by J. R. Tomlin
Patrick’s knock brought a curt voice asking who it was. When he answered, Callendar replied to enter.
Two men stood in the small chamber. In the middle, a table took up most of the space with a large map spread out beside a stand of newly lit candles. On the far side, Sir Alexander Livingston, Lord Callendar and Keeper of Stirling Castle, a wiry, fair-haired man in blue-colored velvet, was speaking to a cleric, clean-shaven and tonsured in dark brocade, plump, beringed hands resting on the table as he studied the map.
Sir Alexander looked closely at Patrick with round, pale eyes and then cast a pointed glance at the man beside him. “My Lord Bishop, here is someone who can answer questions for us.” Patrick realized that this was John Cameron, Bishop of Glasgow, former Chancellor of Scotland and still Keeper of the Privy Seal. Patrick found himself kneeling to kiss the ring of the most powerful man of the former king’s reign.
“Sir Patrick.” Cameron gave Patrick the practiced smile of a statesman. “I understand you feel that Crichton does not have the men to attack Stirling?”
“No, sir. Not at Edinburgh, but if he called upon the men in his own lands…” Patrick frowned thoughtfully. “And he has been in close communion with the Earl of Avondale. I dinnae ken how many spears Avondale could raise if he took Crichton’s part.”
“He will nae chance attacking Stirling whilst we hold the king here,” Cameron said. “Not and give the appearance of attacking the person of the king. It would be lèse-majesté, or so we would name it.”
Patrick stepped closer to the map and looked down at it as though it would answer the questions that swirled in his mind. “But he is chancellor and holds the great seal. Could that give him the right to call upon aid in recovering the king?” For an army that could not easily cross the Firth of Forth, it would be several days travel from Edinburgh to Stirling.
“He cannot call a parliament without the presence of the king. That pulls his teeth. Moreover, any call for raising an army, I can meet with a proclamation signed by the king himself over his privy seal. The queen was given the right to possession of the king after the last parliament, so she has every right to have him sign such a document.”
“How well acquainted are you with Crichton, sir?” Patrick chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “He is a wrathful and determined man. I cannae believe he will simply accept losing possession of the king. I saw the rage he was in when he realized the queen had him.”
Callendar shook his head. “The matter of the queen—”
Cameron brusquely cut him off. “She did well to bring the king to you. Now we must concentrate on keeping him in our hands.”
Callendar grunted softly. “Bothwell Castle is near Crichton’s lands. Sir William Bothwell is on good terms with Crichton—at my behest. I’ll see that he apprises us if Crichton raises his spears.”
“He is more likely to copy the queen’s methods and try to regain the king by stealth.” Cameron stared at Patrick for a moment, candlelight flickering on broad brow and rounded cheeks. “That is what we must guard against. He must be closely guarded at all times. That will be your task. Keep the lad busy and safe. He is eager for more lessons with the sword I am told.”
Callendar grunted in agreement. “My son will join him in these lessons. The king is given to enjoying too much low company of the stable boys and ghillies that he should be weaned from. I sent the two lads to the training yard where you’ll find them.”
The bishop held out his hand, so Patrick went down on one knee to kiss his Episcopal ring. Cameron made the sign of the cross over him and gave him his blessing. Then he said, “If you learn anything that would affect the king’s person, I charge you to report it to me.”
“Gladly, My Lord.” Patrick said as though he truly intended to spy for yet another faction.
Young James and David Callendar were nowhere to be found in the training yard. Shrieks from outside the gate led Patrick in that direction. He chuckled as he watched James lead the way as several rough-clad lads followed him, sliding down the muddy slope of Castle Hill on their rears, at play in a game of hurlyhacket. He sent their playmates to find other fun and took the king and his companion in his charge for work with the sword and then with their bows.
That evening, when King James was abed, Patrick went looking for Annabella. He found her near the Princesses’ bed chambers and proposed a walk to discuss the last few days’ doings. In the haze of near dusk, they strolled to the high summit of the castle rock, where the craggy edge plummeted with a sheer drop to the plain of Forth. Summer light lasted late into the night, so only a few stars were winking out in the purple tinted sky.
They found a stone outcrop to sit on and she settled with a deep sigh, tilting back her head. “It is nice to breathe the fresh air of the outside.”
Patrick sat beside her, his thigh just brushing the edge of her skirts. “Look.” He pointed to a cross shape of stars barely visible in the still darkening sky. “You can see the Summer Triangle.”
Annabella leaned forward to follow where he pointed. “So you can.” There was a smile in her voice. Turning her head, she pointed further north. “And there is the handle of the Plough. But it is nae dark enough yet to see the North Star.”
He made a sort of grunt in agreement and propped his elbows on his thighs. He hadn’t quite decided how to talk about all that he had on his mind. After a deep breath, he blurted, “The queen quite likes Sir James Stewart?”
“Aye.” Annabella’s voice still held the sound of a smile. “She does.”
When Patrick turned to look in her face, he could barely see in the fading light that she was indeed smiling. “I fear that they may decide to marry.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Why is that a fear? He is a braw knight, and surely after all that happened, she has a right to some happiness.”
“The king is only two years dead. You dinnae think it is soon?”
“Two years is long enough to mourn. A decent period.” She looked at him closely, quiet for a long moment. “What is it that you are truly saying?”
Patrick ran his hand over his cheeks, freshly shaven for her. The last thing he wanted was to offend her. “I do fear it. But you have the right of it. That’s nae the reason.” He turned and took one of her hands. “I fear how Alexander Callendar will react. She still has custody of the king—officially at least. But he controls him and means to continue doing so.”
She shook her head. “That has nothing to do with the queen marrying. She wants Sir Alexander to keep young James from the hands of Crichton. She needs him. Why should she change that?”
“That is nae how Callendar will see it. Stewart is allied with the Douglases.” He blew out a breath. “Aye, the head of the Black Douglases is dead. But the Earl of Angus is a Douglas as well and he also favored Crichton. They are no friends to Callendar. I fear…” He paused, frowning in thought. “I very much fear that if she marries James Stewart that Callendar will act against them.”
“But how? What can he do?”
“I’m nae sure what way that blow will fall, but it will be a harsh one.” He ran his thumb over the softness of her hand, liking the velvety feel of it. “He is the keeper of Stirling Castle and has all of us in the palm of his hand. Certes, Crichton would nae come to her aid and Sir James has at most a small force at his call unless Angus defended him. Would he declare war with the man who holds the king? I dinnae think he will do so.”
She seemed not at all to mind his caress of her hand, and in fact curled her fingers around his. “Sir Patrick, she is set on this marriage. She cares very much for Sir James. He has stood by her in all of her trials as no one else has. I swear to you, he’s a good man.”
“Good man or nae, it is dangerous. Can you convince her just to wait? I dinnae say she should change her mind, but put the marriage off for a time. Mayhap when Bishop Kennedy returns? I am sure he would take her part.”
“She will nae wait that long. Who knows how long he may be detained with the Pope? She
means to marry, and she trusts Callendar. His wife is one of us, a lady-in-waiting. The friendship is long.”
“Will you at least mention to her that Callendar may be wroth at such a marriage? Give her a warning?”
She pulled her hand out of his. While they talked, it had grown dark and he could no longer make out her expression, but she sounded annoyed when she said, “I could ask her how she thinks he will feel about it. But she wants a man to cherish her.”
“Surely other women want that as well.” He reached to take back her hand and turned to face her closely. He could smell the rose scent that she wore as it wafted on the night air. “I dinnae mean that I am against marriage, my lady. I—” He broke off when she slapped her other hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. Now it was he who dropped her hand. He jerked back. “Are you laughing at me?”
She retrieved his hand in both of hers. “I promise that I am not. I dinnae ken why I laughed.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then she whispered, “I am nae against marriage—”
There was still just a trace of laughter in her voice but he did not mind, so he took the opportunity to put his arm around her to keep her close. She leaned into his embrace. She encircled him with her arms, pulled him to her, and the rest of her words were lost against his mouth. He kissed her gently at first, but it wasn’t enough. She knotted her fists in his doublet, grasping him harder against her. He groaned low in his throat, bent her head back across his arm, and kissed her hard, with an intensity that made her cling to him. Then they overbalanced, rolling over the edge of the outcrop and onto the grass, tangled together, still kissing as they laughed. They laughed until they gasped with breathlessness. She untangled from him and stood, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. He jumped up and brushed her back where she could not reach. If she minded when he ran his hand down her hips, she did not say.
“Your father is here,” Patrick said, as he brushed away a bit more imaginary grass. “Tomorrow, I shall speak to him.” Be damned if he would have his father continue to run his life. It was time… no, it was past time to take more of his life into his own hands. He’d not leave the matter to his lord father. He would put behind him his grief.
They did not speak as, hand-in-hand, they made for the royal quarters. Patrick knew that the world had changed for him. The future could hardly be more uncertain, but he had gained something precious. A woman he treasured to share and build that future as best they could. With one last kiss at her door, he went to a sleepless bed with the myriad possibilities and problems of that future twisting and twining in his head.
Chapter 13
Patrick motioned for Alexander Forbes, a sinewy old man with a thin mouth under a thin beard, to join him in a quiet corner. Early in the day, only a couple of men sat across the room, playing dice and talking about hunting. He gulped a bit when Forbes gave him a cool look. Bringing marriage up seemed harder than he had expected. “Your daughter…” He cleared his throat. “I would like her hand in marriage if you would consider it.”
“I’ve discussed a marriage contract with your lord father.”
“He mentioned as much to me, but a man grown can discuss his own marriage. You already ken that my father has no objection.” He tapped his cheek, trying to hide his nervousness. “I have certain lands obtained of my father lands in Kinneff with two good farms and a strong manor house. I’ll provide for her well.”
Forbes narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I’ll nae give my lass a good dower that you must provide for her?”
“Heaven forefend, no, My Lord. But her dower will be hers for if ever she had need of it.” He patted the air as though to soothe the insulted man. “Since you and my father see no objection to the match, we could agree and settle on a date for a betrothal, I hope.”
Forbes blew out a scornful puff through his lips. “You young are always so impatient.”
Patrick threw a glance toward the two men dicing who seemed to be paying them no mind. He lowered his voice to say, “My lord, with the state of the realm, is it nae better to have matters settled as much as we can? She and I are both closely tied to the royal family. Our marriage will only strengthen our hand.” If that was not the real reason he wanted to marry Annabella, their fathers had no need to know of it. “Is there aught to be gained from delaying?”
Forbes worked his mouth for a moment as he considered Patrick’s words. “Mayhap not. If it is to be done, it is well done soon, I suppose. Have you talked to your father about this?”
“He told me last eve that he favored the match, but we talked no more than that. You had already discussed the contract, so it should be a simple matter.” Since the man seemed to be reasonable, Patrick’s face brightened with a smile. “A betrothal will take our minds off so much worry the past few days.”
The slap Forbes gave him on the shoulder was harder than expected from his wiry frame. “I shall speak to your sire. I think we can quickly agree. Once the betrothal is held, we’ll have the banns cried. Mayhap you won’t be so bad a husband for my lass.” He gave Patrick a hard look. “You’d better not be.”
“The best that I ken how to be, My Lord. I give you my word on it.”
It took a servant only a short time to locate Lord Gray and for him to join them. He looked less than pleased that Patrick had taken matters into his own hands, but since he wanted the match as well, he did no more than give Patrick a disapproving look before they sat and quickly agreed that he would receive as her dowry some land in Kincardine. A cleric would draw up the contract to be signed at the betrothal celebration.
Chapter 14
It was the queen who took charge, beaming as she imposed her will on the celebration. Fresh rushes, well mixed with lavender, were strewn over the floor of the great hall. The cooks and kitcheners were exhorted to exert themselves to cope with the short notice. The whitest linen the royal castle had to offer was laid out on long trestle tables, commands were sent into Stirling Town to find dancers, mummers, and strolling players in addition to the one jester and the bard already in residence. James eagerly told his mother about a juggler who had a dog that jumped through hoops in the castle a few days before, entertaining the children, so someone was sent to search for him as well.
While the queen kept the castle abustle in preparation for the celebration, Patrick’s father, already resplendent in a red wool doublet, found his son glumly sponging his second doublet. Together they looked at the garment, which was well-worn, with the color beginning to fade in a few spots. As much as he could, Patrick preferred to dress in a practical manner, had never thought himself a popinjay, but there were some times when making an appearance was important. He did not want to humiliate either his bride-to-be or his family.
“This will nae do,” his father said. “If you’d been less impatient, you could have had clothes sent from Kinneff.”
Patrick sighed. “There must be a solution. Someone must be about my size that I could borrow something suitable.”
Lord Gray looked him up and down as though he did not even know own his son’s appearance. At last he said, “The Black Knight is about your height, although he’s broader.”
Lord Gray sent a castle servant bustling with a note for the Black Knight requesting the loan of something appropriate to the occasion. The knight appeared at the door, trailed by the servant, who was loaded with a pile of clothing. “My new white doublet will do well. Since I’ve nae yet worn it, I’ll make it a wedding gift,” the man said with a grin. “There are blue chauses that should fit once they are pointed and gartered. And I brought a blue samite half cloak I fasten with a silver brooch. You’ll look lordly enough to satisfy your bride, I give you my word.”
Patrick swallowed a laugh. The Black Knight was well-founded indeed, but today he was right glad of it. But the Black Knight was correct. Tying the chauses tightly to his braes had them show off the turn of his leg and the silky white doublet looked lordly enough over them with the cloak atop all.
The two men su
pervised his dressing with critical eyes but finally gave him a nod of approval. Patrick slapped the Black Knight’s shoulder. He liked the man, even if he thought wedding the queen would be a terrible error in judgement. “Thank you, sir. The last thing I would want to do is humiliate my bride—or her father.”
Lord Gray grunted. “Or me.”
Patrick gave his father a bow. “Or you, sir.” While they’d taken so long preparing Patrick for the occasion, the sound of a harp mixed with the trill of pipes drifted from the great hall. A singer’s voice was muffled by the thick floors. When they entered, torches shimmered against hammered silver, filling the hall with silvery light.
The air was filled with bright chatter from guests who were greeting each other and laughing beneath the sounds of the music. Yet Patrick could see dark suspicion in the pale eyes of Alexander Livingston, Lord Callendar, who already sat at the high table. He could see it in the eyes of Bishop Cameron, between the soft folds of fat in his round face. But the queen was flushed and her eyes bright as she led Annabella to meet her father at the foot of the dais, and Patrick caught his breath.
His bride was exquisite. She wore a deep blue gown of velvet that brought out the color of her eyes. Her tawny hair tumbled in waves across her bare shoulders and down to her waist. He saw no one else as he joined her. They climbed the two steps onto the dais and stood before the table where the marriage contract was laid out beside ink, quills, and wax for the seals. Her father signed, as did Patrick and his father. They all applied their seals and it was done. No one could gainsay the sweet kiss he claimed from her. Her blush to cheers and applause from the onlookers was only the sweeter.
