Prologue
SCOTLAND, 1565
“He’s a sorcerer!” the laird of Rath’s wife, Anne, gasped. “You cannot seriously be considering giving our daughter to a sorcerer, Robert. And I am told he holds with the old religion. He’s a Catholic. A papist! Only the Gordons and the barbaric Highland families hold to the old faith and refuse to see the error of their ways.” The expression on her lovely face was very concerned by her husband’s apparent decision.
Robert Baird, laird of Rath, snorted impatiently. “If Angus Ferguson is a sorcerer, wife, then so am I. He’s no more a sorcerer than any. As for his faith, ’tis his, not mine. Did the queen not say we might all worship as we pleased?”
“But even here in the eastern borders it is said the Fergusons of Duin practice—”
The laird cut her short. “Said? Said by whom? The Earl of Duin is no sorcerer,” he told her firmly.
“Then why does he allow such scandalous rumors to persist, Robert?” his wife wanted to know. “A man’s reputation is his most valuable possession.”
“He’s a man who wants his privacy,” came the answer. “By allowing such myths about his family to be perpetuated among the ignorant, he achieves his purpose. This family of Duin is careful in its dealings, Anne. Have you ever heard of their being involved in any kind of disloyalty or treason? Nay! Not the Fergusons of Duin.”
“You seem to know much of these people, although I do not,” his wife remarked.
“I went to Bothwell,” Robert Baird said. “I know him to be friends with Angus Ferguson, for they studied together in France. Has James Hepburn not been attempting to broker the sale of the lands I inherited in the west with Angus Ferguson for the last few years? He has. And you know I would not sell that property to Angus Ferguson, for my kinsman from whom I inherited those lands feuded with the Fergusons. It somehow seemed disloyal to profit from my inheritance under the circumstances. But trust James Hepburn to come up with a perfect solution.”
“So marrying our Annabella to Angus Ferguson was the Earl of Bothwell’s idea?” Lady Anne’s pretty mouth pursed disapprovingly. James Hepburn might be the keeper of the queen’s borders, and one of the most powerful men in Scotland, but she like others thought him a great womanizer. He had charm, though, she had to admit.
“Of course it’s Bothwell’s idea,” Robert Baird said. “I wouldn’t have dared reach so high, Annie. We’re a wee clan with little to recommend us other than an old name.”
“Why, Rob,” his wife replied, “the Bairds saved the life of King William the Lion, and were given great grants of land. It’s a good border name.”
He laughed, patting her hand. “A few hundred years ago, Annie, and how many generations since, with theextensivelands being split this way and that? Nay, we’re simple folk, and I was fortunate to get you to wife, for you’re a Hamilton, a great name today here in the borders and in Scotland. I know Jamie Hepburn is a bit of a rogue, but he’s an honorable man, and a good friend.”
“How can he be certain the Earl of Duin will take Annabella as a wife? They say he is wealthier than any man living, and the handsomest man in the borders to boot. Our eldest daughter is as plain as mud. Would not Myrna or Sorcha be a better choice?”
“Myrna, Sorcha, and wee Agnes will have no difficulties finding husbands, for they are as beautiful as you are, my dear,” her husband said candidly. “’Tis our Annabella who faces an eternal maidenhood. Bothwell himself will speak with Duin. He will not dissemble the facts but be entirely truthful. He has told me that Angus Ferguson’s heart is not engaged elsewhere; nor is there any impediment to a marriage between him and Annabella. If he wants these lands that I hold in the west, then he will acquiesce to Bothwell’s proposal. I am told Angus Ferguson is in his middle thirties, and like any man with title and property will want an heir or two. At twenty our daughter is almost past her prime, but still young enough to give a husband bairns.”
The possibility of her eldest daughter bearing a title, mothering a future earl of Duin, was beginning to seep into the lady Anne’s consciousness, along with the advantages such a marriage for Annabella would bring for her family. “If this comes to pass, the Melvilles will no longer be able to look slantwise at Myrna, for her connections will more than make up for her lack of a large dower portion, Rob. She will have Ian Melville and no other, she vows. She is more than ready for marriage, and should wed as soon as possible after Annabella.”
“I don’t like Ian Melville,” the laird of Rath said, “but if she wants him I cannot deny her. The Melvilles are a good family, and stand high in Her Majesty’s favor.”
“How soon will we know if the Earl of Duin will have Annabella?”
“Within a few weeks,” Robert Baird answered his wife. “Bothwell has gone himself to suggest the match.”
“Well, as long as he isn’t a sorcerer,” the lady Anne said, and her husband smiled.
“May she be as happy as we have been all these years,” the laird said to his wife.
The lady Anne nodded in agreement. “I pray it,” she replied.
Chapter 1
The Earl of Duin was the most powerful and the most feared man in the western borders. His power stemmed from his vast and seemingly unending wealth. The fear was born of the belief that the Fergusons of Duin descended from a race of sorcerers. Angus Ferguson did little to dissuade that conviction. His family was barely known beyond the scope of their lands, which suited the earl quite well. Great wealth had a tendency to attract envy, and envy invited trouble.
At the age of sixteen Angus Ferguson had inherited Duin from his father. His mother had died several years prior. He had two legitimate siblings: a brother, James, and a sister, Mary. Both had sought lives in the Church. James actually had a calling. Angus saw him frequently and was proud to see him slowly working his way up the ladder of the Church hierarchy.
Mary, however, had chosen to enter a cloistered convent. The dark reputation of their family weighed heavily upon her. They had never been able to convince her that the blood of their few ancestors known to have practiced magical arts was practically nonexistent in their veins now. Mary Ferguson felt it necessary for her family’s sake to expiate those supposed sins of long ago. He saw her rarely.
At the age of eighteen Angus Ferguson had seen an opportunity to advance his family, and he had taken it. King James V had been defeated by the English forces in the Battle of Solway Moss four years earlier. It but echoed the time some thirty years prior when James’s own father had been killed fighting the English, and he had come to the throne a boy ruler. His two sons were now dead, and learning that his wife had delivered a daughter instead of the hoped-for male heir, James V fell into a deep depression, saying, “It cam wi’ a lass, and ’twill go wi’ a lass.” Then, turning his face to the wall, he spoke no more and died shortly afterward.
His French queen, Marie de Guise, was furious at what she deemed her husband’s selfishness. A clever and personable woman, she had over the years of her marriage made the right allies from among the contentious Scots nobility, and she had Cardinal David Beaton on her side. She was popular with her subjects, and was able to protect her infant from those who wanted to control the little queen, and betroth her to King Henry VIII’s young son, Prince Edward. The English king hoped that with Mary as his son’s wife, and the baby in his custody, he would be able to annex Scotland to England.
Marie de Guise did not want an English marriage for her daughter. She wanted a French marriage. To that end and after much negotiation the little queen was to be sent to France and betrothed to the French dauphin Francis. This would make Mary queen of both France and Scotland one day. Mary of Scotland’s safety was better guaranteed in France being raised with Francis. The French king, Henri II, agreed.
