“Find me something simple to wear,” Elizabeth said, “if indeed I have something like that anymore.”
Nancy found a long, deep-green silk skirt with a plain square-necked bodice that had long, fitted sleeves. Elizabeth donned it and, sliding a pair of house slippers on her feet, she went out into the garden. She had left her hair loose but for a green silk ribbon with a small oval crystal she wore about her forehead. In the garden the first of the early roses were coming into bloom, and the statuary, while as flamboyant as the London garden’s, was of both men and women in various poses of an erotic nature. Sitting on a bench by the water, she watched the river traffic.
Suddenly a small punt appeared around a little bend in the river, and it was headed directly for Lord Cambridge’s quay. Looking closely, Elizabeth saw it was poled by Flynn Stewart. He waved at her and, reaching the dockage, jumped from the little boat, making it fast. He carried in his arms the skirts and petticoats she had left behind earlier, and atop the pile of silk and fine lawn were her sleeves. “Mistress.” He bowed and laid the pile on the bench next to her. Then, reaching into an interior pocket of his doublet, he drew forth her two shoes, setting them in her lap.
“How did you find them?” she asked him, truly surprised. “And thank you, sir! My sister was most put out by my loss of the sleeves.”
“It was my fault,” Flynn said. “In my efforts to help you from the punt I fell, and in reaching for the damned little boat set you adrift instead. And I could not rescue you because I was facedown in the riverbank. Then those bloody fools who accompany Mistress Boleyn everywhere and haven’t the sense to come in from the rain stood there gaping while you were in danger. If you hadn’t had the presence of mind to do what you did, you’d be halfway to the Wash by now. I took a barge, and we rowed after the punt. When we reached it, we took it in tow back to the palace, and then I rowed it from there.”
“I am most grateful, sir,” Elizabeth said. “It was a kind thing to do, and I doubt anyone else would have done it.”
“You were right earlier. Neither of us belongs here,” he said.
“Sit down,” Elizabeth said, and he sat in the grass next to her. “Are you really nothing more than King James’s messenger?”
He grinned engagingly at her. “Nothing more,” he said.
“They say your father was a very loving man, and it angered his queen. I heard that she once discovered his large family living in the same palace she inhabited, and sent them elsewhere. Were you among those unfortunate children, Flynn Stewart?”
“Nay,” he said. “I am the only one of my father’s known bastards who was never officially recognized, although my father knew I was his, and saw to my well-being, and visited with me regularly. It was because of the way in which I was conceived.” He chuckled. “Would you like to hear the tale, or would it shock you?”
“I breed sheep,” Elizabeth said dryly, “although I suspect my older sister would swoon at such an admission from my lips. Respectable virgins are not supposed to admit to knowing such things.”
“And are you a respectable virgin, Elizabeth Meredith?” he teased her.
“I am a virgin, sir, but as to the other that is a matter for debate,” she answered. “Now tell me your shocking tale, and of how you were bred.”
He grinned. He liked Elizabeth Meredith. She was exactly what you saw. Plainspoken with no foolishness about her. No. She didn’t belong at court. “It was at my mother’s wedding to Robert Gray, the laird of Athdar, who is my stepfather. Rob was a friend of the king, and he had invited him to the wedding. It was a grand affair, my mother recalls, and there was much drinking involved. The king was mourning his separation from his great love, Meg Drummond. My stepfather knew it, and sought to comfort his friend. As my mother tells it, he said, ‘Jamie, my Nara looks much like yer Meg. Would ye accept the droit du seigneur of her this night, and let her comfort ye?’”
“He didn’t!” Elizabeth gasped. She knew what the droit du seigneur was. It allowed the bridegroom to offer his bride’s virtue to his overlord.
“Ah, but my stepfather did. Both he and the king were very drunk. My mother was fair with dark hair and eyes, like Meg Drummond. She says she was just drunk enough herself to feel sorry for Jamie Stewart. She decided if it was all right with Rob then it was fine with her. So the king bedded her, and afterwards the bridegroom bedded her. Nine months later I was born. There was no doubt whose son I was, and I was named Flynn, which means ‘son of the red-haired man.’ The king was embarrassed at the manner in which I was conceived. My mother says he apologized to her half a dozen times. He insisted I bear his surname, but he would never formally recognize me because of his shame. But he visited me when he was in the area, and never forgot my natal day.
My stepfather was a good man, and loved me every bit as much as the children he sired on my mother. But Rob Gray died at Flodden with the king. My twelve-year-old half brother, Ian, became the new laird of Athdar, and I his watchdog.
“A year later Robert Gray’s only male relation appeared at Athdar. His name was Muir Gray, and he claimed to have survived Flodden, but been gravely wounded. He had not come sooner, he told our mother, because he had been recovering. I never believed he was at Flodden. Muir Gray was by nature a coward. But my mother welcomed him. Several months later my brother, who had always been healthy and strong, began to sicken. And all the while my mother was being slowly seduced by Muir Gray. He asked her to marry him, and despite our warnings that he was not a good man, our mother wed Muir Gray. Her belly was already swelling with his spawn on their wedding day. My brother died shortly thereafter. I am certain Muir murdered him, but I could never prove it. Then my mother died, and her stillborn son with her.
“Muir Gray was now the undisputed laird of Athdar. He barely mourned my mother before he was sending my younger half sister, Janet, into a convent, and bedding the older of my half sisters, Mary. As soon as she was with child, he married her. I protested both these acts, and was told as my mother’s bastard I could have a place in the stables, but I could no longer live in the house. When I suggested his blood relationship to my sister was close enough to forbid the bonds of marriage between them, he said he would kill me if I ever questioned the legitimacy of his children. He had offered me a home and work only at the behest of my sister. I tried to speak with Mary, but she would not listen to me. She loved him, she said. I packed my few possessions, and left Athdar that day.”
“I am sorry that you lost your home,” Elizabeth said.
“Athdar was never mine,” he said quietly. “Wherever I can serve my king is where my home is, Elizabeth.”
“How did you come to serve the king?” she asked him.
“I went to Edinburgh, and discovered that my face can open a great many doors. You see, not only did I have James IV’s red hair, I had his face as well. I wangled an introduction to the Duke of Lennox, who was the regent for the little king, and asked to enter his service. He welcomed me as a kinsman, and put me into the little king’s household. It was my duty to teach James V how to ride, and to sit by his side as his companion at all times. Actually the duke wanted my eyes and ears to prevent the mayhem that always surrounds Stewart kings. When he was gone my first loyalty went to my half brother. As he grew we had some grand adventures.” Flynn chuckled. “When he was eighteen my royal half brother seized his power from those attempting to rule for him. He sent me to England so that should his uncle, King Henry, ever need to communicate with Scotland quickly I am here for him.”
“And to be his eyes and ears, I am quite certain,” Elizabeth teased him.
“But you’ll not tell anyone that,” Flynn said seriously, and she was not certain whether he was teasing her back or it was the truth.
“Nay,” she agreed. “I will not tell. ’Twill be our secret, Flynn Stewart.”
He grinned. “I think I shall like sharing secrets with you, Elizabeth Meredith. May it be the first of many between us.”
Elizabeth blushed, but then she giggled. “I can only imagine what my sister would think if she came upon us now. She would complain that I was not behaving like a proper lady should behave.”
“Oh, you are a lady, Elizabeth,” he told her, “but I will agree with Lady Philippa. You are not in the least proper. But I far prefer a woman who is honest, and you are that. There is no deceit in you.”
