“‘Twill be yer job, Uncle, to convince him that he should,” the king told Tavis Stewart. “Did ye know he was one of the few highland chiefs to support me against my late father? I know not why, but I shall certainly ask him when we meet. I require that ye bring Patrick Leslie to me, and ‘twill nae be easy, I know. He will take some convincing, for he will be loath to leave his lands. I dinna want toorderhim to me, but I will if I hae nae other choice.
“Go to Glenkirk and try and convince Patrick Leslie to come to me willingly. Take whatever time ye need, wi’in reason, of course. When ye hae been successful, I will send ye to France on royal business that ye may attempt to woo yer wife back. In the meantime, I will see that Arabella does nae lack for anything.”
“She’ll nae take so much as a groat from us, Jamie, for she is a proud creature, as ye well know,” the earl replied.
The king chuckled. “She will game, Uncle, as they all do at the French court. When she does, she will win, I promise ye. Yer lady is also of a practical nature. If she needs funds and wins, she will nae lose her gold in further gaming, but she will put it aside for a rainy day. Ye need hae no fear that Arabella will starve.”
“I am nae worried about Arabella starving, Jamie,” Tavis Stewart said. “I fear that loneliness may drive her into another man’s arms.Thatis my greatest fear, nephew.”
“Then put that fear aside, Uncle,” the king told him. “Arabella Grey loves ye above all men. Of that I am more certain than any.”
“I pray ye be right, Jamie.”
So the Earl of Dunmor rode into the highlands to Glenkirk on king’s business. He was warmly welcomed by Patrick Leslie, the lord of the castle. For the long weeks of late summer and into the fall, Tavis Stewart remained at Glenkirk, stalking deer in the hills surrounding the castle, fishing for trout and salmon in the icy streams that abounded on the estate, lingering over generous drams of Patrick Leslie’s peat-smoked whiskey from the Glenkirk stills during long autumn evenings in the castle’s Great Hall, where the Leslies’ personal piper played movingly, seeming to know every tune ever composed for the pipes. It was very much a comfortable, bachelor-like existence despite the lord of Glenkirk’s two children, a red-haired little girl of ten, named Janet, and a sturdy six-year-old boy who was called Adam. Broaching the king’s business was a tricky matter, but finally one day as they played at golf on Patrick Leslie’s small course, Tavis Stewart felt he could wait no longer. The days were growing visibly shorter as winter approached. “Patrick,” he began, “my nephew, the king, tells me that ye supported him against his father.”
“Aye,” Patrick Leslie said shortly. “I felt Jamie hae the right on his side in the matter.”
“The king wishes to reward ye for yer loyalty and hae asked me to bring ye to him,” the earl told him.
Patrick Leslie shook his dark auburn head. His green-gold eyes were serious when he finally spoke. “I’m nae a man for the court, Tavis, as ye are. I’m a simple highland chief, as my father was before me, and my grandfather before him, and on back into the mists of time. I did what I believed right in the matter between the king and his father. I do not believe I should be rewarded for merely doing my duty.”
“Nonetheless, Jamie would hae ye come,” the earl told him, thinking that his nephew could use more honest men like this about him. “I am instructed to stay at Glenkirk until ye will agree. As I hae some rather pressing business in France, I hope ye’ll quickly change yer mind, my lord.”
Patrick Leslie swung his golf club, hitting the ball down the misty greensward. He peered after it, and then apparently satisfied with his shot, said, “I am flattered that the king would do me honor, Tavis, but I’ll nae leave Glenkirk. I am nae unacquainted wi’ kings and their whims. If I go to court, the next thing ye know I’ll nae be able to get home, for the king will want some wee favor or other of me even as he does of ye. Surely ye miss Dunmor, man, but can ye get back? Nay, for yer here doing yer nephew a wee favor, and then yer off to France, ye tell me—on royal business, I’m quite certain, though ye hae not said it. Thank ye, but I hae no desire to leave Glenkirk.”
“Then I must remain here until I can convince ye otherwise, Patrick,” the earl said pleasantly. “Is yer little lass betrothed?”
“Nay, for I’m not of a mind to lose her yet,” the lord of Glenkirk answered.
“The king could make a better match for the lass than ye could, I’ll wager,” Tavis Stewart told him. “Ye could bring her and that braw laddie of yers to court wi’ ye. They would enjoy it, I’ve nae a doubt.”
“We hae a fine Christmas here at Glenkirk,” its lord replied calmly. “If yer determined to remain here, ye should know that. Perhaps ye would like to ask yer wife to join ye.”
Tavis Stewart felt despair to the depths of his soul. Patrick Leslie was going to prove more than merely difficult in this matter, but the earl knew his nephew would not allow him to leave Glenkirk yet. He would have to remain a longer period of time before Jamie could be reasonably convinced that he must issue a royal summons to this highland chief. Patrick Leslie would not be able to avoid a royal summons.
Christmas came and went, as did Twelfth Night. The Earl of Dunmor was finally ready to admit defeat. He had been at Glenkirk for six months and had been unable to move its lord one whit in his resolve to stay exactly where he was. He sent a message to the king, who finally responded with a royal summons for the Lord of Glenkirk. There could be no refusal now. Patrick Leslie must attend his king as quickly as possible,andhe was to bring his two children. This last, Tavis Stewart knew, was so that Patrick would have no excuse for hurrying home before Jamie was quite finished with him.
“After all my hospitality to ye,” Patrick Leslie said mournfully, “ye would do this to me?”
“Jamie will hae his way, my friend,” the Earl of Dunmor said, “and ye hae best remember that. If ye’d gone when I first invited ye, there would nae hae been this need for a royal summons.”
“But the bairns too?”
“They’ll hae a good time, man, and ‘twill be good for them to see a bit of the world outside of Glenkirk. They’ll appreciate it far more when they return than if they knew nothing else.”
“May I have a sword, Father?” little Adam Leslie asked his sire. “I would pledge my loyalty and my arms to the king!”
“Silly puppy!” his sister Janet teased. “The king hae no need of a runny-nosed bairn, does he, Father? I, however, am almost of marriageable age. Perhaps Father will find a husband for me at court.” She tossed her red-gold curls.
“Hah!” her younger brother mocked. “What man would look at a wench wi’ no titties, and ye, Mistress High and Mighty, are as flat as the drawbridge!”
“Ohhhhh!” Janet Leslie looked outraged. She charged across the distance that separated her from her brother, a dangerous look in her eye. Adam Leslie, however, was practiced in the art of escaping his sister’s wrath, and scampered off, howling with mirth, turning about every few steps to make faces and stick his tongue out at Janet.
The men chuckled at the antics of the two children, who in reality adored one another.
“Well,” the earl said, “now that this matter between ye and the king is settled, I’ll hae a chance to see my own little lass soon enough.”
“Aye,” the lord of Glenkirk said sadly, “but it will take us a week or so to prepare for the journey. Then we’ll be on our way. Ye’ll accompany us, my lord?”
