Chapter 12
Elspet Balfour
‘LADY JEAN, MOTHER, WE NEED your help.’ Beatrix stands in the centre of the room. She’s loving the attention – all eyes on her and a tale to tell.
Elspet lingers at the door feeling awkward, the terror of seeing Henry Colville made even worse by the unfamiliarity of these opulent surroundings.
Her heart races as she looks around at walls decorated with huge intricate tapestries of birds and trees.
She fingers the rough grey wadmell of her dress. Oh God, what on earth am I doing here?
‘That much is clear,’ the countess says.
She’s led them through an open hall, up a staircase, through another muckle hall and then into this chamber warmed by a fire.
Dorothea and Lady Jean Gordon sit in deep, green velvet-cushioned armchairs by the fire.
Margaret has chosen an upright chair by the wall – you’d never know how exhausted she must be from her erect posture.
The door behind Elspet opens, hitting her in the back and sending her stumbling forward a step. A frowning woman carrying a tray of wine steps past, looking her up and down briefly.
‘Thank you, Dilly,’ Jean says as the woman puts the tray on a table next to her. ‘You can leave it for me to pour.’
Jean meets Elspet’s eye as she pours five cups of wine, nodding her head in the direction of a free chair. ‘Sit down,’ she says curtly. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. Drink some wine.’
Elspet takes a deep breath and does as instructed – Jean’s tone may be short but she’s grateful for the commands.
Jean takes up a pipe from a peedie burdis table to her right, and lights it with a long inhale.
Margaret gasps with disapproval, and Elspet tries to keep the surprise from her face – she’s only ever seen sailors smoke like this.
Dorothea catches her eye. ‘Scandalous, isn’t it? Jean does enjoy shocking us with her . . . unorthodox habits.’
Jean waves dismissively. ‘If I can’t do as I please in my own home, where can I?’ She looks at her pipe. ‘I was offered it doing business down at the port, the sailors thought it quite the sport, and I thought whyever not? It’s relaxing, you know.’
Dorothea gives a short laugh and turns to her daughter. ‘So, Beatrix, what have you been playing at, running around the country?’
Beatrix sighs impatiently. ‘Mother, I haven’t been playing. This is not a game. Lady Margaret and I were sent to find Mistress Balfour by the Queen herself.’
Jean scoffs, coughing on her pipe smoke. ‘Just because this business is ordered by the Queen doesn’t mean it’s not a game. The woman is barely out of her cradle.’
Margaret arches an eyebrow. ‘Lady Jean, have you ever met the Queen of Scotland?’
‘I have not,’ Jean says coolly. ‘I avoid court at all costs.’
‘Well, I can assure you, the Queen may be young but she is far from childish.’ Margaret fixes Jean with a level gaze.
Jean returns Margaret’s scrutiny as she takes another unhurried draw from her pipe – there is interest but no animosity in her eyes as she reappraises Margaret.
‘You are loyal to Queen Anna.’
‘Completely,’ Margaret replies. ‘I owe her much.’ The room is silent but she doesn’t elaborate.
‘Admirable,’ Dorothea says after a moment, ‘but why did the Queen send you both all the way to Orkney?’
Beatrix clears her throat. ‘As you know, the Queen is with child again, a long looked-for event. There have been a number of heartbreaking . . . incidents where Her Majesty’s hopes have been dashed. It is her dearest wish to become a mother, and she is most anxious.’
Margaret gives a disapproving sigh. ‘We’re not at liberty to discuss the Queen’s private affairs.’
‘It’s all right,’ Dorothea says gently. ‘Don’t forget, I carried the bloody linen from her chamber myself on one occasion. The poor girl.’
Margaret shakes her head. ‘I know, Lady Dorothea, that you are a friend of the Queen. But it is not for us to decide what should be shared . . .’
‘Oh, Margaret, don’t be ridiculous,’ Beatrix says good-naturedly. ‘How are we supposed to get Mistress Balfour into court without their help? We must tell them.’
‘Get her into court . . .’ Dorothea says slowly. ‘Why must she enter court?’
‘The Queen needs the best care. She desperately misses her mother, as you know. They have a different way of doing things in Denmark and she’s convinced this pregnancy will also end prematurely in bloodied linen without the help of the most skilled attendant.’
‘But Queen Anna has the King’s finest physicians to attend to her,’ Dorothea counters. ‘Martin Schoner himself had taken charge when I left court.’
‘It’s not how it’s done in her family,’ Beatrix says.
‘She wants a connection to home – the care of a woman they call a spae-wife. And she’s asked for one from the very finest line, the most skilled of all.
That is why she sent me and Margaret all that way – to find Mistress Balfour and bring her back to court. ’
‘And what exactly is a spae-wife?’ Dorothea asks.
‘A wise woman with great skill. Mistress Balfour can do the most amazing things – she healed my ankle when I turned it on rough ground.’
Dorothea turns to Elspet and looks her up and down slowly. ‘A wise woman?’
Jean’s eyebrows rise up her forehead as she too regards Elspet intently. Her expression breaks into a smile. ‘Oh, she didn’t. The Queen of Scotland herself.’ And she lets out a blast of laughter.
Elspet’s skin starts to prickle and sweat under her wadmell dress.
‘Jean, what do you mean?’ Dorothea asks.
‘I should’ve guessed,’ Jean continues. ‘The women of your islands have a formidable reputation, Mistress Balfour.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Dorothea says and then a look of horrified understanding passes over her face. ‘You don’t mean . . . The Queen wishes to consult with a witch?’
Elspet’s skin crawls at this word. Here it comes, she thinks, the condemnation I’ve feared.
Margaret pinches the bridge of her nose as if barely containing her irritation. ‘Dear God. I knew this conversation was a mistake.’
‘No.’ Beatrix is forceful. ‘Mistress Balfour is no witch. In fact, in Orkney it is she people go to if they wish to protect themselves against the evils of witchcraft.’
Elspet is grateful for Beatrix coming to her defence, but she understands all too well the problem here.
All her life, folk have conflated her spae-craft with something frightening, even evil.
And now there’s a name for all of it: witchcraft.
She returns the scrutiny as evenly as she can – she has nothing to be ashamed of and is here at the request of the Queen of Scotland.
‘My dear.’ Dorothea regards Elspet like a strange, new creature. ‘What exactly . . . I mean, how would you describe yourself?’
Elspet speaks softly. ‘In my homeland, those who heal the sick and have the gift of insight are known as spae-wives. I am a wise woman, healer and truth-seer – I assure you there’s nothing devilish in what I do.’
Dorothea frowns. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the King wouldn’t see it that way.’
‘The Queen believes Mistress Balfour is her best hope of a good pregnancy and a healthy baby,’ Beatrix says. ‘That is what matters. You are all mothers, you must understand.’
Something burns in Elspet at this – she has been torn from her own children to fulfil this task. All she wants is to be back with them.
‘Indeed.’ Dorothea smiles fondly at Beatrix. ‘There is nothing more important. Any mother could be driven to extreme measures to keep their child safe.’
Margaret turns her head away.
‘You don’t agree, Lady Margaret?’ Jean asks. ‘How many children do you have?’
Margaret looks irritated. ‘Five. And of course I agree. It’s a woman’s duty to feel that way.’ The tone of her voice shuts down further questions.
Dorothea changes the subject. ‘This is a dangerous business – court is full of talk of the King’s obsession with hunting and executing witches. His passion for it only intensifies.’
Jean shakes her head sadly. ‘That man – he’s known nothing but treachery and betrayal his whole life.
His fearfulness has led to all this. The witch-hunting frenzy is nonsense – believing a woman of flesh and blood could have so much power, aligned with Satan himself.
It’s preposterous – this campaign would never have happened under the Catholic church. ’
Margaret looks sceptical. ‘I don’t know about that, Lady Jean. The Catholic church is keen on punishing heresy.’
Jean nods in acknowledgement. ‘But we are also a practical religion. Look at how we allowed local festivals – even deities – to remain, as long as we could turn them into a good Catholic saint. The kirk has no such pragmatism – they are determined to trample on all that has gone before. They’ve replaced the authority of Rome with the authority of a book – and apparently now the Devil that appears in those pages is roaming about Scotland communing with half the people who bide here. ’
She takes a long inhale on her pipe, her brow furrowed.
Dorothea turns to Margaret. ‘It is no use arguing with the countess against the superiority of Rome, my dear. My dear friend remains as devout as ever.’
Jean’s hand moves to the rosary around her neck.
‘Thankfully, we women are sensible when it comes to matters of religion. I respect Dorothea’s faith – we don’t need to argue about it.
But I’ll never give up mine. I know the Devil cannot perform miracles.
And he certainly cannot empower a mere human to perform them. ’
Elspet listens with interest. Hearing the Countess of Sutherland, a woman of such high status, talk about witch hunting as nonsense brings her some comfort.
‘How do you explain what’s been happening right here in Sutherland then?’ Dorothea asks. ‘You told me yourself, Jean. Of a man hosting infernal gatherings and plotting against the King in the kirkyards of Sutherland.’
‘What begins as nonsense may grow into more.’ Jean inhales on her pipe.
‘Things will go wrong as they always have – harvests fail, there are floods, accidents and illnesses. Blaming these things on the Devil is an easy enough way to explain them. But these witch hunts have become something else. The more we hear of the powers witches wield over ordinary men and women, the greater the fascination with them becomes.’
‘What has been happening?’ Beatrix asks. ‘We saw some people last night, in the kirkyard at Lairg – could that have been one of these gatherings?’
‘Meetings at night,’ Dorothea says. ‘There’s talk of a man offering people infernal powers if they join his unholy congregation.’
‘What did you see at Lairg?’ Jean asks.
‘Nothing,’ Margaret says firmly. ‘We saw nothing – just a group of people in the kirkyard. It was probably perfectly innocent.’
‘It didn’t feel right,’ Beatrix says, ‘and you know it didn’t, Margaret.’
Jean glowers. ‘I’d certainly like to get my hands on whoever is orchestrating these gatherings, tempting people to a dark path. I’m sure it’s all theatre, but it plays into the very worst of people’s fears and worries.’
The room falls silent for a moment. Then Dorotha lets out a long sigh. ‘And, despite all this, you’re determined you will go to court, Mistress Balfour?’
‘I’ve given my word I will help the Queen.’
Jean is looking at her intently with her muckle dark brown eyes. ‘And you only go to care for the Queen and her unborn child? There is nothing . . . else you plan to do?’
Elspet is taken aback. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That is why the Queen has summoned Mistress Balfour,’ Beatrix says. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I simply want to ensure we’re being told the full story. It would be dreadful to entangle someone in a matter of this seriousness without giving them full information.’
Margaret turns towards the window.
‘Of course we’re telling you everything,’ Beatrix says. ‘We are to take Mistress Balfour into court so she can administer care and comfort to the Queen. And to do that, she must assume the guise of a lady-in-waiting of noble blood.’
Elspet watches Margaret, the back of her head turned away from them held in its usual stiff posture. But when she turns back to the room, she looks troubled. Ranyie pangs twinge in Elspet’s stomach.