The Border Vixen (40 page)

“How will ye manage a ransom with the Hay in our midst?” Archie asked.

“We do not retain all of our coin here in the keep,” Maggie told him. “We store a great deal of it with a goldsmith named Kira in Edinburgh.”

“Aye, his lordship has his monies with Kira as well,” Archie said. “Let me go to Edinburgh as soon as I am strong enough to ride, which will be soon. That way I’ll be ready to collect the ransom from the Kiras and ride down into England. I’ll stay in my lord’s house, and ye can send to the Kiras, who will notify me. We’ll save a great deal of time that way, my lady, and I’ll be out of the way of the Hay. Ye’ll have difficulty enough getting the ransom paid if he is watching yer every move.”

“I’ve already told the village to watch for a messenger. We will stop him there, and the Hay is not likely to know at all. Let him think Fin has been killed, and he can steal what belongs to the Kerrs with impunity.”

“Be careful, my lady,” Archie said. “Yer playing a dangerous game with this fellow.”

“I know,” Maggie said, and sighed. “Sometimes I am afraid, Archie, but then I remember how much Grandsire, my lads, and all of Brae Aisir depend upon me. I will be glad to have my husband home again.”

The birthing by its length had worn Maggie out. She slept soundly for several hours. While she had turned her sons over to wet nurses, this small daughter of hers nursed at her mother’s breast from the beginning. It was also a way of keeping Ewan Hay away from her in these first weeks. Annabelle was baptized immediately. Unlike the elder of her brothers who had a king and a queen for godparents, the little girl had Grizel for her godmother, and Dugald Kerr for her godfather. David Kerr was relieved to see his new great-niece was healthy and sturdy. So many newborns weren’t.

Ewan Hay was pleased with how easily and quickly Maggie had recovered from her difficult labor. The wench had birthed three healthy children. He had high hopes that the fourth child she bore would be his son. On the day six weeks later that Maggie was churched by Father David, Ewan Hay spoke to the priest.

“Her husband is dead. Her children are fatherless. The English are already raiding, and the Aisir nam Breug must have a strong defender. You must marry us as soon as possible so the Kerr clan folk will accept me as their new lord.”

“I will not wed ye to her until she agrees,” the priest said. “The marriage is not a legal one without her consent or that of her grandsire. My brother will not give it to ye without her agreement. Why are ye in such a hurry, Ewan Hay? If Fingal Stewart is indeed dead, my great-niece will need time to mourn. We will keep the traverse open whether ye be wed to Maggie or not. We are loyal Scots, Ewan Hay.”

“I want her,” Ewan Hay said. “I have always wanted her.”

“Ye have been patient,” the priest said. “Be patient for a small while longer.”

Chapter 14

M
arie de Guise was angrier than she had ever thought she could be. But she masked that anger very well.

She hadn’t wanted to marry and leave her beloved France, or her young son. But Scotland’s king had wanted another royal French wife.

Marie de Guise was French, and she was a royal. She was widowed. There was no one else in France suitable enough for such a grand match. She had begged her father to refuse King François’s request. The king conveyed the lady’s reluctance to the Scots ambassador. Then James Stewart had written her a beautiful letter begging her to reconsider, and if she would not, to at least direct him in his search for a queen. The old alliance between Scotland and France must be kept strong.

She had liked her new husband from the beginning of their relationship, but she found he could be moody as so many Scots were. She was not as fond of many of the rough Scots lords, although none of them had been aware of it. She sought out men of intellect who might be of use to her husband, and perhaps even to her. She steered James as best she could without being obvious, and she had done her duty, though in losing their two little sons it had come to naught.

Despite her loyalty to France, she had not been certain that poking at the English lion was a wise thing. But her husband was a man of principle, and he held to the old alliance. France and Scotland had been bound together for years. France had given James not one, but two queens. A brief foray into northern England to publicly affirm the faith of Holy Mother Church and to show King Henry that Scotland was not to be trifled with was all he had planned. He owed the pope that show of faith for the pope’s financial generosity to James Stewart. He hoped the threat of a Scots invasion would take the pressure off France, now engaged in another war. That it had not worked out that way came as a complete shock to James Stewart, for the Scots and the English had been having these forays for centuries.

After the disaster at Solway Moss, the king fell into a deep depression. Returning to Edinburgh, he ordered a defense of the Borders immediately. Then becoming quite ill, he had retired to his beautiful Falkland Palace. His doctors sent the queen a message that the king was ill from eating shellfish. She had been at Linlithgow for her lying-in, and she could not go to him. Marie later always wondered, had she been able to go, whether she could have drawn him out of the darkness into which he had fallen. Instead, to her disappointment, she had given birth to a daughter.

When word of his daughter’s birth was brought to James Stewart at Falkland, it was the last straw. A son might have brought him out of his depression. Instead he declared, “It cam wi’ a lass, and ’twill go wi’ a lass.” After that he spoke no more, and refused to even acknowledge his priests. His handsome face to the wall, James Stewart died six days after his daughter’s birth, leaving Scotland once again in the hands of an infant monarch.

And Marie de Guise was furious at the selfish self-indulgence of her husband that had now left her alone in a cold, gloomy country. She would have to rally from her childbed as quickly as she could to defend the rights and person of her infant when at this point all she wanted to do was gather up petite Marie and return home to France.

But her daughter was now the queen of this cold, gloomy country. Marie de Guise was determined that this last child she had been able to bear her husband would survive to adulthood and rule with glory. Now, however, the young dowager queen would have to gather allies to protect her and her petite Marie.

The first order of business was to have the infant baptized. It was quickly done a day after her father’s death at the kirk of St. Michael’s near Linlithgow. At that point a struggle had begun for custody of the new queen. Two parties emerged, one led by the leading Roman Catholics of the land; the other by the leading Protestants. Cardinal Beaton produced a will allegedly signed by the king on the day of his death, which set up a regency council consisting of the cardinal himself; James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, the late king’s half brother, and the little queen’s uncle; the Earl of Huntly; and the Earl of Argyll. The man next in line for Scotland’s throne, the Earl of Arran, was ignored.

The Scots nobles favoring England, however, rallied under the leadership of the late king’s hated stepfather, the Earl of Angus, Archibald Douglas. Angus had been in exile in England since 1528. Now he returned, a large purse from King Henry in his possession, which allowed him to influence many. Cardinal Beaton was arrested and accused of forging James V’s will. Talks began to investigate the possibility of a marriage between the English king’s son and heir, Prince Edward, and the infant Scots queen.

It was an alliance that actually made sense. Mary Stewart had a claim to England’s throne by virtue of her paternal grandmother, Margaret Tudor. An eventual marriage between these two royal children might have led to a peaceful union between the two lands. Unfortunately, England’s king was a bully. He began making demands that could not, would not, be met. He wanted Scotland’s alliance with France repudiated. He wanted Edinburgh, St. Andrew’s, Dunbar, Tantallon, Dumbarton, and Stirling castles turned over to the English. But most impossible of all, he wanted the little queen sent to be brought up in England as soon as she could be weaned. That he actually believed any, let alone all, of his demands would be met was astonishing.

The Scots attempted to negotiate these terms. No castles would be turned over to England. The little queen, who had spent her first nine months at Linlithgow, was now moved to the more fortified Stirling Castle where she was crowned in the Chapel Royal with a gold bracelet of her mother’s while seated in Marie de Guise’s lap. She would remain in Scotland, which would maintain its independence. Two more treaties were attempted. Neither could be agreed upon, and Henry Tudor’s bullying continued.

The two political factions were actually moving closer to each other courtesy of Henry Tudor’s intractable attitude. A possible marriage was discussed between the Earl of Arran’s son, also an heir presumptive, and baby Mary. Cardinal Beaton returned as Scotland’s chancellor. Arran was made regent, and Marie de Guise was appointed head of the sixteen-member advisory council. Henry Tudor was not pleased by this turn of events. He wanted Scotland’s queen for his son. He began what was called his
rough wooing
of Scotland, and the Borders became a powder keg.

Once Archie was finally healed and strong again, Maggie and Grizel managed to slip him from the keep one morning, sending him out in a cart taking manure from the stables to fertilize the fields. It did not occur to the Hay men-at-arms that the cart returned with one man, and not two. Maggie had arranged to have a horse provided for Archie in the village. Carrying a letter of instruction to the Kiras and a few coins in his purse, Archie rode to Edinburgh. Upon his arrival in the city, he learned that the English king had in an effort to gain favor with Scotland released without ransom a number of nobles. They had just been brought to Edinburgh. Archie knew if his master was among those men, he would first go to his house beneath Castle Hill. He hurried to reach his destination.

As he turned into the lane where Fingal Stewart’s house was located, he saw a tall thin man slowly making his way on foot down the little street. From the back, there was something familiar about the man; yet Archie did not remember his master being so slender. The man stopped before Fingal Stewart’s house. His face was turned in silhouette. Archie stared hard. The face was gaunt, but it was familiar. “My lord! My lord!” Archie called, kicking the horse into a trot to reach his master. Yanking his animal to a halt, Archie jumped from its back. “My lord! Yer alive, praise be to Jesu and his Blessed Mother Mary!” He grabbed Fingal Stewart’s hand and shook it heartily, tears visible in his blue eyes.

Fin looked at the little redheaded man who was practically dancing a jig in the street. The little fellow seemed to know him and had addressed him by name. Who was he? Was he the man called Iver?
No!
He was Archie, wasn’t he? “Archie?” he said.

“Aye, ’tis me, my lord, come from Brae Aisir to see if I could find ye,” Archie said. “Aah, the mistress will be so happy to have ye home. She never gave up hope!”

Fingal Stewart sighed. “Archie,” he said, “I barely know ye, as memory has failed me since the battle. But tell me, who is Iver?”

“Why, my lord, Iver is yer captain,” Archie said. Then he reached for a key hanging from his belt, and opening the door to the empty house, ushered Fin in.

Reaching the hall, Archie was relieved to find a pile of fuel, which he used to start a fire in the hearth. “Are ye hungry, my lord?” he asked. “Ye look painfully thin to my eyes.”

Fin nodded. “Aye, I am hungry,” he admitted.

“I’ll go right to the cookhouse two streets over,” Archie said, “and get us something to eat, for I’m hungry myself. Will ye wait here for me, my lord? I’ll not be long, I swear it.”

Fin nodded again. He wanted to walk about this house, for to his relief much of what he had seen so far was familiar. He had been born in this house, he realized, and grown up here. “Aye, go and fetch us something to eat, Archie, and then I shall tell ye of my adventures these past months.”

Archie ran from the house and to the cookshop where he obtained a dozen hard-cooked eggs, a large rasher of bacon, a loaf of fresh bread, and a quarter of a small wheel of cheese, to which he added a covered container of ale. He paid for his purchases with a coin from his carefully concealed purse and hurried back to Lord Stewart’s house. He found his master dozing by the fire. Archie was very disturbed by how thin and pale Lord Stewart was. He had always been healthy and strong. Right now he didn’t look up to the task of taking on even a coward like Ewan Hay. What had happened to him? Had he been in an English prison?

The serving man brought plates and cups from the sideboard and set out the meal.

Then he woke Fin, and seating themselves at the board, the two men ate. Archie noticed that his master ate slowly and that his appetite was not what it had formerly been. This, he knew, was the result of a poor diet over the past months. Finally Archie could no longer contain himself. “What happened to ye, my lord? Where have ye been?” he asked. “I would have remained with ye on the battlefield, but Iver would not allow it.”