The Heather Moon (48 page)

The little queen might be endangered even now, she thought, or stolen outright. She understood fully William's need to press on, and did not complain.

By sunset, they arrived in the small town below the palace of Linlithgow. On a wide green hill above, the stone walls of the palace gleamed rosy and smooth. William dismounted at the base of a cobblestone hill, and Tamsin did the same. Glad for the chance to stretch her stiffening muscles, she walked her horse slowly upward to the gates beside William.

"Oh! 'Tis lovely!" she said. The south gate was flanked by round towers and decorated with carved and painted armorials. To the left, she saw a wide, calm loch extending behind the palace, surrounded by meadows and low hills.

"Aye, 'tis a beautiful place," William said quietly. She remembered that he had spent much time at Linlithgow. Here too he had first loved Jean Hamilton. At that thought, she sighed. Then she remembered the manner of their loving the night before, and an echo of that joy rushed through her. She glanced at him shyly. He sent her one of the low, gentle smiles she loved.

A guard came forward. "Rookhope, sir!" he said. "Welcome! Ye're just in time to see the merriment."

William frowned. "Merriment?"

"Some Egyptians have come to court, to offer singing and dancing, and the telling o' fortunes. A long while has passed since this palace has seen such gaiety. Some o' them are just inside the courtyard, sir, and the rest are in the great hall, I do think. Ye'll hear the music when ye go inside." He waved them through the gate. They walked the horses through the gatehouse tunnel toward the open inner court.

Tamsin gasped. Pink evening light poured into a courtyard that was open to the sky and faced on four sides by high, windowed walls. An ornate stone fountain dominated the center of the court, its basins and spouts dry.

Around the courtyard, she saw Romany—nearly three or four score, she realized as she glanced around. Some talked and lounged, while others danced, performed tricks, or played music. Still others had set up makeshift market stalls, using small carts or blankets thrown on the ground. They offered an array of baskets, cloths, cakes, rope, horse trappings, and metal goods. A few of the men repaired kitchen ware and horse gear brought to them by palace servants. In a far corner, some Romany men showed horses for sale, discussing them with palace noblemen.

Elegantly dressed men and women walked among the Romany as if at a market fair, observing, bargaining, murmuring. At each corner, royal guards stood in red and yellow livery, their halberds relaxed in hand while they watched the activities with interest.

On the circle of grass around the fountain, a Romany man juggled leather balls in the air, while two young girls performed acrobatic dancing, leaping over one another. In a corner, a woman in a head scarf and a shawl bent over the offered hands of two noblewomen. Three men played a viol, a cithera, and a drum, while a young woman sang in the Romany language. Beyond them, a man performed feats of sleight-of-hand while a few courtiers watched in amazement.

Tamsin and William stood beneath the south arch and stared. The walls seemed to echo with music and chatter, and more music emanated from open windows on the eastern side of the palace.

A page ran forward and took their horses, leading the animals toward the stable to the right of the entrance. Tamsin stood gazing at the scene. She recognized many of the Romany in the courtyard. When William glanced at her, she nodded.

"This is my grandfather's band, and many others, perhaps Lallo's people too," she said. "Why would Grandfather take a bribe from Arthur Musgrave? I warned him, and he promised that he and the band would wander far out of the Borders until danger of that had passed."

"This
is
far out of the Borders, my lass," William murmured.

She bit her lower lip and nodded. "I dinna see him here."

"The guard said that some of the gypsies are entertaining in the great hall—up there, in the eastern wing. John and Nona might be there."

"Perhaps," she said. She clung to the shadows beneath the entrance arch, hesitating. Two facets of her existence, old and new, met here: the Romany world in which she had been born, and the realm of the nobility of which William was so much a part. Her father's world, of reiving and small lairdship, lay somewhere in between. She had hoped to be able to enter William's world to please him.

But when she looked at the Romany, so familiar to her, and then looked at the refined noblewomen who strolled among them, she was unsure of herself once again. Standing here in a plain gown, with undressed hair, she was more a Romany lass than a noblewoman, after all. She glanced at William, and saw him look anxiously toward the windows that faced the palace walls.

"You go ahead," she said. "I know you want to go inside. I will stay here and find my grandfather."

William frowned. "If you find your grandparents and discover the truth of Musgrave's plot, I want to know. I will come to look for you. But if we havena found each other by darkness, then meet me in the northwest block, there." He pointed toward an inner corner. "Take the stair to the first level. You'll find a corridor with a tall window overlooking the loch. Wait there for me."

She nodded. He leaned down in the shadow of the vaulting and kissed her, swift and hard, with an underlying tenderness that made her sigh. Then he strode across the courtyard at a half run, cutting through the crowd. He spoke to a guard and entered the east wing, vanishing inside an archway.

Tamsin stepped into the courtyard, nodding to those she knew from her grandparents' band. Some greeted her, others ignored her. In the far corner, she saw Baptiste Lallo near the Romany horses, talking with some gentlemen. She deliberately wandered that way.

Lallo stopped talking to stare at her. A young Romany woman initiating speech with a young man would be immodest, but she slowed near him and caught his gaze. She paused as if lost.

He came toward her.
"Romanichi,"
he said. "Romany girl. What are you doing here? Your grandfather said you married a rich
gadjo.
Is he one of the
rya
in this place?"

She looked at him, his face dark and gaunt, but pleasant, his eyes large and black above an inky mustache. He smiled, showing pale, well-formed teeth.

"Oh, that
rya
is not with me," she replied in a half-truth. "I am here to find my grandparents. Have you seen them?"

He frowned at her. "Did you leave the man?"

"I broke the jug between us," she said.

"Ah," he said, nodding. His eyes gleamed.

"Where is my grandfather?" She looked around the courtyard.

"He has gone with some of the others into the palace. I will take you to him. Follow me." She did. He strutted with animal grace, swaying his shoulders from side to side, swinging his arms. She saw some Romany women look at him with interest.

Baptiste spoke with a guard, explaining that they were with the players who had already gone to the great hall. The guard stepped aside to admit them to the stairs that led upward.

"Baptiste Lallo," she said, as they climbed. He turned. "What is going on here? I have only just arrived."

"We were invited to this place," he said. "I myself was given the invitation by a
rya
who paid me in advance for our services. The queen of this land wants singing and dancing and entertainment. And we, of course, are the best," he boasted.

"The queen of this land is an infant," she said.

He shrugged. "Then her mother must have requested our presence. We have been juggling and dancing and playing music since this afternoon. We will soon be packing up to leave the palace, for the guards have told us we cannot stay here past dark. I know your grandmother has made some good silver telling fortunes today. I myself earned good coin by selling two of my horses. They are the finest."

"I am certain of it. Have you seen the baby queen?"

"I saw her," he said. "She is not pretty, for she is pale as milk, and thin, with hair the color of copper." He paused on a small, circular landing to wait for her. "My own children are plump, nut-brown, and smart. You will like them, Tchalai. You must come to my wagon to meet them. My mother cares for them now, but she is old and irritable." He smiled as she stood beside him. "Now that you have left that
gadjo,
you will be eager to wed a Romany man, a real man. Myself."

She looked away to discourage him, for he looked at her as if he already owned her. "Which way is the hall?" she asked. She heard music, buffered by stone, and was uncertain of the direction.

Baptiste stepped closer, and she nearly jumped when he took her upper arm. "I will forgive you for wedding that man, since you have divorced him," he said. "I told John Faw that I would take you, even though you were born with a curse, for I think you are a fine woman. And I keep my word." He nodded. "Your grandfather will be glad to see you have found some sense and left that man, and come home to your Romany family."

She shook off his hand, her heart beating hard, but somehow he did not frighten her. She nearly left him there, but realized that she might be able to learn of the plot from him. He took her arm again. This time, she let him.

"I have missed the Romany, that is true," she said. "Tell me, who invited you to this palace, and paid you to bring the entertainment? Is he here to greet the Romany? I would like to meet such a generous man."

He laughed and leaned close. He smelled of horses, and his hand on her arm was firm. "You have told this man's fortune," he said. "He was in the camp the night of the wedding, when you were there. I chanced to meet him later that night, out on the moor. He and his friend offered me coin and told me to have the Romany here on this day. A gift for the Scottish queen from the English king, they said." He shrugged. "What do I care the reason? Silver is silver."

"Ah," she said. "Is he here?"

"No," he said. "Friends of his are here. They bought garments from me and my mother earlier today, headcloths and cloaks and jewelry. The people of the court like Romany dress, they said. We wear more comfortable clothing than they do, that is true! My mother showed them how to wrap their heads, because they insisted on wearing headcloths and cloaks. They looked foolish when they were done, like old Romany women!" He laughed. "But they seemed pleased with themselves."

Tamsin stared at him, her mind rushing over what he told her, and beyond. Baptiste was either truly unaware of a plot to steal the queen or else he pretended stupidity. "Can you show these men to me?" she asked.

"Avali
, yes," he said. "We can laugh at them. You and I will laugh much together, Romany girl. I like your smile." He leaned forward and kissed her, his mustache prickly, but his lips surprisingly gentle. She shoved at him.

"Modest?" he asked in surprise. "You have been a married woman. And I will make you happy, I, a good Romany man. Ah, come here!" She ducked into the corridor, and he launched after her. At the end of the corridor, a guard stood before wide doors. She hurried toward him, Baptiste following.

"We are Romany, come to perform," she told the guard in a breathless voice. He nodded, his gaze traveling up and down her body. He said nothing, but opened the door to admit her, then Baptiste, who pounded up behind her.

She entered the room and stopped to gaze at its grandeur. The enormous chamber seemed full of light and color, crowded with people and music and laughter. Well over a hundred feet long and a quarter of that wide, the hall had a soaring, elaborate timber-work ceiling, painted and tapestried walls, huge arched windows, and a tripartite fireplace dominating one wall. The three glowing fires that burned between its carved pilasters were mere sparks in the overall brilliance.

"Beautiful," she breathed to herself, looking around.

Baptiste, behind her, grunted. "Wasting good gold on houses, when they could spend it on horses—and give some riches to the Romany, eh? Look, John Faw is there."

She glanced where he pointed. Across what seemed like a sea of people, her grandparents mingled among a group of Romany in the center of the room. Three girls danced in a cleared space as a crowd of people, both courtiers and Romany, watched.

The girls swirled and undulated in bare feet, with delicate bells ringing on wrists and ankles, and filmy silk scarves floating around them. Men played drums and viols to accompany them, with insistent, driving rhythms that thrummed in the air.

Tamsin looked past the dancers and past her grandparents, who had not yet seen her, to scan the crowd. But she did not see the one face she sought, that of a dark-haired man with sky-blue eyes. She twisted, looking, but he was nowhere in sight.

She turned back to Baptiste. "Show me these men who wear headdresses like Romany women," she said.

He nodded and took her arm, and she allowed him to guide her as they edged their way between people. "There," he said. "Just there, see! Ah, now they disappear again. They were near the little queen and her mother, who are watching the dancers."

"What?" Tamsin raised up on her toes to peer through the throng. A dais was set up along one long wall, with a brightly embroidered canopy draped behind it. Seated on a huge carved throne chair in the center of the platform, a woman in a black gown held a child in her lap. The cleared space for the dancers and musicians extended to the dais itself.