CHAPTER 3
“By the saints, I missed you,” Margaret’s brother George said as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around.
After he set her down, Archie gave her a stiff embrace. Her handsome brothers seemed unchanged, except that Archie’s features had grown harder. Despite all the trouble her brothers had left in their wake when they fled the country, Margaret was overjoyed to see them.
“You’re as gorgeous as ever.” George grinned as he looked her up and down. “But, my God, what are ye wearing? Ye dress like a grandmother.”
Margaret felt herself blush. George had always teased her about dressing as if she hoped to join a nunnery.
When she was thirteen and painfully shy, her family had dressed her in exquisite gowns and paraded her in front of the king in hopes that she would catch his eye.
Although the king failed to show an interest, she’d had so much unwanted attention that she preferred to dress to avoid it. Her husband had preferred that as well.
“I thought our escort was taking us to Tantallon Castle,” Margaret said to change the subject. “I didn’t expect to meet ye here in Edinburgh, especially at Holyrood Palace.”
She had been looking forward to seeing her childhood home, and she had deeply unhappy memories of the last time she was in Edinburgh.
“We must be where the king is,” Archie said, “and the king is here.”
“How did ye manage to get past the queen’s cannon fire?” Lizzie asked.
Archie’s jaw tightened, and he shot a heated glare at Lizzie, which did not appear to bother her at all.
“The queen has withdrawn to Stirling, under pressure from the King’s Council,” Archie said. “The king is now free of his mother’s overbearing and unfortunate influence.”
That sounded like a significant victory for Archie over his estranged royal wife.
“I, for one, am glad the queen is not here,” Lizzie said. “While ye were away, she called us all in for questioning and threatened us.”
“We heard it was not pleasant for you,” Archie said.
That was hardly an apology, but Archie had never been one to admit blame.
“Not pleasant?” Lizzie said. “Ye must have heard what Wretched William did to Margaret. I hope ye take a hot poker to his eyes and put his head on a pike.”
“You’re a bloodthirsty lass,” George said with a laugh.
“And Sy—”
“Enough, Lizzie,” Margaret said, and discreetly stepped on Lizzie’s foot to stop her from telling them what her sister Sybil had done to escape the queen’s wrath. For the time being, it was best her brothers not know where Sybil was.
“Do ye think exile was pleasant for us?” Archie snapped. “We had to live on the charity the French court and then on my brother-in-law’s.”
“France wasn’t all bad,” George said, tilting his head. “Ahh, those French women…”
She and George had always been the peacemakers of the family, though their methods were different. While she soothed tempers and accommodated others’ demands, George employed his sharp wit and easy charm—and got what he wanted.
“There’s no profit in dwelling on the past,” Archie said, brushing his hands against each other. “The Douglases will soon have everything we had before and more.”
“I still don’t understand how ye came to be residing here at Holyrood Palace with the king,” Margaret said.
“The King’s Council has recognized that, at thirteen, our king is too young to rule without the protection and guidance of more mature men,” George explained. “They’ve decided that custody of the king’s person shall be rotated every three months among the most important noblemen of Scotland.”
This complex arrangement was obviously designed to prevent another fight like the Battle of the Causeway among the Scottish magnates for control of the young king.
Still, Margaret could not help but feel sorry for the lad, separated from his mother and shifted from one set of guardians to another every three months.
“Archie has the king for the first three months,” George said, and exchanged a look with Archie that she could not read.
“I want to see my father,” Lizzie said. “Where is he?”
“He’s keeping watch on the king,” Archie said.
Keeping watch. That was an odd turn of phrase. It almost sounded as if the king was their prisoner.
“He’s giving the king lessons in sword fighting in the courtyard,” George told Lizzie. “The king is so impressed with your father’s skill that he’s given him the nickname of Greysteel.”
After Lizzie left to join their uncle, Archie narrowed his eyes at Margaret and said, “I suppose she’ll require new gowns for court.”
“That fool William was so jealous he made her dress to hide her beauty.” George grinned and flung his arms out. “I say, let our princess shine, as she always should have.”
“New gowns are not necessary,” she said. “I won’t be staying long.”
“You will,” Archie said. “I require your presence here.”
Margaret’s stomach lurched at the thought of staying here at court and getting caught in her brothers’ political machinations. “Why do ye want me here?”
“As the queen has refused to play her part as my wife,” Archie said between thinned lips, “I need a woman to serve as my hostess.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer Lady Jane?” she asked, referring to his mistress. At least, Jane was his mistress before he was banished, and they had a daughter together.
“Having Jane play that role at the royal palace would be inappropriate,” George said. “More importantly, it would upset the king, and we must all do our best to make him happy.”
“But Alison will have her baby soon,” Margaret said, managing to keep the edge of desperation from her voice. “She needs my help.”
“Alison breeds like a rabbit and has a castle full of servants if she needs help,” Archie said. “I need you here. The Douglases need you.”
Margaret felt their expectations closing around her like a trap, making it hard to breathe.
“And while you’re here, we can find you a new husband,” George added.
“I don’t want a husband.” Never, never would she let them marry her off again.
“Nothing need be decided now,” George said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’re together again, and that is what’s important. Please stay for a few weeks so we can spend time together.”
That sounded so reasonable. How could she say nay? They would not let her refuse anyway.
“Of course I will,” she said, because her mother had taught her that when you could not avoid an unpleasant task, you may as well be gracious about it.
“I knew ye would,” George said. “Ye always do what’s best for the family.”
“Just for a few weeks,” she said. “I won’t stay longer than that.”
Her brothers, however, were no longer listening.
###
Finn sat in a tavern a few miles from Huntly Castle with a lass on his lap, another beside him, and a drink in his hand. Not long ago, this would have been enough to make him happy, but he was just killing time, delaying the inevitable, as he had been for the last few weeks.
God’s bones, he dreaded leaving Scotland, but what choice did he have? He was nearly out of money. After buying one last round of drinks, he had just enough left to pay for his passage across the sea.
“Which shall it be,” Finn said, holding up a coin for everyone to see, “Ireland or France?”
Wagers were quickly placed. As he flipped the coin high into the air, shouts of “Ireland!” and “France!” filled the tavern.
With all eyes on the spinning coin, no one else appeared to notice the two warriors who came through the door wearing their weapons and dead-serious expressions.
They were the Earl of Moray’s men, and their gazes were locked on Finn.
The shouting in the tavern turned into a roar of complaint when Finn let the coin bounce off the table and disappear into the filthy straw that covered the dirt floor.
A coin would not decide his fate, at least not today.
An hour later, Finn was ushered into the small room behind the hall that the former Earl of Huntly had used to conduct private business. He was surprised to find Moray here alone and sitting at Huntly’s table with a stack of parchments before him.
The Earl of Huntly’s death left a lad of eleven as the new earl and chieftain, which meant the Gordons, like Scotland itself, had no clear leader.
Finn had wondered which of his Gordon uncles would fill the void, but he should have known it would be Moray instead.
The Earl of Moray was a close Gordon ally and was the young earl’s royal uncle.
The boy’s mother was another illegitimate offspring of King James IV.
“You smell like an alehouse,” Moray said, in lieu of a greeting, and gestured for Finn to take the seat across the table from him.
“I suppose that comes from spending time in one.” Finn slid into the chair and picked up an apple from a stunning silver bowl on the table, feigning indifference. It never paid to show you were desperate, especially to a man like Moray.
“Archibald Douglas returned to Scotland a few weeks ago, with the backing of Henry,” Moray said.
“Henry who?” Finn asked.
“Ye know damned well who,” Moray said. “His brother-in-law, King Henry VIII of England.”
“What does Douglas’s return matter to us?”
“My nephew was placed in royal guardianship when his father died,” Moray said.
“Even though his grandfather was still alive then?” Finn asked.
“The queen followed my father’s practice of making orphans who were heirs to important titles wards of the crown,” Moray said. “That served to protect them and their lands during their minority.”
Finn suspected that keeping the young heirs close during their formative years also served to ensure their future loyalty to the crown. James IV had been a wily ruler.
“Douglas was in exile at the time, so we agreed to it,” Moray said. “Our understanding was that the boy would live in the queen’s household, where he would be the king’s close companion, as the two are near in age.”
Unease prickled at the back of Finn’s neck, though he could not guess where this was leading or what it had to do with him.