The Queen's Lady (28 page)

“More trouble, I fear. God save our queen, but her temper is something of late.”

She didn't have to ask him which queen; Maitland was loyal to Mary.

One of Elizabeth's personal servants met them outside the queen's chamber. There Maitland stopped. “She has asked to speak with you alone,” he said.

Worried, Gwenyth found herself escorted in. Elizabeth was actually in bed. She looked worn and impatient.

“Your Grace. You're not well,” Gwenyth said with concern.

Elizabeth waved a hand in the air. “An ague, and exhaustion. I'm not so ill, I promise you. I refuse to die, you know.”

Gwenyth lowered her head, smiling.

“Ah, you mustn't laugh, my dear lady. I mean it. All this fuss over my crown when I die…I shall simply live, and that is all.”

“I pray that you do so for as long as a woman may,” Gwenyth told her.

Again, Elizabeth smiled. “I believe you mean it,” she murmured. She eyed Gwenyth then with a gentle expression. “Well, there is nothing to do but tell you what I have heard, and through reliable sources, and what I intend to do. First, I am sending you to the Tower.”

Gwenyth gasped, so stunned she nearly fell.

“Do sit,” Elizabeth said drily. “I am having you incarcerated as a show of my anger.”

“Your anger?” Gwenyth breathed.

“With my cousin over this wretched Darnley affair. They were duly wed, and now they are off making an unseemly effort at creating an heir—thus twisting my arm ever further.”

Gwenyth hesitated. “She told me once, when we first came to Scotland, that she found him fascinating. Very handsome. And that was only because he had been sent to give her his condolences at the death of Francis. Please…you must understand. She truly wants to please you, I believe. But she doesn't know you. And she…she is very passionate.”

“So I hear,” Elizabeth murmured.

“I mean to convey that she is a woman with a tremendous heart, a woman who needs and desires the proper husband.”

“My point. He is not the proper husband.”

“She is in love.”

“Something you understand all too well.”

“Aye.”

“That,” Elizabeth said very softly, “is the truth of why I'm sending you to the Tower.”

“I admit, I am confused,” Gwenyth said.

There was a sparkle in Elizabeth's eye. “It will only be for a short time.”

“I am certainly grateful to hear that,” Gwenyth said fervently.

“Mary, Queen of Scots, has stated that you are not legally married. She is furious with Laird Rowan, despite his efforts to bring about peace between Mary and her barons. She has outlawed her brother, James Stewart, and Laird Rowan with him. James has been appealing to me for asylum. I, of course, will have to keep my eye on events. I do not believe in usurping a proper monarch, but many of the nobles feel as James Stewart does, that Mary is no longer fit to rule, that she has given in completely to the whims of her new husband and no longer seeks the sage and learned advice of those who would consider the well-being of the whole of Scotland, not only their own quest for personal gain.”

Gwenyth had remained standing though her limbs felt weak. She had heard only the first words Elizabeth had spoken.

She had no legal marriage.

“Mary has also written, demanding your return.”

Gwenyth exhaled. “I see. But…I'm going to the Tower?”

“Because, my dear, I have decided to befriend you. You have offered me nothing but complete honesty, and it is a travesty that Mary is seeking some petty vengeance against you while she dallies in her foolish passion.”

“I'm sure…I'm sure that Queen Mary will rise to the occasion,” Gwenyth managed to whisper.

She couldn't believe that her queen had turned from her so completely, and yet she knew that Elizabeth was not lying.

“Well, you will understand then why I am sending you to the Tower. Since the Queen of Scotland refuses to recognize your marriage and your husband is outlawed for his friendship with James Stewart, being my guest for the time being will be best for your health—and that of the health of the child you are carrying.”

Gwenyth lowered her eyes, feeling more and more as if the world were slipping away from her. She had only recently realized that what Elizabeth had said was true.

They were expecting a child.

It should have been the happiest occasion in the world.

It
was
the happiest occasion.

But she desperately longed to have her child's father with her, and she couldn't help but be furious that Mary, whom she had served so loyally, had turned a blind eye to her happiness. And it was difficult to imagine, as well, that Mary—who had once turned so trustingly and correctly to her half brother James—now not only repudiated him but also, apparently, any man who was his friend.

“The Tower is not so terrible a place, though it has witnessed a great deal of horror. I have been a guest there myself, you know,” Elizabeth said. “You will have complete freedom within the walls,” she added.

“Thank you,” Gwenyth murmured.

“I won't have you arrested until tomorrow,” Elizabeth told her.

“Annie may come with me?”

“Naturally.”

Laird Maitland was waiting for her outside of the queen's private quarters.

“I'm going to the Tower,” she told him flatly.

He nodded. “I believe it will be best, for now.”

Gwenyth looked at him with a frown. “Why would Mary do this to me?” she asked.

He looked away. “Elizabeth is sending you to the Tower, not Mary.”

“Mary has made Rowan an outcast and declared our marriage void in the eyes of Scotland. What has happened? She needed me so much, relied on me. And now I am…disposable!”

“Ah, lass, let things simmer down a bit. It's hard to imagine that she will not make peace with her brother. But you have to understand, Laird James is all but threatening a rebellion. I believe that he has asked Elizabeth for aid.”

“Will she fight Mary?”

Maitland shook his head. “I have had long discussions with her envoy, Lord Throgmorton. Long discussions. Elizabeth is insistent that Mary's right as queen be protected. If she were not, she would jeopardize her own position, you see.”

“She would not fight even for the cause of Protestantism?”

Maitland laughed with little amusement. “Mary claims that she has no grudge against the Church of Scotland but will not see the Catholics in Scotland persecuted. James claims that his sister is growing too fond of her Catholic cause. Quite frankly, at this point, it is a power struggle and nothing more. But many of the barons of Scotland—whether they dare speak with Laird James now or not—loathe Darnley and his rule. Then again, many of them will loathe any man who rises when they do not.”

“What will come of all this?” Gwenyth asked worriedly.

“Let's pray for peace. In the meantime, it will appear that you are Queen Mary's loyal subject, so loyal that you will gladly sit in the Tower of London for her. In the meantime,” he added softly, “you will have your child. Discreetly. When the time is right, do not fear, the Queen of Scotland will bless your marriage. You need have no fear for yourself or the babe. Just be patient.”

“I don't even know where Rowan is.”

“Nor do I, at this moment. But do not fear. I believe in my heart that all will be well. If we didn't have faith, we couldn't continue on each day, could we?”

“Each day seems an eternity,” Gwenyth said.

“But we fight each day.” His eyes twinkled. “Some fight with swords, and some fight with words. I will serve the queen. My queen. And I will have faith and pray for the best. As must you.”

“But Rowan—”

“Rowan knows how to manage in this world.”

 

“Y
OU ARE DECLARED AN OUTLAW
as well, you know,” James fumed furiously to Rowan. James was packing his bags, getting ready to flee across the border.

Rowan had never intended to go to war against the queen, but James had been willing to take a stand against his younger half sister. But Mary had gained something in Scotland they had once fervently hoped for: the love of the people. Riding into Edinburgh while his sister and her new bridegroom traveled north to visit her lands, James had not found the support he needed to force a showdown that would keep Henry Stewart and his ambitious family from rising any higher.

Now word had come that Mary, having been told about his defiance of her rule, had ordered his arrest. A series of secret communications between James and Elizabeth had ensued, leading to this planned flight. Rowan was sorry the Scottish laird did not know the English queen as he did.

Elizabeth was a master of double-talk. She had promised Laird James nothing, though she had not refused him.

As ever, she would watch which way the wind blew.

Rowan had heard that he had been declared an outlaw, as well, but he didn't believe Mary meant her threats against him; he had done nothing but try to ease her every waking moment. He had been the messenger she had requested time and time again. He did not seek power, only the well-being of his nation.

Admittedly, he resented the queen, and with good reason, but he had not betrayed her, had never said a word against her. Even in her fierce denial of his marriage, he had not turned on her in any way.

“There has to be a way to solve this,” Rowan told James.

“There is. I'm going over the border,” James told him. Rowan was not surprised. He had found James deep in the Lowland stronghold of Laird MacConaugh, a staunch Protestant lord who held lands so close to England that he could come and go at will.

“I will ride south and seek an audience with Elizabeth. You must ride with me. You can hasten such an event.”

“James, we must break this stalemate. There must be peace between you and your sister. You are the very heart of Scotland to many people. To many nobles—”

“Our nobles are as fickle as the wind.”

“And the wind changes,” Rowan agreed wearily. “You have to understand. I must stay and try to make the queen see reason.”

“She is too infatuated with that ridiculous fop to see reason,” James said.

“Aye.” Rowan hesitated. “But her infatuation will end.”

James hesitated. “Stay, then. Tell her that I felt I had to leave, that I feared for my life, because she has come so thoroughly under the domination of her husband and his family. But, my friend, unless she quickly sees the fault in Lord Darnley…there is little hope for real peace in Scotland.”

“I love Scotland. I want it to be a country of peace, a place where I may at long last raise a family. Where my sons may grow up proud.”

James smiled grimly. “Perhaps, then, you should travel with me. And visit your illegal bride.”

“Don't you think I'm anxious to return to her?” Rowan asked, shaking his head. “I have to make my peace with Mary first.”

“Godspeed, then,” James told him.

 

T
HAT NIGHT, AS
R
OWAN
neared Edinburgh, riding alone on Styx, he saw a party of twenty horsemen riding forward to greet him.

To his amazement, one of them, a man he had never seen before, rode ahead of the others, challenging him. “Laird Rowan Graham, Earl of Lochraven?”

“Aye. I've come to wait for the return of Queen Mary,” he said. “I seek an audience, on behalf of Laird James Stewart and the health of the realm.”

“You are under arrest, m'laird.”

“I am under arrest?” he repeated.

“For high treason.”

“You jest.”

“I do not,” the man said. Then he swallowed uneasily, his Adam's apple bobbing. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “Would that I were jesting, Laird Rowan,” he said. “God, would that I were.” He looked nervous, uneasy.

“Who are you, man?” Rowan demanded.

“Sir Alan Miller.”

“Your accent is English.”

“I am in the service of…Lord Darnley.” He lowered his head. “Your arrest has been charged to me.”

And he was most unhappy about that fact, Rowan knew.

He looked at the rest of the men who had come to take him into custody. He didn't recognize any of them. They were not the warriors who had defended Scotland through the years. This was a group that had gained power through Dudley or his father, the earl of Lennox. They were not an impressive group. Styx was a far finer mount than any of those ridden by these men. He sincerely doubted that any of them knew a thing about swordplay.

He could run….

He did not want to fight. He didn't fear for his own life, only that he would be forced to kill too many men, and he did not want to have murder added to the charges against him. The queen might well have him tried for treason, but there were far too many lairds of honesty and sobriety to see him convicted.