“I am pleased to greet you, my lord,” the queen said graciously. “I saw you standing with Lord Huntley and the laird of Loch Brae. Are you kin to them?”
“I am, Highness. A portion of my lands border on Brae loch. It is Gordon country, and a fair land it is,” the laird of Fairlea replied, his eyes going to Cicely.
Seeing it, the queen said, “I am remiss, my lord. I have not introduced you to my companion. This is Lady Cicely Bowen, daughter to the Earl of Leighton, my childhood friend. We spent several years together in the household of Queen Joan of Navarre.”
“My lady.” The laird bowed to Cicely.
“My lord.” Cicely curtsied prettily in return.
“Ce-ce, do entertain the laird. I see the king is looking about for me,” Queen Joan said, and then, before Cicely might protest, she moved away across the hall.
“Do you think the queen is a matchmaker, my lady?” Andrew Gordon asked her.
Cicely blushed, to her dismay. “Why would you say such a thing, my lord?” she asked him, her hands going to smooth an imaginary wrinkle from her surcoat.
“She has left me with undeniably the prettiest girl in the hall,” he replied gallantly. “You surely saw that I have been staring at you all evening, my lady.”
“I had not noticed,” Cicely lied, and then blushed once more, for he surely knew that she was lying. “I thought you looked at the queen,” she finished.
“The queen is lovely, but you, my lady, are fairer by far,” the laird of Fairlea said. “Will you walk with me?” He offered her his arm.
Cicely hesitated a moment, but then she took Andrew Gordon’s arm. He was very handsome, and he did not seem as rough-spoken as so many of the Scottish lords were. And there was no odor or smell of heavy scent about him either, which meant he was clean. His clothing was certainly fresh, and even stylish.
“Look, Jamie! Look! Ce-ce is walking with Huntley’s kin,” the queen whispered to her husband. “Don’t they make a handsome couple, my love?”
James Stewart looked and smiled. “He would be a good match for her, sweetheart. He stands high in Huntley’s favor, and has lands of his own. And he spent two years at the university in Aberdeen. He’s not crude and strident, like so many of my lords. We must encourage this possible match.”
“She has to love him, Jamie. You promised her father that she would have the right to make her own choice. I know Huntley would be beholden to you if Cicely decided to wed his kinsman. And I know you need all the allies you can find, but I will not allow you to sacrifice my best friend if it does not please her.”
“I know what I promised her father, sweetheart,” the king said, “and I will keep my pledge to him. But it cannot hurt any if we encourage Cicely to consider choosing this young man, can it?”
The queen laughed. “Nay, my lord, it cannot hurt to encourage them.”
And in the days leading up to the coronation of King James I and Queen Joan, the young royals did indeed manage to see that Cicely Bowen and Andrew Gordon kept each other company more times than not. It would be a good match. Andrew had lived in France briefly, studying at the Sorbonne for a few months. He loved poetry, which of course gave him something in common with King James. The king loved writing poetry, and had even written a poem about the day he had seen Joan Beaufort for the first time, calling her “thefairest or the freschest young floure that evir I saw.” And if the queen and her husband were encouraging the match, so too was the Lord Huntley, who better than his besotted kinsman saw the value in the laird of Fairlea marrying the queen’s close confidante and childhood friend. Any close tie with the king was all for the good, although Huntley until now had always thought his kinsman’s education a waste, and poetry for fools.
James Stewart, the Gordon of Huntley had quickly learned, was no fool. Where his late father, King Robert, had been a good but weak man; and his late uncle, the Duke of Albany, a rapacious and ambitious man; James Stewart was intelligent enough to win friends among the border lords and the people. The great lords, Huntley included, were quickly coming to realize that this king would be a strong king. Now the question remained whether they could live with him better than without him.
And while Huntley conferred with his fellow earls, his kinsman began to court the queen’s lovely friend. One afternoon the two rode to a nearby meadow, where a picnic had been set up for them. It was early May, and the hillsides were abloom with yellow and white flowers. Seated upon a white cloth they ate chicken, bread with butter, and new strawberries while sipping wine from small silver goblets.
“I have found that Scotland is very beautiful, though still wild,” Cicely said, gazing about her at the green hills and up at the blue sky. Nearby a small waterfall tumbled over a rocky streambed.
“Fairlea is wilder yet, but beautiful, my lady. Still, I believe you would like it,” Andrew Gordon said. “I have a fine stone house with its own tower at the far and narrower end of Loch Brae. My kinsman, Angus Gordon, who is laird of Loch Brae, does not begrudge my wee bit of his loch. I have cattle aplenty, and even some sheep.”
“You are a propertied man, my lord,” Cicely replied.
“I have almost everything I want in this world,” Andrew said, smiling at her. “I lack only one thing.”
“And that is?” Cicely asked, smiling back at him.Blessed Jesu!He really was handsome. He had blue eyes that seemed to reflect the sky. When he reached out to take her hand Cicely’s heart jumped in her chest.
Drawing that small, soft hand to his lips, Andrew Gordon kissed it. “I need a wife,” he answered her. “A wife to keep my home, to give me sons.”
“And to love?”Cicely asked quietly. “One day I must take a husband, my lord, but I must love him, and he must love me.”
“You must respect him,” the laird of Fairlea returned.
“Aye, I will respect him, but especially if I love him,” Cicely answered. “I was always told how much my father loved my mother, my lord. I did not know her, for she died at my birth. When my father wed again it was for wealth to rebuild Leighton’s fortunes. He holds my stepmother in high regard because she has given him three sons. She in return respects him and is a good wife to him. I see how King James loves Queen Joan. That is what I want, my lord. I would love the man I marry, and I would have him love me. It is not, I realize, very practical, but it is how I feel. I am not apt to change.”
“What does your father say to such thoughts, my lady?” he asked. “Will he not make the best match for you that he can? You are, I am told, an earl’s daughter.” He was still holding her hand, and did not seem inclined to release it.
