Adam’s bonds were cut as a mount was searched for. Realizing his life had just been spared, he quickly wiped his eyes with the fleshy part of his palm and straightened his cloak. Searching the eyes of every rider, he looked for someone who could explain what had just happened. Evidently his brother had not enlightened him on the events that had occurred the previous day.
“You have been shown great mercy today, pup,” Arrick said. “Be sure to not make the same mistake as your brother. Cooperate with us and honor your queen, and you will continue to be spared.”
Adam placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head in submission. “Please, Your Grace, take my brother’s steed and allow me to ride my own so as not to trouble you further.”
“Very well,” Mary replied, glancing over her shoulder. “And give him back his sword.”
“Your Grace?” Munro questioned.
“It will be all right. I believe Adam is much wiser than his older brother. I doubt he’ll try anything stupid.” She moved her horse forward, then added as an afterthought and warning, “And if he does, he will suffer the same fate.”
~17~
October 1562
Every man’s garment was frozen against his body by the time we reached the River Spey. The driving rain had turned to a slick, frozen pellet that stung the face and burned the hands as it beat incessantly against our exposed skin. Mary, who generally did not make a habit of complaining, even appeared to suffer from the ill-effects of the sleet and plunging temperatures; her usual sunny disposition hidden under the soaked curls that now clung to her brow.
As we approached the river another more dangerous dilemma awaited us. The rain had washed portions of the bridge away. Those who would stay and cross would have to do so one at a time, and with the utmost care. The rest of the army would have to travel further north to the next crossing and hope that the bridge would still be intact.
The question then remained: where would the queen cross? Was it riskier to have her cross at the fragmented bridge, or expose her to further elemental ruination by adding additional difficult miles to her trek? Arrick made the final decision to escort Mary to the next bridge, but the queen had different plans. “I intend to cross right here. I can swim should anything dreadful befall me.”
“Your Grace, the water is freezing, and it exceeds its banks. Not to mention it moves at accelerated speed. You would drown within minutes should more of the bridge be swept away.”
Mary considered his counsel for a moment then spoke again. “I want to reach Strathbogie by sundown. I perceive that only leaves us about two good hours of daylight. I also perceive that we are on the trail of the treasonous Gordon clan right where we are. I do not wish to set us back any further by traveling out of our way. I believe the strongest parts of the bridge still stand. I don’t think there is any more danger to me than to any other soldier choosing to cross at this place.”
Arrick opened his mouth to protest further, but I spoke up first.
“The queen can ride with me. Ramses is as strong as an ox. Choose a soldier to lead her horse across and we will make sure no harm shall come to her.”
Eight sets of eyes all turned their attention toward me. A smile lit up Mary’s face. Amusement danced on Maitland's face and amazement shone on Rizzio’s and Randolph’s. James and Arrick both cursed in unison. Only Morton and Munro voiced their consent.
“Aye, the foundational structure of the bridge is still intact. ‘Twill be safe enough,” Morton confirmed.
Within minutes we set to preparations. Mary pulled out a dry, woolen cloak from her satchel and exchanged it for her wet one. Then I assisted her in mounting Ramses and wrapped the fur blanket that Gordon had given her around her shoulders. I mounted behind her and adjusted my seating so as not to make her uncomfortable. Yet it was I who found discomfort in the saddle. The scent of her was maddening, and even in the October sleet, I found myself intoxicated with her nearness. I wrapped my arms around her slight frame and firmly gripped Ramses’ reins. I fought the urge to crush her to me and bury my face into her drenched hair.
Arrick and Morton headed the line and were the first to cross. By this time, the rain had abated but the current still tore beneath the broken bridge, pulling loose stones into its destructive path. When it came our turn to cross, Mary clung to the arm that I had wrapped around her waist. I bent my head and spoke soothing words into her ear as we crossed the raging current. I could feel the pounding of her heart against my wrist as the beats did double time to the clip-clop of Ramses’ careful hooves across the slick stones. When we reached the other side the tension in Mary’s body immediately relaxed and she slumped against me.
I brought Ramses to a halt, but before Mary could dismount, we heard an ear-splitting scream and the pounding of hooves rushing toward us. Breaking through our protective line of soldiers, three of Gordon’s men charged at us, heading straight for Mary.
Tightening my grip on the queen, I yanked Ramses’ reins to the left. I yelled for Mary to grab the reins. I wasn’t about to let go of my hold on her and I knew she could manage the reins while I jerked my sword from the scabbard at my side. I shouted directions to Mary, and she expertly guided Ramses where I needed him to go.
Suddenly, the hilt of a man’s sword crashed down on my shoulder. He threw me off balance and I momentarily lost the hold I had on Mary as well as my seat on the horse. Feeling my arm loosen from around her waist, she grabbed the sleeve of my cloak and pulled me upright again. The soldier charged me a second time. I quickly thrust my sword but caught only the sleeve of the ruffian’s tunic, slicing it open and baring his flesh.
He shouted at me in Gaelic then swung his long sword at me again. When he missed he recovered quickly and reached for the fleece Mary wore around her shoulders. He caught the corner and pulled her forward. Seeing my advantage at his preoccupation with Mary, I struck quickly, puncturing the soldier between his ribs. He returned my strike with an angry stab. I ducked away, shouting instructions for Mary to guide Ramses. Again he tried for Mary and this time she kicked at him. This, however, proved to be an ill-judgment, for when she thrust her foot at him the second time he caught hold of her foot and jerked her forward again, almost pulling her from the saddle. The unexpected movement caused me to once again lose my grip on her. I lifted my sword and, driving down hard on this arm, I sliced him open at the elbow. The muscle was torn, causing him to relax his grip on Mary a second time. A third time I thrust my sword, hitting the soldier again between the ribs, causing him to finally fall from his horse. I let out a relieved breath and reached for the reins.
“Thomas, take heed!” Mary shouted in warning, as a second soldier assaulted us from the left. Mary maneuvered Ramses with a yank to the right, and I struck the man at the collar. I jerked the sword to pull it free. Mary cried out as the soldier’s blood sprayed, soaking her face and hair. I glanced about to ascertain the whereabouts of the third soldier when I saw Arrick wiping his sword on his breeches. The man lay dead at the feet of Arrick’s horse.
I dropped my sword to the ground and dismounted in one quick movement. Placing my hands around Mary’s waist, I pulled her off Ramses and buried her face in my shoulder. She was shaking and sobbing.
“Hush now; it’s over, my fair one.” I pulled a clean cloth from my satchel and began to wipe Mary’s face.
“I feared for your life. You could have been killed!”
I pressed my forehead against hers and we leaned against each other as we both tried to catch our breath.
“Aye, and you could have been kidnapped. No doubt that was the fruition of the threat you were warned about at Inverness,” I whispered.
“What if I had not been riding with you? Surely they would have succeeded, for they were so close!”
We stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. I had no answer for her. It was unsettling how close Gordon’s men had actually gotten to Mary. It could only be Providence that led me to suggest she ride with me.
Arrick approached. “Your Majesty, Lord John Gordon and two others escaped toward the east. I’ve sent a band of men to apprehend them.”
“Thank you. I have all faith that our men will succeed.” Mary straightened her back and wiped her hands with the cloth that I had given her. “Shall we continue?”
Lord James protested, “N-n-nay, my queen. Do you not wish to rest? It is understandable if you wish to stop here for a spell.”
“I shall be fine. I wish to proceed.”
“Your Majesty, do you wish to ride with Thomas again? Or perhaps let him rest and another can bear you to Strathbogie?” Morton offered.
“Only Thomas shall bear me. When necessary,” she added. “But I can ride. I am recovered.” She lifted her head into the air and walked toward her horse. But the catch in her voice did not escape my notice.
As I followed behind her, I could not help surveying the area for any more surprise visitors. Not that anyone else would know, but Mary was not the only one pretending to not be shaken.
***
When we arrived at Strathbogie Castle, we were greeted by a five-story tower that made up the main bulk of the castle. A colorless sky and freezing rain did nothing to diminish the majestic tower and great hall that surrounded the courtyard of this wealthy estate. Thick stone walls hid the Gordon family securely within its protective span, and guards stood defensively at each window of the tower. Although the time for diplomacy had passed, Mary still insisted that we approach the castle with care and demand that Gordon turn himself over to the queen’s authority. Arrick would have preferred to just bust the door down.
The countess herself answered the door then informed the captain of the guard that her husband was not there. A hundred men stormed the castle, pushing aside the servants and sequestering the countess in an inner chamber to be questioned. After a thorough search of the castle and grounds proved the absence of the earl, the countess requested an audience with the queen.
Mary refused. “I have had my fill of this arrogant man and his countess-wife with her honey-soaked lip service. Tell her the time for talking is at an end. I wish her to be interrogated, along with the servants. They must know the whereabouts of Gordon. We shall bed here for the night.”
Of course, the countess confessed to nothing that would betray her husband. But in the early morning hours of the following day, her son had been apprehended and brought back to Strathbogie.
Sir John looked every bit the part of a miscreant. Small, black, heavy-lidded eyes smiled beguilingly from under peat-black hair, straight as a branding iron, that hung wet and limp across his pretty face. A wide smile flashed perfect and white against the accent of black stubble that covered a strong chin and sturdy cheekbones. He was tall and slender, yet his muscular legs bore witness of one who did much riding. Yet, it was how he carried himself—with an air of confidence—that annoyed me. Just the thought of everything Mary had already endured because of this fool nearly pushed me to confront him myself.
Lord James spared no iron as he interrogated the earl’s son: the kidnapping attempt, the ill intentions toward Mary and subsequent matrimonial plan, the whereabouts of his hiding father. All of which John Gordon laughed off as if it had been a harmless joke.
“Come now, Your Grace,” he said smoothly. “Your royal blood mixed with the fine and noble blood of the Gordon’s of Huntly; we would make beautiful children and create a strong dynasty. I only attempted to take you because your counselors would not listen to reason. I knew if we had a chance to meet in person, you would reconsider.”
My fingers curled into a fist at the familiar and flirtatious tone he took when speaking to the queen.
Mary’s lip twisted to reveal her disgust. “You grossly overestimate your charm, Sir John. It would take a lot more than a flash of your smile to lure me. Furthermore, I choose who I will and will not keep company with. You’ve given me no reason to desire your attentions nor have your children. Now, you will tell me where your father is hiding, and I might consider leaving your head attached to your body.”
The lurid smile that had not left Sir John’s face since Mary entered the chamber finally slipped from view. In its place stood a clenched jaw and hardened eyes. The man who stood before us now was as different as a lamb is from an adder.
“You have greatly offended my family, and my father in particular. I thought we could perhaps come to some sort of agreement; however, I see now that I was mistaken. I’ll forgive your stinging personal comments, but my father is not so forgiving. You best prepare yourselves for a romp that you are not soon likely to forget.”
“Is that a threat, John Gordon?” I could stay silent no longer. I pushed myself away from the wall upon which I leaned and came to stand before the scoundrel.
“It is merely a warning, Reverend. My father has many supporters in the north. The queen might want to consider my marriage proposal after all.”
Mary intervened, “That is not what this is about, and you know it. Your father is an arrogant man; I can see where you inherited his traits. I was willing to forgive his insolence and total disregard for my instructions at Aberdeen. However, his inhospitable actions at Inverness have earned him great disregard, and your dangerous and vacuous escapades at the River Spey are inexcusable. Now, are you going to give me the information I desire?”
“Not on your pretty little life,” John hissed, as he turned his back to Mary.
“Remove him from my presence!” Mary shouted. A guard jerked Sir John by his arm, forcing him to move in the direction that he desired of him. “Sir, you will be dealt with swiftly. You might want to clear your conscious and set your affairs in order, for you will not live to see another birthday.” After John was removed from the room, she turned to Arrick and inquired, “Any success with the others?”
“Your Grace, Adam Gordon has indicated that his father has many supporters in Aberdeen. He has suggested that his father may be on his way back to Aberdeen to secure those forces.”
“Aberdeen! We’re on a wild goose chase. Is there any other indication that he may be heading that direction once again?” Mary rubbed a steady hand over her forehead as if to ease the tension building there.
“Aye, we have witnesses that say they saw Lord Gordon heading that direction right before sundown.”
“So, we just barely missed him,” she spoke under her breath. “Sir Arrick, tell the others that we leave before daybreak. Gordon can only elude us for so long.” She turned her attention on those of us still in the room, “Everyone needs to get some sleep. We’re going back to Aberdeen.”
We made eye contact, and I sensed that she wanted to talk.
“You handled that blackguard very well, Your Grace.” I drew near to her.
She shook her head in disbelief. “Can you believe he actually thinks that I would want to marry a man such as he?”
The thought of a knave like John Gordon even laying a finger on Mary sent a streak of vengeful thoughts through my head. Yet I tried to ease her mind. “A man will do unthinkable things for the woman he loves.”
“Will he?” She turned on me with such force that I was left speechless. “Because I haven’t seen much proof of that.” Her stormy green eyes implored an answer from me, and I suddenly realized we were no longer speaking of John Gordon. When I didn’t answer, she sighed and said, “Get some sleep, Thomas.”
The queen swept from the room in a flurry, leaving a hollow space in her wake. I remained a moment longer, pondering the discourse that had just transpired between us. I thought about the retort I had given her. A man will do unthinkable things for the woman he loves. Did I really believe that? And if so, what was I going to do about it? Maybe it was time that I put a little action behind my words. I ran a hand across my forehead, trying to ease the tension I could feel building there. I felt myself being pulled further and further into this web I was weaving for myself. Like a thief, sneaking about in the dark, I was playing a dangerous game, and sooner or later, someone was going t
o get hurt. I could only pray that the damage would not be irreparable.
~18~
October 1562
We left Strathbogie at daybreak. We made a great spectacle, as over 3,000 men, most on horseback but many on foot, had joined with Mary and were now moving in unison toward Aberdeen. A sea of blacks, browns, grays, chestnuts, and every color of horse in between thundered across the plains and over the hillsides. The regal garments and royal standards of the queen’s army and the colorful tartans and humble weapons of the Highland clans who joined with her cause, merged together into one purpose. The sound of the horses alone was deafening, but when you added the powerful cries of thousands of warriors, the sound was quite bone-jarring.
“Ramses seems a little more skittish than normal, don’t you think, Thomas?” Mary observed the horse with her sharp eye as we made our way to Aberdeen.
“Aye, he has been giving me fits for two days now. He seemed especially on edge this morning as I performed his daily grooming ritual. I mean, all the horses seemed to anticipate the fight. But where most pranced in anxious anticipation, Ramses has trembled with nervous energy.”
We were within a few miles of Aberdeen when Lord James commanded a halt of our soldiers. We dismounted to stretch our legs, and James motioned for us to join him at the edge of a long, flat meadow.
“We will stop here at Corrichie Burn. Just over that hill is Midmar Castle. We have reason to believe that Gordon is hiding there.” James pointed to the north. A small canyon lied between where we stood and the castle on the other side.
“Marshland covers that canyon,” Sir Arrick added. “We will need to be very careful when we cross. Watch for small knolls covered in cotton grass. That is where you will want to step. The ground beneath is firmer there and will give you a sure spot to place your step. Avoid the sphagnum moss; it will be soggy and you will lose your footing.”
The Queen's Almoner Page 14
