The Border Vixen

by Bertrice Small

  “Tomorrow,” Janet said. “We will all come to pay our respects to King James at this trying and terrible time for him.”

  “I will see ye get in,” the guardsman told them, “but it’s unlikely ye’ll get to see the king. He rarely leaves the queen’s side. I saw her, ye know, the other day. She was being carried in a litter to the royal chapel of St. Margaret to hear Mass.”

  “What is she like?” Janet asked eagerly.

  “Pretty as a picture,” was the reply. “She looks like an angel and is already halfway to heaven, I’m thinking. I hear ye gave Jamie his second daughter.”

  “Aye,” Janet replied casually. “She’s a bonnie bairn.”

  “Come first thing in the morning,” the guardsman said. “I’ll leave word at the gate for them to expect ye, and yer husband, and . . . ?” He looked at Fin and Maggie.

  “The king’s cousin, Lord Stewart of Torra, and his wife, Lady Margaret,” Janet told her kinsman. “Actually, I believe the king will want to see Lord Stewart.”

  “It’s not up to me,” the guardsman replied. “But at least I can get ye into the royal apartments, Janet. And Lord and Lady Stewart,” he added, rising from his place and addressing Fin, “I thank ye for yer hospitality, my lord.”

  Fin nodded. “I thank ye,” he replied.

  “Will ye carry a message to the king’s secretary for me tonight?” Janet asked.

  “Of course.”

  Janet Munro handed the guardsman the letter she had written earlier to the king’s secretary. In it she reminded the man of the favor he owed her and requested that he get them an audience with the king within the next two days. The guard went off with Janet Munro’s message tucked in his leather jacket. “I can but hope we are successful,” Janet said with a small sigh.

  In the morning they dressed carefully, Lord Stewart in black velvet canions, black and white striped hose, and a black velvet doublet lined in white satin, its puffed sleeves slashed to show the white. He had never seen any of these garments before, but all Archie would ever say when he asked was that he had come by them honestly. Maggie wore her fine burgundy velvet gown. Her hair, usually worn in a thick plait, was neatly contained in a gold wire caul this day. They rode out with Janet and her husband early. It was a fine June morning.

  Edinburgh Castle sat on a craggy hill that jutted out over the town. It had first manifested itself as a wooden fort, built by King Edwin of Northumbria, in the seventh century. He had named it Edwin’s Burgh after himself. The Anglo-Saxon princess, Margaret, who had married King Malcolm III, was considered a saint. She had built the chapel. As she lay dying, the castle was being besieged by an army of Highlanders. Her dead body was lowered down the fortress’s west wall and taken to Dunfermline Abbey for burial. The great and newest stone building was a banqueting hall that had been built by James IV. The court, however, disliked this castle, for it was extremely cramped. They preferred Holyrood Palace, which was nearby in the city; a confection of witch’s cap towers that reminded one of the great châteaus of the Loire Valley but for the background of rugged hills behind it. Holyrood Palace had charm whereas Edinburgh Castle was what it had always been—a great rough fortress.

  They crossed the moat, entering into a great open courtyard where their horses were taken. They followed Janet Munro, who knew her way well, walking to the stone building housing the royal quarters. Maggie didn’t like it at all. It seemed a cold, hard place for a queen, let alone a dying woman. Inside, it was cramped, and the furnishings spare due to the lack of space.

  “Stay here,” Janet said as they came into what was obviously an antechamber. “I must find Master MacCulloch.” She hurried off, making her way from the antechamber down a narrow corridor and finally stopping at a small door at its end. She knocked, and then without waiting for an answer, stepped into a little chamber. “Good morrow, Allen,” she greeted the man at the high writing table.

  Allen MacCulloch looked up. He was a colorless man of medium size and girth who would be indistinguishable in a crowd. He considered this to his advantage. “Good morrow, Janet. Yer up quite early,” he said, returning her greeting.

  “We must see the king, Allen,” Janet said. “I know ye’ve read my message. Ye never leave anything undone.” Her eye went to the comfortable chair by the small hearth. “Do ye sleep here?” she wondered aloud.

  “When we are here, aye, I do,” he said with a brief smile. “Why do ye want to see him, Janet? ’Twill not be easy, for he rarely leaves the queen’s side now.”

  “ ’Tis not yer concern why I would see him,” Janet Munro said sharply.

  “Kinswoman, if ye expect me to work a miracle for ye, and ’twill be a miracle to pry him away for even five minutes, I must know the reason,” Master MacCulloch said.

  “Remember that I helped ye retain this position when ye were accused of stealing from the privy purse,” Janet reminded him. “ ’Twas I who watched, and I who learned it was Albert Gunn who was the thief. You would have been hanged instead of Master Gunn had it not been for me, Kinsman.”

  “ ’Tis true, Janet. I owe ye my life, but I still must have some idea of why yer here if I am to gain the king’s ear for ye.”

  Janet Munro sighed. “Very well,” she said. “The daughter I bore him in March was promised a dower and income. My husband sent to him telling the king of Margaret’s birth, but he has not replied. I know his love for his queen has driven all else from his mind, but the longer we must wait to settle this matter, the less likely it will be settled. Ye know as well as I do that there are those already seeking a new bride for him. He will mourn, and then be distracted by the search for a new queen. I will never gain what is due my daughter, Allen.”

  Allen MacCulloch nodded in agreement. “Aye, yer right,” he said. “But it hardly seems so urgent a matter that I must disturb the king over it now.”

  “I have a way to quickly accomplish the deed, Kinsman. I just need to speak with the king for a brief few moments. I understand that not all that was taken from the king’s privy purse was returned,” Janet murmured softly.

  The secretary flushed, then said, “I will get ye yer audience, Janet. But ye must stay here in the castle until I can accomplish it, for when it is possible, ye must go quickly to him, and state yer case. If ye are not available when the king is, there may not be another opportunity. Do ye understand?”

  Janet Munro nodded. “I do, Allen, and I thank ye.”

  “The debt between us will now be paid in full, will it not?” he asked her.

  “Aye, it will be,” Janet responded. “I am a mother, Kinsman, and I only want what my bairn was promised, nothing more. I’ll have little if anything to do with the court after this. My lord wants a few bairns of his own, and I’m yet young enough to give him some sons, and maybe even a daughter or two.”

  “Where can I find ye?” he asked her.

  “In the first antechamber,” Janet Munro replied.

  “I’ll send to ye when it’s time,” he told her.

  “Farewell then, Allen, and thank ye,” Janet said as she left the cramped chamber.

  “Well?” Lord Stewart said as she rejoined them.

  “The secretary says we must remain here until we are called to come. It may be hours until he can find a moment to get us to James, so we must be patient.”

  “Will I get to see the king?” Maggie asked ingenuously.

  Janet Munro was unable to restrain her smile. “Aye, ye will, but remember ye must not speak to him unless he speaks to ye first.”

  They waited. And they waited. And they waited. The morning passed. The royal quarters were very quiet, for the king had ordered nothing disturb his queen. Now and again a servant would pass through the chamber in which they waited. The long June afternoon faded into a long twilight. Night came. They had not eaten. They had had nothing to drink but some wine Janet had instructed a serving man to bring them as night finally fell. They spoke little, for there wasn’t a great deal to say. Maggie did remark that the hos
pitality in her grandfather’s hall was far better than in the king’s.

  Finally, two hours past midnight, a page came running into the antechamber. “Are ye Lady Tweed?” he asked of Janet. “Yer to come with me, madam.” The page’s eyes widened when the two men and the two women got up to follow him. “I was told a lady,” he said nervously.

  “Ye were not told correctly then,” Janet said. “Yer a Leslie, aren’t ye, lad? Ye know me, for ye were here when I was last the king’s lover. We must all follow ye.”

  The boy did not argue, for he did indeed know that Janet Munro, now Lady Tweed, had been the king’s last mistress before he went off to France to bring back his sickly queen. He led them quickly to a small empty chamber, and then left them.

  No one spoke. The door opened suddenly, and James Stewart stepped into the chamber. Maggie followed Janet’s lead, curtsying deeply while both men bowed low.

  The king raised Janet up by the hand. “A daughter,” he said. “Well done, madam. What have ye called her?”

  “Margaret, my lord.”

  James Stewart’s glance swung to Fingal Stewart. “Cousin,” he greeted him.

  Fin bowed again. “ ’Tis a bad time, I know, my lord, but I would come to pay my respects to ye and yer queen. I have brought my wife to greet ye as well.”

  James Stewart’s eyes turned to look at Maggie, who curtsied again. “Madam,” the king said, “I greet ye.”

  Looking into the king’s stern face, Maggie felt tears begin to slip down her cheeks. “Oh, my good lord,” she said to James Stewart, “I am so sorry! ’Tis not fair! ’Tis not!” Then she swallowed, trying to control her tears, and catching up the king’s hand, kissed it.

  Fingal Stewart struggled to find the words to excuse his wife’s outburst, but to everyone’s surprise, the king put a comforting arm about Maggie and said, “Nay, madam, it isn’t fair, is it? But even a king has no choice but to accept God’s will. I thank ye for yer concern. I shall tell my Maddie, for she will be touched.” He released his hold on her and said to Fin, “I found ye a good wife, Cousin, when all I meant to do was protect Scotland’s interests and well-being.”

  “Ye did, my lord,” Lord Stewart agreed, and drew Maggie to his side.

  “My lord,” Janet spoke up bravely, “there is one bit of unfinished business between us that should be concluded now. ’Tis why I have invaded yer privacy. ’Tis our daughter’s care about which I speak.”

  “Ah,” the king replied, understanding.

  “I have a solution, my lord, that with yer permission would solve the matter quickly and fairly: Give the income that is yers and comes from the tolls collected from Aisir nam Breug to Margaret, yer daughter. It really costs ye naught as ye will only receive the first of this tribute in November of this year.” Janet looked hopefully at the king. “Ye’ve never had this income, so ye really lose nothing.”

  A small smile touched the king’s lips. “Yer clever,” he said, but then he looked to Fingal Stewart. “Will ye agree to this arrangement, my lord?” he asked him.

  “There must be conditions,” Fin said slowly, ignoring Janet’s gasp of surprise.

  “Half of yer portion of the tolls will be used for yer daughter’s yearly maintenance. The other half will be deposited with the Kira’s bank here in Edinburgh. Those monies reserved will serve as Lady Margaret Stewart’s dower portion. The arrangement to cease upon her marriage. Should she die before that time, the coin held by the Kiras will be returned to the royal treasury. The arrangement between the royal Stewarts and the Kerrs of Brae Aisir will be concluded for good and all at that time.”

  “ ’Tis well thought out, my lord,” the king said. “Ye have managed to find a way to regain full control of the Aisir nam Breug one day, Fingal. Well done! And ’twill serve my daughter’s interest too. She will have a comfortable income and an excellent dower eventually. I will agree to it, as I am certain Lord Tweed and his wife will too.” The cold gray eyes turned to look directly at Janet Munro.

  “I agree, my lord,” Matthew Baird said. “I would be content if all the monies were set aside for Margaret’s dower.”

  “ ’Tis generous, my lord,” the king remarked, “but I look after my own. Allen MacCullough will see to the arrangement, and I will sign it immediately so ye may all return home knowing the matter is settled. Now I must leave ye, for the queen may be awake again.” He dismissed them, but not before taking Maggie by her shoulders and kissing her on both cheeks. “Farewell, madam. I shall always remember your kind heart.” Then James Stewart was gone from the chamber.

  “Ye might have told me what ye planned, Cousin,” Janet Munro said sharply.

  “Yer daughter needs an income and a dower,” Fin said. “I helped ye to see that she got it. But the Aisir nam Breug must have one master in Scotland, and not be passed to a second family and then another and another as these lasses wed. The traverse belongs to the Kerr-Stewarts of Brae Aisir and the Netherdale Kerrs. Now we both have what we need, Janet. Be satisfied with what ye have gotten.”

  “If I had known ye were so damned clever, I would have considered another kinsman for Brae Aisir,” Janet said.

  Fin laughed. “He wouldn’t have been as strong as I am,” he boasted. “Nor could he have outrun, outridden, or outfought her.”

  Janet sniffed, but Maggie was near to laughing. What a wonderfully clever husband her man was. The Kerr-Stewarts of Brae Aisir. She liked the very sound of it, and she knew her grandsire would too. They returned to the antechamber to wait some more. Finally as the early sun began to stain the horizon, Allen MacCullough came into the waiting chamber with two parchments.

  “Can any of ye read?” he asked, and when they all nodded he said, “Read the agreement, and then ye will sign them.”

  The chamber grew silent as the agreements were read over. Finally they were ready to sign. A page had come into the room carrying a tray with quills, ink, sealing wax, and the king’s seal. Fingal Stewart and Matthew Baird signed the agreements as well as a third copy for the royal records. The king’s signature had already been written.

  The secretary poured a bit of sealing wax on each parchment, stamping the royal seal into the red mass. When all three parchments had been signed and sealed, he rolled them one by one, tying each roll with a thin black cord.

  Allen MacCullough put one of the rolls upon the tray, and the page trotted off.

  Then he handed the other two copies to each of the two gentlemen. “This business is now concluded, my lords, my ladies. Ye are free to depart the castle. I have already called for yer horses. They await ye in the courtyard. Good day to ye.” He turned and left them.

  “A very efficient fellow,” Lord Tweed noted. “Why did he owe ye a favor, Jan?”

  “I saved his life,” she said. “But the debt between us is now paid.”

  “If we had not been up for a full day and a full night,” Maggie remarked, “I’d be ready to leave for the Borders this morning, but I am so tired that all I want is my bed right now. And a good meal.”

  Her companions agreed. They departed the royal apartments, hurrying to find their horses waiting for them as promised. They made their way from the craggy mount upon which the great castle was situated, and back into the town. At an inn called the Thistle and the Rose they stopped to eat a meal. Seated in a corner of the establishment, Maggie was fascinated to see the different people who came into the inn for food, lodging, and drink. It was her first time in the city, and she was amazed by it all.

  They ordered and were served eggs poached in Marsala wine, creamed cod, ham, bacon, oat stir-about with cinnamon, fresh warm bread, cheese, butter, and plum jam. Janet Munro was astounded by the amount of food that Maggie managed to eat. She had never seen a woman eat so much nor one who ate with such relish. She didn’t know if she felt admiration or shock at her cousin’s young wife.

  When they had finished their meal, they departed for Lord Stewart’s house where Fingal Stewart told his cousin, and her husband, “Stay as lo
ng as you wish, but know that Master Boyle, my agent, has two bishops coming next week on a Tuesday, as I let the house out when I am not here. Maggie and I will leave after we have rested a bit. I don’t like leaving Dugald alone for too long. It isn’t safe.”

  “I thank ye for the invitation,” Matthew Baird said, “but I know Jan wants to get home to little Margaret. We’ll depart on the morrow. I thank ye for yer aid.”

  “Aye, Fingal, thank ye,” Janet Munro said. “Even if yer too clever for me by far.”

  Lord Stewart laughed. “Fair is fair, Cousin.” He kissed her cheek. “Travel safely,” he told her. Then he joined Maggie upstairs where she was awaiting him.

  His wife flung herself into his arms as he entered their bedchamber. She kissed him heartily. “Thank ye! Thank ye!” she said to him.

  “For what?” he asked, his arms going about her.

  “For regaining what was ours,” she told him. “Ye are surely the cleverest man alive, Fingal Stewart. My grandsire will be very pleased.”

  “It is only ours again when little Lady Margaret Stewart weds, love,” he reminded her. “Until then the king’s third is hers, half to her dower, the other half to maintain her.”

  “But then it is ours again with no interference,” Maggie said.

  “They have no say in how we manage the Aisir nam Breug, but I will tell you truly that I am glad to have James Stewart’s fingers out of our pie,” Fin said. “Janet will be content as long as her daughter’s share is paid in a timely manner, which I will be certain to do, Maggie mine. Now, let us get to bed, for even I will admit to being tired. If we awaken before dark, then we shall be on our way this very day. I am eager to return home to tell Dugald of what has transpired.”

  They slept until four in the afternoon, but it was high summer, and the sun would not set before midevening. Archie and Grizel having kept reasonable hours, and having been advised by their master, had them ready to depart. By five o’clock they were riding from the town, and on the road to the Borders. They rode until it was almost dark, and after asking shelter of a cottager, slept in his barn for a few hours until the light came again a little after three in the morning. Maggie wasn’t unhappy to eat the hard oatcakes and cheese they carried, for she was as eager as her husband to reach home.