“Is that a command, my liege?” Lord Huntley asked.
James Stewart shook his head. “Nay, ’tis but a suggestion, but one he should consider well.”
It was a dismissal, and Huntley knew it. The conversation was over. He bowed to the king and departed to find Andrew Gordon.
The king watched him go. He was irritated to be bothered with something he considered a trifle. He had a kingdom to rule, and rule it he was, to the dismay of those used to weaker kings and regents. Hesuggestedseveral new laws to the parliament, and they were swiftly enacted. Then James Stewart sent out a decree demanding that every lord of the realm, every lady holding property in her own right, every laird both Highland and from the border bring the patent for their lands, to be examined for authenticity. It was little more than a thinly veiled excuse to test for loyalty, both past and present. Those who could not prove ownership of their lands or titles, and whose fealty was in doubt, lost their lands. The faithful were reestablished in their holdings.
The king then looked about at lands that belonged to the Crown and had been carelessly given away as bribes by his grandfather, father, and uncle. Those lands that were being mismanaged or had simply been usurped by the lords were reclaimed. It was not a popular move, but James Stewart needed to prove he had an iron first when it came to ruling. He next meant to improve the criminal and civil courts. There was so much to do, and while it was to his advantage that Lady Cicely Bowen marry the Lord Huntley’s kinsman, it was the least of his worries.
Joan Beaufort grew fat with her expected child. Andrew Gordon lingered until August. Then he returned home to Fairlea. The summer ended, and the hills about Scone began to grow bright with their autumn colors, and the scent of September heather filled the air. The wind blew more from the north as the days grew shorter and the nights longer. And then came word of a terrible happening.
The king’s friend Black Angus Gordon, the laird of Loch Brae, had gone down into England to bring an orphaned cousin of the queen’s to Scotland. James knew that eventually Cicely Bowen would marry, and so he brought Elizabeth Williams from York in hopes that when Cicely departed, Joan would have a young friend by her side. The laird’s mistress, Fiona Hay, had left Scone in October to travel hometo Loch Brae. She had been kidnapped as she traveled, and the court was agog with excitement over the matter. No one knew for certain who had stolen the lady, but suspicion was directed in the direction of the MacDonald of Nairn.
“The Gordons are furious,” the queen told Cicely.
“But she was only his mistress,” Cicely said. “Did she mean that much to him?”
“He had sent her home to prepare for their marriage,” Joan Beaufort replied. “Huntley approved it. The king sent Brae down to York to fetch my cousin Beth.”
Cicely shook her head. “Poor Mistress Hay. How unhappy she must be, being stolen away from the man she was to wed.”
“The MacDonald of Nairn was very much taken with her. He’ll marry her whether she will or no,” the queen confided. “You do not steal someone else’s bride unless you mean to wed her yourself. Or kill her. But Nairn had no quarrel with Brae. He simply wanted his woman, and now he has her.”
“I should not like to be in Mistress Hay’s position,” Cicely remarked. “If a man stole me away I should not wed him no matter what he wanted.”
“You might have no other choice,” the queen said. Then she brightened. “Will you go into town today to the lace-and-ribbon shop for me? I am ready to trim the future prince’s christening gown.”
“Are you so certain ’tis a prince?” Cicely teased.
“Oh, Ce-ce, it just has to be!” the queen replied. “James is moving so quickly to institute all his reforms and changes. While the people already love him, the lords are not pleased at losing many of their privileges and certainly not some of their lands. We need a strong male heir to help us prevent any rebellion.”
“I’ll go into town for you,” Cicely told her anxious mistress. “But you must not fret yourself, Jo. Not now, when the prince is so near to being born.”
“It is another two months.” Joan Beaufort sighed. “Although Iwould wish it sooner. I can no longer see my own feet. All I long to do is eat and pee. It does not add to the dignity of my office,” she lamented.
Cicely giggled, but, seeing her friend’s aggrieved look, she apologized. “I’m sorry, Jo,” she said, standing up. “I think while I am in town I will find some lavender oil for you. It is so soothing. I will rub your feet with it tonight, I promise.”
“Aye, that would be lovely,” the queen agreed, waving Cicely off.
The girl hurried to her own small chamber, where Orva sat mending the hem of one of her mistress’s gowns. “I am going into town for the queen,” she said. “Do you want to come with me? I can take a man-at-arms if you prefer to stay.”
“Nay, I’ll come,” Orva said, laying aside her mending and standing up. “I have been indoors all day, and would welcome some fresh air. Where are we going?”
“The lace-and-ribbon shop at the end of the High Street,” Cicely answered.
They gathered up their cloaks, and Cicely sent to the stables for their horses. Entering the courtyard they found the beasts saddled and awaiting them. Cicely waved away the man-at-arms. “We are only going to the ribbon shop,” she said, and the man nodded his acceptance, for the town was not dangerous. The two women rode the short distance from Scone Palace to Perth’s High Street. At its far end on the corner of Tam’s Lane was the lace-and-ribbon shop belonging to Mistress Marjory, a widow. Dismounting, Cicely promised a street urchin a penny if he would hold their horses while they were in the shop. Then she and Orva entered the establishment.
Mistress Marjory bustled forward. “My lady, I was not expecting you,” she said.
“The queen sent me to seek lace and ribbons for her child’s christening gown,” Cicely said with a smile.
“Is the bairn born then?” Mistress Marjory asked anxiously. “I had not heard it.”
“Nay, ’tis another two months, but the queen is anxious to have everything all ready,” Cicely replied.
“Och, then, you’ve wasted a trip, my lady,” Mistress Marjory said. “I sent my apprentice this very day down to the docks to pick up our new shipment. ’Tis fine French lace from a convent near Paris, and beautiful silk ribbons sent overland from the East. It will take me a few days to unpack and check my inventory. Can you come back then?”
“Her Highness will be disappointed,” Cicely said, “but happy to know that you will have what she requires here in a few days’ time. Will you send to me at the palace when the goods are ready for sale, so I may come and inspect them?”
