by Trisha Telep
“You should speak with respect to the man who may marry the queen,” Darnley warned her.
The man was an idiot. A snivelling idiot. A dangerous snivelling idiot.
“My husband will be wondering where I’ve gone,” Avril said. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what you were doing this morning.”
Avril looked him straight in the eye. “What were you doing this morning?”
Her question caught him off-guard, colouring his face crimson. A smidgen of respect entered his eyes when he realized bullying her would not work.
“Mary likes you,” Darnley said. “Singing my praises to the queen would help me forget what I saw.”
The man had lost his wits if he expected her to believe that. In the unlucky event he did marry the queen, Darnley would silence Avril by using fair means or foul.
“What do you say, Lady Campbell?”
“I’m sorry,” Avril answered, “but I never lie or make deals with the devil.” She showed him her back and walked away.
Lost in thought, Avril bumped into the queen’s half-brother. The Earl of Moray grasped her arms to prevent her falling.
“I apologise, my lord.”
“The fault belongs to me.”
His touch disturbed her, but she sensed something else. Moray’s machinations would fail if the queen did not marry Darnley.
“Do you adhere to the new kirk?” she asked him.
The Earl of Moray’s smile did not reach his eyes. “From where did this question come?”
Avril gave him an ambiguous smile. “Mere curiosity.”
“Walk with me, Lady Campbell.” James Stewart smiled and offered his arm.
Avril inclined her head. She was silent for a long moment, the wolves at court worrying her. She needed to save the queen from an unwise decision, and she needed to do that without condemning herself, the Campbells, and the Gordons.
“You have unusual eyes,” the earl remarked.
“I inherited my father’s blue and my mother’s green,” Avril said, “Do my eyes trouble you?”
“Disturbing me takes more than blue and green eyes,” Moray answered. “Which kirk do you prefer?”
“I prefer whatever my husband prefers,” Avril answered, “and my husband places his faith in political expediency.”
“If Queen Mary joined the new kirk,” Moray asked, “would Campbell follow?”
“I cannot speak for my husband,” Avril answered. “Personally, I don’t give a fig about churches. God hears everyone’s prayers and knows what lies in our secret hearts.”
“Well said, Lady Campbell, but do not let Reverend John Knox hear that.”
“The reverend fears women,” Avril said, “which is the reason he dislikes them. I pray that man burns in hell.”
“How indiscreet to say so,” Moray remarked, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Have you met Reverend Knox?’
“I never met Old Clootie,” Avril answered, “but I know the devil is evil.”
His lips twitched. “You believe Reverend Knox is evil?”
Avril slid her gaze across the hall and caught her husband’s pointed look. “Campbell is warning me to discretion, but do not allow Queen Mary to marry Darnley.”
Moray gave her an interested stare. “Why do you say that?”
Avril wished she’d kept her mouth shut. On the other hand, preventing marriage to Darnley would keep both the queen and her safe.
“My woman’s intuition tells me Darnley is not what he appears,” Avril glanced towards the dais. “The queen will regret marrying him. Darnley’s brain is no bigger than a rooster’s testicle.”
“I like you, Lady Campbell,” Moray said, smiling, “and I admire your loyalty to my sister. Take my advice. Return to Argyll and give your husband a dozen children.”
“Is that a warning or threat?”
“I would never wish you harm,” Moray assured her. “Politics is dangerous business, and you are too kind-hearted.”
“What about the queen?”
The Earl of Moray slid his gaze to the dais. “My sister cannot escape her destiny.” He offered his arm. “Shall we join the others?”
Magnus and George were conversing with Queen Mary and Darnley. With them were the Earl and Countess of Melrose.
“I hope your ankle has recovered,” Avril said to the countess.
“I feel much better today,” Fiona said. “I dare say, I won’t be dancing for a few days, and I do adore partnering your husband.”
Avril slid her gaze to her husband and then her brother. George looked as if he’d sucked a lemon. She knew he was waiting for her to strike back.
“My husband does move incredibly well,” Avril said, her expression pleasant.
“I can vouch for that.” Fiona gave her a decidedly feline smile. “Your eye colour is quite unusual. Have you ever been accused of witchcraft?”
Everyone, including the queen, laughed at such a ridiculous notion. Avril wondered if Darnley had begun spreading rumours.
“Have you been accused of witchcraft?” Avril countered. “Your tongue cuts like an evil old crone’s.”
Fiona paled at the insult. An awkward cloud of silence hovered over the group.
Avril refused to look at her husband or her brother. She had no wish to see their expressions of disapproval.
A footman, his hair the palest blond, arrived at that moment to serve them wine. Avril stared at the young man’s hair and then looked at Darnley, who was smirking at her.
“If you were my wife,” Darnley said, “I would poison your wine.”
Avril gave him an insincere smile. “If I was your wife, I would drink it.”
The Earl of Moray shouted with laughter. “Lady Campbell, you will never bore your husband.”
“Your Majesty, please excuse my wife’s lapse in manners.”
Avril rounded on Magnus, ready for battle. But she remained silent, heeding the warning in his gaze.
“I apologise for my sister,” George Gordon added.
“Charles provoked Avril,” Mary said. “It was a poor joke but no harm intended.”
The danger had merely been delayed. Protecting herself from Darnley, Avril placed her palm against her midsection. “The babe rules my tongue.”
“You should not have golfed in your condition,” Queen Mary said. “I had no idea.”
Magnus put his arm around her. “We decided to wait before sharing our good news.”
“It’s early days yet,” Avril said, leaning against her husband.
“Too early, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you, Darnley,” the Earl of Moray said. “I know from personal experience that babes upset their mothers from the moment of conception.”
“With your permission, I will take my wife home,” Magnus said, “before the babe insults someone else.”
“I understand.” Queen Mary looked at Avril, saying, “I envy your good news.”
“Your day will come, Your Majesty. Until then, I will name my daughter in your honour.”
And they left the reception hall.
Avril cast a sidelong glance at her husband, who stared straight ahead. Only a blind woman could miss his tight-lipped anger.
“Magnus?”
“Do not speak.”
Magnus marched her like a recalcitrant child into Campbell Mansion and up the stairs to their bedchamber. “Sit in front of the hearth,” he ordered, pausing to lock the door.
Avril felt a momentary panic. “Why are you doing that?”
“Do not play the henwit,” Magnus said, walking towards her. “I’m not planning to beat common sense into you.” He dropped into the chair beside hers. “Tell me everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Damn it, wife.” Magnus banged his fist on the arm of the chair. “Darnley is sniping at you, Moray is defending you, and you are announcing a non-existent pregnancy.”
“I know the situation looks bad,” Avril said, “but enemies sur
round the queen.”
“I want facts, not hocus-pocus.”
“Do not play the unconscious brick,” Avril said. “Even you should feel the negative undercurrents swirling around court.”
“Begin at the beginning,” Magnus said, reaching for her hand. “Include facts along with your intuition.”
“Darnley is morally corrupt,” Avril said, “and Moray’s soul is darker than the inside of a grave.”
“You mentioned that Moray covets the crown,” Magnus said, “but he can never claim it because of his birth.”
“Even bastards harbour ambitions, more than properly-born men.”
“I agree. Please continue.”
“Marriage to Darnley will ruin Mary,” Avril said, “and marriage to another gentleman will neutralize Moray.”
Avril did not want to tell her husband that she’d jeopardized them by worshipping outside but if he was going to handle the situation, he needed to know the whole truth.
“When I awakened early this morning, I was happy about marrying a magnificent man but worried about the queen’s future,” Avril told him. “I decided to consult the Goddess.”
Magnus looked flabbergasted. “Whom did you consult?”
“The Great Mother Goddess protects her children,” Avril answered.
Her husband was staring at her as if she’d grown another head. “What are you?”
“Like my mother before me, I follow the Old Ways.”
“Sweet Jesus, you’re a pagan?”
His attitude did not sit well with Avril. “Pagans do not slaughter each other,” she defended herself. “Only squabbling kirks encourage murder.”
“Stifle the sermon.”
“An irresistible impulse grabbed me this morning,” Avril said. “I sneaked out of the house and dashed across the road to Holyrood Park. I cast the magic circle and worshipped the Goddess. It was then I noticed the star ruby had darkened into pigeon’s blood red. Nearby I saw Darnley and a blond boy. They were lovers.”
Her husband’s expression registered shock. “You saw this?”
“Darnley tried to blackmail me tonight,” Avril added. “He asked if I practised witchcraft. We must warn Mary so she won’t marry him.”
“What matters to me is your safety,” Magnus said. “You’ve made an enemy in Darnley. Your enemies are my enemies and your brother’s.”
“I insulated myself from his venom by claiming pregnancy,” Avril said, “and Moray defended me because he dislikes Darnley.”
“Argyll offers the best refuge,” her husband said. “We’ll need to leave Edinburgh.”
“I do not fear Darnley,” she argued. “Our queen needs us,”
“Kings and queens come and go,” Magnus said, standing, “but the clans must survive. I’ll need to return to court and ask the queen’s permission to leave for Argyll.”
“I want to bid Mary a personal farewell before we leave.”
Magnus stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I do not answer to you.” Magnus unlocked the door and quit the chamber. “I will return when I return.”
Avril waited hours. She paced the chamber, peered out the window, and then sat in the chair. Again and again and again.
Still, Magnus did not return. Where was he? Was he dancing with Fiona Seton? Or worse? What would she do if he left her in Argyll and returned to Edinburgh?
The door opened, drawing her attention. His expression weary, Magnus crossed the chamber to sit in the chair beside hers. “Queen Mary will receive you late morning.”
“Thank you, husband.”
Magnus gave her a tired smile. “I never imagined a wife could create this much trouble, but I agree with your assessment of Darnley and Moray.” He took her hand in his. “Mary likes George, and your brother will do whatever he can without endangering the Campbells and Gordons.”
Avril felt a weight lifted from her heart. “Then you aren’t dumping me in Argyll or divorcing me?”
Magnus gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why would a man divorce the woman he loves?”
Love? Avril couldn’t credit what she’d heard, and her expression mirrored confusion.
Without another word, Magnus rose from the chair and opened his cabinet. After rummaging through his belongings, he returned with three miniature portraits.
Magnus handed her the first miniature, a portrait of her at age eight. The second miniature showed her at age twelve, and the third at sixteen years.
“I asked your father to send me your portraits as you aged.” Magnus offered her his hand as if requesting a dance. “Can we go to bed now?”
Avril looked from his hand to his eyes. She placed her smaller hand in his and rose from the chair. Entwining her arms around his neck, she pressed her body to his and rested her head against his chest.
Magnus and Avril stood wrapped in embrace for a long, long time.
At noon the next day, Magnus guided Avril through Holyrood Palace’s winding corridors and up narrow staircases. Mary had invited Avril to visit the royal apartment instead of the reception hall.
“You will go inside alone,” Magnus said, tapping on the sitting room door. “Mary and I said our good-byes last night.”
“How do I look?” Avril asked him.
Magnus inspected her from the top of her fiery mane down her body – clad in a blue riding outfit – to her boots. “Your beauty could entice John Knox to sin.”
“You are an incorrigible flatterer.”
One of the four Marys opened the door. She smiled at Avril and beckoned her into the room. Queen Mary was alone except for her four ladies-in-waiting.
“I do apologise if I’ve done or said anything to upset you,” Avril said, curtseying to the queen. “I will think of you often and always remain your devoted subject.”
Queen Mary smiled at that. “You will return to court after the babe is born.”
“I fear we will never meet again in this lifetime.” With tears welling in her eyes, Avril knelt in front of the queen. She removed the ruby ring from her finger and offered it to the queen. “Please accept this token of my loyalty.”
Unexpectedly, Queen Mary placed her palm against Avril’s cheek. Then the queen slipped the ring on to the third finger of her right hand.
“Danger lurks when the stone darkens,” Avril reminded her. She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “No matter what happens in Scotland, do not set foot in England unless Elizabeth Tudor is dead.”
Queen Mary seemed bewildered by the warning. “I will remember your words.”
What else could she have expected from the queen? Mary Stuart had been loved, protected and pampered – deservedly so – since the hour of her birth. Perhaps she would never understand the evil ambitions and hatreds simmering below the surface of the court and Scotland.
On impulse, Avril kissed the queen’s hand and stood. Then she backed her way to the door and left the royal sitting room.
Waiting in the hallway, Magnus wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks. Avril gave him a sad smile. Even her husband would never believe the rising storm headed for Scotland.
Knowing what others did not would forever prove a curse.
Avril kissed her husband’s cheek and murmured, “When Mary Stuart goes, we will never see such a bonny queen again, and Scotland will be the poorer for it.”
Inverary Castle, 1568
Avril rested in a chair in front of the hearth in the great hall. Gordon, her one-year-old son, sat on her lap and gave her a two-toothed smile.
“Some day I will teach you to golf with King James,” Avril told him. “You must learn to lose without seeming to do so. Understand?”
Gordon pointed a chubby finger at the centre of her face. “Nose.”
“Very good, my son.” Avril pointed at his face. “What’s that, Gordy?”
“Nose.”
“And what is this?” She pointed to his mouth.
&nbs
p; “Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Gordon pressed his drooling mouth on hers.
Avril laughed. Gordon laughed when she did.
“Ah, there are my two favourite people in the world.” Looking travel weary, Magnus stood in the doorway.
“Da.”
Avril rose from the chair and set her son down on his feet. “Stay there. Gordy has a surprise for you.” She whispered to her son, “Walk to Da.”
Holding his arms out for balance, Gordon tottered towards his father. Behind him hovered his mother, ready to catch his fall.
Magnus grabbed his son and lifted him high, making the boy laugh. Then he planted a kiss on Avril’s mouth. “I missed you.”
They sat together in front of the hearth, the baby resting his head against his father’s shoulder. Magnus reached inside his leather jerkin and passed her a letter.
Avril looked at the letter from Queen Mary, currently imprisoned in England. She broke the seal, asking, “Why didn’t you read it?”
“The queen addressed the letter to you, not me.”
“Mary wishes us well and sends best wishes to our son,” Avril told him, tears welling in her eyes. “Mary yearns to see her own son and should have listened to my warning. She thinks of me often and would love to play another round of golf. Only this time—”
Raw emotion caught in her throat, making swallowing difficult. “Only this time she would prefer I do not purposely lose. Oh, Magnus, I have so much and the queen so little.”
Her son reached to touch her cheek. “Wet, Mama.”
Avril kissed her son’s fingers. “Is there any possible way to free Mary?”
Magnus shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“I curse Elizabeth Tudor,” Avril said, “and I curse the Earl of Moray.
“Moray does not wear the crown,” Magnus reminded her.
“Moray rules Scotland for his nephew. Where lies the difference?” Avril fell silent for a long moment. “How much does an assassin cost?”
“What?” Her husband had paled by several shades.
“You heard me,” Avril said. “The Hamiltons have long been loyal to Mary and share a connection to France. Do you think––?”
“I think,” Magnus interrupted, “I will not discuss murder in my hall.” He lifted his son into the air and kissed his belly, making the boy laugh. “Always obey your mother, Gordy, because she is a bloodthirsty wench.”
