“I will see ye get in,” the guardsman told them, “but it’s unlikely ye’ll get to see the king. He rarely leaves the queen’s side. I saw her, ye know, the other day. She was being carried in a litter to the royal chapel of St. Margaret to hear Mass.”
“What is she like?” Janet asked eagerly.
“Pretty as a picture,” was the reply. “She looks like an angel and is already halfway to heaven, I’m thinking. I hear ye gave Jamie his second daughter.”
“Aye,” Janet replied casually. “She’s a bonnie bairn.”
“Come first thing in the morning,” the guardsman said. “I’ll leave word at the gate for them to expect ye, and yer husband, and . . . ?” He looked at Fin and Maggie.
“The king’s cousin, Lord Stewart of Torra, and his wife, Lady Margaret,” Janet told her kinsman. “Actually, I believe the king will want to see Lord Stewart.”
“It’s not up to me,” the guardsman replied. “But at least I can get ye into the royal apartments, Janet. And Lord and Lady Stewart,” he added, rising from his place and addressing Fin, “I thank ye for yer hospitality, my lord.”
Fin nodded. “I thank ye,” he replied.
“Will ye carry a message to the king’s secretary for me tonight?” Janet asked.
“Of course.”
Janet Munro handed the guardsman the letter she had written earlier to the king’s secretary. In it she reminded the man of the favor he owed her and requested that he get them an audience with the king within the next two days. The guard went off with Janet Munro’s message tucked in his leather jacket. “I can but hope we are successful,” Janet said with a small sigh.
In the morning they dressed carefully, Lord Stewart in black velvet canions, black and white striped hose, and a black velvet doublet lined in white satin, its puffed sleeves slashed to show the white. He had never seen any of these garments before, but all Archie would ever say when he asked was that he had come by them honestly. Maggie wore her fine burgundy velvet gown. Her hair, usually worn in a thick plait, was neatly contained in a gold wire caul this day. They rode out with Janet and her husband early. It was a fine June morning.
Edinburgh Castle sat on a craggy hill that jutted out over the town. It had first manifested itself as a wooden fort, built by King Edwin of Northumbria, in the seventh century. He had named it Edwin’s Burgh after himself. The Anglo-Saxon princess, Margaret, who had married King Malcolm III, was considered a saint. She had built the chapel. As she lay dying, the castle was being besieged by an army of Highlanders. Her dead body was lowered down the fortress’s west wall and taken to Dunfermline Abbey for burial. The great and newest stone building was a banqueting hall that had been built by James IV. The court, however, disliked this castle, for it was extremely cramped. They preferred Holyrood Palace, which was nearby in the city; a confection of witch’s cap towers that reminded one of the great châteaus of the Loire Valley but for the background of rugged hills behind it. Holyrood Palace had charm whereas Edinburgh Castle was what it had always been—a great rough fortress.
They crossed the moat, entering into a great open courtyard where their horses were taken. They followed Janet Munro, who knew her way well, walking to the stone building housing the royal quarters. Maggie didn’t like it at all. It seemed a cold, hard place for a queen, let alone a dying woman. Inside, it was cramped, and the furnishings spare due to the lack of space.
“Stay here,” Janet said as they came into what was obviously an antechamber. “I must find Master MacCulloch.” She hurried off, making her way from the antechamber down a narrow corridor and finally stopping at a small door at its end. She knocked, and then without waiting for an answer, stepped into a little chamber. “Good morrow, Allen,” she greeted the man at the high writing table.
Allen MacCulloch looked up. He was a colorless man of medium size and girth who would be indistinguishable in a crowd. He considered this to his advantage. “Good morrow, Janet. Yer up quite early,” he said, returning her greeting.
“We must see the king, Allen,” Janet said. “I know ye’ve read my message. Ye never leave anything undone.” Her eye went to the comfortable chair by the small hearth. “Do ye sleep here?” she wondered aloud.
“When we are here, aye, I do,” he said with a brief smile. “Why do ye want to see him, Janet? ’Twill not be easy, for he rarely leaves the queen’s side now.”
“ ’Tis not yer concern why I would see him,” Janet Munro said sharply.
“Kinswoman, if ye expect me to work a miracle for ye, and ’twill be a miracle to pry him away for even five minutes, I must know the reason,” Master MacCulloch said.
“Remember that I helped ye retain this position when ye were accused of stealing from the privy purse,” Janet reminded him. “ ’Twas I who watched, and I who learned it was Albert Gunn who was the thief. You would have been hanged instead of Master Gunn had it not been for me, Kinsman.”
“ ’Tis true, Janet. I owe ye my life, but I still must have some idea of why yer here if I am to gain the king’s ear for ye.”
Janet Munro sighed. “Very well,” she said. “The daughter I bore him in March was promised a dower and income. My husband sent to him telling the king of Margaret’s birth, but he has not replied. I know his love for his queen has driven all else from his mind, but the longer we must wait to settle this matter, the less likely it will be settled. Ye know as well as I do that there are those already seeking a new bride for him. He will mourn, and then be distracted by the search for a new queen. I will never gain what is due my daughter, Allen.”
Allen MacCulloch nodded in agreement. “Aye, yer right,” he said. “But it hardly seems so urgent a matter that I must disturb the king over it now.”
“I have a way to quickly accomplish the deed, Kinsman. I just need to speak with the king for a brief few moments. I understand that not all that was taken from the king’s privy purse was returned,” Janet murmured softly.
The secretary flushed, then said, “I will get ye yer audience, Janet. But ye must stay here in the castle until I can accomplish it, for when it is possible, ye must go quickly to him, and state yer case. If ye are not available when the king is, there may not be another opportunity. Do ye understand?”
Janet Munro nodded. “I do, Allen, and I thank ye.”
“The debt between us will now be paid in full, will it not?” he asked her.
“Aye, it will be,” Janet responded. “I am a mother, Kinsman, and I only want what my bairn was promised, nothing more. I’ll have little if anything to do with the court after this. My lord wants a few bairns of his own, and I’m yet young enough to give him some sons, and maybe even a daughter or two.”
“Where can I find ye?” he asked her.
