The Border Vixen (27 page)

The cathedral was the most magnificent church Maggie had ever seen or expected she would ever see. Its dark stone spires soared into the partly cloudy skies above the town. It had great windows of what Fin told her was called stained glass. The glass had come along with the craftsmen to make the cathedral windows from France several hundred years prior when St. Andrews Cathedral had been built. It had taken between the years 1160 and 1318 to complete the structure. When it had been consecrated, King Robert the Bruce had been in attendance.

“Where will the king and queen stay?” Maggie asked, curious.

“They will be in the castle at the north end of the town on the Firth of Tay,” he answered her. “It’s not a particularly comfortable dwelling, I’m told, but the bishop has offered it to them, and there is no other place, aside from a priory guesthouse and an inn.”

Used to either making what she needed, or purchasing it from a border peddler, Maggie was amazed by the number of shops on South Street. If there was time, she and Grizel would certainly want to at least look in some of them. Several minutes after passing the cathedral they arrived at their inn. Iver had dashed ahead to make certain all was in readiness for Lord Stewart’s party. As they dismounted in the inn’s courtyard, Robert Leslie came forth to greet them.

The innkeeper bowed low. “I am honored, my lord, to be able to serve the king’s own kinsmen,” he told Fin.

“I thank ye for making a place for my wife and me,” Lord Stewart answered graciously in return. Iver had told him how impressed his uncle had been with the knowledge that his nephew’s master was related to James Stewart. And Fin had understood without the captain saying another word that the depth of that relationship had not been probed, yet was accepted as significant by the innkeeper, who needed to know no more than that the king and Iver’s master were related.

“Let me show you to your accommodation, my lord,” Robert Leslie said as he led them into the inn and up the staircase, then down the hallway to fling open the door to the guest apartment. “We aired it out this morning, my lord, and the fires are ready to start. Shall I send a maid to do it for you?”

“My man can attend to it, thank you, Master Leslie,” Fin replied politely.

“There is a tray on the sideboard here in the dayroom with decanters for yer wine and yer whiskey,” the innkeeper said. “Is there anything else I can do for ye now?”

“I want a bath,” Maggie said in a firm voice.

The innkeeper looked surprised. “A bath, my lady?”

“Ye have a decent tub, I assume,” she continued. “Have it set up in my bedchamber by the fire, and filled with hot water. We have been traveling for several days, and I am covered with the dust of the road.”

“Very good, my lady,” the innkeeper responded. A tub? Did they have a tub? And if they did, where the hell was it? And how much water would have to be heated to fill such a vessel? Providing accommodation for a lady was not going to be as easy as he had thought. He bowed to Lord Stewart and his wife and hurried from the apartment.

“Do ye have something she can bathe in?” Iver asked, for he had seen the look of consternation on his uncle’s face when Maggie had spoken.

“I don’t know. I can’t ever remember someone wanting a bath while staying here,” Robert Leslie admitted. “I’ll have to ask my wife. She would know.”

Mistress Leslie laughed at her obviously chagrined husband’s request. “Of course we have a tub,” she said. “My father always said ye needed everything for the unexpected request if ye were to be a well-run inn. Dinna fash, Robert. I’ll take care of Lady Stewart, my dear.” And she bustled off.

Maggie inspected their little apartment, exclaiming as she went to the windows at the pretty garden below with a view of the sea beyond. Grizel hurried to unpack her few gowns and hang them. When Mistress Leslie arrived to direct the setting up of the tub and saw what Grizel was doing, she insisted the tiring woman bring her ladyship’s gowns to the washhouse where they could be steamed free of any wrinkles. Delighted, Grizel picked up the three garments and followed the innkeeper’s wife.

“
Her ladyship
,” Maggie chuckled. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before,” she said to Fin. “But I am, aren’t I?”

“Ye are,” he agreed, amused.

“Lady Kerr-Stewart,” she mused. “I don’t know if I’m up to being Lady Kerr-Stewart. All of this is so strange to me. The town, so many people, the sea beyond the garden windows. And I am here to attend the wedding of a king to his queen. Part of me is excited, and part of me wants to go home right now,” Maggie told her husband.

“Yer the bravest lass I know, Maggie mine,” Fin told her. “Ye’ll do just fine.”

“I’ve never met anyone other than our fellow borderers,” she said. “There will be important men and women here. Great Highland lords, a king, a queen, bishops.”

“And they will be charmed by yer beauty,” he said.

Maggie laughed aloud. “Oh Fingal Stewart, was there ever such a good husband as ye? And do I deserve ye? I am not certain I do.” He put his arms about her shoulders, and Maggie leaned against him, feeling a contented warmth fill her. She liked this man who was her husband. Nay, it was more than like. She was coming to love him. She sighed. Was it wise to love one’s husband? Love wasn’t something with which she was really acquainted, but she knew what she felt now for Fin was more than just a liking.

While Maggie bathed, Lord Stewart sent Iver to the castle so the king would know his unimportant kinsman and his wife were arrived. He expected nothing in return, but at least the king would know they had come. Perhaps the king might even see them at the wedding or in the banquet hall afterwards. It was crucial, however, for James Stewart to know that Fingal Stewart had acted on the royal invitation. He was surprised, therefore, when Iver returned to say the king had sent word he expected to see his kinsman and Maggie this very evening at a reception being held for all the guests.

“He spoke to me himself, my lord!” Iver said excitedly. “I but told a castle servant that I carried a message for the king from his kinsman, Lord Stewart. The next thing I knew, I was ushered into the king’s presence. I could hardly speak at first, but then
he
said, ‘Why, here is a message from my cousin, Fingal Stewart of Torra.’ Those around him pretended they knew who ye were, my lord, and I almost laughed aloud, so eager were they all to please King James. He knew them to be false, and he laughed. Then he asked what the message I carried was, and I told him. ‘Tell Fingal, my cousin, that I will expect to see him, and his bonnie Maggie, here tonight,’ he told me. I nodded, bowed, and hurried right back to the inn to bring you his message.”

Maggie, freshly bathed, and now in the bedchamber, heard Iver’s words. “Grizel!” she hissed. “Do ye hear him? What am I to wear?”

“The peach velvet with the gold lace,” Grizel said. “ ’Twill make a grand first impression on all those fine lords and ladies. Tomorrow all eyes will be on the bride. Tonight is the night to show yerself to yer best advantage, m’lady. I’ll tell Archie so my lord’s garments match with yers.”

“Fin in peach velvet, Grizel? I think not,” Maggie teased.

Grizel laughed, and quickly seeking out their master’s servant, whispered hurriedly in his ear. Archie whispered back, nodding vigorously. Grizel returned to her mistress and began helping her to prepare for the evening. While she dressed Maggie in the bedchamber, Archie was busily garbing his master in the dayroom. When Grizel had finished, Maggie was wearing a gown of peach-colored velvet with a square neckline edged with gold embroidery. The underskirt of the gown was brocade with gold reembroidery. Her slashed sleeves were tied with gold cords. On her head she wore a gold silk French hood with lace-edged trimming behind which flowed a sheer pale silk veil shot through with gold threads. Beneath her gown her legs were encased in white silk stockings embroidered with gold threads in a vine pattern. Her feet were shod in square-toed flat shoes covered in gold silk and studded with gold beading. She had several rings on her fingers, and her clan badge was fastened to a thick gold chain about her neck.

“Stay here,” Grizel said to her lady, “while I see if his lordship is ready.”

In the dayroom Archie had just finished dressing his master in light brown velvet. Fin wore slashed breeches, and parti-colored hose of brown and gold. His sleeveless doublet was a brown and gold brocade over which Archie fitted his master into a fine short coat of brown velvet with large padded sleeves. He had brown leather square-toed shoes on his big feet, and a fine gold chain about his neck with the greyhound pendant badge of his family. The hat his serving man gave him had a gold silk-taffeta crown and a stiff flat brim. A single short plume dangled from it.

“Ohh,” Grizel said. “Don’t he look grand, Archie! Ye’ve outdone yerself this time, I’ll vow.”

“Where are the garments coming from?” Fin demanded. “And do not evade answering me this time, you scoundrel. I certainly have no coin for such elegance.”

“Tell him!” Grizel said. “He’s ever so clever, my lord, he is!”

“Tell me what?” Fin insisted.

“I make yer garments, my lord,” Archie said, flushing with his embarrassment.

If ever anything had surprised Fingal Stewart in all of his life, it was his serving man’s admission that he made his master’s clothing. “Ye sew my clothes?” he said.

“First I make the pattern on paper, my lord. Cut it, and then cut the materials to match. Ye can afford the cloth, and recently ye have been able to bear the cost of a better quality of cloth. Then I sew it all together. Grizel and I worked many a night together fashioning proper garments for ye and the lady. After ye went to Edinburgh to see the king when the little queen was dying, we knew ye would need fine clothing eventually. So we purchased the cloth we needed from the peddlers coming to Brae Aisir, and we fashioned the garments we thought ye would need. Perhaps they are not quite as fashionable as others, for styles change, but ye’ll not have to be ashamed.”

Maggie had heard all of Archie’s explanation through the open door between the bedchamber and the dayroom. Now she stepped forth to stand by her husband’s side. “Thank ye both,” she told Grizel and Archie. “I don’t think either of us has ever had such beautiful clothing. Yer labors are more than appreciated.”

Both Archie and Grizel flushed with pride at her words.

“How handsome ye look, my lord,” Maggie said to her husband. “The brown and gold of yer garments suits ye, and flatters me.”

There was a knock on the dayroom door. Archie quickly opened it.

“The horses are ready, my lord,” Iver said. “I’ve put the proper saddle on my lady’s animal.”

“God’s toenail, I must ride like a proper lady,” Maggie grumbled. “I’m always terrified I’m going to fall that way.”

“At least you brought the mare, and not that damned devil stallion of yers,” Lord Stewart said.

Maggie chuckled. She refused to give up her stallion, nor would he give up his. But to please him, she had ridden her fine white mare from Brae Aisir. She had noticed on the ferry across the Firth of Forth the beast had received many admiring glances, and she had become concerned she could be stolen. But Iver was an excellent captain, and his men were well trained. It was unlikely anything would get past them.

They bid Grizel and Archie good night and descended downstairs. The inn was now full to overflowing, and as they made their way to the door, a voice shouted out.

“Look lads! It’s Mad Maggie Kerr, the border vixen herself. She whored herself to an Edinburgh man rather than wed a good borderer.” A drunken Ewan Hay planted himself directly in front of them.

Lord Stewart paused only long enough to send the man sprawling. Then turning, he said to a horrified Master Leslie, “See this garbage has been removed by the time we return from the castle, innkeeper.”

“Aye, my lord,” Robert Leslie babbled. “I want no trouble in my inn. Here, you, Willie, Arthur, remove this man at once!”

Maggie was so surprised, she hardly had a moment to react. Her husband’s hand firmly on her elbow, he moved her outside, and lifted her up onto her horse. “Fingal!”

“Not a word, madam,” he told her in a hard voice as he lifted her up onto her mare. “The bastard was offensive to ye, to me, to Brae Aisir.” He mounted his horse.

“We don’t need a feud with the Hays,” Maggie told him quietly as they moved off, surrounded by their men-at-arms. But she found herself thrilled that he had behaved so masterfully in her defense. Was it possible he was coming to care for her? Or had it merely been a matter of his pride? She wished she were clever enough to discern which.

“There will be no feud. Lord Hay will understand,” Fin responded. “He had really best either send his brother away to fight in someone’s war, or find him a wife to settle him down before the man gets himself killed. What a fool he is. Ye would have cut his heart out in short order had ye been forced to wed him, and he is too stupid to realize it.”

“Aye, he is, but Ewan Hay is also a man who holds grudges,” Maggie said. “And he will wait a long time to avenge a fault. “We don’t need him as an enemy, Fin. I’ll be the first to agree with you that he’s a fool, but he’s a dangerous fool.”

“He had best remain clear of Brae Aisir. I will not have my wife insulted in a public place. Had he not been drunk, I would have been forced to kill him,” Fin said.

“ ’Twould not have been an auspicious start for our visit, my lord. I do not doubt that whatever small favor we have garnered from the king would be lost by such actions,
and more
,” Maggie told him pointedly.

They moved through the town from South Street to North Street and followed along with others who had been invited to tonight’s festivities and were also making their way to the castle. Maggie looked about her and decided that she and Fin fit in quite nicely. Reassured their garments were suitable, she felt her courage return; she laughed softly at herself to realize she had been frightened by something as foolish as fashion. She had never been a woman who cared that much for gowns and fripperies. But she also realized that a woman who attended a king’s reception before his wedding to a French duchess needed a respectable wardrobe, and she was glad she had one.