Authors: Bertrice Small
Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Romance, #Historical, #General
The Border Vixen (53 page)
“Have ye killed him?” Aldis, his third wife, asked of Rafe.
“I think not,” Rafe answered her, signaling to their servants. “Take Lord Edmund to his bed,” he told them. “I think he’s suffered the effects of being overthrown in his own house, Aldis. Go and care for him now, for he will need yer love to sustain him.”
“Of course, my lord,” Aldis replied. She arose and curtsied to Rafe politely, then turned to leave the hall.
“Will yer brothers really support ye?” Rafe’s wife seated on the other side of him asked. “All of them?”
“They have no choice if they wish to remain here at Netherdale,” Rafe said. “I have seen that each of them has a house and a wife who brought a good dower. I have encouraged them to pursue their own interests. There is not one of them who wants to deal with the responsibilities of Netherdale or the Aisir nam Breug. I am the lord here now, and I will see my brothers remain in their own places,” he told her. “Hopefully we are finished with this war, and will be left in peace.”
But Rafe Kerr’s wish was not to be granted. A messenger from the Earl of Lennox arrived several days after he had sent away the war party. The earl still wanted the use of the Aisir nam Breug for his messengers, and he was willing to offer a large bribe to both the Kerrs of Netherdale and the Kerrs of Brae Aisir. Rafe sent the messenger back with a promise to quickly consider it and discuss it with his Scots cousins. Then he rode through the pass to Brae Aisir to tell Maggie and Fin of recent events.
“Ye know the history of the pass, Cousin,” Maggie said to him. “Ye know what we must do.”
“Aye, it would seem we have no other choice at this juncture,” Rafe agreed.
“What must ye do?” Fin inquired of them.
“In the time of King Edward the First, there were those who sought to use the pass for war. We could not allow it, for our reputation was one of peaceful and safe travel,” Maggie said. “So we blocked the pass. It was several years before we were able to unblock it, but the Aisir nam Breug was not used for warlike purposes then, and we will not allow it to be used that way now.”
“We are in agreement, then?” Rafe said.
Maggie nodded.
“If the pass is closed to all travel, then yer income is cut off,” Fin said.
The cousins nodded. “Aye,” they said together.
“Can ye survive?” Fin asked. He had not until this moment realized the depth of familial loyalty between the English Kerrs and the Scots Kerrs. It was going to be difficult for both families until the border wars were ended, and the Aisir nam Breug could be opened once again, if indeed it ever was.
Rafe nodded. “We will survive,” he said. Then he turned and walked over to where old Dugald Kerr sat by his fire. “My lord, will ye approve this action?”
“What of yer father?” the laird asked.
“My father is no longer in charge at Netherdale,” Rafe said quietly.
“And ye can defend yer holding from him?” the laird inquired.
“Aye! My brothers are behind the decision. My father has not been well for some time. He lost his sense of honor. Had he not been ill, it should never have happened.”
Dugald Kerr nodded. “Very well then, I approve the action that ye and Maggie mean to take. Do it tomorrow as ye return. Have ye stopped the northward flow of traffic?”
Rafe nodded.
“And we’ll let no one going south through after today,” Maggie said.
Rafe Kerr remained the night at Brae Aisir. The following morning, he rode out with Maggie to the border within the pass that separated the two nations. Maggie had insisted upon going alone with her cousin, but she knew Fin rode the hills above the traverse watching her. A good quarter mile from the border, Maggie dismounted her horse and tied its reins to a gorse bush. Rafe galloped ahead, riding over the invisible line to tether his mount a quarter mile into England. Walking, the cousins reached the spot where the great stone thistle and its matching rose were set in the hillside. They climbed their respective hillsides up to the large markers.
“Ready?” Rafe called to Maggie from across the divide now separating them.
Maggie nodded. Then she raised up the panel in the front of the marker to let down a rain of large stones and small boulders into the pass even as Rafe Kerr did the same. The rocks rumbled down the hillside, loosening more rock and dirt as they fell. A cloud of dust arose up from the pass, turning the air briefly brown. Then it dissipated in the cool, damp autumn air along with the thunderous sound the stones had made.
A light rain began to fall. Maggie gazed down. The Aisir nam Breug was well and thoroughly blocked. It would remain that way until the day came that it was once again safe to open it up to peaceful travel. The English would not attempt to unblock it, for it was far too tedious a task and would take quite a long time. Raising her head, she looked across to Rafe. He nodded, satisfied; then smiling at her, he saluted Mad Maggie Kerr with an elegant bow and a charming grin.
“Farewell for now, Cousin,” he called to her.
“Farewell, Rafe,” she called to him, and then she added, “Ye’ll surely go down in the family history as the most honorable among all the Kerrs on both sides of the border.”
And she gave him a brilliant smile before they both turned away.
Maggie climbed down the side of the hill even as she knew Rafe was doing right now. She walked slowly back to where she had tethered her horse and, mounting it, rode back to Brae Aisir. Fingal Stewart met his wife as she exited the Aisir nam Breug.
“ ’Twas not easy to do what ye did,” he said.
“We are honorable folk, we Kerrs,” she said.
“Do ye think the traverse will ever be opened again?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” Maggie admitted, “but the Kerrs of Brae Aisir have had a long and glorious history keeping the Aisir nam Breug safe. Whether we will ever do so again, I do not know, Fin.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “ ’Tis the end of an era for us,” she said.
“And the start of an era for the Kerr-Stewarts of Brae Aisir,” he told her. Then Fingal Stewart surprised his wife, reaching out to lift her from her horse to bring her to sit next to him on his stallion. He smiled into her startled face, then bent to give her a deep, hungry kiss. Holding her close, he kicked his mount into a gentle canter. “ ’Tis not the end, Maggie mine,” he said, whispering the promise into her ear. “ ’Tis but a glorious new beginning!” And it was.
Afterword
T
he Border Wars, often known as Henry Tudor’s
rough wooing
of Scotland’s little queen for his son and heir, lasted between 1544 and 1549. The strife peaked with the Battle of Pinkie on the tenth of September 1547. The English took over a great deal of southern Scotland after Pinkie. The wars finally ended two years later in September 1549 when the English were forced to withdraw entirely from Scotland, as their forces were needed elsewhere. The new French king, Henri II, Scotland’s chief ally, had laid siege to English-held Bologne.
Although Henry VIII had died in January 1547, the new king’s uncle, Edward Seymour, now the Duke of Somerset, was the protector of the realm. He was as eager for a match between his young nephew, Edward VI, as Henry had been, which meant there was no change in England’s policy towards Scotland. The brutality of the Border Wars, however, had united Scotland firmly against England.
With the death of François I, Henri II came to the throne in France. His closest advisers were the brothers of Marie de Guise, Scotland’s Queen Mother. Because of the English, the little queen had spent her early years being moved from one castle to another. She had survived chicken pox and the measles. Now in June 1548, the five-year-old queen, formally betrothed to Henri II’s son and heir, the dauphin François, was taken to France to be brought up with her future husband.
In her greatest sacrifice, Marie de Guise elected to remain behind in Scotland to protect her daughter’s interests. As her daughter’s regent, she ruled with equanimity. The Reformation came to Scotland, and Marie de Guise practiced open tolerance, allowing the pastors of the Protestant pursuasion to preach openly and without hindrance. When King Edward VI died, his sister Mary Tudor took England’s throne and began a ferocious persecution of the Protestant faith. Marie de Guise offered sanctuary to those persecuted Protestant English ministers.
Sadly, all her good work was for naught because most of those holding high office in Scotland at that time as well as the army were French. An anti-French sentiment began to arise, and leading it were those very Protestant churchmen and lords Marie de Guise had protected. However, the dissidents represented Scotland and a cry for freedom from the French. The Queen Mother was French despite all her years in Scotland. Her popularity began to disappear. She died in June 1560.
In England, Elizabeth Tudor, the Catholic Mary’s Protestant half sister, now sat on the throne. She watched with careful eyes as her fabled beautiful cousin, the elegant and sophisticated eighteen-year-old Mary of Scotland, now a widow, returned home to rule. But that is a different story for another time.
As for the Aisir nam Breug, it was never reopened, and in the years that followed, its existence was completely forgotten. Scotland and England entered a different era. With the death of Elizabeth I, Mary Stewart’s son, James VI of Scotland, became James I of England. The few roads running through the Borders were now as safe as any of the many roads in the two united kingdoms, and the families at Brae Aisir and Netherdale survived for many generations to come.
About the Author
Bertrice Small
is a
New York Times
bestselling author and the recipient of numerous awards. In keeping with her profession, she lives in the oldest English-speaking town in the state of New York, founded in 1640. Her light-filled studio includes the paintings of her favorite cover artist, Elaine Duillo, and a large library. Because she believes in happy endings, Bertrice Small has been married to the same man, her hero, George, for forty-seven years. They have a son, Thomas, a daughter-in-law, Megan, and four wonderful grandchildren. Long-time readers will be happy to know that Nicki the cockatiel flourishes along with his housemates: Finnegan, the long-haired, bad, black kitty; and Sylvester, the black-and-white tuxedo cat who is the official family bedcat.
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