Rosamund laughed and crossed the room to peer into the ornate cradle by the queen’s side. The month-old boy stared up at her. He was plump and alert. Waving his little fists at her, he made small noises, and Rosamund laughed again. “Oh, Meg, he is a fine laddie! The king must be so pleased!” She curtsied and blushed slightly, realizing that she had slipped back into a familiarity she should not, but the queen waved her hand, dismissing the breach.
“Come and sit with me, and tell me all about Friarsgate,” the queen said.
“We must speak privily about that,” Rosamund said quietly.
Immediately the queen’s curiosity was piqued. “Get out! All of you! I would speak confidentially with the lady of Friarsgate. You, also,” she said to the cradle rocker. “My son will survive without being in constant motion.” And when the queen’s chamber had been emptied, she turned again to her childhood friend and said, “Tell me.”
“I have not been at Friarsgate, Meg. I have been with the Earl of Glenkirk in the duchy of San Lorenzo.” Then she went on to explain the mission the king had sent Patrick on, and of how he would not go without her, and of how she loved him so desperately that she had lied to Margaret Tudor and gone. “Will you forgive me?” she asked the queen as she concluded her tale.
“Of course I forgive you!” the queen said sincerely. “So, you love him. But does he love you? And if he does, why does he not offer marriage?”
“He does love me, but I choose not to marry again, Meg. At least not now. I have a duty to Friarsgate, and Patrick has his duty to Glenkirk, although his son is able to carry on in his absence. With your permission I am now going to go home to Friarsgate, and Patrick will come with me for a time.”
“You must bide with me for a brief while,” the queen pleaded prettily.
“Agreed,” Rosamund said, laughing once more, “though you really do not need me. You have all your women to keep you company.”
“They are not my friends,” the queen replied. “You know that queens have few friends, Rosamund.” Then a sly smile touched her lips, and she asked, “Is he a very good lover? My Jamie certainly is, despite the years that separate us, but the Earl of Glenkirk is really old. Can he still make love? Or is this the kind of love you bore for your second husband, Hugh Cabot?”
“He is a magnificent lover and frequently exhausts me, Meg,” Rosamund replied candidly. “I love him, you know, and my passion for him is not in the least as it was for Hugh, who was more father to me than any.”
“How strange that this love should come to you at this time and in this place,” the queen noted. “I love the king, you know. And he is very good to me, although I suspect he believes I am not the cleverest of women. He often treats me as he would a favored animal. So he sent your earl to try to weaken this alliance the pope has now formed. He knew it would not work, of course.” The queen’s foot was absently rocking her son’s cradle as she spoke, and the baby was now falling asleep.
“King James is an honorable man. He will not betray this old alliance that Scotland has with France. There is no need for him to do so,” Rosamund said. “I think we both know that your brother, King Henry, seeks an excuse to make war on Scotland. He cannot be pleased that you have given your husband a son when poor Kate cannot give him one. It must frustrate him that Scotland holds the balance of power here. England cannot invade France with France’s ally on his northern border. So he seeks to isolate Scotland from the rest of Europe. Your husband, Meg, is a man of peace. He sees what peace has brought Scotland. This country is prosperous and content, no matter your easily insulted earls and lairds.” She smiled. “Now Scotland has an heir. There is even more at stake.”
“Yet Jamie builds a navy,” the queen noted.
“To protect Scotland, Meg. He seeks to defend his sea borders. His navy is a bulwark against foreigners,” Rosamund explained. It had always been difficult for Meg to see the large picture.
“Henry is jealous of Jamie’s ships. He is now building a navy, too, Kate writes me,” the queen responded.
“Kate is well?” It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her of Katherine of Aragon, now England’s queen.
“But that she cannot seem to give my brother a living heir,” Meg said. “Henry will be patient just so long, and then who knows what he will do. The fault lies with Kate, I fear, for my brother has his share of bastards, and he has impregnated her several times. But her children die. I wonder if it is not God’s judgment. Perhaps my father should have sent her back to Spain. Perhaps she should not have wed Arthur’s younger brother. But, then, what is done is done. Have they found you a place to rest your head?”
“We arrived early this morning, and after settling at an inn in Leith we came directly here. Annie and Dermid will follow tomorrow. They are wed, and Annie is already expecting a bairn,” Rosamund replied.
“It is always inconvenient when one’s tiring woman finds herself with child. At least they are wed.”
“They might not have been but for Paolo Loredano,” and Rosamund went on to tell the story of how the artist had sketched Annie with Dermid in a most compromising position.
The queen laughed. “I’ll wager the naughty girl was surprised when you faced her with your knowledge.”
“I said nothing. I just left the sketch for them to see. They came then and asked our permission to wed,” Rosamund chuckled.
“Oh, I have gossip about your old suitor, Logan Hepburn,” the queen said. “His little wife is big with child. It will be born sometime in October. They say he mounted her again and again until she proved fecund. Since then he has not been near her, although he treats her with kindness. They say he has a mistress somewhere in the borders. You are well rid of the fellow.”
“Logan is not a bad man, Meg. I was simply not ready to marry again, and he needed a legitimate heir. I am relieved his family prevailed. Besides, Friarsgate is my home, and I could live nowhere else,” Rosamund told the queen.
“So your earl will go with you over the border?”
“Aye. For a while,” Rosamund answered.
“The castle is full, I fear,” the queen announced. “You may sleep in my apartments, Rosamund, and Lord Leslie in the hall. He has done it before, I am certain.”
“The distance between here and Leith is little. We can remain at the inn.” The idea of being separated from Patrick for even a few nights made her unhappy.
“Nay, you will remain with me,” the queen murmured sweetly. “We shall send for your cousin Lord Cambridge to come back to Scotland. He must be bored to death at Friarsgate by now.”
