Love Wild and Fair (29 page)

fetch Chancellor John Maitland here to me. If he’ll but come to get me I will willingly return to prison this instant!”

The crowd broke into delighted guffaws, and several men ran off in the direction of the chancellor’s house to return a few minutes later saying that the chancellor’s servants claimed he was not at home. The crowd hooted with derision. Then Francis Hepburn flung a purse of crowns to them. When they had quieted, Bothwell said, “Tell Maitland I’ll be waiting for him if he’s brave enough to come after me! I’ll be in the borders! And to my cousin, Jamie the king, I send my deepest loyalty.”

Valentine reared up on his back legs as Hepburn shouted,
“A Bothwell! A Bothwell!”
and galloped unmolested from the Nether Bow, the approval of the crowd reverberating in his ears.

W
HILE Bothwell and his party galloped off to the borders, John Maitland set to work to undermine him farther with the king. Maitland was a brilliant statesman. Like other statesmen of his time he was, by necessity, ruthless. He wanted only one power in Scotland—the monarchy—for then he, Maitland, could rule through the king.

For years the royal Stewarts had been plagued by their earls. They ruled only by the cooperation of their nobility. They scattered their bastards generously among the daughters of the upper class, and then married those valuable bastards to the best families in hopes of joining themselves solidly to the powerful clans. They needed their great lords’ support in order to rule unchallenged.

Maitland intended putting a stop to all this. He would break the power of these troublemakers. Beginning first with Bothwell on the borders, he would proceed to Huntley, the Cock of the North. If only, he sighed to himself, the great chiefs could be more like some of the smaller clan branches. He thought in particular of the Earl of Glenkirk, and his cousin of Sithean, a minor branch of Clan Leslie who had built up great wealth. They sought no political power, kept the peace on their lands, and rallied to the Stewarts in time of war.

The chancellor called for his coach and hurried off to Holyrood Palace to see the king. He found James in a panic, and the queen trying to calm him.

“How did he escape?” shrieked the king. “How? How? How? Edinburgh Castle is impregnable. Someone had to help him! I want to know who!”

“Sire, sire! Calm yourself,” said Maitland. “Though no one saw Lord Bothwell leave, there is, I am sure, a logical explanation for his escape.”

“No one saw him go?” whispered the king. “Witchcraft! Again he resorts to witchcraft!”

The chancellor hid a smile, pleased that his subtle inference had not escaped the king. But he had not reckoned with the queen.

“Nonsense!” she snapped. “I am sure the chancellor means nothing of the sort, do ye, sir? La, James! Do ye think Francis really flew out of his cell on a broomstick? More likely as not he bribed the watch! Men will do anything for money.”

“His men won’t,” said the king sourly. “I’ve tried to buy information from them.”

“Well,” allowed the queen, smiling, “Francis is a rather special person.”

“Is he?” asked Maitland, hardly surprised to find the queen in Bothwell’s camp. Women were quite susceptible to the man’s charm Maitland did not understand it.

“Yes,” answered Anna of Denmark, looking straight at the chancellor. “Francis Hepburn could charm a duck out of water.”

“I want him found!” yelled the king. “I want him found, and brought back!”

“It will be done, your majesty. It will not be easy, but it will be done.”

“If ye had gone to the Nether Bow this morning ye could have had him back in prison already,” said the

queen blandly. Her ladies giggled, and Maitland shot the queen a venomous look which she chose not to see.

“What’s this?” demanded the king.

“Lord Bothwell rode to the Nether Bow earlier this morning, James, and offered to return to prison if our chancellor would but come and fetch him The servants claimed he was not at home, but I understand he was at home, cowering in a cabinet.”

The king began to chuckle, and the chuckle grew to laughter. “He outfoxed ye, Maitland!” chortled the king. “Trust Francis! He’s a good fisherman, and he played ye like a salmon! He knew damned well ye’d nae dare venture out of yer house after him He’s made ye look a fool!”

“His behavior is an affront to the crown,” snapped Maitland. “It undermines your majesty’s dignity. He should be severely punished!”

“It undermines
yer
dignity, Maitland,” said the king, but the chancellor’s words had stung him. “How would ye punish him?” he asked.

“Forfeiture,” said John Maitland promptly. “His offices. His estates.”

“No! No!” cried the queen. “Francis is our cousin, James. I know he is reckless, and at times arrogant, but he is the kindest man I know—and he has always been your majesty’s good friend. He has never conspired against ye, or lied to ye as others have.”

“There are the charges of witchcraft, Annie.”

“Ridiculous charges that no one believes! Your own peers are so offended by these charges that they will not even meet to try him! Please, my dear husband. Do not be harsh with Francis. He is our friend, and we have so few.”

“We must make an example of this rogue!” thundered Maitland.

“Sir!” said the queen, angrily drawing herself up.

“You quite overstep yourself!” She turned to the king. “I should be very unhappy, sire, if ye punished our cousin severely. ’Tis midsummer, and if I know Francis he has but run off to go swimming.”

She made it sound so unimportant. James put an arm about his pretty wife. “Let me think on it, lovey,” he said soothingly, and bent to kiss her.

The queen turned and, walking slowly to her bedchamber door, opened it. “ ‘Tis still early, Jamie. Dismiss Master Maitland, and come back to bed.” Her blue eyes were innocent enough, but the look she gave him was very provocative, and the king felt a stirring in his loins.

Maitland was forced to retire for the moment He was not one to give up easily. The queen had won this round by using her sex, a practice Maitland abhorred. He realized he needed something he could use against Hepburn which would anger the king and keep him angered long enough to allow for forfeiture proceedings.

Suddenly, memory pounced conveniently on the rumor about a woman who had ridden with Bothwell this spring. No one know who she was, but she was said to be very beautiful. Too, his spies had told him that when Bothwell had left for the border today, he had ridden with his bastard half-brother and a beautiful woman. Maitland didn’t know whether knowledge of the lady would help him, but he felt he should have it He sent for one of his most trustworthy men.

“Go to Hermitage Castle,” ordered the chancellor, “and find out who Bothwell’s woman is. I do not care how you get your information, but I must have it within a week.”

Several days later the man returned and said to the anxious chancellor, “Lady Catriona Leslie, the Countess of Glenkirk.”

“You are sure?” asked the amazed chancellor.

“I got it from her personal maid.” The informant did not explain that he had lured the girl from the castle, tortured the name from her, and then cut her throat.

Maitland’s memory leaped once again. The king’s chamberboy had come into his pay, and he sent for the fellow. “What do you know of Catriona Leslie?”

Barra wrote his answer on the pad hanging from his waist. “She was the king’s secret mistress, but she ran away from him. He still desires her.” He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to the chancellor.

John Maitland read. Smiling, he handed Barra a small bag of gold. He was jubilant! Here was just the weapon he needed to destroy Francis Hepburn. But he had to be careful that his spies were absolutely correct.

Discreet inquiries over the period of a few days netted him the astounding information that Lady Bothwell had just been granted a divorce by the kirk. A further probe told him that the Countess of Glenkirk had applied for a divorce through her uncle, the Abbot of Glenkirk Abbey. The abbot was presenting her petition to the Scots prelate. Unable to contain his excitement, John Maitland hurried to Holyrood. By the time his coach had pulled into the courtyard, he had managed to calm himself somewhat The king must not suspect that his chancellor knew his most intimate secret.

He waited almost the entire day until he was able to see the king alone. “I have,” he said, “discovered an amusing sidelight to Francis Hepburn’s life. I know the identity of the woman who’s his latest mistress—the one who’s been riding with him on raids.”

James loved gossip. “Tell me, Maitland,” he said impatiently. “Who is she?”

“'Tis the most amazing thing, sire. Of all the noble-women

in Scotland I would have said this lady was the least likely candidate for Bothwell’s bed. He plans to marry her, and Lady Bothwell has just been granted a divorce by the kirk. The lady I speak of is in the process of gaining her own freedom.”

“Yes, Maitland, very interesting, but who is she?”

“Why, ‘tis the Countess of Glenkirk, sire. Lady Catriona Leslie. That lovely creature they call the Virtuous Countess here at court.”

For the briefest moment James Stewart thought his heart had stopped. “Who, Maitland? Who did ye say?”

“Lady Leslie, sire. Glenkirk’s wife.”

The king looked sick, so Maitland chose that moment to ask permission to withdraw. But as he went he heard the command. “Dinna leave the palace tonight” The chancellor departed, smiling to himself. Bothwell was as good as destroyed. Maitland hadn’t missed the look of anguish in the king’s face.

James paced his bedroom angrily. Francis Stewart-Hepburn was his nemesis and always had been. Four years older than the king, he had always been bigger, stronger, brighter. They were both handsome, but Francis was handsomer—almost godlike, with rugged good looks. James studied hard to acquire learning, but Francis sopped up knowledge like a sponge, easily and without strain. Women flocked to Bothwell. He was charming. James was quite uncomfortable with women, having been brought up in a male society where women were rarely included. In short, Francis was everything his cousin James longed to be.

Bothwell had gone too far when he had taken Cat Leslie from the king, and James would not forgive him that after all the rest In bitter frustration, the king overlooked the circumstances under which Cat had fled him. All James chose to know at this point was that Cat had apparently offered Bothwell what she had refused the king. She had given Francis her heart

He would stop the lovers. Cat would not get her divorce. James would instruct Chancellor Maitland to speak to the cardinal about it He also intended declaring his popular cousin an outlaw. His estates and tide would be forfeit Cat could hardly remain with an outlaw.

James was angry with Catriona Leslie. He had honored this insignificant highland countess by making her a lady of his wife’s bedchamber. She had disappointed him badly. She was no better than any of the other women at court who spread their legs for a man with such ease.

John Maitland came later on, as bidden, hoping he did not appear too eager. His face was a study in impassivity as the king ordered that Francis Stewart-Hepburn, fifth Earl of Bothwell, be put to the horn and his estates confiscated. The following morning a royal herald publicly announced the king’s decision to the people of Edinburgh. He was pelted with garbage by the outraged citizens. They hated having their hero brought down.

The king was feeling put-upon. The queen was not speaking to him and she had locked the doors to her apartments. Lady Margaret Douglas had forced her way into his presence, insisting furiously that the crown had no right to confiscate anything other than Hermitage. She waved a paper which she claimed proved that Bothwell had signed over all of his estates except Hermitage to their eldest son, the earl’s legitimate heir.

James turned on her. “While Francis was in my good graces, madame, his estates were his to do with as he pleased. Since he is no longer in my good graces his property is being confiscated by the crown.”

“Ye cannot expect me to leave Crichton,” snapped Margaret Douglas. “ ‘Tis my home, and that of my children. Where are we to go?”

“Go to yer father, or go to the devil!” replied the

king. “I care not, Margaret, but stay out of my presence! Yer forbidden at court.”

Margaret Douglas retired, defeated. She would be back, for she didn’t intend seeing her eldest son robbed of his inheritance. But she needed time to marshal her forces.

By the following day, Francis Hepburn knew that the king had declared war on him. He did not know precisely why. Breaking out of his prison in Edinburgh Castle had probably not prompted this.

“He knows,” said Cat with the certainty of a woman’s intuition. “He knows we are lovers.”

“Nonsense,” returned Bothwell. “Even Jamie could not be that petty.”

But she knew she was right, and when Lord Home arrived several days later his conversation with Francis confirmed her suspicions. Sandy Home caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “The most beautiful,
and
the costliest hand in Scotland,” he whispered. He loosed her hand and turned to Bothwell. “I’ve been charged by the king to take ye,” he chuckled. “However, if yer not of a mind to return to Edinburgh in the summer’s heat, I’ll understand, and I think I’ll join ye here on the border.”

“What’s put Cousin Jamie in such a temper?” asked Bothwell.

“Maitland. He suggested forfeiture two weeks ago, but the queen defended ye, reminding the royal ingrate of yer loyalty and yer service to the crown.” Home looked serious. “I believe all would hae been well, but I think the king has found out that Cat is here. When he charged me to come to Hermitage and make ye a prisoner of the crown, he kept harping on yer ‘lustfulness’ wi a ‘certain lady’ of the court. I dared not question him, Francis, but I am sure he meant Cat How in hell could he have found out?”

“The girl who has been my maid since I came to Hermitage was found murdered in the woods near here,” said Cat “She had been cruelly tortured.”