“Aye,” she conceded, “I’ll miss it, but we’ll come back someday when our children are grown enough for us to leave them safely, Alex. My home, I am realizing, is where you are, my love. Yes, I am most certainly growing up!”
“So am I,” he answered her with a grin.
Their barge slipped into the long line of other vessels waiting to land at the royal quay. In the darkness of early evening it was not possible to recognize the occupants of the other boats despite the lanterns that bobbed from them all. At one point a new arrival attempted to push its way in before the BrocCairn barge.
“Make way for Lord de Boult,” snapped a surly-looking waterman.
“The Earl and Countess of BrocCairn give way only to the queen herself,” countered the Gordons’ bargeman. “Get to the end of the line and wait your turn!” He punctuated his remarks by shoving the offending vessel with his oar.
About them the other bargemen lined up on the side of the earl’s man, equally annoyed at the pushiness of Lord de Boult’s servant.
“ ’Ere now, move to the rear!”
“Aye! Who the ’ell is Lord de Boult next to my Lord Lincoln?” roared the Earl of Lincoln’s man.
There was more outrage voiced by the various servants of the waiting barges, some of them not at all kind, and with a mumbled oath the offending bargeman moved his boat to the end of the line.
Within a few minutes the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn landed and, climbing from their vessel, moved up the stairs to the palace of Greenwich, where the queen’s Shrove Tuesday fête had already begun. They could hear the musicians tuning up their instruments, and as they entered the building they were surrounded by their friends who had been awaiting them.
“Aha!” cried Essex, “at long last. What kept you?” He was dressed in black velvet, and his doublet twinkled with diamonds.
“Need you ask?” Ralegh chuckled, equally resplendent in a red doublet sewn with sparkling garnets and gold beads.
“Walter!” chided Bess Throckmorton, her dark blond beauty enhanced by her gold brocade gown, the fabric of which had been Velvet’s Twelfth Night gift to her. But Velvet only laughed.
“The marriage bed, Sir Walter, is one of the nicest prerogatives of wedded life should you ever decide to try it.” She looked but for an instant at her friend, who blushed furiously.
“Come along,” Bess said, in an attempt to cover her embarrassment. “The queen has already been asking for you both, and I was sent to fetch you to her the moment you arrived.”
Gaily, they followed the queen’s favorite Maid of Honor, trooping up the stairs to where the festivities were noisily in progress. Elizabeth Tudor was ensconced in a large, carved, gilt throne that sat atop a small carpeted dais. She was magnificently gowned in a dress of white velvet with cloth-of-silver stripes sewn all over with diamonds, pearls, and small golden bows. About her neck was a necklace made of six strands of perfectly matched pink pearls with an emerald clasp. Upon her head was a wig of the fieriest hue of bright red. Her gray-black eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and as she spoke she used her beautiful hands with their long, beringed fingers gracefully to punctuate her point. Seeing Velvet and Alex, she smiled warmly and gestured for them to approach her, which they did, moving easily between the rows of chattering courtiers. Reaching the dais, the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn made a respectful obeisance to the monarch.
The queen stood, then shouted over the din,“Silence!We would speak and have everyone hear what it is we have to say.” The room quieted, even the musicians falling silent. The queen smiled, well pleased at them all. If she had taught them one thing over the years, it was obedience to her will. “Tomorrow,” she began, “is the start of the penitential season, and shortly thereafter my dearest godchild, Velvet, will depart with her husband for their home in Scotland. Since it is to be hoped that my goddaughter, once in her new home, will do her duty by her husband …” Here the queen paused, and there were several loud, appreciative chuckles from those present. “It is not likely that we will see them again for several years, forDun Broc is many long miles from London.Queen’s Malvern, where Velvet grew up, was a grant from my own estates to Adam de Marisco. Since he has no son to carry on his line, we would have it known that upon his death the estate ofQueen’s Malvernis to be deeded to Alexander Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn, and his heirs forever. This is my gift to you both, for I love you well.”
Velvet’s eyes filled with tears of pleasure. To know that somedayQueen’s Malvernwould be hers and her children’s was almost too much to bear. She wished her parents not one moment less time on earth than God ordained for them, but in preparing to leave England for the north she had felt so cut off. Now the queen had remedied that feeling as if she had known exactly what Velvet was thinking. The young Countess of BrocCairn fell to her knees. Taking the hem of the queen’s gown, she raised it to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you, madame,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She could say no more.
Elizabeth bent and raised the girl up, her own eyes wet with honest tears. Pulling a silken scrap from her sleeve, she wiped her godchild’s cheeks. “There now, child, I but sought to please you.”
“Oh, you have, gracious madame! You have!”
“It is a most generous gift, indeed, Majesty,” said Alex, who had finally found his voice.
The queen shot him an amused look. “It is unlikely that we shall have heirs of our own body,” she said with great understatement. “Perhaps someday the son of my traitorous cousin, Mary Stewart, will inherit this throne.” She smiled coldly.“Perhaps.If that should be the case, then it cannot hurt for you to have English estates, my lord. It cannot hurt you at all.”
“Nay.” He nodded gravely. “It canna hurt me, madame.”
“We intend to live a long life”—the queen chuckled—“and we have no doubt that Adam de Marisco and his wife will also live long. It may be many years until you come into your inheritance, sir. Many years, indeed.”
“But when I do,” said Alex with great deftness, “I will remember with respect and affection England’s great queen, Elizabeth Tudor.”
“Hah!” chortled the queen. “God’s nightshirt, what a waste! You should stay here at court, Alex Gordon, for you’ve a courtier’s tongue in your head for certain. You could go far. Aye, you could!”
“The queen is most gracious,” replied Alex, “but with all due respect to ye, and to yer court, I long for the hills of my home.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I understand,” she said quietly. “You love yourDun Brocas I love my Greenwich. I let no one deny me my home, and I shall not deny you yours, my lord. Our permission for you to go stands. Go safely with God, but return to us with your wife in time.”
Alex bowed low and, taking the queen’s hand, kissed it.
The queen’s eyes sparkled again. “Now away with you, sir, and enjoy the evening! There are several pairs of eyes that have not left your person since you entered the room. Bold, immoral wenches, they are. Are you jealous, Velvet?”
