“I did,” the earl told her. “When my half brother Alexander had gone to England, I sent one of my own Dunmor Stewart clansmen to join up with his party. While Angus was bringing Jemmie back to Edinburgh a prisoner, I rode for the borders and met up wi’ my clansman, who had stolen a document which clearly detailed Albany’s perfidy. We brought it to the capital, and when Albany arrived there at the reception that had originally been planned to welcome him as Scotland’s new king, he found a far different reception than he had anticipated.
“Angus, who is a basically decent man, was shocked that, in his passion to rule, Alexander Stewart would betray his country into England’s hands. Albany was forced to reconcile his differences with Jemmie, who remained king, and Duke Richard returned to England. Yer King Edward’s only gain was the town of Berwick, which Duke Richard had captured wi’ Albany’s assistance before they arrived in Edinburgh,” said Tavis Stewart.
“And where my father was killed,” Arabella answered quietly. “Where is the Duke of Albany today, my lord?”
“Dead, lass. Jemmie tried to win his brother’s loyalty by giving him a wee bit of power as Lieutenant of the Kingdom, but Albany was, the following year, discovered once again in treasonable intrigues. When he fled to England, he learned that his former sponsor, King Edward, was dead, and Duke Richard was now King Richard. Richard had no time for Albany, and so he moved on to France. Last year he invaded Scotland wi’ another long-exiled rebel, the Earl of Douglas. They were defeated at Lochmaben. Douglas was captured and imprisoned. Albany fled back to France, where he was killed in a tournament this spring.”
“And so your king is no longer threatened by his enemies,” Arabella said.
“Kings always hae enemies, lassie,” the earl remarked dryly. “Most kings are faulted for going to war, but my brother is faulted for working so assiduously to keep the peace between Scotland and England. His nobility do nae understand him, for they do nae wish to change, but the world around us is changing.”
“You love King James, I can see,” Arabella noted. “Are you alike at all? You must be, that you can understand him so well.”
Tavis Stewart laughed. “My love for Jemmie began when I was but a wee lad. As I hae told ye, his mother was most kind to my own mother despite the difficulty of their positions. Although my father was killed when I was three, Queen Marie nae forgot that I was his son. Jemmie was nine when our father died, and his mother brought him to Roxburgh, showing him to her late husband’s armies and exhorting them to victory that they would do honor to King James II’s memory. She had her way, for the Scots successfully stormed Roxburgh and took it. Several days later my brother Jemmie was crowned at Kelso Abbey.
“Jemmie, however, was still a child, and child kings can be dangerous, for many wish to rule through them. Yer King Edward formed an alliance wi’ the Earl of Douglas and the Lord of the Isles that would hae partitioned Scotland between them. They intended to rule as vassals of England. My brother’s government avoided that danger by refuting their Lancastrian interests and signing a truce wi’ yer king. For a time we hae peace here in Scotland.
“When Jemmie was twelve his mother died. It was a great loss for us all, for the queen’s loyalty to her son and to Scotland could not be circumvented. Still, Jemmie had Bishop Kennedy of St. Andrew’s to advise him, and the bishop, too, was loyal as the queen had been, but he died two years after the queen. I was only eight years old then, but I remember my mother and stepfather speaking of the dangers involved, for Jemmie was only fourteen.”
“Were they afraid that you might lose Dunmor?” Arabella asked.
“Nay, I think not, for Dunmor has always been a Stewart stronghold, and Ian Fleming was holding it in my name at the time, and he was loyal beyond question. I think they simply feared a civil war which might hae encouraged England to invade us despite the truce between us. The Boyd family, however, settled everything for us all. They seized the young king at Linlithgow and brought him to Edinburgh. Sir Alexander Boyd was Jemmie’s military tutor and the governor of Edinburgh Castle, where Jemmie was now housed. God, how he hates the place, even today!
“Lord Boyd of Kilmarnock, the other conspirator, sent to my stepfather, Lord Fleming, saying that I was to be brought up to Edinburgh to keep my elder sibling company. By that time the Boyds had supreme power and there was nae refusing them. Lord Boyd had married his son to Jemmie’s sister, Princess Mary. I stayed wi’ my brother for several years until the Boyds made a match for him wi’ Princess Margaret of Denmark. After the wedding, Jemmie sent me home to Dunmor, saying that he now intended to assert his own royal authority over those who had ruled in his name.
“I was very angry wi’ him when he told me, for I wanted to stay and fight the Boyds wi’ him, but he would nae let me. ‘Ye’ve kept me company, laddie, these past few years,’ he told me, ‘and good company ye hae been, for all yer still a child. I couldna live wi’ such grand memories as we hae if I let anything happen to ye.’ So I went home to Dunmor wi’ my memories of a kindly elder brother who taught me that a man need nae be cruel in order to be a real man. I returned to Dunmor wi’ an appreciation of music and the arts, for Jemmie loves these things best. I learned that a man may esteem and value beauty wi’ out losing his manhood.”
“And what happened to the Boyds?” Arabella was enjoying her husband’s tale.
“Sir Alexander was executed, and Lord Boyd fled Scotland wi’ his son to live in exile. They were presumptuous to have seized the king in his youth. When they did they took the chance that they would pay such a penalty for their audaciousness, as indeed they did pay.”
“So there has been a happily ever after for your brother, my lord, hasn’t there?” Arabella said.
“Lassie,” the earl said, lifting his wife up to set her upon a low wall, that he might look at her, “until the Royal Stewarts totally control their nobility, no Scots king will ever hae a happy reign. My brother’s greatest loves, after his children, are music and architecture. He is well-informed regarding European painting, and even commissioned Master Hugo van der Goes to make an altarpiece for him which contains portraits of himself and Queen Margaret upon several of the panels. He collects classical manuscripts, and has encouraged our poets to their finest works. The beautiful coinage we hae here in Scotland is a result of Jemmie’s influence and patronage.” The earl grinned ruefully. “He’s nae a man easily understood by his earls and clansmen. They find it easier to dislike him because he is different than they are. They will nae take the time to know or understand him, and since Cochrane and his ilk were hung, Jemmie will make no concessions to them or to his public in the matter of favorites. The current favorite is young John Ramsay of Balmain.”
“What does the queen think of all of this?” Arabella was curious, for she had never heard that King James’ marriage was not a happy one.
“Queen Margaret is the kindest, gentlest woman I have ever known,” Tavis Stewart said feelingly. “She has loved and supported Jemmie from the first moment she laid eyes upon him, and he, in turn, has loved and respected her as well. Whatever limits or weaknesses my brother may hae, his wife hae stood by him through it all. She is goodness beyond belief, lassie. Jemmie knows this and hae never abused her in any way for it, nor taken advantage of her sweetness.”
“How complex a man your brother sounds,” Arabella said. “I have known few people outside of Greyfaire, except for cousin Richard and Sir Jasper Keane, but then neither of them was what they seemed.”
He nodded and was pleased by her words, for it indicated to him that although Arabella might not be very educated—though few women really were—at least she had a good intellect and could learn. He had married her in haste in an effort to gain revenge upon another, and in doing so, he realized now that he had to accept her for what she was. It was a relief to know she was capable of change. Then Tavis Stewart considered the uncomfortable possibility that his young wife most certainly had similar thoughts about him. He wondered what her conclusions were as he lifted her from the garden wall to continue their stroll.
From the windows of her private apartments Lady Margery Heming watched her eldest son and his wife as they walked and talked amongst her flowers. She smiled, well-pleased, and her husband—who had many times seen that smile—chuckled as, coming to her side, he slipped an arm about her comfortable waist. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “I’ll hae a grandchild from those two by this time next year,” she said with certainty.
Ian Fleming laughed. “It took Tavis long enough to come calling, my dear,” he noted.
“Aye, he’s proud,” she answered, the doting fondness in her tone evident. “Still, I knew he’d come eventually, and now that I’ve had time to cool Arabella’s ire at being stolen away, I can see she is more amenable to him. I like the lass, and she’ll be a good wife to him. Her mother has raised her well, for all her own loose behavior, which I am pleased she nae showed before her daughter.”
“Dinna be hard on Arabella’s mam, my dear,” Lord Fleming cautioned his spouse. “The lass loves her, and even I have heard of Sir Jasper’s reputation wi’ the ladies. He could be a Stewart for all his charm. That he seduced the poor woman is plain, for never hae I heard Arabella speak of her mother that she did nae speak of her wi’ love. I dinna think the little lass could love her mam were she a wicked woman.”
“Aye,” his wife agreed grudgingly. “Yer probably right, Ian. My tongue is ever getting ahead of my good sense.”
Lord Fleming gave his wife a little squeeze. “Yer anxious for Arabella to love Tavis, my dear, and jealous of anything that might make the lass long for her home. Dinna fear. She is his wife, and all will be well between them if we but gie them a chance. Turn yer thoughts to our Ailis’ wedding now, Margery.”
Lady Fleming nodded, but then her eyes strayed back to the garden and she smiled. “Look, Ian! He’s kissing her again!”
Ian Fleming shook his head with a grin. By now, he thought, he ought to be used to his wife’s interest in any and everything. “The lass looks as if she likes it,” he observed.
