“Because I would not like you to sign my execution order unknowingly,” Flynn Stewart had said with a grin, and he gently cuffed his half brother. “You’d feel dreadful about it afterwards, Jamie.”
But the two areas where the young king excelled were in music and in warlike pursuits. How odd, Flynn thought, that both he and his uncle of England had such wonderful musical ability. Were they any two other men they would be friends, drawn together by their musical passion. But they were not. They did not know each other, but they distrusted each other, for unlike other men they were England and Scotland.
And then when James V was in his sixteenth year, he escaped from the Earl of Angus’s clutches, exacted his revenge on Angus and his kin, and began to rule on his own. One of the first things he had done was send Flynn to his uncle in England. Flynn would be the personal messenger for his royal half brother. He would bring any messages Henry wanted to send to James with all possible speed, and return with answers. Flynn had not wanted to go.
“You need me here as I have always been. I am your eyes and your ears, my lord,” he had said to his brother.
“Which is why I need you at my uncle’s court, Flynn,” King James had told him. “You are the one person in all the world whom I can trust. I know that you cannot be bribed away from your loyalty to me. There is no one else among my retainers for whom I can claim that virtue. My ambassadors will couch everything in the language of diplomacy. It seems that they are unable to speak plainly. They will curry favor with my uncle. But you, brother, will tell me the truth of whatever is happening in my uncle’s court. You will be discreet, and none will consider you a threat.”
“I am loath to leave you, my lord. I have been by your side since you were a small lad,” Flynn said. “I would give my life for you.”
“I know that,” the young king had said. “I will not keep you away forever, Flynn, but you must do this for me. I am yet young, and my uncle of England would snatch my kingdom from me, given the opportunity. And he would choose a wife for me if he could. I have already chosen to wed with King Francois’s daughter, Madelaine, but it will be several years before she is ready to be a wife. In the meantime I must fend off Uncle Henry’s efforts on my behalf.”
“I will go, my lord,” Flynn had said. His life was his service to his half brother. Yet Elizabeth Meredith was correct. His king had taken his loyalty for granted. He was out of James’s sight, and therefore out of his thoughts. Yet he knew if he asked James for a wealthy wife or a bit of land it would eventually be forthcoming. His brother had never been mean or closefisted. Then Flynn sighed. What a pity Friarsgate wasn’t on the other side of the border. Elizabeth had made most plain her interest in him, and the hurt in her eyes when he had been forced to reject her advances had saddened him. But the English lambkin was not for him. Sooner or later England and Scotland would find themselves at war with each other again. And he had no doubt that Elizabeth Meredith would defend her beloved Friarsgate from all comers, as her mother before her had undoubtedly done. He had never thought to really care for a woman, but he knew that he could easily love the lovely heiress of Friarsgate. Ah, well! She would be gone in just over a week, and he was unlikely to see her again.
Elizabeth kept to her bed the next day, reassuring her worried uncle and her sister that she just needed a little more rest. “This court life is far more exhausting than the daily life at home,” she noted. “Uncle, please tell Anne I am so honored by the fete, and will be there come the morrow.”
But Anne Boleyn had fretted nonetheless and, escorted by Lord Cambridge, had come through the garden door to visit her friend. “You look pale,” she noted.
“I am not used to staying up till all hours of the night dancing and gaming,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “I cannot sleep two or three hours and then be at the Mass, perfectly dressed and coiffed, as you seem able to do. I am a country girl, and used to sleeping more than several hours a night.”
“Don’t you get up with the sun?” Anne wanted to know. “And the sun rises early these days, Bess.”
“Aye, but I go to bed early in the evening. Your life is tiring, Anne. I should rather spend my day out on horseback riding from flock to flock than spend my life in idle merriment. Your pardon, dear friend, but I am not used to such a life.”
“But you have had fun, haven’t you?” Anne asked.
“Aye, I have had fun, but you see me today in my bed recovering from the past few weeks, and tomorrow I know will be busy from dawn to moonset,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes! Yes!” Anne agreed. “We are going to have barge races on the river, and archery contests for both the ladies and gentlemen, and dancing, and singing. It will be wonderful! And the feast! I have chosen the menu myself. We will have peacock, swans, game pies, beef, duck, and goose. And subtleties of spun sugar, and marzipan.”
“Gracious!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I am hardly worthy of such a spectacular effort, dear Anne. There are many who will be jealous that you have honored a simple country woman as myself.”
“I know,” Anne Boleyn said. “Won’t it be fun?”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are really very bad, Annie,” she told the older girl, “but I believe they deserve it for their behavior towards you. I am sorry that others do not know you as I do. You have a good heart, but you are sorely treated, and much is asked of you. I would wish it were not so,” she concluded.
“I will survive. One in my position learns quickly or perishes, Bess. I will not be beaten by them. I will do what I must, and I will be queen one day. And I will birth my lord Henry’s son, and he will live, as those poor Spanish Kate bore did not. I am strong!” Then Mistress Boleyn jumped up from her place by Elizabeth’s bed. “I must go,” she said. “I just came to be certain you are all right. Lord Cambridge swore you were, but I needed to see for myself. Is your costume for tomorrow wonderful?”
Elizabeth chuckled. “You will be very surprised when you see me,” she told her companion.
“Will I recognize you?” Anne wanted to know.
“Easily,” Elizabeth assured her. “You will see tomorrow.”
“Farewell then,” Anne Boleyn said, and hurried from the chamber.
Elizabeth Meredith’s twenty-second birthday dawned fair and warm. She was awakened by Philippa and Thomas Bolton, both of whom brought her flowers. “How lovely!” she exclaimed, smiling at them both.
“Are you ready to face the day, dear girl?” Lord Cambridge asked her with a twinkle in his amber eyes.
“I am ready,” Elizabeth assured him, “and Philippa has promised to come too, haven’t you, sister?”
“I have already tried on my costume,” the Countess of Witton said. “How you can manage to have a gown made for me, Uncle, when you have not seen me in over three years is amazing.”
“You do not change, dear girl,” he told her.
“But I might have,” she responded.
