The Border Lord and the Lady

by Bertrice Small

  “Lady Grey, I will ask for your discretion, but I may need your help,” the king said. “And the old cats outside will want to know what was said here.”

  “I know how to keep secrets, my lord,” Lady Grey said with a meaningful look at the king, for she had under duress aided him once before.

  “Ce-ce?” the queen asked anxiously.

  “Abducted by a lovesick border lord.” The king chuckled. “We will get her back. I must send to Sir William Douglas for his help.”

  “The Douglas of Glengorm?” the queen exclaimed. “Oh, that poor man! To have done such a reckless thing when it is certain Cicely will wed the Gordon laird of Fairlea.”

  “My mistress had not yet made up her mind,” Orva reminded the queen. “She found him handsome and charming, ’tis true, but she disliked his attempting to push her into a marriage she was not certain she wanted. You know my mistress well, my lady. She can be brought to the trough, but not forced to drink.”

  “Aye, ’tis a truth,” the queen said. Then she giggled. “I really do feel sorry for Glengorm, not just because he has been reckless, but because Ce-ce will not be easy to woo.” She turned to the king. “That is why he has stolen her, Jamie. He wants a fair chance with her, and the Gordons would let no man near Ce-ce once Andrew Gordon decided that he would have her. Still, he cannot be allowed this behavior.”

  “I know,” the king agreed. “Do I not already have enough difficulty with the northern lords, my love?” He sighed.

  “Orva must go with your messenger to Sir William,” the queen said suddenly. “Ce-ce will need her, and feel more reassured by her presence. And Lady Grey and her husband must travel with them. Maggie wanted to go home several weeks back, but remained when I asked her to. I was comforted having another woman by my side who is with her first child, but I know Andrew Grey would have his child born at Ben Duff.”

  Lady Grey threw the queen a grateful look. Helping the king secretly some weeks back had put her in a difficult position. The secret was one she had been unable to share with anyone, even with her husband. Being at court, where everything reminded her of the part she had been forced to play in a betrayal, distressed her mightily. Aye, she had wanted to go home weeks ago, but then the queen had begged her to remain, and she could not deny her royal mistress. “Thank you, Your Highness,” Lady Grey said softly. “I very much want to go home to Ben Duff.”

  “Is it near Glengorm?” the king wondered.

  “Aye, they are our nearest neighbors,” Lady Grey said. God’s wounds! What more did he want of her?

  A brief smile touched the king’s lips, but was quickly gone. He knew exactly what Maggie MacLeod, Lady Grey, was thinking. However there would be time enough to enlist her aid if he decided he needed it. “I was simply curious,” James Stewart said. “There is so much of my country that I do not know yet.”

  Outside the door of the queen’s privy chamber that led directly into the corridor, the Gordon of Huntley heard what he needed to hear. Stepping away from the little portal, he wondered if the king would tell him all he knew. Or if possibly he should send to the laird of Fairlea, and raise a troop of his clansmen to ride into the borders to fetch Lady Cicely back. Of course, by that time the girl’s virginity would have certainly been taken, but as long as she was not with Glengorm’s bairn, did it really matter? His kinsman was a proud man, but Cicely Bowen’s fortune could soothe his pride. Especially if she was a good wife to him both publicly and privately.

  Wisdom, however, prevailed. The Gordon of Huntley decided to wait to see what the king would do. To his relief, the king took him aside that evening to tell him what Gordon already knew but dared not admit to, for how could he explain the knowledge he possessed? “My men and I can ride into the borders, my lord, and bring Lady Cicely back,” Gordon offered. “The Douglases are no friends of ours.”

  “I need no clan warfare between you two,” the king said. “Keep your men in check, my lord. I will handle this situation.”

  “I should advise Fairlea of the situation, my lord, for he is to wed the lass, and should know she may be sullied,” the Gordon of Huntley said.

  “Advise Fairlea if you will, Huntley, but Lady Cicely had not agreed on any match, and I cannot force her to one, for I gave her father my word,” the king replied.

  “But surely her father would approve the fine match my kinsman can offer,” Lord Gordon said. The girl was to be given a choice of whom she would wed? Ridiculous!

  “The Earl of Leighton dotes upon his daughter,” the king answered. “He gave her his word that she could marry the man she loved, and no other. And I gave my royal word that I would uphold the earl’s promise to his child. Tomorrow I will send to Sir William Douglas to aid me in this situation with his cousin. Diplomacy will prevail in this matter.” And with those words the Gordon of Huntley was dismissed.

  He bowed, and backed from the king’s presence.

  The king’s privy chamber was now quiet. James Stewart sat in one of the two chairs facing each other by the blazing hearth. Rising, he took a few steps and poured himself a goblet of wine from the carafe on the table which was set before the lead-paned windows. Outside those windows the night was black, a sliver of waning moon not yet risen. He turned back to sit again by the fireplace, which was flanked by stone greyhounds. The chamber was small, with paneled walls and a coffered ceiling, but it suited him well and was his refuge from the court. Only invited guests were allowed into the royal privy chamber.

  James was irritated by the commotion that the Douglas of Glengorm had caused. And his aggravation extended towards Lady Cicely Bowen as well. The Earl of Leighton was a sentimental fool that he allowed his daughter to choose her own husband. And James had been a bigger fool to agree to see to the girl’s marriage under such circumstances. But his Joan had begged him, and he had acquiesced to her plea.

  James Stewart had known that Scotland would eventually recall him, and he would need a queen. It had been fortunate that he had fallen in love with the most suitable candidate for his hand. He was not usually a man to be driven by sentiment. The king had to admit to himself that he would have found himself with a difficult choice had another woman been more eligible. Of course he would have done what he had to do in that case. But there had been no other, and what tender emotions he had were reserved for Joan Beaufort.

  Marriages among the nobility, however, were not usually love matches. Did his wife’s best friend hold out the hope of a love match? Was that why she was so reluctant to commit herself to the laird of Fairlea? Andrew Gordon was a perfectly excellent candidate for the girl’s husband. He had lands, cattle, the favor of his overlord. What more could the girl want? James Stewart had thought not to interfere in Cicely Bowen’s decision. But he had other, more important considerations, like the impending birth of his heir; like the MacDonald, lord of the isles in the north of Scotland; and a Highlands always on the brink of rebellion. He needed to get these matters under his firm control.

  And he was being distracted by a silly girl who could not make up her mind, and a lovesick border lord who was about to cause a feud between himself and the Gordons of Huntley over her. Well, when he got her back he would have Joan speak to her, point out the advantages of marrying into the Gordons. And certainly after her sojourn in a rough border keep, Lady Cicely Bowen could be made to see reason. Aye, the king thought, his eyes narrowing. It would be quite to his advantage to have Ce-ce among the Gordons watching out for the interests of the Stewart queen, and by association Scotland’s king.

  He called for his page, who he knew was sitting outside of the door to his privy chamber. “Did you find my secretary, Will?” he asked the boy.

  “Aye, my lord. He is in the outer chamber awaiting your instructions,” the boy answered. “Shall I tell him to come in?”

  “Aye, laddie,” James Stewart said.

  The page departed the privy chamber, and a moment later the king’s secretary, in his long black robe, entered with his basket of supplies
. He sat at the king’s command, setting up his inkstand and taking out a piece of parchment. Then he looked to his master for further instructions.

  “Is Sir William Douglas still in Perth?” the king asked the man. He knew that his secretary made it a point to know every- and anything that the king would need to know.

  “I believe he left for the borders this morning, my lord.”

  “Send after him tonight. It is most urgent that I speak with him,” the king said.

  The secretary nodded. “Will that be all, my lord?”

  “For now, aye,” came the reply.

  The secretary arose, gathered up his supplies, and hurried from the chamber.

  When the door had closed the king added another piece of wood to his fire, and then sat back down with his goblet. Autumn was fading fast, and the winter would be upon them soon. He drank his wine down, and called to his page once more. When the page had come James Stewart said, “Find me Lady Grey of Ben Duff, and bring her here to me privily.”

  The page went quickly from the king’s presence, and returned shortly with Lady Grey. Noticing how heavy she was with child, the king invited her to be seated opposite him before the blazing hearth.

  “I have sent after Sir William, who departed for his keep this day. When he returns I will explain the difficulty. I expect him to disabuse his relation of his foolishness, but if winter sets in I will expect you to visit once or twice at Glengorm so you may befriend Lady Cicely, and convince her that her best course lies in marrying Andrew Gordon, the laird of Fairlea,” the king said quietly.

  “So you would put an unwitting spy among the Gordons of Huntley,” Maggie MacLeod said sarcastically. “Even as you put one among the MacDonalds. By the rood, my liege, I wonder if your lords know just how dangerous a man you are!”

  “Tread lightly with me, madam,” James Stewart warned her softly. “Your usefulness to me will not always protect you from my wrath.”

  Maggie MacLeod look directly at the king, and her bright blue eyes were sad. Her hands went to her belly protectively. “Were it not for the love I bear Ben Duff I should have told the laird of Brae what you forced me to do,” she said to him. “I betrayed a friend, and I shall never be absolved of that sin. Now you want me to do it again. You are a cruel master, my liege, but I will comply for the sake of my husband, and the child I will soon bear him. And this one final act I will perform for you, but when I leave court this time you will never again see my face.”

  The king nodded. “I understand, madam,” he said quietly. “But I am not the monster you think me. I needed Fiona Hay in the north. As for Lady Cicely Bowen, because her father gave her the privilege of choosing her own husband, she is dillydallying like the foolish lass she is. The laird of Fairlea is an excellent match for her, and he wants her. We might have had a betrothal announced at Twelfth Night had it not been for the rash actions of the Douglas of Glengorm.”

  “I do not disagree with you, my liege,” Maggie MacLeod replied. “I just don’t like being put in the position of having to cajole her into a decision she is not ready to make. I know her, and I would not consider her foolish at all. But while he is vain and a bit arrogant, the laird of Fairlea is not a bad man. And Lady Cicely is a strong girl. She will have him in hand after a short time.”

  The king laughed, breaking the tension in the chamber. “Aye,” he agreed, chuckling. “Ce-ce will have him well in hand, and quickly. Only after he has put a ring on her finger will he realize she has put one through his nose.” Then he grew serious again. “Sir William will return sometime tomorrow, madam. And you will depart for the border the following day. Ce-ce’s tiring woman will go with you, and Sir William will bring her to Glengorm himself. I am sure both Orva and her mistress will be happy to be reunited. You might make your first visit with Ce-ce then. I am hoping we can regain custody of her before the winter sets in,” the king concluded.

  “I will do it,” Lady Grey said. Then she rose. “If that is all, my liege, I will return to my husband. He will wonder why I am late from the queen’s chamber.” She curtsied, and then went from the privy chamber.

  Sir William Douglas returned to the palace in late afternoon, and went directly to the king to learn what had made James Stewart send after him. He was brought to the little privy chamber, because while some at the court already knew that Lady Cicely had been abducted, it was not yet public knowledge, nor was the kidnapper known. The king wanted his privacy while he attempted to quickly straighten out the situation.

  Sir William was astounded when he was told of his kinsman’s rash actions. “My lord, I am astonished that Ian would act in such a manner. He is thought to be a careful man, but then, he was very taken by the lovely Lady Cicely. He will not harm her, for he is an honorable man. I suspect he will attempt to convince her that he would be a better husband for her than the laird of Fairlea. What can I do to aid you in this situation?”

  “Leave tomorrow for Glengorm, Sir William. You will not be able to travel as quickly as you would alone, for I would have you take Lady Cicely’s tiring woman, Orva, to her mistress. If the lady has been frightened by this adventure Orva’s presence will calm her. Grey of Ben Duff and his wife will go with you as well. I understand that they are near neighbors to Glengorm. Lady Grey knows Ce-ce. She will reassure her and help her to convince Ian Douglas to release her. If he does so I will not punish him. A man in love is apt to act in a witless manner.”

  “And Andrew Gordon will have her to wife then, despite all of this? Does he know she has been abducted by Ian Douglas?” Sir William inquired.

  “Huntley will tell him. And if your kinsman is the honorable man you claim he is then there should be no problem. The girl was a virgin when she left the palace yesterday. She should therefore be a virgin on her wedding night. The decision of a husband is hers to make, for her father promised her, but aye, Fairlea is the best choice for her,” the king said. “It would please my queen and me greatly if she wed him.”

  No fool, Sir William understood what the king was telling him. “I shall leave at first light in the morning,” he said.

  “Excellent!” The king smiled with his approval. “I shall send to the others in your party so they will be ready.”

  Sir William Douglas bowed himself from the king’s privy chamber. Damn Ian! he thought irritably. The bloody man was foolhardy, hotheaded, and incautious. Yet until he had laid eyes on Lady Cicely Bowen he had never been any of those things. He had been a sensible man, always watching over his Glengorm clanfolk. Why had he not accepted his overlord’s offer of a bride last summer? I could have found him a good wife.

  But nay! Ian Douglas claimed himself in love. What the hell did love have to do with a good marriage? Love was for silly lasses and old women dreaming of a past that never existed. Love! Bah! The inconsiderate fellow had put all of Clan Douglas at risk over a pretty face. I’ll take the wench from Glengorm myself, and return her to the king, Sir William determined angrily.

  But when the morning came the Douglas lord had calmed his ire. He had known Ian all his life. His actions had been daring, and, having fought beside him in many a border skirmish, Sir William knew his kinsman could be adventurous. There was a chance that the lass might actually come to like her captor. And as the choice was hers, she might agree to wed Ian. Her dower was not one to be overlooked, and why should the Gordons get such a prize? Had not the Douglases been loyal to Scotland’s kings? Certainly far more loyal than the Gordons of Huntley. And if the lass was happy and content, the queen would cajole the king into forgiving the transgressions of Ian Douglas for the sake of her beloved friend.

  Entering the courtyard of the small palace, Sir William found his party awaiting him. “Andrew!” he greeted Grey of Ben Duff. Then he looked to Lady Grey. “God’s foot, woman!” he exclaimed. “Your bairn appears close to birthing.”

  Maggie MacLeod nodded. “I want to go home,” she said. “Ben Duff’s heir should be born in his own home.” Two servants aided her into a small p
added cart, where an older woman with a dour face sat.

  “Aye, aye,” Sir William agreed. Then he turned to the other woman. “You’ll be Orva then?” he asked her.

  “Aye, my lord, I am,” Orva said.

  “Since we are all here let us be on our way,” Sir William said as he and Lord Grey mounted their horses, following the cart as it rumbled over the cobbles of the courtyard.

  They were escorted by a large party of both Grey and Douglas clansmen. It was unlikely under these circumstances that anyone would attack them. The trip, which might have taken two to three days riding, was made in seven days. It was at dusk on that seventh day that they approached the entry to the Glen of Gorm.

  “ ’Tis a lonely land,” Orva noted. It had been a gray day, and now rain clouds were gathering overhead. She leaned forward to tuck a lap robe about Lady Grey.

  “Aye, but it has its own wild beauty, even as my Highlands,” Maggie MacLeod said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Orva, these past few days. It has been a difficult trip, but you have made it so much easier for me. I thank you.”

  “Why did we not go straight to Ben Duff?” Orva asked her.

  Maggie smiled. “Because the king would have me speak with your mistress,” she answered. “He thinks I can influence her to his will.”

  “Do you think you can?” Orva asked quietly.

  Lady Grey shook her head in the negative. “Your mistress is strong-willed. She will make her own decisions in this matter. She will listen politely, and then do precisely what she meant to do in the first place. But my conscience will be clear, for I will have done my best. The king will not be able to fault me. And if your mistress does what the king wants her to do he will credit me for her behavior.” She laughed.

  Orva chuckled. “You understand my child,” she said. “Aye, she will do as she pleases.”