The Border Vixen (24 page)

“Ye did, my lord,” Lord Stewart agreed, and drew Maggie to his side.

“My lord,” Janet spoke up bravely, “there is one bit of unfinished business between us that should be concluded now. ’Tis why I have invaded yer privacy. ’Tis our daughter’s care about which I speak.”

“Ah,” the king replied, understanding.

“I have a solution, my lord, that with yer permission would solve the matter quickly and fairly: Give the income that is yers and comes from the tolls collected from Aisir nam Breug to Margaret, yer daughter. It really costs ye naught as ye will only receive the first of this tribute in November of this year.” Janet looked hopefully at the king. “Ye’ve never had this income, so ye really lose nothing.”

A small smile touched the king’s lips. “Yer clever,” he said, but then he looked to Fingal Stewart. “Will ye agree to this arrangement, my lord?” he asked him.

“There must be conditions,” Fin said slowly, ignoring Janet’s gasp of surprise.

“Half of yer portion of the tolls will be used for yer daughter’s yearly maintenance. The other half will be deposited with the Kira’s bank here in Edinburgh. Those monies reserved will serve as Lady Margaret Stewart’s dower portion. The arrangement to cease upon her marriage. Should she die before that time, the coin held by the Kiras will be returned to the royal treasury. The arrangement between the royal Stewarts and the Kerrs of Brae Aisir will be concluded for good and all at that time.”

“ ’Tis well thought out, my lord,” the king said. “Ye have managed to find a way to regain full control of the Aisir nam Breug one day, Fingal. Well done! And ’twill serve my daughter’s interest too. She will have a comfortable income and an excellent dower eventually. I will agree to it, as I am certain Lord Tweed and his wife will too.” The cold gray eyes turned to look directly at Janet Munro.

“I agree, my lord,” Matthew Baird said. “I would be content if all the monies were set aside for Margaret’s dower.”

“ ’Tis generous, my lord,” the king remarked, “but I look after my own. Allen MacCullough will see to the arrangement, and I will sign it immediately so ye may all return home knowing the matter is settled. Now I must leave ye, for the queen may be awake again.” He dismissed them, but not before taking Maggie by her shoulders and kissing her on both cheeks. “Farewell, madam. I shall always remember your kind heart.” Then James Stewart was gone from the chamber.

“Ye might have told me what ye planned,
Cousin
,” Janet Munro said sharply.

“Yer daughter needs an income and a dower,” Fin said. “I helped ye to see that she got it. But the Aisir nam Breug must have one master in Scotland, and not be passed to a second family and then another and another as these lasses wed. The traverse belongs to the Kerr-Stewarts of Brae Aisir and the Netherdale Kerrs. Now we both have what we need, Janet. Be satisfied with what ye have gotten.”

“If I had known ye were so damned clever, I would have considered another kinsman for Brae Aisir,” Janet said.

Fin laughed. “He wouldn’t have been as strong as I am,” he boasted. “Nor could he have outrun, outridden, or outfought her.”

Janet sniffed, but Maggie was near to laughing. What a wonderfully clever husband her man was. The Kerr-Stewarts of Brae Aisir. She liked the very sound of it, and she knew her grandsire would too. They returned to the antechamber to wait some more. Finally as the early sun began to stain the horizon, Allen MacCullough came into the waiting chamber with two parchments.

“Can any of ye read?” he asked, and when they all nodded he said, “Read the agreement, and then ye will sign them.”

The chamber grew silent as the agreements were read over. Finally they were ready to sign. A page had come into the room carrying a tray with quills, ink, sealing wax, and the king’s seal. Fingal Stewart and Matthew Baird signed the agreements as well as a third copy for the royal records. The king’s signature had already been written.

The secretary poured a bit of sealing wax on each parchment, stamping the royal seal into the red mass. When all three parchments had been signed and sealed, he rolled them one by one, tying each roll with a thin black cord.

Allen MacCullough put one of the rolls upon the tray, and the page trotted off.

Then he handed the other two copies to each of the two gentlemen. “This business is now concluded, my lords, my ladies. Ye are free to depart the castle. I have already called for yer horses. They await ye in the courtyard. Good day to ye.” He turned and left them.

“A very efficient fellow,” Lord Tweed noted. “Why did he owe ye a favor, Jan?”

“I saved his life,” she said. “But the debt between us is now paid.”

“If we had not been up for a full day and a full night,” Maggie remarked, “I’d be ready to leave for the Borders this morning, but I am so tired that all I want is my bed right now. And a good meal.”

Her companions agreed. They departed the royal apartments, hurrying to find their horses waiting for them as promised. They made their way from the craggy mount upon which the great castle was situated, and back into the town. At an inn called the Thistle and the Rose they stopped to eat a meal. Seated in a corner of the establishment, Maggie was fascinated to see the different people who came into the inn for food, lodging, and drink. It was her first time in the city, and she was amazed by it all.

They ordered and were served eggs poached in Marsala wine, creamed cod, ham, bacon, oat stir-about with cinnamon, fresh warm bread, cheese, butter, and plum jam. Janet Munro was astounded by the amount of food that Maggie managed to eat. She had never seen a woman eat so much nor one who ate with such relish. She didn’t know if she felt admiration or shock at her cousin’s young wife.

When they had finished their meal, they departed for Lord Stewart’s house where Fingal Stewart told his cousin, and her husband, “Stay as long as you wish, but know that Master Boyle, my agent, has two bishops coming next week on a Tuesday, as I let the house out when I am not here. Maggie and I will leave after we have rested a bit. I don’t like leaving Dugald alone for too long. It isn’t safe.”

“I thank ye for the invitation,” Matthew Baird said, “but I know Jan wants to get home to little Margaret. We’ll depart on the morrow. I thank ye for yer aid.”

“Aye, Fingal, thank ye,” Janet Munro said. “Even if yer too clever for me by far.”

Lord Stewart laughed. “Fair is fair, Cousin.” He kissed her cheek. “Travel safely,” he told her. Then he joined Maggie upstairs where she was awaiting him.

His wife flung herself into his arms as he entered their bedchamber. She kissed him heartily. “Thank ye! Thank ye!” she said to him.

“For what?” he asked, his arms going about her.

“For regaining what was ours,” she told him. “Ye are surely the cleverest man alive, Fingal Stewart. My grandsire will be very pleased.”

“It is only ours again when little Lady Margaret Stewart weds, love,” he reminded her. “Until then the king’s third is hers, half to her dower, the other half to maintain her.”

“But then it is ours again with no interference,” Maggie said.

“They have no say in how we manage the Aisir nam Breug, but I will tell you truly that I am glad to have James Stewart’s fingers out of our pie,” Fin said. “Janet will be content as long as her daughter’s share is paid in a timely manner, which I will be certain to do, Maggie mine. Now, let us get to bed, for even I will admit to being tired. If we awaken before dark, then we shall be on our way this very day. I am eager to return home to tell Dugald of what has transpired.”

They slept until four in the afternoon, but it was high summer, and the sun would not set before midevening. Archie and Grizel having kept reasonable hours, and having been advised by their master, had them ready to depart. By five o’clock they were riding from the town, and on the road to the Borders. They rode until it was almost dark, and after asking shelter of a cottager, slept in his barn for a few hours until the light came again a little after three in the morning. Maggie wasn’t unhappy to eat the hard oatcakes and cheese they carried, for she was as eager as her husband to reach home.

Their journey to Edinburgh had taken almost three days’ riding in a leisurely fashion with several stops each day. But with hard riding, they reached Brae Aisir just as the dark fell the next evening. Going through the village, Maggie felt contentment at the sight of the lights burning in the cottages and some of the clan folk seated outside gossiping in the mild night air. They had sent a man ahead to advise the keep of their arrival, for the drawbridge had already been raised for the night. But as they rode up the hill road, it was slowly lowered, creaking and groaning mightily until it fell into place across the moat. Their horses clomped across the wooden bridge and into the courtyard.

Dugald Kerr was awaiting them. “Welcome home!” he greeted them.

Maggie jumped from her horse’s back and ran to him. “Grandsire, wait until ye hear of our adventures! Fin is the cleverest man alive and has done the Kerr-Stewarts a great service.
Kerr-Stewart!
Is not the sound of it grand? That’s what Fin called us in the king’s presence.” She hugged him, kissing his rough cheek. “Tell me that ye like it.”

“I do. I do!” the laird told her. “But come into the hall now so ye may tell me everything that transpired. Ye look tired, Maggie.”

“I am, but it doesn’t matter. I am so glad to be home, Grandsire!”

Learning they had eaten little since their departure from Edinburgh, Busby, the majordomo, saw that plates containing bread with cheese and meat were brought into the hall along with wine. Grizel and Archie had already disappeared, leaving Maggie in the hall with her husband and her grandfather. Dugald Kerr listened as Maggie recited the news of their adventures.

“Ye didn’t see the queen?” he asked.

Maggie shook her head. “Only King James, and he looks so sad.”

“Yer granddaughter touched the royal heart by weeping and declaring that the queen’s condition was not fair,” Fin told the laird. “I never knew James could be touched, but he was. I think she may have gained favor with him, which may be to our advantage one day.”

“I didn’t do it for that!” Maggie declared vehemently.

“I know, but I also know the king’s reputation. He doesn’t forget a fault or a slight, but he also remembers a kindness. I imagine all about him have been declaring their false sympathy while at the same time slyly seeking his opinion on the sort of new wife he would like. Courtiers say what they know is expected of them in order to gain grace and favor. Maggie, however, just ushered into the king’s presence for the first time, wept for a king she didn’t know, and a queen she will never know. Her sweetness reached out to him. When we departed the castle, he kissed her on both cheeks,” Fin told the laird. Then he turned to his young wife. “Someday ye may need a favor from the king, Maggie mine. I suspect he will remember ye and grant it.”

The laird nodded. “Aye, ’tis possible he will.”

“I want nothing from the king,” Maggie declared.

“Ye may one day, and if not for yerself, for one of yer bairns,” Dugald Kerr remarked sagely. “Having yer king’s favor is nae a bad thing, lass.” He looked to Fin. “Ye did well, my lord. I am now more convinced than ever that ye will be a good master for Brae Aisir, and our clan folk. Regaining our full rights when the king’s daughter marries one day was extremely clever. And now that all is settled, I should like ye both to work harder on giving me a great-grandson. I am not young and cannot live forever.” He sighed, and then seemed overcome by a bout of severe lassitude.

Fin wanted to laugh, especially as Maggie flew to her grandfather’s side. The laird was a sly old man determined to gain his way in this matter. Fingal Stewart suspected Dugald Kerr was going to live for many a long year. He kept his thoughts to himself, instead saying he thought it was time for them to retire for the night given the lack of sleep they had suffered over the past few days. The laird heartily agreed, and so Fin took his wife to bed in order that they might do their duty by Brae Aisir.

In mid-July, a royal messenger rode to the Borders announcing the death of Queen Madeleine on the seventh day of the month. She had died in the king’s arms, the messenger confided, on the night he spent in the hall at Brae Aisir. Madeleine de Valois had been a month shy of her seventeenth birthday. They had buried her at Holyrood Abbey next to the palace of the same name where James Stewart had so desperately wanted to bring his bride. The king was in deepest mourning now, and he would speak with no one other than his confessor. But the hunt had begun for a new queen. The king was twenty-five years old, and while he had no shortage of children—six sons and two daughters—he had no legitimate heirs. A new queen was needed as quickly as she could be found, and once again the hunt turned to France. It was important to maintain the French and Scots alliance against the English. There was only one woman whose birth and breeding made her suitable to be James Stewart’s queen. He had considered her previously. It was the beautiful widowed Duchess de Longueville, Marie de Guise, who had birthed two sons for her deceased husband. The Scots diplomatic mission set forth to France.

But Henry Tudor, having divorced one wife, and beheaded a second, had just lost his third queen, Jane Seymour, to a childbed fever. In the market for a fourth bride, he sought to block his nephew from obtaining an important French wife. The English ambassador set forth to press King Henry’s suit for Marie de Guise’s hand. Still in mourning for her husband, the lady was not pleased by either suit. England’s, however, she dismissed immediately.

“I may be a large woman,” she was overheard saying, “but I have a little neck.”

Similar reactions came from other noble ladies being considered by King Henry.

French king François I did approve of a union between the duchess and James Stewart. He sent to the duc de Guise saying he wanted a match between the Scots king and the duc’s widowed daughter. Marie de Guise was distressed by the news. She was not against remarrying, but the thought of leaving her country was not pleasing to her. And there was the matter of her sons, who would have to remain at Longueville as they were their father’s heirs.