CHAPTER TWO
“Yer cousin Will is riding in, hell for leather.” A breathless Neil Graham rushed down from Castle Elliot’s ramparts where he’d been on watch. Will Elliot was Jock’s lieutenant and everyone realized he must be bringing a message from Edinburgh.
By the time Will arrived in the castle hall, everyone had gathered to hear what news he brought. Gavin poured his cousin a tankard of ale and thrust it into his hand.
“The Queen of England is dead!” Will blurted before he took his first mouthful. Then as everyone gaped open-mouthed, he thirstily quaffed the ale. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “James is now King of England as well as Scotland.”
The loud whoops of his audience almost raised the rafters.
When some of the racket died down, Will conveyed the rest of his news.
“Jock won’t be returning just yet. King James intends to waste no time riding south to claim his inheritance.
Within a sennight he will leave Edinburgh for Berwick.
Jock and his men are to accompany him. The news is spreading like wildfire.
The mobs have filled Edinburgh Castle, all jostling for appointments from the new King of England. ”
Gavin Elliot spoke up. “Hells bells, this is a God-sent opportunity. When a monarch dies the laws of the land are automatically suspended. The Border families will ride into England in a mad dash for plunder.”
“Jock sends a warning. He says King James is determined to make it all one country. We are to keep the peace and bury the old quarrels between English and Scots. The king has named Lord Hume to be in charge of the Scottish Marches, and the Earl of Cumberland to be head of the English Borderlands.”
Douglas caught her breath. “Lance Greystoke will be the Earl of Cumberland’s lieutenant? But Cumberland’s monarch is no longer Queen Elizabeth of England, it is now King James of Scotland.”
Will Elliot reached into his leather doublet, brought out an envelope, and handed it to Douglas. “Your mother entrusted me with this letter for you. My orders are to return to Edinburgh on the morrow.”
“Thank you.” She was consumed by curiosity.
She left the crowded hall and took the letter up to her own chamber so she could read it in private.
Douglas closed her bedchamber door to shut out the raucous noise from below.
She sat down at her desk, took up her letter opener and slit the wax seals on the envelope.
My Dearest Douglas,
I was about to start packing for my return home, when the momentous news arrived.
Elizabeth Tudor’s death will bring about great changes. Nothing will be the same ever again, now that James Stewart has been named King of England.
I know you were ambivalent about becoming a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne, mainly because you feel that dark and brooding Edinburgh Castle would be as confining and inhospitable as a prison fortress.
But now that fortune has smiled upon the Scots, you are presented with the chance of a lifetime.
Queen Anne and her chosen ladies will shortly be traveling from Edinburgh to London.
At every stop that she and her entourage make on her journey through England, she will be greeted by throngs, and feted by the English nobility as they do their utmost to curry favor with their new, young queen.
To be part of the Queen’s Court in London, moving from Westminster Palace to Windsor Castle, from Hampton Court Palace to Greenwich would be beyond a young woman’s wildest dreams, and is guaranteed to satisfy your great love of adventure.
Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a thousandfold if you will take advantage of this splendid opportunity that now presents itself. I have every intention of joining Queen Anne’s Court, and hope with all my heart that you will join me.
King James will travel to London with all speed to claim the English Crown, while Queen Anne, and her children will make a more leisurely progress. My dearest Douglas, I urge you to pack your things and accompany Will on his return to Edinburgh.
Fondest love,
Katherine Douglas Elliot.
Douglas set the letter down and gazed across the room.
Her vivid imagination conjured images of the English palaces her mother mentioned.
One sentence stood out from all the rest: Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a thousandfold if you will take advantage of this splendid opportunity that now presents itself.
Douglas smiled knowingly. Her mother’s words had been carefully chosen to lure her to Queen Anne’s Court.
She had visited twice, but had not pursued the opportunity to become a lady-in-waiting.
The petty rivalry between the queen’s Danish attendants and her Scottish ladies made a post at Court unappealing to Douglas.
But the real reason she had stayed away from Court was to avoid the advances of Alex Hume, the young brother of Lord George Hume, the king’s Treasurer.
Since Douglas’s father died while she was still a child, she was technically a ward of the Crown and would need the King’s consent to marry until she came of age.
She did not care for the foppish Alex Hume and feared he would influence the king in consenting to their marriage.
She looked down at the letter and read again: Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a thousandfold. Douglas bit her lip. She is talking about marriage to an English noble. Such an idea would have been anathema to Mother only a week ago. The thought is abhorrent to me.
Unbidden, a vision came to her of Sir Lancelot Greystoke, and suddenly the thought of a noble English husband did not seem quite as abhorrent.
Since childhood she had been taught to speak in a more refined manner than her brothers, who spoke with the same brogue as their moss troopers.
She would not be so out of place as the wife of an Englishman.
Douglas felt torn. She did have a love of adventure. Experiencing new places, customs, and people offered challenges that were hard to resist. But she knew that her personality was one part confidence and one part bold bravado—a good deal of her bravery was pretense.
She dipped her pen and answered her mother’s letter.
Dear Mother,
Your momentous news that King James is now King of England and Scotland stunned everyone at Castle Elliot. As I write, I can still hear everyone below in the hall rejoicing over such good fortune.
You are absolutely right that great changes will take place and there will be many opportunities for Scots to improve our circumstances.
I think you have made the right decision to join the Royal Court and travel to London with Queen Anne, and I thank you for your generous invitation to join you.
Your tempting offer has given me much food for thought.
I shall consider it carefully and let you know when I have made my decision.
Douglas raised her pen as she sought the words that would buy her time and pacify her mother until she had time to weigh the advantages against the disadvantages and come to a decision that would undoubtedly affect the rest of her life. She lowered the pen and wrote:
If I am to join the Royal Court, my wardrobe will need much refurbishing. I will be a laughing stock if I wear my doublets and riding boots in the elegant English palaces of which you speak. In the meantime, say hello to Jock and tell him that all is well at Castle Elliot.
I hope to see you soon.
All my love. Douglas.
~~~
Downstairs, she handed the letter to her brother Jock’s lieutenant, and gave him a ravishing smile. “Thank you for being my messenger, Will. I’m so sorry you cannot stay longer, and must return to Edinburgh tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
~~~
In the Scottish Borders the news coursed like the rushing waters of a spring thaw.
It made the inhabitants giddy with the thought of their good fortune and the wealth of opportunities that presented themselves.
The phrase on every man’s lips was repeated over and over: There will be moonlight again!
The Great Hall at Castle Elliot was filled with Borderers, and the number swelled with every passing hour.
Johnstons and Maxwells rubbed shoulders with Elliots and Grahams. The ale flowed as they celebrated.
Talk flowed just as freely as they made grandiose plans, and it was easy to guess the same scene was being repeated at every other castle and abode in the Scottish Marches.
The following day their visitors departed and the inhabitants of Castle Elliot had a chance to talk together alone. They sat at the long trestle table before the fire in the hall.
Gavin spoke first. “Johnny Maxwell plans on leading 200 riders deep into the English Borders. He says they’ll skirt Carlisle and head down to Penrith.”
Neil Graham frowned. “Penrith is fifty miles from Castle Maxwell. There and back would be a hundred. That’s a hell of a long way.”
Gavin nodded. “Butch Johnston intends to mount a raid on the village of Cargo, near Carlisle. He says he’ll lead a hundred riders.”
“That makes more sense,” Rob Elliot said. “The ride to Cargo is practically spitting distance. The Johnstons will be there and back in their beds before the alarm is raised. The English won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“Where are we going?” Douglas asked avidly.
All the men threw her a look of disbelief. Most Scots females knew how to keep their place and hold their silence when men were discussing business. “You are going nowhere,” Gavin stated firmly. “Keep yer nose out of men’s affairs.”
Douglas recanted immediately. “Of course I’m not going, but I know where you should go. It’s as plain as the nose on your face, Gavin. The thoroughbred horses at Beaumont Hall are there for the taking. If you don’t snatch them, others will.”
Neil Graham rubbed the bristles on his chin. “We’re short on numbers. Half our moss-troopers are in Edinburgh with Jock.”