The Queen's Lady (30 page)

But Daniel had a royal protector.

She went down on one knee, taking Elizabeth's hand. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your gift.”

“You're welcome. I seldom meet people who are completely honest with me—especially while serving another.” She smiled suddenly. “I have a better gift for you, I believe.”

“There can be no better gift than Your Majesty's protection,” Gwenyth said.

Elizabeth was amused. “But there is. My dear cousin Mary is said to be giving birth soon. She has sent a letter, begging that I give you leave to go to her. I have written to her in reply, suggesting that she release those prisoners she herself holds unjustly.” She lowered her voice. “The gift I grant you is time with your child. It is my strong suggestion that you
not
take him to Scotland with you. You must convince the queen to give her blessing to your marriage first. You don't want this babe proclaimed a bastard.”

Gwenyth gritted her teeth, lowering her head. The world seemed to spin. She suddenly knew what it was like to be more than willing to die for another. She would fight until her last breath for her child—even if that meant leaving him in England while she went north, there to fight for herself and her husband.

“You have given me such tremendous gifts,” Gwenyth said to Elizabeth. “I am beyond grateful, and I cannot possibly repay them.”

“Your gift to me in return, Lady Gwenyth, will be for you to maintain your honesty and ethics. Royal personages, flattered day and night, appreciate words of truth. Now, there is someone who will come to see the child later this week, a rather sad and embittered fellow himself.”

“Who?”

“James Stewart, Earl of Moray, who has come to my country seeking sanctuary. I cannot, will not, give him arms or a blessing to fight the rightful Scottish sovereign, Mary, even if his cause is mine and in my heart I believe it to be right.”

The world seemed to sway in truth. James Stewart was here. His cause abandoned as he fled. She knew that he dared not return to Scotland now. And Rowan had been accused of supporting his rebellion!

“Thank you,” she managed.

Elizabeth studied her. “I wish I could say that all will be well, but I'm afraid that I have lived through far too much to lie. I
can
tell you that I believe you will always do what's right, and that, surely, God will bless you.”

Would God do so?

Put not thy faith in princes….

She had to be strong. She had to believe.

James came at the end of the week. He was exceptionally joyful, given the fact that he was by nature dour and undemonstrative.

He had always been a good friend to Rowan, though, and to the queen. It was sad that they should have had such a terrible falling out.

“When did you last see my Laird Rowan?” she asked him anxiously.

James told her when they had last met, in the Borders. “I think that, in time, his faith will prove justified,” James assured her. “The Lennoxes fear his power, but then…Lady Lennox is here, is she not?” he asked with wry humor. Then he studied the child again. “Well, he is a mite, no more. Very fine head of hair. His father's hair, so it seems.” He looked at her. “And the blood of a king flows in his veins, as well.”

“Something that doesn't please me, I'm afraid,” Gwenyth told him.

“Oh?”

“It seems to me that the children of kings are ever fearful of what the other children of kings may want.”

James looked at her. “I would never have sought to hurt my sister. I only hoped to stop the tyrannical sway of the idiot she wed and keep his family from sheer lunacy, and the power-hungry barons from destroying my country in their thirst for control.”

Gwenyth was silent as she wondered whether Mary knew and believed that her brother would never have harmed her, and she shivered.

She was surprised when James set a fatherly arm around her shoulders. “Mary will not execute Rowan,” he said, apparently having discerned her thoughts. “You know how she feels about violence.”

“Aye.”

“Take comfort in that,” James advised. “You've been summoned back to her side. Indeed, you have seen the way Mary writes. She has begged for your return. Though she does not know it, she needs you to bring some sense into her life.”

“She must be so angry with Rowan to have imprisoned him.”

“Go to her first as her friend, only then can you speak to her on Rowan's behalf.”

“I'll try to remember all that you have said, and all that I have learned, being so often in your company.”

James smiled, pleased. “You will leave soon. Godspeed.”

She thanked him, assuring him that, somehow, he and Mary would find peace, too, though in truth, she wondered. Feared.

There was simply so little peace to be found when considering the lives of those of royal blood.

 

G
WENYTH STAYED A MONTH
more, quietly, in the Tower.

She was torn the entire time. She could not leave her babe when he was so young, yet she dared not tarry longer, even though every report that came from Scotland assured her that the queen was meeting with Rowan. She was resolute on putting off a trial, urging him to declare his absolute loyalty to her crown and her king.

Hearing some of the reports, Gwenyth secretly damned him.

Swear whatever she wants, she urged him silently. Save yourself.

But she knew Rowan, and he would opt for care, consideration and the truth. He would never swear an oath that he did not mean. And it wasn't that he didn't wholeheartedly serve his queen. He would simply refuse to pledge himself to Darnley or damn James Stewart, and that would be that.

Finally, the day came when she felt she had to leave her son in the care of Thomas, Annie and the nurse.

“Ye're beautiful,” Annie said. “With the figure of a lass again, so quickly. Ach, at times, ye don't look old enough to be the mother of this fine child.” There were tears in the older woman's eyes, a sign of her genuine sadness that she wouldn't be going to Scotland with her mistress, but Gwenyth had told her that she trusted no one other than his godparents to look after Daniel.

Gwenyth cried, holding Daniel, then kissing Thomas and Annie goodbye.

She had been given an English escort; they would see her to the Borders, where she would be met by a company of Scottish soldiers, who would lead her safely on to Edinburgh.

When she left the Tower itself, alone and by barge, she looked back.

Lady Margaret Douglas was on the lawn. Still imprisoned. She must have known that Mary had demanded Gwenyth's return and not her own. A chill fell over Gwenyth as the woman cried out, “Witch! Go on, harlot! She lets you leave, and not me, for you are a traitor to Queen Mary. Don't think they do not beg for my release. Mary has written endless letters on my behalf. She pleads with Elizabeth to release me. I am held unjustly. But you…you bring your spells and enchantments before the queen and now the king,
my son!
I know it's you—you who have caused the strife. They turn on my son because of witches like you. God will have his way. You will die, harlot witch, and the fires of hell will destroy you!”

The woman was insane, Gwenyth thought, driven mad because she'd plotted and planned to get her son married to the Queen of Scotland, but she was paying a price.

No, she wasn't insane, and that was what was most frightening. She was simply furious. She was being a mother, protecting her child.

She had no right to treat Gwenyth so cruelly, but that didn't matter. At some point, somehow, Gwenyth would have to find a way to forgive the woman, even befriend her, for she was Mary of Scotland's mother-in-law, and Gwenyth was the queen's lady.

Gwenyth found herself praying that Elizabeth kept Margaret imprisoned in the Tower for a very long time.

 

R
OWAN'S IMPRISONMENT
was not without comfort, but for a man of action, it was exceedingly frustrating, for he was held to his room in the castle. There he spent endless days pacing, finding ways to release his pent-up energy, doing what he could to work his muscles. He was well taken care of, and he did not believe that Mary wished him ill. In her mind, he had conspired with James, and James had thoroughly drawn her wrath. She had lifted him up, given him titles and land, and he had shown her the worst possible ingratitude. Mary's greatest fault lay in her frankness; she was not a person for whom intrigue came easily. Rowan had learned he was not yet facing a trial because evidence of his treason was still being studied.

In early spring, Mary came to visit him, and she was not the same woman he had faced only months earlier.

He had heard that she was pregnant. In December, the rumors had begun, though it had been whispered that the queen was merely ill. Then news came that she was expecting, and that, he knew, was a moment of sheer joy for all of Scotland. Should Mary have died without issue, there might well have been anarchy. James was illegitimate, as were many other possible contenders for the crown. Darnley would be a candidate, but one so hated it would be almost impossible for him to rule, despite his Lennox associations.

She did not, however, appear to be an ecstatic mother-to-be when she came to the castle to speak with him, her “traitorous” subject. She came with a number of attendants, including her wizened new favorite, the musician and now her secretary, Riccio.

Rowan stiffened, knowing that not only James but many of her nobles—even those loyal to her and her marriage—loathed the man. Only recently had the queen come to depend so desperately on him, and Rowan knew in his heart it was another mistake on her part.

Her husband, however, was not with her.

Rowan rose hastily, paying her the honor due her. “Leave us,” she told the others. The warder hesitated, as if Rowan had been a bloodthirsty murderer rather than a loyal subject who had submitted to this degradation rather than create any possible conflict. He would have been resentful, had the queen not said impatiently, “Leave me. Good God, the man is my nephew. He will not harm me.”

Everyone disappeared down the corridor, and the warder, still wary, closed the door at last.

“My deepest congratulations,” Rowan said, nodding toward her swelling belly.

She arched a brow. “In this, at least, my marriage is a success.”

He held his tongue; whatever she had just said, Mary did not wish to hear anyone preaching to her about her choice of husband. “I'm sure, Your Grace, that you will always do as you see fit. And Scotland will be grateful for an heir.”

“The heir has not yet breathed his first,” she pointed out.

“There is no reason for you to fear. You are young and have the strength of…of a queen,” he said softly.

“I am sorry to do this to you,” she told him.

“I believe that you are.”

“But you have betrayed me.”

“Never.”

“You will not call James the traitor that he is.”

“I never lifted arms against you.”

“No,” she said, and there was a petulant tone in her voice when she went on. “You were busy seducing one of my ladies.”

“I love her, Your Grace.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She waved a hand in the air, brushing him aside as she sat and turned away. He remained standing. “Only a fool believes in love.”

She looked at him suddenly, her huge, dark eyes wide and haunted. “I have married Henry, married him before God. I have lifted him up. And he is a fool. A very pretty fool, but a fool nonetheless.”

“He is your child's father.”

“A pity,” she said bitterly.

He kept silent, knowing there was nothing he could say that would not be a mistake.

“I have made this bed…” she murmured.

He knelt down before her, taking her hands, searching her face. “Mary, you are my queen. Scotland's queen. You entered into a marriage you deeply desired. You…chose to lift Darnley up as your…more than your consort.”

She offered him a wry smile. “A Scottish parliament will never grant him the title of king in his own right. I see that now, and I see why. He cares nothing for government. He is vain and selfish. He wants only to hunt and gamble and drink…and spend his nights whoring, I imagine. What have I done?” she whispered.

“Mary, you have been a good queen. You must remain a good queen. You are the sovereign. If any at your side demand that you go against your own better judgment, deny them. Be the Queen Mary your subjects love, and don't let any man take that from you.”

She nodded, offering him a slight smile. “I can't let you go, you know.”

“I have never offered you harm. I have never offered you anything but my loyalty.”

“I believe you.”

“Then…?”