Chapter 33
‘SCHONER IS NOT A STUPID man,’ Margaret says, her eyes scanning the Holyrood gardens to check if they are being observed. ‘We can’t defy him right under his nose without him finding out.’
The Queen shrugs. ‘Well, neither can I do what he says, knowing his advice is bad. I trust a spae-wife of Mistress Balfour’s line over that fool.’
It’s the following morning and the four women have come outside to walk in the south garden.
It’s a sheltered and quiet space behind the abbey of Holyrood.
The borders are planted with cockalowrie, soorik and mallow, Elspet notices with interest as they walk slowly along a wide path curving under the shadow of Arthur’s Seat, a peak of rocky crags that towers over the city beyond Holyrood park.
The soorick could be useful for treating wounds – it stops them going bad and speeds up healing – perhaps she should gather some to add to a poultice for Kitty. And it might be helpful to collect some mallow for the Queen, if the apples don’t do their job and help her pass stools more often.
Elspet’s pleased to see some colour returning to the Queen’s cheeks but follows Margaret’s gaze up to the windows of the tower of Holyrood, knowing they can certainly be seen from the palace.
What will happen when the physician finds out his instructions are being ignored?
More to the point, what will happen if the King finds out the physician’s instructions are being ignored?
Could any suspicion fall on the strange new lady-in-waiting from the north?
‘Perhaps we can cast some doubt on Schoner’s competence,’ Beatrix says, ‘so his views won’t be taken as seriously.’
But the Queen shakes her head. ‘The King is convinced he’s a genius. I don’t know how we’d do that.’
Elspet thinks back to Schoner’s words on their first meeting – I’ve made a habit of noting the effects of any treatment I administer. This physician might not be a lost cause; there could be a sensible man beneath all the snobbery and bluster.
‘We shouldn’t give up hope that Martin Schoner will see reason.’
Margaret arches an eyebrow at her. ‘You are optimistic.’
‘I can’t see much reason in any of the King’s medical men,’ the Queen says.
They reach a stone bench at the side of the path next to a large shrub of mallow and she sits down heavily.
‘But you have proven yourself knowledgeable so far, Mistress Balfour. I will take your advice, take these walks and eat your weeds. Besides, it’s private out here and I’m keen to discuss the binding spell you’ll be casting. ’
Elspet’s fear of the Queen’s displeasure is great, but her fear of being dishonest is even greater. She can’t let her go on believing she can perform this spell.
‘Please listen to me – what you ask for is impossible.’
She meets the Queen’s penetrating gaze; the gaze of a strong-willed child, one who won’t be thwarted. ‘I don’t believe you. Are you telling me you’ve never carried out this sort of spell?’
Elspet’s mind drifts back – she’s in the stackyard, wearing a stolen cloak. Katherine laughs as she walks around in nine circles while she holds the figures in her hands and winds the black yarn.
Then Mormor’s anger. I didn’t teach you the craft for you to abuse it. You will never use rituals like this ever again – promise me.
Elspet looks directly at the Queen, returning her gaze as levelly as she can. ‘Only once, and I will never do it again. I made a promise.’
The Queen’s eyes flash with anger.
‘Look,’ Elspet says gently. ‘I was a child – a foolish child. It was a game more than anything. I’m certain it couldn’t frustrate the orders of a King.’
‘But you won’t even try?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I’ll do everything I can to keep you and the child safe and well through your pregnancy – this I can do.
You sent for me because of my skill – and my knowledge is not limited to herbs and healing.
A spae-wife is a wise woman and truth-seer, and I’m certain what you ask for is unwise. ’
The Queen slams her hand down onto the stone of the bench. ‘I will not lose this child – it cannot happen, my elskling will not be taken from me.’
Elspet is taken aback. This word elskling is used by some of the older women in Orkneyjar to talk about those they love. Mormor’s soft voice in the evenings when it was quiet, stroking her hair by the fire, comes back to her. She fights the urge to reach out and touch the Queen.
‘Perhaps there is another way,’ Beatrix says gently, in an attempt to defuse the situation. ‘What if we could change the King’s mind?’
Margaret sighs. ‘We’ll never do that and you know it. Painful as it is, sometimes it’s better to face reality as it is. I’m relieved we’re finally speaking truths on this matter.’
But the Queen isn’t listening and has turned back to Elspet.
‘If you’re so wise, then prove it. If you won’t do as I ask and perform the spell you were brought here for, then you will find another way.
The child must be born safely and it must stay with me – how we achieve that is up to you.
Then I will protect you from the Earl of Orkney. ’
This is barely any better than the demands for a binding spell.
Elspet looks up to the lift – large grey clouds are rolling over Arthur’s Seat in their direction. It will rain soon. How can she make the Queen understand the limitations of her abilities, the limitations of what they can do here? She’s a healer, wise woman and truth-seer, not a miracle worker.
A group of people are making their way towards them in the garden, and Elspet puts her Lady Alvah Gordon face back on. Dorothea is hurrying in the lead, followed by Mary Ruthven and her husband – and the Earl of Bothwell. Elspet’s stomach lurches – he’s here.
‘Your Majesty, whatever are you doing outside?’ Dorothea hurries towards them. ‘There’s a cold nip in the air and I really think—’
‘Please don’t worry about me, dear Dorothea,’ Queen Anna interrupts. ‘This fresh air is making me feel better than I have in weeks.’
Bothwell steps forward, addressing the Queen but meeting Elspet’s gaze in a penetrating stare. ‘Your Majesty, you are looking well.’
‘Bothwell.’ The Queen smiles. ‘I was happy to learn of your pardon. It is good to see you back at court. We need someone to liven things up.’
‘I’m entirely at your service. Happy to bring any excitement I can. I believe there’s to be a masque next week for Your Majesty’s entertainment and pleasure.’
The Queen’s smile broadens. ‘Oh, wonderful.’
‘We’ll ensure you take the most beautiful of all the roles, of course.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Dorothea says, unimpressed. She bustles Bothwell out of the way and stands in front of the Queen. ‘I don’t think excitement is what’s required here. Rest and calm – that’s what a lady in your condition needs. May I accompany Your Majesty back to your chamber?’
The Queen nods graciously. ‘Do you know, I think I am ready for a quiet moment.’ She gives Elspet a pointed stare before she rises and takes Dorothea’s arm.
Although Dorothea is considerably shorter than the Queen, she pats her hand maternally. ‘Let’s get you inside.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Mary says busily, elbowing her way round to the Queen’s other side. ‘I’ve barely seen Your Majesty for days.’
‘Thank you, Mary,’ the Queen says, and between them, Dorothea and Mary steer the Queen back towards the palace.
Bothwell turns his gaze to Elspet. ‘Lady Alvah Gordon, how delightful to see you at court. How are you finding life here so far?’
‘It must be a far cry from what you’re used to,’ Atholl says.
Elspet turns to him. What does he mean? But she sees no knowledge in his expression, just a childish mocking in his raised eyebrows and scornful smile.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Bothwell says. ‘I’d say the halls of Dunrobin rival Holyrood for company and pleasures. James may be our King but he’s hardly the most sophisticated of men.’
Beatrix tuts at him. ‘Be careful, Francis. You’ve only just been pardoned – don’t get yourself in trouble all over again.’
‘I’m not worried,’ Bothwell replies, turning his shining smile on Beatrix then back to Elspet. ‘Queen James’s authority wanes with every day that passes – he’s been deep in wine ever since I arrived at court. This rift between him and the Queen is humiliating – she can barely look at him.’
Atholl chuckles nervously. ‘You’re right, of course – and his failure to act in the matter of the Spanish conspiracy is unforgivable. But we must exercise caution and wait until the time is right to act.’
Elspet remembers the King’s words to her – I was brought up among a company of mutinous knave ministers.
No wonder he’s so unhappy when even those closest to him at court speak about him in this way.
But if Atholl was happy to enjoy the hospitality at Dunrobin, it comes as a surprise he thinks harsh action should be taken against the Catholic Earls who are allied with Jean and her family. But then, he does bend like willow.
Atholl beams. ‘At the moment, I am high in the King’s favour, which is a useful place to be. I’ve identified several possible witches in our midst, people right here in Edinburgh.’
Elspet’s ranyie pangs rise, but Atholl’s attention is firmly on Bothwell. ‘People much more appropriate to accuse than yourself, Francis. The King is convinced women are more vulnerable to collusion with the Devil.’
‘Who?’ Beatrix asks. ‘Who do you suspect?’
‘It hardly matters,’ Atholl says. ‘The King suspects everyone, doesn’t he? I wasn’t able to name that devil in Sutherland but I’ll find a way to join his campaign and become a trusted ally – for now. Less chance he’ll suspect me of plotting against him that way.’
Elspet tries to digest this. Is Margaret right? Could this all be a smokescreen to veil Atholl’s own behaviour? The thought is unbelievable but so is this whole situation.
If others adopt the same attitude to gaining the King’s trust and favour as Atholl, who knows how many innocents may be accused?
She sees the eyes of the wolf in the forest outside Dunrobin, Lady Mary Ruthven’s arrow trained on his face.
Not everyone can turn and run away, though.
Then she remembers the row of hanging corpses outside the stable, and shudders.
‘I believe Lady Alvah is wondering where the allegiances lie at court,’ the Earl of Bothwell teases with a knowing smile.
‘Don’t worry, I can barely keep track myself.
Rest assured, though, there’s no need to show loyalty to James – he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
This is the man who betrayed his own mother, after all. ’
Elspet is intrigued but also saddened. She’d assumed there’d be a higher sort of behaviour at court, worthy of people with so much power.
These are the folk who govern and decide the fate of our whole country – yet they gossip like flaggermus and feud like children.
But unlike children, the consequences of their plotting are ruin and bloodshed.
A soft grey rain starts to fall, and she looks up at the wide rugged bluff of Arthur’s Seat.
I wonder if I could escape the city and walk up there, she thinks, knowing this will probably be impossible in the guise of Lady Alvah.
But she takes comfort from the proximity of its wildness, nonetheless.
The Queen’s frightening ultimatum makes more sense when you see the sort of people she is surrounded by and spends time with every day – there’s not a lot of kindness or trust at Holyrood. No wonder she’s reduced to issuing threats and ultimatums to get what she wants.