The Queen's Almoner

by Tonya Ulynn Brown

  I sat for a quarter of an hour, petting the pup and speaking to him gently to reassure him that he was safe. After a spell, I heard soft footsteps on the stones without, and looked up to see Mary standing in the doorway. She wore her emotions on her face, and in her eyes was the look of a woman who held a longing in her heart. I stood, and she stepped quietly through the door.

  “And what have ye here, Thomas?” She reached a small, smooth hand out and scratched the pup on the head.

  “I found him in the bluebells along the path to the chapel. He was whining horribly and is shaking yet. I gather that he is hungry and scared.”

  “The poor dear. Here, let me see him.” Mary reached for the dog, and he immediately nuzzled his nose against her neck as she took him into her arms. She buried her face into the soft tufts of hair that sprang up from the top of his head. “Well, he’s as cute as a button but smells terrible.” She laughed. “Let’s take him to the kitchen and get him a bite of mutton and see if one of the maids can clean him up.”

  I, too, was concerned for the pup, but I couldn’t allow him to steal these precious, last few moments with Mary. I seized her arm and stopped her from taking another step.

  “Mary, the pup will be fine for a few more minutes. I have an important matter I must needs speak with you about.” She paused and looked into my eyes, and I thought perhaps she already knew what I was about to say.

  Her lip quivered and her voice was so weak I could barely hear her when she finally spoke. “Yes, of course, Thomas.”

  With my hand still on her arm, I pulled her over to the bench where I had previously been sitting.

  “What are you going to name your furry friend?” she attempted.

  “Me?” I started, surprised.

  “Let’s name him Tom Tom, in your honor.”

  I laughed, “Tom Tom is not a very regal name for a dog in such a high position.”

  “I think it is perfect,” she said, scratching the pup under the chin. “I still think he would be great company for you though.”

  “Mary, I can’t keep him. Which is what I actually wanted to speak to you about. I’m…” I paused and swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump that had formed in my throat. “Mary, I’ve accepted a position at St. Andrews. I’ll be instructing at the university and will be afforded an opportunity to give a sermon occasionally. Something I must admit, I’ve missed.”

  “I’d no idea you missed sermonizing so much. I could have arranged for—”

  “Please don’t misunderstand my motive,” I interrupted. “It wasn’t my love of sermonizing that drove me to this decision.”

  Mary blinked at me, a confused expression stealing her usual knowing look. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  I stood and walked across the small enclave; crates and barrels filling the place where the altar had once stood. Putting both hands on a crate, I grasped the sides to steady myself. I felt weak and dizzy with the weight of the gravity of my situation. How could I explain to her that it wasn’t my love of preaching that was driving me away, but my love for her?

  “It was my father’s wish that I be trained for the priesthood. He was released from the vow of celibacy because he was already married when he became your father’s almoner. But it did not stop him from desiring me to go into the priesthood as well. Out of love and devotion to my father, I accepted the path that had been chosen for me. I resigned to the fact that I would never marry, never sire children of my own, because that was what was expected of me.”

  “But since you took on the Protestant faith, it allows for those things that the Catholic priesthood would have never allowed, am I correct?”

  “Yes, it is true that those of us who have protested the leadership of Rome have been allowed to marry. However, that was never a factor that influenced my religious leanings. Once I heard the truth preached to me, my conscience would not allow me to do anything other than leave the confines of the Catholic church. Yet, my heart has always been to follow my father’s wish for me and fulfill the call I felt for myself since I was a young boy.”

  “I truly do not understand your conflict. Have you not been allowed to follow your conscience and serve the Almighty, in the way that you see fit, while in service to me?”

  “Yes,” I paused, blowing out my breath through my lips in an attempt to stall for time. I turned and looked at her again. “I have allowed certain...distractions to waylay me and turn my heart from that which I have been called to do.”

  “What sort of distractions?” Her eyes shone bright, but her voice shook when she spoke.

  “Mary, please, I beg of you; do not question my decision.” This time my own voice shook, and I feared that I would lose my composure altogether. “I cannot give you particulars. You will just have to trust me when I tell you that it is best for all involved if I depart and take up my situation elsewhere.”

  “But, best for whom, Thomas? I do not know what I would do without your counsel.”

  “Mary, please!” This time my voice rose, strong and harsh; much harsher than I intended. “Please,” I said again, in a softer tone. “Trust me. I will always have your best interest in mind. You can write to me at any time you need guidance. I will even come whenever you ask me to.”

  Her back stiffened and she sat up straighter. “I am your queen. Surely your kirk must allow for obedience to your sovereign! If I will that you must stay—”

  “But you won’t. You mustn’t. And I think in your heart you know why. Think back to what has transpired between us over the past months. You are the queen. You must marry a high-born gentleman and produce an heir. It is what is expected of you. I am a man of the cloth. I must marry a simple woman, procreate, and perpetuate the gospel through our offspring. It is what is expected of me. It is what I want,” I finished softly.

  Mary bent her head and buried it into the pup’s furry crown. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to stay the tears that were already beginning to spill. I produced a small piece of cloth and wiped gently at her eyes, running the back of my hand down her cheek when I was finished. I knew it was unwise, but I allowed myself that last forbidden liberty. It was better than what I really wanted to do, I consoled myself. For what I really wanted to do was feel her lips against mine one more time. I refrained, for it would only make this departure harder.

  A long, strained silence hung between us. I held Mary’s small hand in my own, rubbing my thumbs across her knuckles in an attempt to sooth her.

  “You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?”

  “I b..beg your pardon?”

  “That maid, Isobel. You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?

  I was silent for a moment, not sure how to proceed. Instead I studied the floor.

  “Do you love her?”

  I jerked my head up at her question. The pain apparent in her eyes struck a dagger into my chest.

  “Mary, don’t.”

  “Why not, Thomas? I think I have a right to know. You pledged your devotion and loyalty to me. You said you’d always be there for me. Now you are telling me that you are leaving me to… to get married?” She set the shaking pup on the floor then fled to the other side of the chapel, her back turned to me. I wanted desperately to go to her, wrap my arms around her and comfort her. The feeling was so strong that I bit my lip to get a hold of my urge.

  We stood in that strange, utter silence for what seemed like an eternity. I watched as Mary reached her hand up to the nape of her neck and tugged on a small curl that hung there. She twisted and pulled, wrapping it around her finger as was her manner when she was nervous. When I saw her shoulders slump and heard a small gasp escape her lips, I was undone.

  I was at her back in an instant and against my better judgement, gently laid my hands on her shoulders. “Mary,” I began, but then she turned on me.

  “You are right, Thomas. This is for the best. I will be marrying soon, and I’m sure my husband will not want someone like you hanging around to…to distra
ct me.”

  I felt the color drain from my face at her harsh words. There were always rumors of her many suitors, but I hadn’t heard there was anyone definite yet. However, I chose another vein to pursue.

  “Hanging around? Is that what I’ve been doing all these months is just hanging around?”

  She bent to pick up the pup who had found his way back to her and sat pawing at her skirts. However, I waylaid her. Grabbing her by her upper arms this time, I pulled her to me, as close as I dared.

  “Thomas,” she gasped, but didn’t say anything more. I searched her eyes, fighting with every bit of strength within me to keep from crushing my mouth to hers. Her eyes, aflame with an emotion that I couldn’t quite read, arrested me. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

  I closed my eyes. In my weakness I was unable to look at her any longer. I released her from my grip and stepped back, running a hand through my hair in frustration. I tried but couldn’t find my voice.

  “Yes, well…” She stooped to pick up Tom Tom and brushed past me, a coldness touching my soul when she finally finished her thought. “I wish you well, with your new bride.” Her voice was barely audible on the last word. “You deserve every happiness.”

  She turned then, and practically ran from the chapel before I could say anything further. For my part I lingered a little longer there, wrestling with the question whether I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  ~22~

  May 1563

  I wrote to Reverend Spottiswoode explaining that I had some personal business to attend to before I would arrive at St. Andrews. With some inquiring at Holyroodhouse, I was able to obtain the name of the aunt with whom Isobel had went to live. After my conversation with Mary in the chapel, I knew that I had to make a decision concerning my marital state. Truth be told, Isobel would never be Mary. But pining for the queen was not a viable option. We were from two different worlds with strict guidelines as to whom we could marry.

  But Isobel was different. She was from my world. She was a kind-hearted lass who cared for me. I knew that to be true. I also knew that making the trip to Hawick needed to happen. More than anything else, I missed Isobel. She might not be Mary, but maybe she didn’t have to be.

  Maybe the Almighty knew that I needed Isobel.

  It was time I found out.

  I tried to pay for Achaius, since he truly belonged to the estate of Holyroodhouse, but Mary would have none of it. She said he was to be a gift to me for my friendship and loyal service to her since her arrival. I did not have this conversation with Mary myself, but the information was relayed to me through a letter sent by her secretary, Rizzio. A twinge of jealousy surged within me, when I saw that it was his hand that penned the letter to me, but I pushed it aside. After all, it was I who chose this course, and if I truly wanted, I could choose to stay.

  It took me nine days to reach Hawick on Achaius’ back. I knew that I would eventually have to buy a wagon, for I did not expect Isobel to make such a hard journey in such conditions. However, I decided to wait to purchase any additional wares. Perhaps a part of me still doubted whether I could actually convince Isobel that a life with me as her husband would be worth leaving her home for.

  I stopped at the inn to inquire exactly where Isobel’s house was and was told that she lived at the far end of the village with her aunt Bess and her brother. I didn’t know that Isobel had any siblings. Then again, I figured there was a lot more that was unknown to me about the woman I intended to make my wife.

  When I reached the edge of the village, I spied their small cottage. There was a barn with a milk cow, and some chickens squawking in the yard. A fat orange and white striped cat lay near the door but ran away when Achaius and I approached. I dismounted and removed a large parcel from my satchel before tying Achaius up near the barn. I made my way to the door and had barely raised my hand to knock when the door opened, and a pudgy old woman stood before me. She was poised with a broom in hand, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t to be used as a weapon against me.

  “Ye Robert’s man, come to collect the rents? I told ‘em I’d have the money soon as Sally calves again. Should be another week or so.”

  Quite taken aback, I shook my head emphatically and explained, “No, I am no man of Robert’s. I am a friend of Isobel. Is she at home?”

  The old woman looked from my head to my toes then settled her eyes on my face again. Before she could speak a young man joined her at the door to inquire about the stranger. “Isobel ain’t got male friends. What do ya want with ‘er?”

  “William, for Pete’s sake, mind your tongue. Go tell Isobel she’s got a visitor. She is out in the far field picking berries.” She opened the door wider and invited me to come in. She motioned to a rough-hewn chair sitting by the fireplace and offered me a cup of ale. I was glad to have a moment alone with Bess before Isobel arrived. That gave me a chance to ask her permission to marry Isobel, since she had no father to entreat.

  “Our Isobel has suffered horrible headaches since her accident,” Bess began as I was seated. “But she is recovering quite nicely, I think, since leaving court. She told me that a friend had given her some herbal remedies, and I think that has helped as well.”

  “I am pleased that she is recovering.” I said, a warmth growing inside at the thought that I had been able to help.

  “Aye, Isobel does not take too well to being fussed over. She prefers to be the one fussing over others. She has such a good heart and loves to help people.”

  I smiled at the memory of her care of me. “I must say, she was a great help to me in my recovery a couple of months ago. She makes a good nursemaid.”

  “Oh? She didn’t mention that she had assisted a reverend. Was it serious?”

  “Aye. I couldn’t walk.”

  Shock overtook the older woman’s face, then perhaps a bit of pride. “Sounds like our Isobel. But I didn’t know she be a miracle worker. Look at ye now!”

  “That she is,” I agreed. “And I have grown quite fond of her. Would I have your blessing to ask for Isobel’s hand in marriage?” I didn’t beat around the bush, for Isobel would be there any minute.

  Tears filled Bess’ eyes, and she hastily gave her blessing. It was just in time, for within seconds I heard Isobel at the door.

  She stood in the doorway in shock as I rose to greet her. I took her hand in mine and placed a soft kiss on the top of it, but she still remained frozen in the doorway. Finally, she shook her head, as if coming out of a trance, and curtseyed politely.

  “Thomas, I am utterly flabbergasted at your presence here. Is something amiss at Holyroodhouse? Is the queen all right?”

  I patted her hand and led her to the seat that I had vacated by the fireplace.

  “Her Majesty is fine. Do not worry yourself on her account. I have come to ask a favor of you. Perhaps we could walk a spell?”

  “Why don’t ye stay put,” Bess cut in. “William and I have some chores to see to in the barn. Let Isobel rest a bit. She looks winded.”

  I nodded at her suggestion, then handed her the pork tenderloin I had purchased in town.

  “I didn’t want to come empty-handed. Please accept this offering as an apology for my intrusion.”

  Bess waved her hand in indifference but thanked me profusely all the same as she took the parcel from my hands. I pulled a stool up to sit in front of Isobel as they left us alone in the small room. I took Isobel’s hand again and surveyed her well-being. She did indeed look as if her health had improved since the last time I had seen her at Holyroodhouse.

  “Isobel, you look well,” I began. “How are you feeling?”

  She lowered her eyes from my gaze. “I am well enough. Do not trouble yourself on my account, Thomas. Surely, ye did not come all this way to inquire about my health. I would hate to think ye made such a journey for my sake.”

  “I did make such a journey for your sake, Isobel. And for mine.” I stopped and took a deep breath. For a moment, I hesita
ted. Was this what I wanted? A marriage to anyone other than to the one who held my heart seemed cruel and unfair, but it didn’t have to be. I could be the husband I needed to be. And if I could not have the woman I loved, having the woman who had grown in my affections could work. I would make it work. Before I could talk myself out it, I hurriedly said the words, “I came in hopes that you might find it in your heart to accept my proposal of marriage. I am leaving the queen’s service to take a position at St. Andrews. I would be honored if you would accompany me and be my wife. I will love you as a husband should, and I will protect and care for you for as long as I have breath.”

  She didn’t speak for several moments, and I grew nervous at her hesitation. Finally, she said, “I am flattered that ye would honor me with such a request. However, I am afraid I shall have to decline your offer.”

  “Are you in love with someone else, Isobel? Is that why you cannot accept?”

  She got up and began poking the fire with a rod to rekindle the flame. “Men marry for one of two reasons: for love or for offspring. Since we have not the former, I presume it is the latter that ye wish to obtain.” When I didn’t answer her, she continued. “I’m not sure that I am able to have children. This goes beyond my headaches.”

  When I still didn’t speak, she finally turned and looked at me. She was correct. I was asking in hopes that I might start a family. But I could not find it in my heart to retract my offer after I made her a promise. I stood and joined her by the fireplace. “How can you be sure? There is always hope until you begin trying.”

  “A woman knows. There are ways of knowing.” Her voice shook, and she spoke to me as if I were a child incapable of understanding womanly things. “I am sorry, but I would not expect ye to marry me, knowing that I cannot give ye children.”