“Then, Charlie has explained to ye that while I respect Yer Majesty, I will nae send my clansmen to be cannon fodder for ye. Ye hae nae passion for Scotland. Ye seek to return to England, and many will die in the attempt to put ye back upon yer throne there; but they will nae be Leslies of Glenkirk. We lost much at Dunbar, and before that at Solway Moss, and other battles fought in the Stuart cause. We canna afford to lose any more of our people.” He looked directly at the king as he spoke.
“I will raise a levy for the king!” Flanna unwisely cried out.
The Duke of Lundy groaned audibly at her words. Didn’t his sister-in-law know enough to be silent in this situation? The answer was obviously she did not.
“Ye will do nae such thing!” Patrick Leslie said angrily.
“I will!” Flanna insisted.
“Yer duty is to me, to Glenkirk,” he snapped. “Ye must gie me an heir, Flanna. Damnit, lass, that is yer obligation first.”
“AmI a brood mare, then? Some bitch whose value lies in her abilities to breed up bairns?” Flanna demanded.
“Aye, ye are!” he said with devastating effect.
She grabbed the nearest object, a pewter goblet, and flung it at his head. “I hate ye, Patrick Leslie!”
He ducked, and in that moment both Charlie and the king withdrew quickly into the hallway.
“She has a fine temper on her, doesn’t she?” the king remarked drolly as he and his cousin swiftly departed the inn.
“My brother has taken on far more than he anticipated,” Charlie returned, and then he burst out laughing. “Flanna is a complicated lass, and Patrick has absolutely no experience with women. Oh, he’s been bedding them since he was barely out of boyhood, but no lass has ever engaged his heart until he met Flanna Brodie.”
“I thought they wed because he wanted her lands,” the king said.
“That’s how it began,” Charlie agreed, “but he has fallen in love with her, and I believe she with him, although both of them are too stubborn and angry right now to understand what has happened.” The Duke of Lundy chuckled. “I am most envious of him and the happiness that lies ahead for them both.”
“You miss your Bess, don’t you?” the king said quietly.
“I do, cousin, I do,” Charlie admitted.
“She shall be avenged one day, I promise you,” the king vowed.
“I thank Your Majesty,” Charlie said, “but it will not bring her back to me, nor will my bairns ever know their mother again. At least I know they will be safe during this conflict, however long it may last. Bess’s Puritan parents have no idea where they are. I spirited them out of England just in time. They will have a happy childhood at Glenkirk.”
“Then, they shall survive, for my siblings and I had a most happy childhood until this damned parliamentary war,” the king noted.
“Cousin,” Charlie said as they walked the darkened street, “will you forgive my brother, Patrick, for his harsh words? Despite his years, he was not ready to take on the responsibilities of his station. My mother and my stepfather spoiled him, and cocooned him here in Scotland for his entire life. Mostly at Glenkirk. The sudden shock of the world intruding upon his life has been difficult for him. His precipitous marriage has actually proven to be a good thing, I believe. However angry he may be right now, he is a loyal and devoted servant of Your Majesty.”
The king chuckled. “Cousin,” he said, “you have the silver tongue of the Stuarts. I hold no grudge against Glenkirk. Indeed, I understand better than Patrick Leslie would imagine, for I, too, have lost my father to this violence. And I agree with you that his wife will be the making of him. My mother had a hot temper, too, and more often than not wheedled my father to her way of thinking by using it . . . and her more seductive charms. One day I will return to England, and when I do, the Leslies of Glenkirk will always be welcomed at court even as you are, cousin.”
“Your Majesty is gracious,” Charlie said. “When we have gained your lodging, I will return to the Crown and Thistle, for I suspect I shall need to mediate between my brother and his wife. They will leave tomorrow for Glenkirk.”
“Of course,” the king agreed. “I hope she will not have killed him before your return. Her aim was quite excellent. I wonder we should not put her behind a cannon.” He laughed, and Charlie laughed with him.
By the time the Duke of Lundy had returned to the inn, however, the battle between his brother and sister-in-law had temporarily ceased. Flanna had gone to bed, her door firmly barred to her husband. Patrick sat nursing a tankard of ale in the taproom of the inn, which was now, by virtue of the hour, empty and quiet. Charlie joined his brother.
“Have you made peace with Flanna?” he asked, knowing the answer even as he inquired.
“She is impossible,” Patrick said dourly. “I dinna ever remember Mama being so difficult.”
Charlie laughed heartily. “Then, your memory is either faulty or quite short, little brother,” he said. “Our mother has always been a woman to have and get her own way. We great-grandsons of Skye O’Malley seem to like strong women. If you would blame anyone for what has happened, blame me, Patrick. If I hadn’t been so damned enthusiastic about the king, and his cause—if Flanna hadn’t felt so damned intimidated by the portraits of Mama, our grandmother Leslie, and the great Janet Leslie—this might not have happened. Do you know what your wife told me? That she didn’t want to be known as the do-naught duchess. That one day, when her descendants looked at her portrait, she wanted them to admire her accomplishments of having raised a levy for King Charles II, of having helped him regain his rightful place upon his throne. She is a charming innocent, your Flanna. And, extremely resourceful. She followed me from Glenkirk to Perth, and I never knew it until she accosted me outside of this inn.” He chuckled. “It was a feat worthy of a Leslie duchess. Not only Mama, but Cat Leslie and Madame Skye would have lauded her little adventure.”
“She is the most disobedient lass I hae ever known,” Patrick grumbled.
“So were our sisters, India and Fortune,” Charlie said, “but then, you were just a lad when they committed their offenses, driving both Mama and our da to distraction. I, however, remember it well.”
“I am thirty-five, Charlie. I need a wife who will gie me an heir,” Patrick said. “I dinna want a wife dabbling in the politics of a government she doesna understand. Flanna is naïve, and while I know her heart is good, her first loyalty must be to me, and to Glenkirk. Nae to the royal Stuarts. Whatever she may think, that family brings misfortune to mine.”
“Break her gently, Patrick,” his older and wiser brother advised. “Now, tell me how you came here so quickly. Flanna believed you would not catch her in her little deception before she was well on her way back.”
The Duke of Glenkirk allowed a small smile to crease his handsome face. “I hae to admit to ye, Charlie, ’twas well thought out, and I would nae hae caught her but for Una Brodie. She sent her husband, Aulay, Fingal’s father, to Glenkirk. He arrived late the same day as Flanna had departed, bringing wi’ him certain garments for their son. The lad had simply gone off with my man-at-arms, and Una Brodie sent Aulay with the clothing. She is a proud woman and did nae want me to think the Brodies could nae provide decently for their own. He was verra surprised to learn his son was nae at Glenkirk, and I was verra surprised to find my wife was nae at Killiecairn. Then Angus Gordon joined the discussion, and we pieced the puzzle together. It was Angus who realized where Flanna had gone. The next day I sent Aulay Brodie home, first gaining his promise to remain silent as to his sister’s escapade. The day after, I began my own journey to Perth. My men and I rode, stopping only at nightfall when it became too dark to travel further. We slept wherever we stopped and carried our own provisions wi’ us. That is how we got to Perth so quickly,” he concluded.
“So there is no harm done,” Charlie soothed. “Flanna is safe, and you will take her back on the morrow.”
“Nae harm done?” Patrick said, now angry again. “I arrive to
find my wife in her shift wi’ a stranger all over her!”
“The king enjoys a pretty face, Patrick. It is his way. He met Flanna yesterday, and couldn’t resist attempting seduction today. You have no idea how difficult his life is with these Scots Covenanters and Kirk Party lordlings. They have made my cousin a virtual prisoner, although sometimes he manages to escape their vigilant eye. But I know your wife, little brother. She is an honorable woman, and while you must ask her to satisfy your own needs, I assure you that there was no seduction of the Duchess of Glenkirk. Don’t you realize it yet, Patrick? Flanna is falling in love with you. And you with her.”
“I am nae in love wi’ the disobedient wench,” the duke said.
“Then, why are you so angry?” Charlie wanted to know.
Patrick Leslie slammed his tankard down on the oak table. “I dinna know,” he said to be honest, “but I am nae in love, Charlie!”
“Aye, you are,” Charlie said with perfect logic. “And you’re a lucky man. She’ll give you fine strong children . . . in her own time.”
“That is what I fear,” Patrick said. “In her own time. I am nae a lad, Charlie.”
“No, you’re not,” Charlie agreed, “but she is yet young enough.”
“What if something should happen to me as it did to our father?” Patrick fretted. “Glenkirk would nae hae an heir.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, little brother. When Jemmie Leslie died, he was over seventy and had sired five sons and three daughters on two wives. He was older than you when he got you on our mother, followed by your two brothers and your two sisters. Besides, since you refuse to involve yourself in the king’s war, you should be safe enough at Glenkirk,” Charlie concluded. Then he thought a moment more, and said, “And should anything happen to you, and there be no heirs of your body, you do have two younger Leslie brothers. Adam would come home from Ireland to take his place.”
“Ye fill me wi’ comfort,” Patrick remarked dryly.
Charlie chuckled. “You Leslies live to ripe old ages unless you fight for the Stuarts. Since you will not, I foresee you reaching an ancient and ripe epoch. Your sons will be legion as will your grandsons before you leave this earth, Patrick. And Flanna will be right there with you, a delicious little thorn in your side.”
Patrick Leslie laughed. “Ye foresee a happy future for me in an unhappy time, Charlie.” Then he grew sober. “But what of ye?”
Now it was the not-so-royal Stuart who grew serious. “I will do whatever I can to aid my cousin, the king,” he said. “I am not a man of politics, nor have I ever been, nor do I want to be. My value to my cousin is being there to be his friend, to comfort and to encourage him in these troubled times. I have made my public penance as the real rulers of this place have required in order that I can remain by the king’s side. I will follow him wherever he goes.”
“He will go back to England,” Patrick said.
“Aye, he will,” Charlie agreed, “but how quickly he can regain his throne is another matter. I say nothing, for it is not my position to advise the king, but I think it will be some time, though how long, I do not know, before Charles II sits upon his throne again in England. And unless he can gain the upper hand here in Scotland, I cannot say how long he will remain here. He has been patient so far in order to obtain his first crown, but you know the royal Stuarts. They are firm believers in Divine Right. He will bear this trial without complaint for just so long, and then his patience will come to an end. He is far more clever than his father, my uncle, was. He can be convinced to compromise, although not easily, and he certainly does not like it.”
The Duke of Glenkirk nodded. “Aye,” he agreed, “but I dinna see the Kirk Party letting the king march into England, Charlie.”
“Ahh, but they are losing their grip on the government, little brother. It is a slow process, but you know that the Stuarts, for all their faults, have always been popular with the people. This king is young and magnetic. His charm and gracious attitude have won him many adherents among the people. They will come when he calls them.”
“Then, they are fools,” Patrick said. “As our mother pointed out, the English will nae welcome our kilt-wearing, pipe-skirling armies. More times than nae we hae swarmed over the borders separating our two lands to war and to pillage. Those on both sides of the border hae long memories. If it were my decision, I would look for a way to assassinate the leaders of this so-called Commonwealth.”
“Ahh,” Charlie replied, “there speaks the Mughal in you.”
“Well, creating a vacuum in the power structure in England would make it possible for the king’s return to fill that vacuum,” the Duke of Glenkirk said. “It seems a better way to me.”
“But how would we do it, little brother? And how many would we kill? And if we began such a course of action, how would we pick off all the men of importance at the same time in order to avoid the lesser members of Cromwell’s party filling that vacuum?”
“How many will die fighting the king’s war?” Patrick countered, and then added ironically, “But then, they are the people and of nae importance to the royal Stuart’s world, eh, Charlie?”
“Jesu!” the Duke of Lundy swore softly, “you have become a cynic, little brother. I am not certain it becomes you, or that our parents would approve. Of course it matters that good men die in wars, but wars must be fought to maintain the right.”
“But who decides what is right, Charlie? And what gives those who decide the authority to make those decisions? We all, each of us, look at things differently, but does that make it wrong that ye and I dinna see eye to eye on everything? Look at the difficulty religion has caused. Do ye really think God favors one faith over another? Yet men will fight over popes, and bishops, and whether they are necessary or nae necessary. And each side believes that committing murder and mayhem in God’s name allows them the right to spread their violence, and worse, they believe God favors them for their stand. What misery they hae wrought, and how the angels must weep, brother! Ye say the Stuarts dinna cause bad fortune, but I say they do. Hae nae Scotland always been at war wi’ itself, king against earl, clan against clan? How many Stuart kings died young of murder, or in a factional battle? Yet to our south, England remained strong and prosperous. We hae nae ever had such abundance, nor has our land thrived. We hae fought against one another, and against our churches. Old King James could hardly wait to inherit Bess’s throne. And how many of our nobility followed him south? And how bitterly hae the English resented the Stuarts and their ilk? We brought wi’ us the dissension that has flourished in Scotland for centuries. And now the English hae murdered a Stuart king, and driven another out of their land, and sought to set up something called a Commonwealth.”
“It will be destroyed, and so will those who executed the king,” Charlie replied firmly.
“And how long will it take to accomplish all this, and how many will be killed, Charlie?” the Duke of Glenkirk asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” came the equally quiet reply.
Patrick nodded. “Nor do any,” he said. “So, Charlie, I shall take my impetuous young wife and return home to Glenkirk. I hae sworn to the Covenants months ago. A minister of the kirk, an inoffensive fellow, preaches gently and wi’out rancor in the Glenkirk church. I obey the law of the land and dinna feud wi’ my neighbors. I shall nae ask my men to lay down their lives for Charles II. We will respect his kingship, but we will nae fight for him; nor will we march down into England, for mark my words, that is where this is going. By year’s end this king will force the bloody hand of Cromwell’s government. The loss at Dunbar brought the English to Edinburgh where they yet remain. Pray God yer kingly cousin’s next move does nae destroy Scotland entirely.”
“I will not let this cause a breach between us,” Charlie said.
“Why would it?” Patrick replied. “I understand yer loyalties, Charlie. I respect them, but as ye’re loyal to yer Stuart family, so must I be loyal to my Leslies of Glenkirk. But thos
e loyalties dinna change the fact that ye are my big brother and that I love ye.”
Charlie’s eyes grew moist, but he managed a small grin. “I forget that we are grown sometimes,” he said low.
Patrick nodded. “Aye,” he agreed. “We had a grand youth, Charlie. I can still remember how ye taught me to fish for salmon in the wee river near Glenkirk. I think I was eight, and ye were twelve.”
“Remember the day we brought home six fish and gave them to Cook? And they brought them to the high board that night, and we were so damned proud! And then Duncan and Adam wanted to learn to fish, too,” Charlie chuckled, “and we were forever sneaking off to escape them.”
“Aye, Duncan was such a greeting bairn in those days,” Patrick recalled. “Now both he and Adam are men grown. Except for our little sister, Autumn, ye all hae bairns but me. I want my own bairns, Charlie.”
“Flanna will give you the children you want,” Charlie said. “She’s a good lass, and she knows her duty to Glenkirk.”
“Her heart, I fear, is wi’ the king now,” Patrick said.
“You’re a fool, little brother, that you cannot see Flanna has fallen in love with you. Be tender with her, and you will quickly win her back to your side. ’Twas a grand gesture she made, but even my cousin knows it will come to naught. He treated her passion for his cause the way he always does. With charm and fair words. Tell your wife that you love her, Patrick. ’Tis all you need do to win her.”
“Why do ye keep saying that I love the impossible wench?” Patrick demanded irritably.
Charlie laughed. “If you didn’t love her, little brother, then her actions would not annoy you so greatly. Nor would you have come so quickly after her. You care. Why will you not admit to it?”
“And gie the wench any more power over me than she already has?” he demanded. “Ye say she loves me, yet she hae nae said it.”
“Nor will she until you do, and don’t ask me why. I cannot explain it, but it seems to be the way of women. They refuse to admit the truth of their hearts until their men do. My Bess, God rest her, kept her own counsel until I fell helpless at her feet. Only then would she confess to her love for me.” He shrugged. “Even today there are many things I do not understand about women. How Mama would laugh if she heard me saying it,” he finished with a chuckle.
Just Beyond Tomorrow Page 20
