It had been decided immediately that the king of Scotland would be the baby’s godfather and Velvet’s sister-in-law, Angel, the godmother.
“I want the christening atDun Broc,”Velvet had said. “He should have been born there, and but for our misfortune he would have been. He shall, however, be baptized there, and,” she had said, looking at Skye, “we shall use the occasion to have a family reunion! Padriac and Murrough are already back from their voyage. Ewan can come with Gwyneth and their children from Ireland. Surely he can leave his estates long enough to come for little James’s baptism.”
“I will send one of your O’Malley uncles to oversee Ewan’s estates while he is gone. There will be no trouble. Do you really mean to have the entire family toDun Broc, Velvet?” Skye asked.
“Yes, Mama! Everyone! Willow, Murrough, Ewan, Deirdre, Padraic, and Robin! All their families! Uncle Conn and Aunt Aiden and my cousins! Annabella and her sons! Daisy and Bran Kelly! Uncle Robbie and Dame Cecily! Everyone!”
The invitations had been sent even before they had left France, and, delighted at the prospect of their all being together again, the entire family had come, fifty-four of them in all.Dun Brocbulged with relatives, and there were children underfoot everywhere one turned.
“Are you aware that we have thirty grandchildren here?” said Adam de Marisco to his wife, somewhat overawed.
“I try not to think of it,” said Skye. “If I did, my hair would go white!”
When the king had arrived, they had had to somehow make room for him and his entourage, though how they had done so Velvet didn’t know. She only thanked God that the queen was breeding again, and therefore was unable to come. How she would have housed her retainers she shuddered to imagine.
When the king had heard his godson’s name, he had frowned. “Francis,” he said. “I dinna like the name Francis,” and he glowered at Velvet.
“It is fortunate then, Your Majesty, that it is not your own son who is called Francis.” She looked back at the king, her soft mouth set in a firm line.
“Must he be called Francis?” the king persisted.
“Francis is but his second name as Henry is his third and Alexander his fourth. He will be called by none of these other names, however. We shall call him James after Your Majesty.” She smiled up at him, her mouth relaxing now as she sought to placate him.
“But why Francis?” the king asked again.
“Because he was always our good and true friend even as he has been yours,” said Velvet boldly. “Because we first celebrated our marriage in his home atHermitage, andbecause I am the baby’s mother and I wish it!”
The king sighed, defeated. “There is nae arguing wi’ a stubborn woman,” he said in a somewhat aggrieved tone, but the matter was closed.
Now at last the baby was christened, and the assembled guests, having been blest by Père Jean-Paul, trooped to the Great Hall to celebrate the event, waiting until the king had changed his doublet to raise the toasts of long life to the infant. The future Earl of BrocCairn had not yet learned to respect his royal master and had wet him most thoroughly.
Pansy and Dugald had been invited to sit at the high board with the immediate family. After all their adventures together, the two young women had a closeness not unlike that of many sisters. Looking at her faithful tiring woman across the chapel that morning, Velvet had smiled to herself remembering what had happened after Henri de Navarre had bid them farewell.
As the king had left, Dugald, having stabled the horses with the coachman, had entered the little hallat Belle Fleurs.Pansy had stood up immediately and, reaching down to a cradle by her chair, had lifted her baby, born December third, up in her arms. Then she had walked over to her husband, saying, “His name is Bran.”
“Is it now?” replied Dugald belligerently. “Ye named the first one. Dinna I get to name this one?”
“I named the first one after you,” replied Pansy, equally feisty. “This one is named after my pa. Bran I calls him, and Bran he’ll stay!”
“Then I get to name the next bairn, and would ye do me the kindness to at least let me be wi’ ye when ye have him? Ye seem to delight in going off and spawning yer bairns without me, woman. At least I get to see this one when he’s still a babe.”
“Just be glad he’s healthy!” snapped Pansy. “Now tell me, Dugald Geddes, are you just going to stand there arguing with me over trifles, or are you going to kiss me and say you’re glad to see me?”
“I dinna think ye needed to hear it, woman. I thought ye knew it. God knows ye know everything else!”
“Well, I do need to hear it,” said Pansy, smiling as he drew her into his arms and gave her a hearty buss, “and you’re right, I do know everything else. After all, I’m a traveled woman!”
Velvet smiled again now at the memory. They were all so damned lucky, she thought, and she was grateful.
The party threatened to go on all night, but gradually as the children fell asleep where they sat, and the nursemaids carried them off to the dormitory that had been set up in the attics for them, even the adults began to show signs of tiring. Finally the king departed for his chambers giving the rest of the guests the excuse to find their beds.
Pansy prepared her mistress for bed, helping to bathe her in a warm, gillyflower-scented bath; brushing her long auburn hair free of snarls so that it rippled down her back in soft waves; and finally sliding a pale sea-green silk night rail over her lithe form. Velvet looked at herself in the pier glass. She had just had her twentieth birthday, and despite the fact that she had already borne two children her body was still good. She smiled a small Smile of self-satisfaction and turned to dismiss Pansy.
“Don’t come until I call you in the morning, Pansy. You could use some rest, too.”
“Aye, but with two bairns I’m not so likely to get it, though Morag is wonderful with Dugie. His wee nose is still a bit out of joint over Bran.”
“I think if you’d had a girl it would have been different,” said Velvet.
