The Queen's Lady (24 page)

“Is she?”

“She was promised to Francis as a child, and she be-friended him as a child. She was a loyal and tender wife to him in every way.”

“Easy—when you are Queen of France,” Elizabeth offered.

“Not so easy. He died slowly, and she never left his side,” Gwenyth said.

“Ah, she is kindhearted.”

“Very.”

“Passionate?”

“Of course, especially when good government is involved.”

Queen Elizabeth leaned forward slightly. “And in all else?”

“She…is kind to her friends. She loathes violence. She is well educated, and she loves her books, horses and hounds.”

“I hear she is an excellent hunter.”

“She is.”

Elizabeth smiled, apparently having sensed something in Gwenyth's tone. “And you are not?”

“I am not fond of the hunt.”

“You are honest, at least.”

“Queen Mary is very honest.”

“That, my dear, is not always an asset for a queen. She is lucky, though.”

“Oh?”

“If all her subjects remain so earnestly assured of her goodness, she will have a long and prosperous reign,” Elizabeth said.

“Would you consider acknowledging her as your heir?” Gwenyth asked hopefully.

Elizabeth leaned back. “No.”

Troubled, surprised by the queen's bluntness, Gwenyth fell silent.

“I can't,” Elizabeth said, smiling to take the sting out of the words. “I am not yet so firm upon my own throne that I can afford to make choices that may imperil my own rule. Perhaps, in time, I can do as your queen requests, but for now, I can't honor a Catholic princess. You must realize that. I will not acknowledge her, but neither will I acknowledge any other. I have said before that I consider her to have the clearest right to the throne at my death. But right does not always mean power. And even when power is granted to someone, it doesn't mean they were the right party to have it. Now, I am sure you have been charged to spend time at my Court. You are to speak highly of your queen daily, until I have had her name all but etched inside my mind, because I hear it daily from all sides. Therefore, you will most certainly spend time here, with my lords and ladies, and in my presence. You must see how we do things in England.” She rose, ready to pace, and waved a hand that Gwenyth should remain seated, which left her feeling uncomfortably small. The queen stopped, staring at Gwenyth. “I believe I will live a long life. I will not fall prey to any man, because I have learned that caring too deeply creates havoc. I will be a queen in all things. England may one day take a husband, for the people clamour for an heir, but Elizabeth will not marry for passion. Perhaps, when I am completely convinced that your queen offers me no threat…but it is a waiting game we play. I can wait.”

“Queen Mary has been a wife, and she will surely marry again,” Gwenyth said. “She intends to leave an heir for Scotland.”

Elizabeth smiled. “The woods are far too full of royalty now, so many would-be heirs to the throne. Perhaps the Scottish queen will make a choice that pleases me. Then we shall see.”

She strode to the door that separated them from the outer chamber. When she opened it, Gwenyth saw that Rowan had obediently joined in a laughing discussion with several of Elizabeth's ladies. She couldn't help but feel a deep pang of jealousy, though she would not allow herself to show her feelings. If queens could be so cold, perhaps a lesser noble could be, as well.

“Rowan, we shall dine now,” Elizabeth said.

“Your Grace,” he acknowledged, and with a nod to the group, he returned to the room.

“He is very popular here,” Elizabeth said to Gwenyth. “But then, you must see his excellent points. Tall, a well-built swordsman, extremely well-educated and well-traveled. Charming. A full head of hair. Strong teeth.”

“He is not a horse, Your Grace,” Gwenyth found herself saying. And then, of course, she was horrified at herself for having rebuked the English queen.

But Elizabeth only smiled. “Ah, a backbone. Thank God.”

Rowan was followed into the room by what appeared to be a stream of servants, all carrying trays, and those trays all in silver. Gwenyth didn't believe that Elizabeth was attempting to impress her with English wealth; this was simply the way the queen dined when she held a private audience.

Elizabeth took the seat at the head of the table, then Gwenyth sat, followed by Rowan.

“A good solid English roast, Laird Rowan, though your Scottish cattle offer up tasty cuts. And there is fish, as well. Lady Islington, the onions are particularly sweet, and the greens are quite delicious. I hope you will enjoy the meal.”

“In your presence, Your Grace, I would enjoy any meal,” Gwenyth said.

“Rowan, she is quite a talented diplomat,” Elizabeth said, then, holding a morsel of meat near her mouth, she paused. “Were you with Rowan, my dear, when Catherine breathed her last?”

“She was in my care, aye,” Rowan said.

“Ah,” the queen murmured.

“Mary had intended that Gwenyth travel south much earlier than has occurred,” he said. “As it happened, I stayed at Castle Grey for some time, and my lady traveled on to her ancestral home.”

“Were you sharing a bed at the time?” the queen asked bluntly.

Gwenyth gasped.

The question obviously didn't shock Rowan. He looked at the queen calmly. “Nay,” he said flatly.

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Yet some time has now passed,” she pointed out.

Gwenyth wanted nothing more than to escape the table, the room and the queen's presence.

“Dear child, if you don't want people to know,” Elizabeth said, “you will have to find a way
not
to follow the man's every movement with your eyes.”

“I intend to ask for her hand,” Rowan said.

Elizabeth smiled. “A love match. How charming.”

After all the queen's words, Gwenyth was startled to hear something of envy in her voice.

“You could make a very advantageous marriage, you know, Rowan,” Elizabeth said. “She is a beauty, your queen's own dear servant, but…Islington?”

“
She
is sitting right here,” Gwenyth said, stunned that her sudden anger allowed her to speak.

“I am the queen. If I wish to speak as if you were not here, you must not notice,” Elizabeth said, and there was amusement in her voice.

“Madam,” Rowan said, “there are serious matters of state to dis—”

“Yes, and I am quite bored by all of them at this moment. I am far more interested in the two of you. Rowan, the Countess Mathilda is newly widowed. She is young, as well, and brings with her vast, rich lands. I have heard that she has mentioned a longing to speak with me about you as a possible new husband.”

Gwenyth was stunned to see Rowan smile and shake his head slightly. “Your Grace, I hold English lands of you, and gratefully so. But I am a servant of the Scottish queen, and not to be bartered for a foreign country.”

Gwenyth thought that Elizabeth would surely explode, and she did.

With laughter.

“Don't you want greater power, more and more land?” she demanded of Rowan.

“The thing about land…” he said thoughtfully. “Like a crown, one must always scramble to keep it. I am blessed. I have fine properties as it is. I have Catherine's inheritance, and it was Lady Gwenyth my wife turned to at the end, Gwenyth who watched over her lovingly when she did not even know my name. There was nothing between us then, and there has certainly been no shame in the behavior of the Lady of Islington. With
my
monarch's permission, I intend to marry the lady.”

“Bravo!” Elizabeth told him.

He turned to Gwenyth then, “Believe in her temper, her anger and her demands. But she loves to bait a man, as well.”

“I am sitting right here,” Elizabeth said. “And I am the queen.” Then she laughed, and Gwenyth was surprised when Elizabeth set a hand upon her own. “I am glad you gave comfort to Lady Catherine. She was a great beauty and a wonderful friend. You would have cared for her dearly, had you known her in better times.”

“I came to care for her dearly as it was,” Gwenyth said.

Elizabeth looked at Rowan. “I am well pleased. The lady is both lovely and well-spoken. Send for your things. I would have you both reside at court for a time. I believe I would enjoy a game of tennis tomorrow. Lord Rowan, you will be my partner. Lady Gwenyth, you will play with Lord Dudley. I think it's time I favored Lord Rowan above a few of the other nobility who are grown far too confident these days.”

“As you wish,” Rowan said.

“You do play tennis, Lady Gwenyth?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course. Queen Mary is quite good at the sport. She loves to be out in the fresh air. Her gardens at Holyrood are lovely.”

“I shall pray that you commend me to her so highly,” Elizabeth said.

Gwenyth was silent.

“You are supposed to answer with an assurance that you can think of nothing but the most brilliant and marvelous words where I am concerned,” Elizabeth said.

“I will certainly convey that you are exceedingly clever,” Gwenyth said.

Elizabeth laughed. “And that is all?”

“I will tell her that you are every inch a queen.”

“She is a quite a treasure, Rowan. I shall pray for the two of you, for life is never as simple as we would have it be. Now, Lady Islington, dinner is over and it is your turn to retire. There are matters I would discuss with Rowan.”

 

W
HEN THEY WERE ALONE
, Elizabeth looked at him gravely. “Events are in an uproar in your homeland yet again, Rowan,” she said.

He frowned. Matters in the Highlands had seemed quiet enough when they left, and he had assumed that he would hear any news quickly if the situation changed, for there were fresh horses kept at numerous stops along the long road from London to Edinburgh, so that riders could swiftly carry correspondence from one court to another.

“There was a man in Mary's party from the moment she left France for Scottish soil. A Frenchman, most avidly in love with his queen. He was sometimes with the Court and sometimes traveling on his own. It seems that he has been executed.”

Convincing her French retainers and her Scottish court to speak as one had often been a difficulty for the queen, exacerbated by the fact that the Scots themselves had so many different agendas, sought such different rewards, and gave such different advice.

“What has happened?” he asked.

“Perhaps I should tell you all that I know has transpired since you left the queen's side. Sir John Gordon was tried for treason.”

“Naturally,” Rowan said. “Many in the Huntly party admitted there was a plan that our good queen should be abducted and forced into marriage with the fellow. He escaped justice, and he raised arms against her.”

Elizabeth sat back in her great chair, delicate hands upon the upholstered arms. “I loathe an execution myself. Mary was in attendance when the Frenchman died. He cried out that he was ready to die for his great love for his queen. Apparently the execution was a sadly botched affair.” She stared at Rowan. “It is exceedingly difficult to find an executioner who does not make a blundering mess of the process. So many people do not realize the tremendous kindness my father showed my mother when he sent to France so an excellent swordsman could do the grisly deed.”

Rowan made no reply. Elizabeth was clearly deep in thought, and he did not care to tread upon the images that were occupying her mind.

“I barely knew my mother,” she told him. “I had my own household at the time of her death, though I was but a toddling child. But there is something about blood, I suppose, because the stories I hear often tear at my heart. If you were to listen to my sister Mary's lords, she was a witch, a strumpet. If you listen to those who surrounded her at her death, she was innocent of all save her ability to continue to enthrall my father—and produce the son she left behind. She died well—all men say so. She was careful to beg my father's pardon at her death. It's amazing, is it not, that men and women go to their deaths begging pardon of those who wronged them—and paying the executioner well, so the torment will not be prolonged.”

“I have seen those whose faith in the hereafter is so strong that they truly believe their travails on earth mean nothing,” he told her.

She shook her head. “So many die so brutally—over the wording in the book meant to honor our most gentle Savior. But enough reminiscing. To return to my tale, at the Frenchman's death, Mary was so distraught that she took to her bed for several days. She was very ill.”

Rowan asked quickly, “She is well now?”

“Well enough. Such emotion. Indeed, I've known illness, and I've known horror. But a queen cannot allow her emotions to rule her so completely. There has been more, you see. This courtier, a fellow name Pierre de Chatelard, apparently went a bit mad. He burst into the queen's chambers not once, but twice. The first was forgiven. On the second evening, Mary was quite distraught, screaming that her brother James, Earl of Moray, must run the man through with his sword. Moray acted with greater calm than the queen. The fellow was duly arrested, tried and executed.”