Chapter 38
‘MISTRESS BALFOUR, WHAT IS IT?’ Margaret asks.
The air is crisp and fresh, and Elspet’s brought Margaret and Beatrix out to the most private eastern corner of the garden, bordering the park of Holyrood.
But now they’re here, she doesn’t know where to begin.
Her thoughts seem stupid; she can’t believe her foolishness in entertaining the fantastic idea that occurred to her last night.
‘Are you well?’ Beatrix puts her hand on Elspet’s arm. ‘You look pale yourself.’
Elspet takes a deep breath. There’s nothing else for it – she has to tell them. They approach a pergola covered with thick flowering roses and she draws them inside, where it is even more secluded.
‘Kitty,’ she begins slowly, almost involuntarily. ‘Her pregnancy – I believe it’s only a week or two more advanced than the Queen’s.’
‘Poor Kitty.’ Beatrix shakes her head. ‘Mother is insisting she leaves New-Frater House as soon as possible, you know, now she’s recovered.’
‘I wonder . . .’ Elspet begins, then clears her throat, summoning strength to her voice. ‘I wonder if Kitty is the key to everything here – everything that the Queen is asking of me.’
Margaret turns her eagle eyes to her immediately. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, their bairns will be born close together – if they’re both carried to term, of course.’
‘What bearing can that have on anything?’ Margaret asks. But Elspet can tell from the disquiet in her tone she’s guessed something of her audacious idea.
Elspet sits down on the circular wooden bench inside the pergola.
The rose fragrance is heady and sweet in this enclosed space.
She drops her voice even lower. ‘The Queen brought me here not only to care for her but to bind her and the child together. I cannot do what she wishes with my spae-craft. But there might be another way to achieve what she wants.’
‘What?’ Beatrix says eagerly, sitting down next to Elspet. ‘Whatever it is, we will help you, won’t we, Margaret?’
Margaret remains standing, looking down at them both with the air of a mother judging her misbehaving children. ‘That depends.’
‘We have one mother desperate to keep her bairn,’ Elspet says, ‘and one mother desperate to rid herself of her bairn.’
‘You can’t be suggesting . . .’ Margaret says.
Immediately, Elspet regrets putting her thoughts into words. She wishes this conversation wasn’t happening – it’s a terrible idea. But she’s started something, and Margaret and Beatrix look at her expectantly, Beatrix eager and Margaret horrified. She has to finish what she started.
‘Kitty is carrying a child she doesn’t want, trapped and miserable. And the Queen wants to keep her child with her, she’s just as desperate – but the bairn will be taken from her as soon as it’s born.’
‘Oh,’ Beatrix says, smiling. ‘I see.’
The wind is caal and a fine rain starts to fall – but the thick canopy of roses keeps off the worst, and all the women ignore it. ’If we could find a way to exchange the bairns . . .’ Elspet says tentatively.
‘What you suggest is impossible,’ Margaret says forcefully.
‘You’ve seen something of the royal court, Mistress Balfour, how much scrutiny the Queen and her pregnancy are under.
You must see what a royal birth will be like.
This is a matter of great concern to the whole country; the process is observed from start to finish. ’
In Orkneyjar, when she helps a woman birth a bairn, the men leave them to it – it is the domain of the spae-wife and the women of the family.
The thought of observers, of men, intruding on this realm is disconcerting.
This puts huge obstacles in the way of carrying out the idea taking root in her mind.
Schoner’s piercing eyes, clever and scornful, come back to her.
Beatrix leans forward. ‘It may not be impossible, you know. Indeed, there are those who say it has been done before.’
Margaret tuts. ‘People say far too many things.’
‘What has been done before?’ Elspet asks.
Beatrix speaks in a low, conspiratorial tone. ‘There are rumours that King James himself is an imposter – that a child was brought in to replace Queen Mary’s stillborn baby.’
‘Beatrix, for goodness’ sake!’ Margaret snaps.
‘When the Queen of Scots had been labouring for twenty hours,’ Beatrix continues, ignoring her, ‘a basket was seen being winched up over the castle rock to her window. It was vital a healthy male heir was born to block Darnley’s pretensions to the Crown – so an heir was found.’
‘That is nothing but a scurrilous rumour.’
‘Perhaps,’ Beatrix says, ‘and perhaps not. All I’m saying is, while it may not be a straightforward process, we need not dismiss Mistress Balfour’s suggestion out of hand.’
‘That is precisely what we must do,’ Margaret counters. ‘I can’t believe either of you are considering this. You’re talking about treason. Even if we could swap the Queen’s baby for Kitty Muirhead’s, which is impossible, we would be denying the heir to the throne of Scotland their birthright.’
Frightening as the word treason is, Elspet has considered this.
Before Margaret and Beatrix brought her south, the only noblemen Elspet has known are the Earl of Orkney, a man made so bitter by his jealousy of the King’s position he’s become a tyrant.
And her friend the Laird of Stenness, who’s found a good life by turning his back on the capriciousness and violence of court.
It doesn’t seem a blessing to be born a nobleman.
She thinks of the pathetic figure of the King, always deep in wine, shouting angrily at a wife who won’t bend to his will.
‘This could be a way to achieve what the Queen wants,’ she says gently. ‘Perhaps it is a choice she must make herself.’
‘What kind of a choice is that?’ Margaret says. ‘We’d be putting the illegitimate child of a peasant and a man so immoral it’s horrific on the throne of Scotland.’
Beatrix stands up. She paces around the confined interior of the pergola several times, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm, before speaking.
‘The reason the King wants the child to be raised away from court is to keep them away from the constant plotting and scheming. How many times has the King been kidnapped by one faction or another over the years? You’ve said yourself his life has known nothing but risk and misery. ’
Margaret shakes her head. ‘But what would even happen to the child if it wasn’t an acknowledged child of the King and Queen? Where would it live? In secrecy and shame?’
Margaret’s right – Elspet hasn’t thought that far ahead. Her uncertainty must be plain on her face.
Margaret sees her advantage and presses on. ‘This isn’t just a baby we’re talking about, or a child – this is a person’s whole life. Where will they go? Who will they be?’
‘I’m sure we could find them a place of great comfort,’ Beatrix says. ‘Probably a great deal more safety and happiness than they would otherwise have. I mean, they won’t be a prince but there’s no reason why they can’t live a pleasant existence.’
‘How could the Queen even be with a child if it’s not acknowledged to be her own?’ Margaret says.
‘I wouldn’t worry so much about that,’ Beatrix says. ‘The King and Queen have barely been on speaking terms for months – she’s talked many times of living separately and moving her court to another of the palaces, far from his.’
‘So, a child appears out of thin air at the Queen’s court and nobody bats an eyelid?’ Margaret snaps back.
‘The truth is nobody would bat an eyelid.’ Beatrix shrugs. ‘The world of women and children is beneath the notice of most. The child could be roomed with one of her ladies and it would never occur to anyone to be interested. If it’s not the heir, a child is worthless.’
The rain is heavier now, finding its way between the thick rose bushes, and soaking their cloaks as they each cogitate in silence.
Margaret speaks first. ‘This is a dreadful idea.’
‘Perhaps,’ says Beatrix, ‘but we should explore every possibility. We should talk to Her Majesty about it.’
Margaret frowns. ‘She’s so vulnerable, so frightened at the prospect of losing this child, I fear she may agree to any notion, no matter how foolish.’
‘As you’ve said yourself many times, Margaret, she knows her own mind,’ Beatrix says. ‘This is her decision to make.’
Suddenly Elspet wishes she could take her notion back, return these absurd words to her mouth.
She doesn’t know what frightens her more – that this idea will be discounted and the Queen will turn her back on Elspet, or that it might be possible, and they could actually try and do this ridiculous thing.