by Mary Wine
There was a clatter of copper pots as the coals were poked and the wine set to heating. Toby waited for it, carefully balancing the tray as his feet moved swiftly toward the mistress’s chamber. He lifted the heavy door knocker and let it fall onto the door. It seemed to take a long time for the heavy panel to open.
“Mulled wine, Mistress.”
“Yes, yes. Well don’t stand there while it cools.”
With wide eyes, Toby scurried into the room, trying not to stare at the opulent furnishings. To his young eyes, the decorative wood carvings on the bedpost looked like something from Chaucer.
“Don’t forget the soiled tray. Its scent is foul.”
Forcing his gaze onto his task, Toby gathered the soiled linens that were lying on the table. Dropping them on the soiled morning tray, he made sure to take the heavy silver goblet, too, so that it might be cleaned. He was just picking up the tray when he spied the small glass jar sitting near a book. It was full of spices and clearly belonged in the kitchen. He sat it among the used napkins.
A low moan drifted in from behind the tapestry curtain. He looked up with curiosity, wondering who was in the solar.
There was a crash from behind him. The mistress frowned as her mulled wine lay spilt on the floor. She glared at it for a long moment before waving her hand.
“Clean it up and bring me some more.”
Using the linens, Toby mopped up the wine before retreating from the chamber. He sucked in a deep breath, grateful to be on his way back to the kitchens. The mistress’s chamber might be full of beautiful things, but it sure made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
His mother was missing when he returned to the kitchen. Molly looked up as he brought her both silver goblets.
“The mistress wants more mulled wine.”
Molly shrugged, reaching for the wine. “Stay and wait for it to heat. You’ll have to take it back. I must mind the porridge.”
“Can I watch the knights practice while I wait?” Toby shifted from side to side as he waited to be granted permission.
“Aye.”
Toby skipped toward the window, a happy smile brightening his face.
While the wine heated, Molly cleaned the tray, pausing when she found the small glass jar. Pulling the stopper from it, she sniffed it. The odor wasn’t pleasing, but clearly the mistress had sent it with Toby to have it mulled in her wine. Why else would she want more wine so soon? Dumping it into a cloth, she gave it a twist and sat it in the warming wine. It was some manner of relief from the ache that had kept the mistress in her chamber for the last week. It must be nice to have the silver to pay for such comforts.
“Toby, the wine is ready.”
The boy shuffled his feet but left the window to take the tray to his mistress. She answered the door quickly this time, waving him in.
“Leave it and go.”
Toby did her bidding gladly, skipping down the hallway once the task was finished.
“Mother? Hurry. I think it’s time.” Mary sounded terrified, her voice echoing from the second chamber. She stood in the doorway, holding the heavy curtain up.
“Quiet down. If anyone sees you, this has all been for naught.” Philipa paused and took a long sip from the goblet. The warm wine soothed her nerves so she took a few more, draining most of it.
“Mother.”
“Do compose yourself, Mary. You aren’t doing any of the work. Try to have a bit of dignity.” She passed the silver goblet off to her daughter. “Have some wine. It will calm you.”
Mary frowned at her mother’s words but lifted the goblet to her lips. The wine was warm and she greedily drank every last drop.
“Good. Now where is this babe?” Moving through the doorway, she heard the muffled groans as Anne labored. Ivy crouched near her daughter as she sat in the birthing chair. A rag was between her teeth to keep her screams from reaching beyond the chamber.
“It’s coming, dear, push. Push hard.”
Philipa watched as the baby slid from its mother. The tiny body glistened as Ivy gripped it by the ankles patting the back firmly. With a shake the arms began to flail and the chest filled with air. A thin wail filled the chamber.
“Turn it around, woman.”
Ivy cast a frown toward Philipa as she cradled the child’s neck and held it up so that Philipa might see the sex. A small penis was well formed between the baby’s legs. The child turned red as he squalled.
“Well done. You see? Everything is in order and now I am pleased.”
Anne was leaning back on the birthing chair, her body shivering. Philipa turned her back on them. She smiled at Mary, fixing the hair that had escaped from its braid.
“There now, dear, you see? Everything is just as I told you it would be.”
Mary smiled. “You are always so right, mother.”
“A few more days and you may then present your son to everyone. We’ll write to your father.”
Mary smiled. “And I may return to court?”
“Yes, my dear. It is important that that Scot doesn’t catch up with you for many months. You will have to be clever and avoid him.” Philipa waved a hand in the air. “I doubt he’ll ride so far into England.”
She did not know Brodick.
Anne cradled her son. Even if Philipa’s scheme was foul, the product was beautiful.
“Riders ho!”
The Captain of the Guard cried out as the bells on the walls began ringing. Philipa lost her smug, satisfied look as she rushed toward the window.
“Christ’s wounds! It’s your husband.”
The McJames’ banners flew proudly in the afternoon sunlight, bearing down on the gate. The earl himself was leading the pack of retainers, five times the number that had arrived to fetch Mary.
“Stay here, Mary. Let no one see you or that baby.”
Philipa grabbed a handful of her skirts and ran from the room. Anne stared at the empty doorframe. Not once had she ever seen the mistress of Warwickshire run.
Mary wrung her hands. “Give me the baby.”
Ivy grabbed a broom. “Get out.”
“You forget your place, slut.”
Ivy turned the broom with a practiced hand, and swung it in a circle using both hands.
“Oh, I know my place. I know how to beat you senseless with this broom if you don’t get away from my daughter and grandchild.”
Ivy stamped the broom on the hard stone floor. Mary flinched at the sound, her face turning pale.
“Stupid girl.” Ivy shook her head. “Your father should never have allowed you to be raised so weak. I am going to have a word with that man when he returns. You may count on it.”
Mary’s eyes grew large and round. Ivy pointed at her. “Stay out of my way, girl. There is women’s work to see to. I’ve no time for your childish ways.”
Mary looked shamed for the first time that Anne could recall, her cheeks red and her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Anne shivered but the bells made her heart swell. Her mother wiped her forehead with a cool cloth. Her son nuzzled against her breast, rooting about for a nipple. Every muscle twitched and it was an effort to hold the infant. But she was happy. So pleased that it felt like sunshine was shining out of her.
She’d given Brodick a son.
There was no greater gift that her love might bestow.
Heavy fatigue pressed down on her as her mother tended to her, cleansing away the last stains of the birth.
“Your husband is here, riding into the courtyard,” Ivy whispered, but Mary screeched in outrage.
“My husband. He is my husband. She is a bastard.”
Ivy stood up, her temper overriding her good sense. Anne grabbed her mother’s wrist, trying to restrain her.
Ivy shook her daughter’s hand off. “I’ll have none of this. Do you hear? I’ve suffered in silence for my entire life, but no more.”
Anne smiled at her mother “Well now, he’s a fine, healthy boy.”
Anne gently hugged the
tiny body close to her chest. “Like his father.”
“Aye, I see that.” Ivy took the baby to the copper basin. She gently washed him, cupping the water in her hand to pour it over his head. He didn’t cry, but wiggled while making soft cooing sounds. Her mother finished and wrapped the infant in swaddling so that only his face and upper arms were free.
She laid him in the cradle before turning to help Anne. Soon she was settled into the bed and Ivy handed the baby to her.
“He’ll want your breast, if he’s anything like your brothers.”
Anne didn’t have time to lower her chemise. There was a scurry of feet in the outer room.
“Stop! These are my private chambers. You have no right to invade my rooms, you…Scots!” Philipa bellowed in outrage as the sounds of footfalls echoed between the stone walls.
“I’ll tell you who has rights, madam. I have the right to see my wife. Now stand aside or I’ll knock ye to the floor. But I will find where ye have hidden her.”
Brodick sounded dangerous, but he also sounded sweeter than any sound she’d ever heard. Anne clutched her son close, tears easing from her eyes.
“Brodick! I’m here!”
The curtain was ripped half off the rod as her husband erupted through the doorway. His face was a mask of fury, his sword in hand. He swept the room before charging towards her.
“I swear I wish I had the strength to beat ye for placing yourself in such danger.” He cupped her chin and his fingers shook. “Look at what ye reduce me to, lass. I’m but a shell of a man in yer grip.”
The baby hiccupped and Brodick dropped his sword. Anne wasn’t sure what surprised her husband more; the sight of their newborn son or the clatter of his sword. He ignored the dropped weapon, reaching instead for the edge of the cloth wrapped around the baby’s head. With a single finger he gently pulled it aside to peer at the tiny face.
“I’ve given you a son.” Her voice was laced with tears, tears born from happiness. “Just as I know you wanted.”
“No!” Mary screamed, stomping her feet. Brodick turned, his kilt flaring out. The sword was back in hand before the fabric settled.
Mary’s face was red, her eyes bulging from her head. “That’s supposed to be my baby. Mine. I’m a countess.”
“Ye’re no wife of mine.” Distaste colored his words.
Philipa stood frozen in the corner. “Oh, but she is, my lord, and you’d do well to listen to me. You have your son. My daughter is the only daughter with a dowry. You must keep Mary as your legal wife or lose what you married for. As for that bastard, you may have her for a leman. Look how strong she is. She’ll give you all the children you want and Mary will bring you the land you desire.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Cullen stood behind Philipa, his face a mask of disapproval.
“I wish I didnae believe it, but the proof is plain.” Brodick lowered his sword but stood in front of Anne, shielding her from Philipa.
“You can keep yer dowry. The woman I love is worth far more than any land.”
“But you need the land, Brodick.” Anne reached for his hand, unwilling to see him lose what he wanted. “It is still yours and your son’s.”
“I’ll not have that creature on my land.” He pointed at Mary. She tossed her head, looking down her nose at him.
“I certainly do not want to go to Scotland. Why do you think my mother sent that bastard in my place?”
Druce reached out to close his hand around Mary’s nape. She squealed but he granted her no mercy. “And the world calls us Scots the uncivilized ones.”
He flung Mary into the outer room without any remorse. Anne heard her half–sister’s shoes scuffing against the floor. Druce pointed at Mary through the arched doorway. “Keep a hand on her and a gag if she starts talking again. We’ve heard enough from that one to last a lifetime.”
There was a grunt from the retainers in the other room before Druce turned to face Brodick. “She was making me head ache.”
“Mary is your legal wife.” Philipa shook her fist in the air. “My daughter. Not that bastard girl.”
Philipa looked at the baby, hunger brightening her eyes. She made a lunge towards the bed but froze when Brodick raised his sword, the deadly point even with her heart.
“Ye’ll nae touch my family, woman. Make no mistake about it, I’m nae a forgiving man when it comes to what I consider my own.”
His words were as strong as the steel in his hand. “I swear I’ll run ye through, noblewoman or not.”
“Sounds like a fair plan to my way of thinking.” Cullen wasn’t joking this time. His voice was as hard as his brother’s. “Ye deceived every McJames and we nae take kindly to that.”
“Leave her for her husband. ’Tis his duty to sort out this mess.” Brodick didn’t lower his sword until Druce took hold of Philipa. She snarled but the Scot shook her like a rag doll.
“Have done, madam,” he growled at her, towering over her.
“The marriage won’t stand. You’ll get nothing if you bring my husband into this.”
Brodick sneered at her. “I’ve already dispatched a message to yer husband, woman. He needs to get home and take his estate back under his command.” He moved toward her, his sword still unsheathed. “But there’s one thing that ye had best be clear on. I’ll nae have any other but the mother of my son.”
Philipa screeched. Druce pulled her from the room as she ranted and raved.
Brodick turned then, his midnight eyes pegging Anne with a hard look. He reached up and slid his sword back into its sheath without shifting his attention away from her.
“Cullen. I want a full guard on this room.”
“Aye.”
“And keep a watch on that pair until the Earl of Warwickshire returns to take them in hand.”
Brodick froze for a moment, the tapestry catching his eye. His face softened for a moment as he stared at it. He stiffened, shooting a hard glance at her.
“Everyone else, leave.” Brodick stared at her. “I need a moment with my wife.”
Everyone left the solar, but all Anne noticed was the word wife. Brodick looked as formidable and unrelenting as he had the first time she’d laid eyes upon him. Fierce determination flickered in his eyes as he considered her.
“Good God, woman. I’m going to take to spanking you once a week.”
The bed shook as he closed the distance between them with such determination. His body was large and welcomed. She didn’t feel overwhelmed by his frame anymore. His strength gave her comfort. She caught the hint of his scent and it made her sigh. The few months away from him now felt like an eternity. She reached for him, just her fingertips making contact with his chest. A soft sigh passed her lips and he flinched.
“I swear I’ll nae be soft with ye. Murry is going to trail ye like a hungry colt and I’ll nae tell the man to give ye any peace. It’s the truth that I’m going to tell him to bring along a few other men to make sure the job of guarding ye is done.”
He suddenly scowled. “What is yer name?”
“Anne.”
He snorted, but cupped her chin. “Why did ye leave Sterling? Why did ye place yerself in harm’s way?”
He was such a proud man. Her cheeks colored as she cringed on hearing what her flight had reduced him to. By leaving Sterling, she had left him.
“Because I love you.” His large body shook. “I couldn’t steal the dowry from you. It was the only way.” She hugged the baby tightly. “The only way to keep our son from being born illegitimate.” She took a ragged breath. “Like his mother.”
She tried to look down but Brodick’s grip was solid. His eyes flickered with frustration.
“Och, I dinnae know what to do with ye, woman.”
The small bed shook as he leaned further across it, his hand sliding over her cheek and into her hair. “Tis ye I love, no matter the details of yer birth.”
“But the dowry—”
“Will still be mine.” He cupped the back of her
head. “Ye are the daughter of the Earl of Warwickshire and ’twas his wife that presented ye to me and my men. Ye were pure and ye have given me a son. That’s the best definition of wife that I’ve ever seen.”
The earl was speaking, the hard authority in his voice edging his words. But his face softened and the hand resting on the back of her head softly soothed her.
“Leave the legalities to me, lass. I’m nae blind to the reason why ye fled. What I want to know is, why didn’t ye run to me?”
Need glistened in his eyes, so sharp and needy, that tears fell down her cheeks.
“I love you, Brodick. I couldn’t see you disappointed even if it meant I had to sacrifice my own heart. I love you too much for that.”
A smile appeared on his lips. The hand in her hair tightened. Pleasure shone from his eyes and she knew without a doubt that life would have been miserable without him.
She wasn’t even sure she would have survived very long.
“’Tis glad I am to hear it…Anne.”
A tiny smile graced her lips as he spoke her name.
Her name.
Their son nuzzled her breast in his sleep and a shudder shook her body. She was suddenly so tired, her eyelids felt heavy. Her arms shook around the baby.
“Take…take the baby…” Her voice shook. She couldn’t seem to stay awake, her body sinking back into the bedding. Her entire body ached now and she wanted to escape it in slumber.
Brodick lifted his son from her arms and she smiled as she surrendered to her fatigue.
Brodick had never held so tiny a babe in his life. He wasn’t even certain he’d seen one so young before.
“Cradle him, my lord, or he’ll fuss and wake my daughter. She needs rest now.”
Druce had a hand on the woman, keeping her in the doorway. But she spoke softly, mindful of Anne’s need for rest. Her face looked similar to Anne’s. She lifted her arms, showing him how to hold his son.
“Are ye Anne’s mother?”
There was a harsh note in his voice that she didn’t miss.
“Yes, and I knew nothing of this until Philipa locked me in this solar with Anne.” She shrugged, but Druce didn’t release her until Brodick nodded approval. Leaving the bed, Brodick moved toward her to allow his wife to rest.
