not expected was to be overwhelmed by the innocence of her beauty. And he had hoped to avoid being recognized.