The Raven's Heart

by Jesse Blackadder

  “I wish this for you with all my heart.”

  He opens his eyes and looks into mine. I am unguarded. It is only a moment and then my heart starts up in alarm at the danger of such a feeling.

  “Go home to her,” I say.

  “After the Borders,” he says, soldier-like again, standing. “I have come to convince the Queen to hasten our trip. She holds her brother in high favor again, but behind her back he and Lord Hume are stirring up trouble there.”

  He grins. “It is time for her to reclaim your castle. Hume walked a fine line by bringing Lord James to Edinburgh, but she needs to remind him of her power. I cannot wait to see his face when she orders him out of Blackadder.”

  The Prince squirms and starts to cry. Bothwell continues, “By the Christmas after this one, perhaps we might both have healthy children and I shall bring my family to visit yours and our children will play together. Perhaps one day, if we are fortunate, they might marry and our two families might be united.”

  I laugh a little. “I do not have a husband, Lord Bothwell. Do not wish children on me just yet!”

  “I wish you might find happiness in marriage,” he says seriously.

  I busy myself fussing over the child. The door opens and Lady Reres comes in with the wet nurse. “Lord Bothwell, do you mind?” she says.

  He bows low to both of us and walks out of the room. Everything inside me aches as I hand James over for the breast. I have to walk away while he feeds. I cannot watch the look of bliss on his face as his hunger is sated.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  While the Prince thrives, the Queen wilts in the summer heat. She has her child, but her kingdom is in disarray and she has not the strength to rule it again. This rebellion, with Rizzio’s murder and Darnley’s treason, has truly frightened her.

  It is Bothwell who breaks the spell. “You are pale,” he observes. “You must come out of your confinement, Your Grace. It is not healthy for you to spend all your time in your apartments.”

  “Where would you have me go?” she asks.

  “I will make up a party and we will ride to Stirling with the Prince. It is time, is it not, for the Earl of Mar to meet his young charge?”

  The Queen shudders. “I cannot let him be fostered yet.”

  “There is no fortress in the country safer than Stirling and few men more loyal than Mar,” Bothwell says. “The country is full of unrest. You must take it back in hand, Madam. It is time to foster the Prince in the way of tradition and return to your duties. A progress to Stirling will let your people know you are returning to them.”

  She puts both hands up to her face for a moment and we are silent, watching her. She takes a breath and drops her hands back in her lap. “The King sends messages daily that he waits for me to end my confinement.”

  “You cannot avoid him forever.”

  The Queen straightens. “We shall go to Stirling. But not yet, Lord Bothwell. I cannot ride out to meet the people in this state. You must take me somewhere secret instead. Somewhere I can spend a few days in safety and enjoyment.”

  “An excellent idea,” he says. “Mar waits at Alloa for word that you are to bring the Prince to Stirling. Why not ride there to visit him? His castle is said to be most pleasant in the summer.”

  “I do not feel safe to ride so far.”

  Bothwell stands in frustration and crosses to the window. Then he spins around. “You do not need to ride, Madam. It is only a few hours by boat. You may travel in secret. No one will know that you are not here in the castle with the Prince.”

  “A queen never seems to travel in secret.”

  Bothwell laughs. “This time you will. There is a ship at Newhaven that none would expect a queen to travel upon. Its captain is Alison’s own father and one of my most trusted men. You can come down to the dock in disguise and no one will know you have sailed.”

  She looks up, a trace of hope upon her features. “But surely it is not safe to leave the Prince unattended?”

  “I will attend to him myself. No harm will come to him and the break will do you good. Let me send word to Mar at once. I will take you to the dock and see you upon Captain Blackadder’s ship.”

  “What about the King?”

  For a long moment no one answers. Then Bothwell shrugs. “Perhaps he, too, will not even know you are gone.”

  Thirty-eight

  When we dress as young men in the early light of the next morning, there is nothing of the playful air of old. She is so heavy of heart that I wonder if I shall have to draw her away from the side of the Prince’s cradle by force.

  But as we ride behind Bothwell through the streets at a gentle pace, out of Edinburgh and down toward the small port of Newhaven, it is William who is on my mind. William who has given up on his castle and returned to a life at sea, sailing with his pirate cousins, Edmund and Jock. I am still afraid of his rage.

  It is a clear morning, with the promise of heat later in the day, and the familiar lines of the Avenger rise from the dock. Bothwell helps the Queen dismount. When her feet touch the ground she straightens and looks around her.

  William comes down the gangplank of the ship and approaches us. His eyes rove across the party and rest upon the Queen, who stands taller and straighter than any of us, even in her disguise. He bows his head and it seems he might also go to kneel, until Bothwell coughs to remind him that she is in disguise.

  “Captain Blackadder,” she says in a low voice. “Is your ship ready to sail?”

  “The tide is right to take us,” he says. “The wind is in your favor.”

  She turns to Bothwell. “Guard the Prince,” she says. She reaches out and lays her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  The moment lengthens beyond the proper time for such a touch and such a fixed gaze between them, until the Queen at last releases him. We follow William up the gangplank and he shows us to the captain’s cabin, the only one large enough to accommodate her with any ease. We stand on the deck as the ship casts off, unfurling its sails to catch the morning wind up the Firth of Forth. The sails flap in the clear sunlight, the water is a deep blue, and the wind from the sea takes the smell of Edinburgh away so that it is only a memory.

  For a while the Queen watches Edinburgh from the stern of the ship and her face is solemn. When the city has grown small, she turns to me with a wistful smile.

  “Help me change my clothes,” she says. “Dressing as a man is not play any longer.”

  When we come out of the cabin again, the Queen is transformed. Bearing a child has not made her less beautiful. Her dress is cut low, her bosom swelling and creamy, her waist small. She has left her hair loose to fall around her shoulders.

  She takes my arm and we walk to the prow of the ship. The crew falls back to let her pass, open-mouthed. These are rough men and boys and they have never seen a woman like this at close quarters.

  She stands at the railing, eyes closed, hair streaming out behind her. When she opens her eyes again, the men quickly busy themselves.

  “Ask your father to join me,” she says.

  I pick my way down the ship to where William holds the wheel. “The Queen asks for you.”

  Edmund gives a low whistle.

  “Take the wheel and bite your tongue,” William says. He steps around me and I trail him along the deck to where the Queen stands, resting her hands on the railing. When he comes close to her, he stops and bows.

  “You do not need to bow, sir. I am a visitor to your kingdom today, am I not? Alison, join us.”

  William and I both step to the railing beside her.

  “How long has your daughter been in my service now?”

  “Five years, Your Grace,” William says.

  “At first I did not know if I could trust her. When I found that she had been creeping out of the castle in secret dressed as a man, I believed she was a spy. I came close to having her killed.”

  William is silent.

  “But she has served me most loyally. It is a long time now t
hat I have wanted to reward her. You must have wondered if I would keep my word.”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “Speak frankly, Captain. You doubted me, did you not?”

  He drops his head. “Yes.”

  “Now I will redeem my promise, in spite of your doubts. However, I have my own concerns. Forgive me, Captain, but you are old. Blackadder Castle and its lands are a great holding and running such is no simple thing. How will you do so?”

  William grips the rail. “I will learn. My sister, if she still lives, will show me. My cousins at Tulliallan know all about the running of a great estate.”

  “Lord Hume’s lands will surround you. He may feel himself wronged when he loses a prize won so long ago by his ancestors. How will you protect yourselves?”

  “The bondmen and peasants will still be loyal to the name of Blackadder,” William says.

  “Many years have passed and they have served another lord since then. I hope you can command their loyalty, Captain Blackadder.”

  William stares straight ahead and I clutch the railing myself, my knuckles white, willing her to stop speaking. But she continues.

  “Your daughter has lived in court for five years and has learned much. I have made up my mind. I shall bestow the castle upon her. She will be its owner and do what she shall with it. I shall urge her to marry, but if she does not, you cannot compel her. You will advise her and protect her, but she shall be set down as the owner of the castle, for it is her efforts that have won it back.”

  William bobs his head in a downward movement that could be construed as a bow. I don’t dare to catch his eye. When did she make such a decision?

  The Queen tosses her hair out of her face. “To show my gratitude that you gave your daughter to my service, I appoint you the Crown’s Seeker of Pirates. It is a position that gives you much authority on the sea.”

  William’s expression is unreadable. She does not know, perhaps, that Edmund, standing at the wheel, is one of Scotland’s most notorious pirates.

  “When the Prince has been installed in his own household at Stirling, I will be sending Bothwell to the Borders to settle that district,” she continues. “I wish you to accompany him, for he tells me you are loyal in his service too. I shall follow Bothwell there and dispense justice. Authority is long overdue in that region.”

  She places her hand on my arm. “When that task is complete, I shall visit Lord Hume and his family and compel them to return your castle. You have waited a long time. By the end of summer this will happen. I give you my word.”

  Her hair is blowing back from her face, her skin unearthly, her eyes a deep ocean color. She looks infinitely young and at the same time old. Then a yell comes from the bridge and we all turn to see Edmund waving. We have come around the corner to Alloa. A bugle rings out from the shore.

  “I must bring in the ship,” William says.

  She smiles. “I am glad to have spoken to you at last, Captain Blackadder.” She turns to me. “Go and help your father.”

  I follow William down the deck and stand near him at the steering wheel. He says nothing as he brings the ship close to shore and begins angling it around to meet the dock. When we have made fast to the side, he glances around to ensure no one is standing near us, and then glares at me, his lips pressed together tightly. “You are as untrustworthy as the one you serve.”

  “I knew nothing of this,” I say, reaching out to him. “It makes no difference who owns it in name. It belongs to our family.”

  He steps back so I cannot touch him. “I trust you will not speak of this to anyone,” he says, his voice low.

  I follow the Queen down the gangplank without looking back at William.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  After four days at Alloa we return to Edinburgh by horseback. The fresh air has brought color to the Queen’s cheeks and, if she does not laugh, at least she does not look as if she will cry at any moment.

  As soon as we arrive, she calls for the Prince. Lady Reres brings the babe into the presence chamber and the Queen’s face softens as she reaches for him. He is used to being passed from arm to arm, but when he goes to his mother, he squirms. When she cannot soothe him, she hands him to Lady Reres so the wet nurse may suckle him. Afterward he is content, and then he falls asleep while the Queen holds him.

  “It is time for him to move to Stirling,” she says when his breathing is deep and even. “I have been selfish keeping him with me. There is no hand on the reins of the country. She is like a horse ready to bolt at any moment. There is no one to take back control except me, and I must do so.”

  “There may be no hands on the reins, but there are those willing to throw a stone at the horse’s rump,” says Bothwell, who has been waiting impatiently to speak to her. “The Borders are at breaking point. I am ready to march the moment you give your word. You must let me go at once, in force, before the whole region slides into anarchy.”

  “How many men will you take?” she asks.

  “I have three hundred ready to ride today. You can follow us within the week and try those rebels we have captured. You have never visited this region—it is time they saw you.”

  “I have heard that the Elliots and the Armstrongs and Johnstones care for no one, including their Queen,” she says.

  “They will care by the time your progress is finished. I will not be soft in bringing them in, and you will dispense royal justice that will teach them a lesson. Then the innocent might know some peace again.”

  “Very well, you have leave to ride at once. We will take the Prince to Stirling and once he is safely installed, we will come.”

  I follow Bothwell out into the corridor. “Does my father ride with you?”

  “He does.”

  “My Lord, have a care of his safety. He is not young, but still thinks he has the same strength. Do not let him be killed by some Border ruffian.”

  He smiles the smile of a restless man allowed to move at last. “I will appoint him keeper of those taken prisoner at Hermitage Castle. It is an honorable job and will keep him out of the field.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I would have him alive when the castle is returned.”

  His face changes. “You don’t expect a life of peace, I hope. The Humes will look for revenge as ceaselessly as William has, and with far more strength. In the Borders you are a long way from the Queen’s protection. It seems you will win your castle at last, but it may be you never sleep unafraid again.”

  Thirty-nine

  The Queen appoints Joseph Rizzio as her new secretary, plucking him from the staff of a French diplomat as she earlier selected his brother. But Joseph, a quiet lad of barely eighteen, is no David Rizzio. Known by his first name for fear of the association, he helps the Queen with the routine tasks of a secretary so discreetly he is almost invisible.

  Without the murdered Rizzio’s canny knowledge of power and loyalty, the Queen must somehow bring the country together and control the lords. She orders Maitland to return to Edinburgh and resume his role as secretary of state, and installs the Prince in the stronghold of Stirling Castle. Then she calls together those of her nobles she can trust to ride with her to the Borders. More than a dozen of Scotland’s noblemen ride in the train behind her, trailed by household officers, judges, lawyers, clerks, servants, and her ever-present armed guards. Among such exalted company, one face is missing. The King has left Edinburgh and ridden to Glasgow to complain to his father of his treatment at the hands of the Queen and her council. No one is sorry to see him go.

  The people come out to cheer her, as always, but they observe the number of men-at-arms who must accompany her on this progress and they do not smile. The Queen is out of her confinement but all is not well in the kingdom and her people are afraid.

  The progress winds its slow way south, stopping at the great houses and castles to meet the southern lords before arriving at Jedburgh for the trials of Bothwell’s Border rebels. The Queen’s party stays in Jedburgh House, a handsome bui
lding of modest proportions that can be easily guarded.

  Bothwell has sent only a small number of prisoners across from Hermitage Castle, with word that he will bring the rest once he has captured a band of Elliots who has so far eluded him. The Queen, with Lord James at her side, begins hearing the charges.

  I stay with her to attend to her needs as the prisoners are brought in one at a time to face justice. Bothwell, I am sure, envisaged hangings, but the Queen is in a merciful frame of mind and she dispenses fines, small punishments, and advice to the Border louts who come before her.

  Lord James makes his disgust clear.

  “For God’s sake, you must hang some of them,” he says to her in a low voice, as a released prisoner walks out, looking stunned at his good fortune.

  “I have spoken to each about the wrongness of his actions. If they break the law again, they face death,” she says.

  “I can assure you that means nothing to such men,” he says. “Except that their Queen has grown soft. Where is the woman who had John Gordon beheaded?”

  She turns to him and pauses for a moment. “By the same reasoning, my brother, I should have punished you far more harshly.”

  He clenches his fists on the table in front of him. The next prisoner has been brought in and there is an expectant silence.

  “You have known the power of my forgiveness, and it has brought you back to my side,” she says quietly. “There has been enough killing. Let me dispense justice as I know how.”

  She looks across at the prisoner, a filthy, unshaven man, and settles her features into a disapproving expression. “What is the charge?”

  Before the bailiff can answer, a commotion rises from the rear of the courtroom. At the sound of urgent voices from outside the door, everyone turns to see what is happening.

  The Queen is pale. “Alison, see what disturbs us.”

  I make my way through the courtroom and squeeze through the door. The guards are keeping a messenger in Bothwell’s livery outside and he is arguing loudly to be admitted. When he sees me he pushes forward. “My Lord has been mortally injured in battle. He lies near to death.”