The Beauty of the Mist

by May McGoldrick

  Without another word, the husband and wife spurred their horses forward into the darkness, while Maria and Isabel followed suit.

  “I shouldn’t wonder that they’ve already found that we’re missing,” Isabel remarked decidedly, turning to Maria as they rode.

  “I suppose so,” Maria answered. “But they won’t know where we are heading. Ambrose’s plan was for the Abbot and the rest to think we were kidnapped. With the rest of our delegation left behind, that may be just what they do think.”

  “Very smart,” Isabel nodded curtly.

  “Very kind, I should say,” Maria countered. “If the plan f... If things don’t go according to plan, they are providing for our safety. For when we return.”

  “You mean, if we return,” Isabel retorted.

  Isabel knew her well, Maria thought. She would not return. If this plan failed, if John got hurt, there would be nothing that would drive her back to the side of the Scottish king. She had already said as much in her letters to King James.

  John hunched his back to make himself look smaller and pulled his hood of chain forward on his face, though with the thick mud that coated his face and clothes, he doubted anyone would recognize him.

  The sour faced Douglas man who had been roused to take him up to the King, handed the torch roughly to John and motioned for him to follow him up the tower steps.

  “You two wait here,” he commanded.

  John nodded to his cloaked companions, and noted that Gavin and Gareth casually positioned themselves where each of them could dispatch one of the two surly sentries should the need arise. The Highlander hoped all would go smoothly–without bloodshed.

  “Oh,” the steward said, turning back to John. “Disarm yourself here.”

  “Aye,” John replied, his voice low and rasping. It took him only a moment to lay his sword and dirk against the stone wall at the bottom of the tower.

  Satisfied, the man led the muddy messenger up the circular stairwell. At the first landing, John found no one standing guard beside a stout oak door. There were a few bedchambers for high-ranking visitors beyond the entrance, and a corridor leading to the Great Hall. From his past visits here, John knew that there was a heavy bar on the far side of the door, but he had no way of telling if it offered him an alternate means of escape. The lack of a guard here, though, clearly indicated that they thought any attempt at freeing the King would come from outside the heavily manned Palace walls. Climbing the next winding set of stairs to the top of the tower, the two at last reached the royal apartment, and the man motioned for John to wait.

  Before he could knock, however, the door swung open, and two figures emerged from the King’s chambers. John backed away as he saw them, trying to hold the torch as far away as possible, to where its light would not fall on his face. The short, bulky man was holding a wick lamp.

  “Ahh! Lady Maule. Sir Thomas.” The man bowed slightly. “I didn’t know you were with the King.”

  “Our business was with him, steward,” Sir Thomas remarked sharply. “Not with you.”

  “Aye, Sir Thomas,” the man responded with a fawning tone. “My apologies, sir.”

  “What’s this?” the elder knight demanded, waving the wick lamp at John.

  “A messenger with a letter for the King,” the steward offered helpfully.

  “At this hour? The King is ready to retire.”

  John kept his eyes on Sir Thomas’s feet, and he could feel Caroline’s gaze brush over him disinterestedly. He had no desire to kill Thomas Maule, but he was prepared to kill all three of these people in an instant, if either husband or wife recognized him.

  “He is one of the daily messengers from Edinburgh,” the man explained. “They bring letters from the King’s bride.”

  “Bride...” Caroline muttered under her breath.

  “Very well,” Sir Thomas said with a glance at his wife. “We’re finished here. Announce yourself, steward.”

  The man bowed before going to knock at the open door.

  “Wait!” the knight commanded. “Why are there no sentries here”

  “I passed your order on to the captain of the guard, Sir Thomas. I don’t know...In the past, we’ve...I...I’ll go to him immediately after speaking with the King, m’lord.”

  “See to it.” Sir Thomas turned on his heel and started for the steps.

  Even with his eyes averted, John felt the heat of Caroline’s gaze once again before she moved off at her husband’s side to the stairwell.

  The steward’s call, “Your pardon, Majesty...” drew John’s eyes upward for an instant, and the Highlander caught Caroline’s last glance before she disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

  Placing the torch in a wall sconce, John followed the steward into the well lit chamber. He found Kit, dressed in a doublet of black velvet, standing by a writing table and holding a quill pen in his hand.

  “Your Majesty, a letter from your bride!” the man announced. Then, turning to John, he ordered, “Place it on that table by the door. You’ve delivered it to His Majesty in person, as you were commanded. Now depart.”

  “It has been an honor to serve Your Majesty.” The Highlander pushed back the hood from his head and, as he bowed deeply, John saw the young king’s eyes focus on him. As he began to back out of the room, he halted at Kit’s command.

  “Don’t go! Not yet.” King James picked up the parchment from the writing desk and looked back at him. “Are you departing for Edinburgh tonight?”

  “If that is you wish, Your Majesty,” John answered.

  “Very good. Then you will wait a moment while I finish this letter. I’d like it to be delivered to my bride immediately.”

  John simply bowed again in response as he watched the King sit down at the desk and begin to scratch busily at the parchment. Absently, the King waved at the steward.

  “Fetch me something to eat,” Kit said without looking up at the steward.

  “Something to eat, your majesty?”

  “Aye, this may take longer than I thought, and I’m hungry.” King James looked up at John. “Are you hungry, soldier?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty. Starving.”

  “Bring something for this good man, as well, steward.”

  “For this...” the steward looked at John askance.

  “Are you deaf?” the King asked with a show of anger. “Go, steward! Now!”

  The steward looked uncertainly from the King to the muddy messenger, then headed quickly for the door, leaving it open behind him.

  ***

  “I don’t think it was right for you to speak so slightingly of the Queen before her future husband, Caroline,” Sir Thomas scolded his wife.

  “I only spoke the truth,” she snapped. They were back on Scottish ground. Maria could not shut her up as she had done in Antwerp, Caroline thought. She would speak of her name and character any way she wished. Let her try to stop me she thought. Caroline was a Douglas. They were on her turf now. “As her husband, this boy has the right to know how many men she has slept with before they marry.”

  Sir Thomas turned sharply at his wife. “As your husband, I wasn’t told of your habits.”

  She gave a quick glance around them. There was no one at the first landing. “You knew about John,” she sneered.

  “But John wasn’t the only one. Was he?”

  “Perhaps he wasn’t,” she taunted. “But he was the best. The best lover I ever had. The best I have ever had. He made me feel like a woman. Even now, I see his magnificent body, so beautiful, coming to me in my bed. Even now, I remember the way I cried out in ecstasy as he...”

  “Stop!” Sir Thomas grabbed his wife by her elbow. “Stop, Caroline. Before you drive us both to madness.”

  “Stop? Never!” she snapped, jerking her elbow free. “He is the only man I’ve ever loved. The only I’ve ever desired.”

  The elder warrior looked imploringly into his wife’s wild face. Every day, since they’d set sail from Antwerp, he’d heard these s
ame words. Over and over again, at every opportunity, she had reminded him of his age, of his inability to match John’s prowess, his charm. But as they’d neared the coast of Scotland, Sir Thomas had come to the realization that the problem lay not with the Highlander, but with his own wife. Her loss of John Macpherson was only part of it. Now, standing in the stone passages of Falkland Palace, Sir Thomas feared for her mind.

  He had never appreciated the serenity that he and Janet had shared and enjoyed until Caroline came into his life. He’d been fooled by her youth and her beauty. He’d been fooled to think that his young wife will be a companion and a friend to his daughter. How wrong he had been. In the few short months since their marriage, he’d aged. He’d been blinded to the world around him and had, perhaps, driven his only daughter to run away.

  And he’d been gradually withdrawing. He no longer lost all control at Caroline’s abuse. A momentary flash of temper, and then he simply shut her out. He feared the darkness he now saw clearly within her. He hated the viciousness in her that was no longer hidden beneath her beautiful veneer. Caroline was now striking out at everyone around her. And who could know how far her cruelty would extend.

  Sir Thomas wanted her out of his life. He wanted things to go back to where it had been, before she came. But even as that thought crystallized in his mind, he knew it was too late. He had already lost his daughter. Looking blankly at the burning torch hanging on a wall, Sir Thomas felt old. Very old.

  “Retire to your bedchamber, old man,” she taunted, backing away a step. “Go rest your weary body and be sure to pray for your soul.”

  Sir Thomas stared at her. But now he could see through her. He saw the hollow shell of a person and nothing more.

  He walked away, wishing her out of his life.

  “Aye. And you may do as you please.”

  “Jack Heart, I knew you’d come.” The young king leaped up from the writing table and crossed the chamber toward the Highlander.

  John held up a hand and then glanced quickly into the hall. He wanted to make sure the steward wasn’t lurking on the steps. Then, pushing the door nearly closed, he turned to Kit and put his hands on the young king’s shoulders.

  “We have very little time, your majesty. We have a large army gathering near Stirling, and they are waiting for you to arrive before moving. The plan is to take you out of the Palace tonight, disguised as one of us. They won’t know you’re missing until morning, and by then we’ll be half way to Stirling.”

  “But the steward! He’ll be coming back soon. He’ll surely raise an alarm.”

  John quietly removed a sharp dagger from the inside of his high boots and held it in his hand. “He will not be talking, sire.”

  With a grim look on his face, the young king nodded and quickly went to the massive bed, pulling a bundle of worn clothing from beneath. Pulling them apart, he spread the garments on the bed. They looked like clothes someone had stripped from a stable boy.

  “I found these in my chamber this morning when I came back from working the hawks. I don’t know who it left them, but I knew something was about to happen.”

  “If you would put them on, sire, you’ll draw far less attention when the time comes to pass along the roads.”

  Kit immediately started removing his clothes as John kept watch by the open door.

  “They’ve at least doubled the number of soldiers around Falkland,” the King said, pulling on a ragged tunic. “Sir Thomas Maule and his...and his wife arrived yesterday with a company of a thousand men. But they told me you might arrive as early as next week to escort me to Edinburgh. Angus is surely thinking those loyal to me would once again use an army to try and free me. We are more clever than that! We’ll smash him this time, won’t we, Jack Heart?”

  John smiled over his shoulder at the eager young man. Some of the nobles had questioned whether King James would agree to leave the Palace at all, considering the fact that his bride to be was already in Scotland...and a marriage was all it would take to test Angus’s promise. After all, they’d argued, the Lord Chancellor had given his word to the King to relinquish his power after the wedding. But now, seeing Kit’s unhesitating response to the plan to free him, John knew that he had argued correctly that the young king knew Angus to be a liar. What the Highlander didn’t know, was when exactly in the past weeks Kit had given up on the dubious hope the marriage offered.

  “Aye, your majesty. Your time has come.”

  Caroline Maule watched her husband’s back without emotion until it disappeared into their chamber. But the slamming of the door brought a sneering smile to her lips. She had hurt him more deeply than he’d shown.

  At the sound of the footsteps coming down the stairs, she whirled, and, moving cautiously to the open door leading to the landing, she waited in the dimly lit corridor. There had been something odd about the man–the Queen’s messenger–something that was nagging at her. Watching the reflected light of the flaring torch grow brighter as the bearer descended, Caroline was sure she’d remember if she saw him again.

  The sight of the solitary steward coming around the bend of the stairwell brought a frown to Caroline’s brow.

  “Where is the other man?” she asked abruptly, stepping in front of the startled steward. “There were two of you up there.”

  The man, taken aback with the abruptness of her interrogation, raised the torch, looking for Sir Thomas. But there was no one else on the landing. “The King told the messenger to wait. His majesty is writing a letter to his bride, and he wants the man to take it tonight.”

  “Aren’t there other couriers available?” she barked, her temper seething quickly to the surface. After all that she’d told this foolish boy-king about his fraudulent bride ...and he still had to write her a letter. Foolish, foolish boy, she thought darkly. He deserved to be locked up for the rest of his life. “When we arrived, my husband specifically told you not to leave the King alone with any strangers. He’ll have your head on a pike if something happens to the King.”

  “But King Jamie wanted something from the kitchen sent up, m’lady...for himself and the man...there was naught else for me to do.” The steward’s voice took on a pleading tone as he scrambled for more excuses. “He is just standing and waiting, m’lady. The man left his weapons down the steps...”

  “Have you seen this man before?” Caroline interrupted. “Is he one of your normal couriers?”

  The steward shook his head slowly. “Nay, m’lady. I’ve never seen this one before. But then again, it seems every time they send someone else...”

  “Did he give you a name?” she interrupted again. “Or what clan he belongs to?”

  The steward ran his hand nervously over his bristly chin for a moment before lifting his face brightly to the woman. “Aye, m’lady. Jack Heart. One of the one’s with him called him Jack Heart. Not a common name, I’d say, but as to his clan...”

  Caroline face went white, but it was her hand clutching at his collar that made the man stare at her in terror.

  “You fool,” she whispered hoarsely. “It is a plot to abduct the King. Jack Heart...Jack Heart...”

  Caroline repeated his name again and again and shoved the wide-eyed steward away from her. “Run and get my husband. Tell him John Macpherson is here. Tell him he has come to steal the king from under his nose. Then raise the alarm.”

  The steward bolted for their chamber as Caroline went quickly up the steps, a vicious smile on her lips.

  “You are mine, John,” she murmured bitterly, drawing a small dagger from her belt. “This time I have you at my mercy.”

  “The letters, John,” the young King called at the last moment as they readied themselves to step onto the landing. He pointed to the piling of the letters on his desk. “Get me those letters. I can’t leave them behind.”

  John quickly moved to Kit’s desk and picked up the few folded parchments from the table. They all had to be Maria’s letters, he thought, seeing the seal. But before he could make it back to t
he door, where the King stood pulling on a filthy cap, John saw her shadow gliding across the landing.

  She moved behind Kit before the Highlander could reach them.

  “Not so fast, John,” she said in an peculiarly husky voice. He could see the small dagger she held to the side of the King’s neck. “Isn’t this far more pleasant than the last time we met.”

  John glanced behind her at the landing, but there was no one there. His mind racing, he tried to decide if they could disarm her. But one look at the crazed look in her eye and the sharp blade beneath Kit’s jaw convinced him that the lad would be hurt if John rushed them. Kit wouldn’t have a chance. John needed to distract her somehow.

  “You didn’t want me. You practically threw me out of your cabin, remember?” Her hand was shaking. “And that paragon of virtue, our future Queen...you were kissing the slut, I believe, on the threshold to your bedchamber.”

  John saw no reaction on Kit’s face to her words, the young man’s face lacked all expression save the look of a man waiting for a chance to break free.

  “Oh, his majesty knows all about it,” Caroline laughed, seeing the direction of John’s glance. “I’ve told him everything–and Angus, too. Don’t you think that everyone should know that our good Lord of the Navy couldn’t keep his hands off our precious queen. And our noble queen! Well, she just couldn’t stay away from your bed, now could she? Now throw down your dagger.”

  John complied, gritting his teeth and fighting back the urge to lunge for her neck, shutting her mouth permanently.

  “But this time, Jack Heart, she is not here to save your unfaithful neck. She is not going to appear suddenly out of the mist–as she did at her brother’s Palace– and swear lies for your honor’s sake.”

  John felt his whole body tense at Caroline’s words.

  “Aye,” Caroline continued, her voice dripping with bitter irony. “For your honor. She knew I would go to the Emperor. She knew I would have your head on a platter. Ha, you must outdone yourself in her bed, for the bitch to take such risks.”