The Queen's Lady (17 page)

“My deepest congratulations, my Lord James,” Gwenyth said.

He nodded. “Thank you, my lady.” He turned his attention to Rowan. “Well? What did you see along the way?”

“I wish I could assure you that there no forces would rise against the queen, but I cannot,” he said bluntly. “I saw no sign of a large army massing, but that does not mean that the Gordons and their kin cannot raise one quickly.”

“I don't know yet if we can control the Gordons as allies, or if their power must be crushed,” Mary said.

James lifted his hands, shaking his head. “The countess relies on witches and familiars to advise her.”

“Witches?” Gwenyth laughed aloud. “Oh, dear. I can't—”

She broke off, realizing that both Mary and James were staring at her.

“You mustn't underestimate the powers of such harridans,” he told her.

She looked at Mary, who nodded sadly in agreement.

“But…you can't believe that…that…”

“I think that the countess would gladly call up the aid of demons,” James said, and he meant it.

“Brother, I've a greater fear at the moment,” Mary said.

“What is that?” James asked.

Rowan shrugged, then looked at Mary and answered for her. “I fear the power of the Gordon clan. There has been talk of abducting the queen. Remember, John Gordon is a handsome young fellow. I believe he may well feel he has quite enough charm to…woo the queen, even if he has to force her hand first. You are in grave danger here, Mary.”

She smiled, nodding. “I know. I will not fall into any traps, I promise. And John Gordon will soon be in prison in Edinburgh.”

“Aye,” Rowan said, but he sounded doubtful.

“You are still disturbed?” Mary asked.

“It seemed to me that despite her pretense of amicability, Lady Gordon was laying plots even as she spoke. I do not think she would be averse to kidnapping Your Grace, or the Lady Gwenyth.”

“Me?” Gwenyth said in astonishment.

“If one cannot have gold, one is often happy with silver,” the queen murmured.

“And there is something else you must keep in mind,” Rowan reminded her.

“And that is?” Mary inquired.

“I know that you don't intend to send John Gordon to trial immediately, nor was his offense such that he would lose his head or face the hangman's noose,” Rowan said.

“Go on.” Mary urged.

“If he escapes, he'll be dangerous indeed,” Rowan said.

T
HE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED
were a strange combination of celebration and danger.

They moved warily through the Highlands, though in Rowan's assessment, there were enough men in the queen's service to protect her against anything other than an all-out assault, and as it seemed she was welcomed by most, he didn't see an imminent danger to her person.

When they neared Strathbogie, Mary conferred long with her brother, Ambassador Maitland and Rowan himself. He was glad when she decided to bypass the Gordon stronghold there and continue on to Darnaway Castle. It was not Holyrood, but it had a large hall, and it was there that Mary made the public announcement that her brother had been named the Earl of Moray.

From there they traveled on to Inverness, and it was there that trouble erupted.

News came that, just as Rowan had feared, John Gordon had escaped his imprisonment in Edinburgh. He had gathered a troop of a thousand men and was now hurrying after their party. Another Gordon, Alexander, refused them entrance to Inverness Castle, though it was a royal holding and in Gordon hands only because Lord Huntly was sheriff of Inverness.

Such a refusal was simple treason. It could not be excused under any circumstance.

As they camped on the land before the castle and the queen weighed her options, word came from Lord Huntly that the gates were to be opened to allow the queen entrance.

“The wily old goat has heard that the Highlanders are ready to rise for their queen in the face of such an insult,” James said.

Rowan couldn't argue that. He had seen the people cheer Mary in the streets. Even so…“Armed men enter first,” he warned.

Mary despised violence, but when James informed her that the captain of the castle must be hanged, the queen paled but could not disagree, and the man was hanged over the battlements without delay.

At their first meal in the great hall, Mary rose, lifting her glass to her supporters at the long table. “To the Highlands. We must dress as these valiant folk. Laird Rowan, you're close enough in appearance. The rest of us must take to our clan tartans.”

Rowan looked around the table at the queen's ladies, at her close advisors, at the men-at-arms invited to the great table, and wondered what was to become of them all.

The queen had made no final decision as to what was to become of Lord Huntly. The man was not a fool. He moved constantly from one of his holdings to the next, always ahead of the queen, while his son and his men harried the queen's party. Rowan had been wary and on alert for so long that he was exhausted and feared whatever time the queen might spend beyond the fortifications of the castle.

Gwenyth, surrounded by the queen's Marys, seemed light and happy. She lowered her head to listen to words spoken by Mary Fleming, and her smile was radiant. The queen's ladies were all pleasingly attractive, but none shone like the Lady Gwenyth. He forced his attention to James Stewart, who was drawing invisible maps of the countryside with his finger upon the table.

“All Huntly land,” James said, his expression serious as he shook his head. “Although I have seldom seen the queen merrier. She seems to love the Highlands and is calm in the face of the ever-present danger offered by Huntly.” He set his tankard down hard. “She has never fallen to his coy suggestions that she have a Catholic stronghold here in the north, but neither does she relish her duty of seeing that he is ousted from his position.”

Rowan held silent. James Stewart was an ambitious man himself, and Rowan wondered if Mary truly understood people, even now. She had to move against Huntly, and she knew it. But he wondered if she was aware what a serious mistake it would be to cast all the power with the Protestant lords, her brother at the head of them.

“Rowan?” James said, and pointed at the invisible map. “What do you think?”

“If I were Huntly…here, when we leave to cross the Spey…therein lies the danger, and we know that John Gordon is following us with a thousand men, at least.”

“We will be fiercely on guard,” James said.

“What, not a singer among you?” the queen demanded, drawing their attention as she laughed with the musicians who had just entered, bearing their various instruments. “We all love to sing, but Gwenyth is our star. Come, my dear. These men know all the lovely Highland ballads, and you, dear friend, know them all, as well.”

The queen dragged Gwenyth forward as the musicians began to play.

She had a beautiful voice, Rowan thought, and rose, just as the others at the table began to do so, ready to dance at the queen's behest.

He had to leave, he thought, as she sang just as she had sung to Catherine, night after night, before his wife had died.

He caught her eyes across the crowded hall, and when she looked back, he knew it was in apology. She had but obeyed the queen's command, he knew, but still, he could not stay and quickly exited the great hall.

 

T
HEY CROSSED THE
S
PEY
without incident, though they knew John Gordon and his troops were watching from the woods.

Perhaps they made no move, though they saw the vulnerability of the party as it crossed the river, because they were aware they were being watched in return. Perhaps John Gordon knew that despite the army he had acquired, he didn't yet have enough strength to attack the queen.

When they reached the castle at Find, the queen ordered that it be surrendered, but she was not obeyed, and the men advised her that it could not be taken without cannon. And so they passed by.

On the return to Aberdeen, she was joyously greeted. And it was there that she sighed and gave in to James, allowing him to send for weapons, cannon and men. In the days that followed, emissaries carried messages between Huntly and the queen, she making demands, he countering them.

As Rowan sat to breakfast with James and Mary one morning, one of the queen's spies arrived. The man was exhausted, and when the queen stood to greet him, Rowan and James followed suit.

“The countess was angry when you denied her a meeting here, Your Grace. She rode out to meet her husband. I heard her crying in despair. She said her witches assured her that he would lie dead by the tollbooth by nightfall, not a mark on his body. They plan to attack, and she is convinced he will die.”

“Where and when will the attack come?” Mary demanded.

The spy hung his head. “I don't know. I had to run away with what I had. My presence was noted, and I feared I would not be able to get back with what little I knew if I did not quickly slip away.”

“You did right, and I thank you for your service. You will be rewarded.”

Rowan turned to James. “He will take up a position on the Hill of Fare, right above the field of Corrichie.”

“What makes you so certain?” James asked.

“He has it in his mind that any of the Highlanders fighting for the queen will desert, that he will take the day.”

“And
will
they desert?” the queen asked softly.

Rowan turned to her. “I don't believe so. You have given them no cause. And you…” He hesitated, afraid to create a bloodbath, then told himself that the battle would be fought, so better a bloodbath for the enemy than for the queen and their party. “Strike him here. He will be trapped, and I'm quite certain he will not see it,” Rowan said, explaining with lines on the floor as he spoke. “If he's forced down the hill, he will be caught in a swamp. There will be no escape.”

“You are certain that the landscape sits so?” James said.

“I know the Highlands like the back of my hand, Lord James.”

“But you can't be certain he will choose the position you have indicated.”

“It is the only one he
can
take. He will believe he has the high ground, and that he will hold it.”

The queen looked saddened as she looked at the two of them. “Then so be it. We will be ready,” she said, and looked intently at Rowan. “I pray you are correct in your prediction of his position.”

 

T
HE QUEEN HAD TAKEN
to spending the mornings in council with her brother, and sometimes with Rowan and Maitland, as well, so Gwenyth was startled when Mary burst into her room, where she had been reading to pass the time.

“The insolence…the treason!” the queen cried.

Gwenyth struggled quickly to her feet, staring at her monarch.

“The word has come. Huntly indeed intends to attack. His wife's witches have said he will be triumphant, so says our spy. Witches! A pox on them all. They practice their evil craft illegally, and it is almost impossible to bring them to justice.”

Gwenyth was silent; she still found it difficult to believe that someone as well-educated as the queen could believe in the power of witchcraft.

The queen continued. “Thank God we avoided some of Huntly's holdings. It is almost unbelievable, but the man actually intends to abduct me, to force me into marriage with his son. It's…despicable.” She shook her head. “It's treason.”

“He will not succeed,” Gwenyth said, trying to calm Mary before she became so upset that she made herself ill.

“This would not have happened in France,” Mary said.

“I fear that men are avaricious everywhere,” Gwenyth said. “They always want more than what they have.”

The queen sank down on Gwenyth's bed. “I will have to do battle against one of the few Catholic lords in this country. May God forgive me.”

Gwenyth weighed her words carefully. “You are the queen. You must rule your country. You must preserve Scotland, no matter what it takes.”

“I must,” Mary agreed, distraught. She gripped Gwenyth's hand suddenly. “Laird Rowan is confident he knows Huntly's plan of battle, but what if he is wrong? What if we fall?”

“We will not.”

Mary stood and began pacing again. “If only I knew for certain…”

Gwenyth watched her tortured pacing. “What of your spy?”

“He can get no closer. I have other men out there, but…”

“Someone will find the truth. Huntly has held power here these many years,” Gwenyth told her, “and yet so many of your good Highlanders are in awe of their beautiful young queen—they will honor and support you.”

The queen stopped. “The townspeople will know something. Servants know everything, and they tend to whisper,” she said.

“That's true,” Gwenyth agreed. Then she frowned, afraid that an idea had been born in the queen's head.

“We must go out among them,” Mary announced.

Gwenyth's heart sank. She had been right. “Mary, they will recognize you. They'll bow down, but they won't talk.”

The queen shook her head, growing excited. “We will go in disguise. Like washerwomen, like fishwives…servants, seeking the markets.”

Gwenyth bit her lip, surveying her monarch. “Your Grace, you cannot hide in a crowd.”

“Why not?”

“You're far too tall.”

Mary hesitated. “I will go out as a man.”

“It's still too dangerous.”

Mary began to pace again. “We must win. The gall of Huntly—and his wretched son! John Gordon is of the opinion he is so powerful and fetching a young man that I will be delighted to make him king and obey in his shadow. They think that I am so fickle a queen that I will forget the will of my people, that because of my religious beliefs I will turn on those who do not believe as I do. They will attack
me.
”

“Mary, you have the finest men at your service.”

“And I would not lose them, Gwenyth. But what if things do not go as Laird Rowan expects? We will go out in the streets, as servants, and we will hear what gossip circulates there.”

Gwenyth shook her head. “No. You cannot, Mary. Not as a man or a woman.” She took a deep breath. “I'll go. I'll take some of your hairpieces and have Annie dress me in the proper garb. She and I will walk the shops and the green, and find out what is being said among the people. Besides, my lady, I need not feign the accent that will let me blend with the people here.”

Mary frowned, watching her. “I would not put you in danger.”

“Yet you would put yourself in danger!” Gwenyth laughed softly. “You are gold, Your Grace. I am but silver.”

Mary smiled at that. “You will stay near the manor. And you will return the minute you have heard anything about the battle.”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

“This mission must be completely secret. You must take care. What if you are recognized as one of my ladies?”

“I will not be recognized,” Gwenyth assured her.

Gwenyth was able to prove her point an hour later when she entered the hall in Annie's clothing, cotton stuffing filling out her blouse and skirt beneath her jacket. She wore poor, oversized work boots, a dark hairpiece, and a woolen shawl over everything. She had used charcoal on her cheeks and around her eyes to give herself the look of someone who had been working over a fire all day.