The Border Lord's Bride (23 page)

"I know well the games kings play," Adair replied, her tone almost bitter. But then she smiled.

"But despite it all I found happiness."

"Be grateful then," Margaret Stewart told the younger woman. "Happiness is an elusive thing.

Sometimes it is like trying to hold a ray of sunlight in your hand."

"But you are happy, my lady," Ellen remarked. "I always thought you happy."

"Aye," the princess said, "I am. I am not beholden to any man, not even my dear nephew, the king. I have my own home, although I rarely get to it these days, my books, and enough friends to keep me amused. I am an independent woman, which is, in our world, as rare a thing as a golden goose." She chuckled.

Ellen and Adair remained by Margaret Stewart‘s side until the meal was announced. She left them to join the king at the high board. The two young women sought for their husbands, then found places at the trestles below toward the end of the great hall. Servants bustled about with platters and bowls and pitchers of ale and wine. After the meal the tables were once again pushed to the side of the hall and they were treated to entertainments. The king‘s piper played. There were three jugglers, who performed both separately and in concert with one another. And then came a troupe of Gypsy dancers who stamped with bare feet and whirled about, tossing their colorful skirts up to show supple legs beneath as they clapped rhythmically in time to the wild music.

It was during this part of the entertainment that a very young page came to their table announcing, "My lord the king would speak with the lady of Cleit and her sister, the lady of Duffdour. If you will attend me, please." The lad turned and moved away even as Ellen and Adair arose to follow him.

Between the great hall and the chapel was a room called the Chamber of Dease, which was a withdrawing room where the king usually went first after departing the high board. Ellen had assumed that the page was leading them there, but he did not. Through the chapel they followed the boy, and into a hall that Ellen knew led to the king‘s own rooms. She was at first surprised, but then she realized James would want complete privacy for what was about to come.

"Do you know where we are?" Adair asked her as they hurried along.

"We are going to the king‘s own apartments. He has a little privy room for himself. We have often played chess together there. It allows him to escape the formality of the court," Ellen answered. "Ah, here we are."

The privy chamber was empty, however, when the page left them there.

"Does he bring his mistresses here, I wonder?" Adair said.

"Aye, he used to bring Marion Boyd, old Bell the Cat‘s niece. She‘s a nice woman and gave him two children, his firstborn, Alexander, and a wee girlie, Catherine. He‘s married her off now, and he has fallen in love with Lord Drummond‘s sweet daughter, Margaret. He is a man for romance, our king," Ellen said with a fond smile.

"Did you ever…?" Adair couldn‘t resist asking.

"Me? Nay." Ellen laughed. "I am not at all the king‘s fancy. We were naught but friends."

"And still are, I hope," James Stewart said, entering the little chamber where the two women were awaiting him. "Sit, my ladies, and let us speak on a matter of great importance to Scotland." He motioned them to a small settle by the hearth and took the chair opposite them.

"You have heard the rumors in the borders, my aunt tells me."

"Of a man who claims to be young Richard of York? Aye, my lord, we have," Ellen said. "It is a most troubling rumor."

"Have you nothing to say, my lady of Cleit?" the king asked Adair.

"Do you think I do not know what you are about, my lord?" Adair burst out. "This is a burr to place beneath Henry of England‘s saddle, isn‘t it? Repayment for all the troubles he has caused you and continues to cause you."

"Aye, it is exactly that," James Stewart admitted. "But could your brother Richard have escaped death? Could he have been smuggled to Flanders and then to the court of the Duchess of Burgundy? Could this young man indeed be Edward‘s son?"

"Nay, it is impossible!" Adair cried. "Anthony Tolliver would not have lied when he fled to me from Middlesham after my uncle Richard was slain."

"Improbable, but not necessarily impossible," James Stewart said.

"Do not fret yourselves," Ellen broke in. "The solution to this conundrum is really a very simple one, my dear lord."

"Ah, my sweet bonny," the king said, turning a smile on Ellen. "And what would you propose be done to settle this matter once and for all?"

"Introduce Adair to this man, my lord, but do not tell him of her connection with Edward IV. See if he recognizes his sister. He should, you know. Adair was grown when they last saw each other. If he is really King Edward‘s son, then he will know her for certain. If he is not, then he will not, and you will know he is a fraud."

James Stewart grinned. "A deceptively simple plot, my bonny, and quite worthy of you. It is discreet—provided, of course, that the lady of Cleit will cooperate. Will you, cousin?" The king smiled winningly at Adair.

"How can I be certain you will not speak with this man who calls himself my brother and warn him of me?" Adair demanded. "I know what you are about, cousin. You want an advantage, or at least a perceived advantage, over Henry Tudor."

"You are no friend of that king," James Stewart said.

"Nay, I am not," Adair agreed, "but I will not sully the memory of my father‘s sons with some cruel hoax so you may get back at your English rival."

"You are a difficult woman," the king said, "but I must know the truth of this matter, and you, Adair, are the only one who can tell me that truth."

"Does it matter to you if he is true or false?" Adair wanted to know.

James Stewart smiled a slow smile, and then he said, "Nay. I will use him against Henry Tudor nonetheless. I merely seek to satisfy my own curiosity."

Ellen sat transfixed, listening to them. She was shocked. This was a James Stewart she did not know—an unrelenting and merciless king, not the young man she beat at chess and then teased about it. Nay, this man was powerful and determined. If she had not known that what he did he believed was best for Scotland—and Ellen did know, for she had seen his love for his kingdom during her time spent at court—all of her illusions would have been entirely shattered. But Ellen did know that James Stewart had a kind heart and was a good man.

She suddenly realized that it was not easy being a king. There were power, wealth, and pomp to be sure, but there was also the responsibility for an entire kingdom. In the north, the king had to struggle against the power of the MacDonald lord of the isles. In the south, he had to be concerned for the English raiders who attacked not only his border lords, but the small villages and farms under their authority. And this man was not like his late father, the third James, who cared only for his own pleasures, who had not seen the misery of his subjects. Nay, this fourth James was a caring man.

"To assure you of my honesty, since I suspect you doubt it," the king said to Adair, "I will tell you that he of whom we speak will be back in the palace later this evening. When he comes I will point him out to you first, and then introduce you."

"Very well," Adair replied, and then her manner softened. "Forgive me, cousin, for my suspicion of this man. I would be as glad as you to do Henry Tudor a bad turn. If this fellow were indeed Dickie I would fall on his neck and praise God for such a great mercy. I would ride the length of England declaring Richard of York king over that usurper now astride England‘s throne. But many things concern me." She paused, and then said, "If Margaret of Burgundy truly believed that her nephew had survived murder, and knew where he was, then why did she not at least tell Dickie‘s mother before Elizabeth Woodville died almost three years ago? The duchess is a mother herself. Certainly she would have considered her sister-in-law‘s feelings, even if she did not particularly like her. None of my father‘s family really liked his queen."

"Perhaps Elizabeth Woodville‘s desire to see her grown daughter queen of England outweighed her love for her youngest son, who would have been a child king. As I recall, she and her Woodville relations attempted to seize control of her eldest son when his father died. She would have been allowed no power or part in her younger son‘s rule. And her own power base had been destroyed by King Richard."

Adair nodded. "What you say is true, I will agree. But had it been my child who had survived an assassination, I should have gone to be with him in exile." Then she shrugged. "But then, Elizabeth Woodville was never particularly maternal. She spawned her offspring, and after that had little interest in them except for what they could give her. I suppose if Dickie did survive his murder my father‘s wife carefully weighed and balanced the situation, finally deciding that my sister Elizabeth‘s chances were better and offered more than a little boy‘s."

There was a faint scratching at the door of the king‘s privy chamber, and it opened to reveal the page. "My lord, a servant has come to say that King Richard has returned, and is now in the great hall."

"Thank you, lad," James Stewart said, standing. Then he turned to his companions. "May I escort you back to the great hall, my ladies?"

Ellen and Adair arose together, and, following the king, they returned with him to the Lyon Chamber.

In the great hall, a group of courtiers and ladies were gathered around a young man. He was tall and extremely handsome, with dark, wavy hair and fine blue eyes. He smiled easily, and his charm was evident even from a distance.

"There is the young king," James Stewart said, pointing. "What think you, cousin?"

"Dickie did not have dark hair. He was, like all of my father‘s children but for me, light-haired.

But then, his queen was fair, and my mother had jet-black hair. All of Elizabeth Woodville‘s offspring were blondes, or red-blondes. None was dark among them, my lord."

"Let me introduce you," the king suggested, "so you may be certain."

"He does have the look of a Plantagenet about him," Adair admitted slowly.

The gaggle of courtiers and simpering ladies parted as the king reached the young man with his two companions. "My lord Richard," he said, "may I present the lady of Cleit, who, like you, is English-born, and her sister-in-law, the lady of Duffdour."

The handsome young man bowed and kissed first Adair‘s hand, and then Ellen‘s. "Are there no ugly women in Scotland, my lord James?" he asked, captivating the other ladies about them, who tittered appreciatively. Then he fixed his gaze on Adair, but his eyes held no recognition. "You are English-born, madam?"

"Aye, my lord, I am. My family name was Radcliffe, and our seat was at Stanton, which is on the English side of the borders," Adair explained.

"My uncle of York kept a tight rein on the north," the young man replied. "Did you or your parents ever meet him? He was not a kind man."

Adair kept her temper in check, for she needed to know more of this fellow. "Aye, I did meet him on several occasions, but not at Stanton. My parents were killed, and I was sent to court into the king‘s protection." If you were really Dickie, she thought, you would not repeat that Tudor gossip about Uncle Dickon, who was the kindest of men.

The young man‘s brow furrowed, and then he said, "We did not meet, did we? But, of course, I was in the royal nurseries under the care of that bitch Margaret Beaufort, the mother of he who usurped my throne. I have always suspected she was involved in the plot to murder my brother Edward and me. My aunt of Burgundy believes it too."

"Oh?" Adair could think of nothing to say to such an accusation, for as ambitious as Margaret Beaufort had been for her son, she was not a woman to stoop to murder.

"It was in the Tower, you know," the young man said confidentially. "They came and took Edward away one night. I never saw him again. But then those still loyal to the House of York came, secretly gaining entrance to my apartments. I was smuggled to the coast, and from there to Flanders, where I was put with a family called Warbeck, who told me that while I was now England‘s true king I would be killed like my brother if anyone knew. I was to answer to the name of Perkin Warbeck until I might one day be restored to my rightful place as England‘s king. And two years ago my aunt of Burgundy came for me and brought me to her court in preparation for my return to England."

"Oh, Your Highness was so brave!" one of the ladies said.

"Aye, ‘tis quite a tale you tell," Adair said with a small smile. Then she curtsied. "If you will excuse me, sir, I must seek out my husband, for our day has been long." She looked at James Stewart. "With your permission, my liege?"

"I will help you find your laird, madam," the king said. "I must have words with him regarding a matter of the border." His hand grasped her elbow, and they moved away, Ellen with them.

When they were out of hearing of the others, James Stewart asked, "Well, is he your half brother, or is he a false prince?"

"He did not show any sign of recognition for me," Adair began. "I gave him my family name, and that of Stanton. I said I was brought to court as a child. I did not, however, tell him I was raised in the royal nursery, for he should have known me if he were the true prince, my lord. But he did not know me. The real Prince Richard would have, for everyone at court knew my history, and that I was the king‘s brat. And saying that his uncle Richard was not a kind man was a patent lie, for Uncle Dickon was the most loving of men to all the children who crossed his path. And that Banbury tale about the Tower! As soon as my uncle Richard became king he moved the boys to Middlesham for their safety, knowing the Wood-villes would attempt to gain custody of the boys and cause difficulties. How Margaret of Burgundy could delude herself is beyond me.

But perhaps she does not fool herself. Mayhap it is to irritate Henry Tudor that she sponsors this hoax. You are her cat‘s-paw, cousin, as the Irish before you who supported this man. I would expect it of the Irish, but not of Scotland‘s king, who should be wiser."