The Queen's Almoner Page 12

  ***

  I finally made my way to my room about an hour before daybreak. I knew the lack of rest would not play well in my favor, should we find ourselves unexpectedly in a skirmish with the Gordon clan. Still, the events of the night before made it difficult to sleep.

  We were greeted the next morning by a light snow that had dusted the ground. Tiny flurries were still swirling about aimlessly and the air was thick with a chilly fog that made it difficult to see past the edge of the town.

  “It’s too early for winter to be setting in,” Maitland said as he pulled his ermine coat up around his ears.

  “Aye, but it appears the snow has cheered this disparaged band of travelers. I think it has brought a light-hearted mood with it that had been severely lacking since before we arrived here in Aberdeen.”

  He grunted in response and I took it that he didn’t agree with my optimism. Maitland sauntered off to see to his horse as I went to retrieve Ramses.

  “Did you sleep in the stables last night?”

  I turned at the sound of Mary’s soft voice, gently chiding me. I had just finished dressing Ramses and strolled over to where she stood, awaiting her own horse to be prepared. I took the saddle out of the stable boy’s hand. “I’ll see to this,” I said to the boy gruffly.

  I worked in silence, ignoring her question. Finally, she spoke again. “Well, I assume you didn’t get any sleep last night. You’re as grumpy as an old bear.”

  I chuckled at this, and, realizing I was being a bit of a beast, I said, “I had a lot on my mind.”

  That silenced her and I finished my task unimpeded. Moments later the ground began to reverberate with the sound of heavy hooves. We could feel them before we could see them. Fifteen hundred of them. Retainers who had come to greet the queen, led by none other than the Earl of Huntly himself.

  George Gordon, the Earl of Huntly was a man of about eight and forty years of age. When he dismounted it was apparent that he was short of stature, but he stood with an air of great authority and military skill. He had a head of black hair salted with gray that he kept shorn very close to his head. His beard, which had been allowed much more liberty of growth than the hair on his head, was well trimmed and coiffed. He wore a green and blue tartan that wrapped around his waist and lay pinned at his left shoulder. The uniform was completed with a sgian dubh tucked into his left boot and a longsword sheathed in a beautifully ornate scabbard at his left hip.

  The earl lighted off his mount and, coming to stand in front of Mary, swept a bow so low that it looked as though he would kiss her booted feet.

  “Your Grace,” he said in a gruff, scratchy voice. His actions showed his respect, but his tone revealed a strained humility.

  “Lord Gordon,” Mary replied with a strong yet patient voice. Her eyes shone of liquid emerald and the half-smile on her lips indicated that she was not altogether impressed.

  “I have come to welcome you to my land. My wife paid you a visit yesterday. I trust that the two of you had a productive conversation,” he rasped out.

  At the use of the words my land Mary’s eyebrows raised in amusement. Although the clans had laid hold to ownership of their lands, for centuries, the Sovereignty always held ultimate domain over any land and could seize it at any time.

  “Lady Gordon is a graceful woman full of charm. She shared some of her concerns with me, made me a few propositions of which I am inclined to refuse at this time, and departed with my instructions on how you were to conduct yourself while I am in the vicinity.”

  “Your Grace, I thought it…”

  “Lord Gordon, did I not make it clear that you were to bring no more than one hundred retainers to meet me?”

  Gordon’s dark eyes shot a spiteful look at Mary’s open chastisement. His injured pride was evident on his face.

  “Your Grace, please forgive the misunderstanding. I feared for the safety of my household and must do all that I can to secure it.”

  “Lord Gordon, you insult me. I have at no time made insinuations against your person or property. The borrowed titles that I removed from you were bestowed upon a more appropriate subject and were done with the knowledge that you were not in need of them. You have consistently reproached my intentions to visit my fair cousin, Elizabeth. You have made unconscionable changes to your religious views to suit your political wishes. And you have blatantly disobeyed my orders so that you may promote your own self-importance.”

  Mary stopped to catch her breath and wait for a response from Gordon. But the earl seemed to have no intentions of replying. His jaw muscles bulged on the side of his face as he ground his teeth together in an effort to bite his words. He stared at her momentarily then arose and went to his saddlebag. Pulling a large package out he returned and kneeled in front of her. He slid the sgian dubh from his boot and immediately elicited two hundred swords scraped from their scabbards in Mary’s defense. Mary straightened her back, but her eyes did not move from Gordon’s. Lifting the knife to his face he gave a little nod. Then sliding the blade beneath the twine, a quick twist of his wrist sliced the twine and released the contents from its package. Holding his eyes on Mary, he removed a large blanket made from the pelt of a long-haired Highland bull. He held the blanket out to Mary in a submissive gesture, but his eyes did not waiver.

  “Compliments of the Gordon clan.” She took the gift and ran her hand over the soft, cinnamon-colored fur. A contrasting band of brown velvet bordered the edges in a finished touch. She nodded her head in acceptance, but before she could reply the earl rose and turned to go.

  Mary watched as Gordon mounted his steed. He pulled the reins and turned the horse northward toward Inverness. Mary pushed her head into the air as he fastened his eyes on her once again.

  “Lord Gordon, I trust that the next time we meet we will be able to sit down and discuss our concerns in a more diplomatic manner.”

  “Aye, Your Grace. And I see that if I am to stand in your presence unchastised that I must approach with the humility of a dog.”

  “I strongly advise you mind your tongue when you speak to Her Majesty,” spat Lord James, the newly titled, Earl of Moray.

  Gordon shot a questioning look into the crowd. When he saw it was James that spoke his eyes narrowed into hateful slits.

  “Lord Moray,” he drew out with dripping sarcasm. “I’d no idea that I would have the pleasure of speaking with you today.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” James purred back. A moment of awkward silence ensued as the two men exchanged disdained looks. Gordon finally turned his gaze back on Mary and continued.

  “All of my possessions; my estates and personal effects are at your disposal. In truth, my very life is yours to do with as you see fit. A good day to you, Your Grace.” And with that he dug his heels into his steed and rode away in a fury.

  I looked back to Mary expecting to see her shaken or, at the least, upset. However, her demeanor held steady as she gently rubbed the blanket against her cheek. She stood watching Gordon ride off but did not comment on the diatribe.

  At last Mary moved toward her horse. The snow had stopped, and the fog had broken as a radiant sunrise split the horizon.

  “Come, my men!” Mary spoke excitedly as she threw the blanket over the back of her horse and straightened it. “The snow has stopped and it’s not yet Christmas. Let us make our way to Inverness so that we might indeed make it home before the Nativity Fast.” James knelt to assist her in mounting her horse. She patted the horse’s backside with her three taps then grabbed the pommel of her saddle to steady herself. Her horse, a silvery-gray gelding, stood erect and confident awaiting her command.

  I stepped up to her side and laid my hand on the horse’s bridle. “Are you all right?” I whispered. She did a fine job of showing a strong face, but I knew her too well. She was too sensitive not to be affected by this little episode with Gordon. But when she looked down at me with a fire in her eyes, I realized I had misjudged her this time.

  “I have never
been better. With my men behind me, and you, and Rizzio and my other close friends beside me, I feel as though I could accomplish anything.” With that she snapped the reins of her mount and lifted her chin. “Let’s ride!” With a click of her tongue, the gelding shot ahead and left most of us choking on the dust it left behind.

  Inverness was another day’s ride but barring any unforeseen events, we would be there by nightfall. I only hoped there would not be trouble waiting for us when we arrived. I flexed my hand instinctively, then touched the weapon tucked into my belt. I had never been a violent man, but this woman made me want to scrape steel. I’d have to spend a little more time in my prayers tonight. God in heaven, I need help.

  ~15~

  October 1562

  The further north we travelled, the colder it turned, and although it did not snow again, the heavy gray clouds hung over us the whole way, coaxing us to press on.

  The wind spun around us, striking us when we were on the hilltops and placating itself when we were hidden in the hollows of the land. At one point, the wind whipped so strongly that it caught the canvas that had been thrown over one of the wagons, blowing it completely off and causing us to lose some of our belongings.

  “You keep going!” I shouted to Lord James above the howling wind. “I’ll take two soldiers and we’ll retrace our steps with a wagon to collect what valuables we can retrieve.

  “Thomas, no,” Mary contested. “I’d rather you stay with our party.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Lord James argued. “You will have plenty of protection, and he already has an account of what items we had. He’ll know what to look for.”

  I nodded my head in agreement and urged Mary to carry on without me. “I’ll catch up as soon as I can,” I assured her.

  We reached Inverness after sundown, frozen and brittle, and in a fouler mood than what the morning had brought us. The rest of the party had arrived an hour earlier and no sooner had we joined them than it was apparent that something was amiss. Although the sun had set, it was still early in the evening. Yet, there were no hurried shoppers searching out last minute goods. There were no merchants shouting out their wares and hoping to make one more last-minute sale before closing up shop for the night. In fact, from what we could hear inside the city walls, the whole town had already retired for the night. And why were we standing without the city gates anyway?

  I guided Ramses to the front of Mary's guardsmen and searched for Lord James—or anyone who could tell me what was going on. The closer I drew to the front I could hear Mary's clear, yet authoritative voice. She was speaking to the captain of the castle guard, her voice rising in pitch and increasing in tempo the longer she spoke to him. He stood aloft at the top of the gate and was refusing to come down to speak to her directly.

  “By my troth, what is going on here?” I inquired.

  Sir Arrick Bain, the captain of Mary’s guard, answered me. “That runagate earl, Gordon, has ordered the gates locked. They have barred our entrance.” A mass of birch bark tar bulged from his mouth as he chewed away on the substance then spat a dark residue onto the ground beside him. He sat scraping the dirt from beneath his fingernails with a small dagger before wiping it clean on his breeches and tucking it back into his waist. “This fool stands atop the gate shouting down at the queen as if he were the queen of England and Her Majesty England’s dog. He doesn’t know he’ll be dead by morning.”

  My mouth gaped as I listened to Sir Arrick’s retort, then I shot a glance back up to the man on the wall. He spoke brusquely to the queen, but the fact that he refused to remove himself from the wall, or open the gates, had sealed his fate, I feared.

  I rode up to Mary. She cast me a weary glance, so I thought I’d try my reasoning with the man.

  “My good man, do you not realize that your disobedience could cost you your life?”

  “My orders come directly from Lord Gordon,” he ground out. “His coin puts food on my table and a roof over the heads of my six progeny. If I don’t lose my head at his hand, I will surely lose it at the hand of my wife.”

  “What about your queen, man?” I spat. “Have you no loyalty to queen and country?”

  “Aye. I’ve loyalty to country,” he said. “But I also know to whose generosity I owe my livelihood. Now go to the inn with ye. They will lodge ye there until morning and ye can talk it out with Lord Gordon yourselves on the morrow.”

  “For God’s sake, man! You will surely lose your head!”

  “Nay. We have 5,000 horsemen in waiting, and Lord Gordon himself is gathering troops as we speak.” However, his face immediately blanched white as he clamped his mouth shut. Apparently, he had spoken too much. He cursed, turned on his heels, and hurried away.

  I looked at Mary in disbelief. “Either stupidity has overtaken this man’s head, or he truly believes that Gordon is more powerful than his queen.”

  “Aye, I received a report no more than a few minutes ago. Lord Gordon truly does have at least 5,000 men on horseback, and maybe more waiting on his command,” Sir Arrick confirmed.

  Mary’s eyes burned at the outright disrespect. A subtle shade of crimson rose up her neckline, starting from somewhere beneath her woolen collar and coloring her usually fair brow.

  “The earl is a madman. First, he sends invitation to me through his wife, to join him at his home in Strathbogie. When I refuse, he comes to me with a thousand soldiers as if I were fallen upon him with bow and blade. He offers me gifts—and threats—in the same span. Now this. I will have none of this rebellion. Come along men.”

  “What do ye desire of us, Your Grace?” Arrick inquired as he steadied his restless horse. It was apparent that both man and beast were ready for a fight.

  “We shall rest at the inn and return on the morrow. The time for talk is finished.”

  Mary spun around on her horse so hurriedly, causing the fur gift that was wrapped around her shoulders to fall. She looked back up at the ramparts. The captain of Gordon’s guard had not returned. She dug her heels into her steed’s flanks and let out an almost primal shout. Five hundred riled Scotsmen returned the cry to her, lifting fists, swords, and shields into the air. The quiet void left by clan Gordon was filled with the shouts of cold, tired, and hungry men who had come a long way and were itching to hit something.

  Somehow Gordon’s guard had managed to liven up Mary’s retainers. By the time we reached the inn and the soldiers had set up camp, there was a general feeling of merry making amongst the men. No doubt, the possibility of battle nudged the mirth from their lips.

  ***

  “I am so glad I did not allow my Marys to accompany us,” the queen said later that evening. “I fear that they would not have found the journey as… interesting as I have.” She sat looking about her at the smoke-smeared stones that made up the interior of the second-rate accommodations we had taken up. The odor that filled the hall was ominous and the air had a slight tinge to it that burnt the lungs if inhaled too swiftly.

  I chuckled at that. “This is only one of a string of inns that is ill-prepared for the likes of any ladies, let alone a queen. I’m surprised you are just now making that observation.”

  “Aye, well, I’ve made the observation before, only in my head. Did you know the four Marys had begged me to allow at least a maid to accompany me?

  “Yes, there were many tears on the day of our departure because of your refusal.”

  “I told them I would dress myself and brush my own hair. They were appalled, but I insisted. And now I have finally come to the conclusion that I was wise in my judgement. If there is to be fighting, this would be no place for a damsel.” She fidgeted with the cup she held in her hands and I sensed that she was a little nervous.

  “Aye, you did the right thing, but let us hope that we can avoid the fighting altogether.” I stood to my feet and offered her my arm. “Now, let us get some rest. I think tomorrow shall be a long day. Shall I escort you to your room?”

  ***

  For the second nig
ht in a row I was awakened out of sleep in the middle of the night. But this time it wasn't the heat that woke me, but an incessant rapping at my door.

  “Thomas.” Mary’s soft voice drifted through the door. I arose and pulled on my breeches then opened the door to see her standing there in her night shift, wrapped about with a thin shawl and disheveled hair. My eyes roamed over the curves of her body that lie beneath the almost see through shift. I instinctively ran my tongue over my lips—how did my mouth get so dry all of a sudden?

  Mary stood motionless, looking straight at my chest. I hadn't realized that I had forgotten to put my shirt on in my haste to answer the door. Her eyes were round and wide, and her lips parted slightly, yet no sound came out of her mouth. We stood like that for several minutes until my sense returned to me. A feeling of panic seized me, and I grabbed her wrist, pulling her into my room as I swiftly looked about me to detect if anyone had noticed her.

  “Are you mad? Mary, what if someone had seen you?” I quickly closed the door and dropped her arm so I could step away from her. Grabbing my tunic, I pulled it over my head. She looked glorious in her tousled state, and I just didn't trust myself to stand close to her, especially in a partial state of undress.

  “We…I…a messenger has brought some news,” she stammered. She swallowed hard but didn't continue. She was nervous, but I knew not if it was the message she had received or the situation we found ourselves in. She stood, tongue-tied for what seemed like an eternity.

  “What is it? What did the messenger say?”

  “Forgive the intrusion, Thomas!” she finally found her voice. “I've never found myself in such a treacherous situation before. It appears I have some supporters, or at least one, amongst the Gordon clan. A man came tonight to warn me of a plot that has been hatched to kidnap me. Gordon plans to force me to marry his son, Sir John. I can't believe he would stoop this low.” She began wringing her hands together as she paced across my floor.