CHAPTER NINE

T HE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were a strange combination of celebration and danger.

They moved warily through the Highlands, though in Rowan's assessment, there were enough men in the queen's service to protect her against anything other than an all-out assault, and as it seemed she was welcomed by most, he didn't see an imminent danger to her person.

When they neared Strathbogie, Mary conferred long with her brother, Ambassador Maitland and Rowan himself. He was glad when she decided to bypass the Gordon stronghold there and continue on to Darnaway Castle. It was not Holyrood, but it had a large hall, and it was there that Mary made the public announcement that her brother had been named the Earl of Moray.

From there they traveled on to Inverness, and it was there that trouble erupted.

News came that, just as Rowan had feared, John Gordon had escaped his imprisonment in Edinburgh. He had gathered a troop of a thousand men and was now hurrying after their party. Another Gordon, Alexander, refused them entrance to Inverness Castle, though it was a royal holding and in Gordon hands only because Lord Huntly was sheriff of Inverness.

Such a refusal was simple treason. It could not be excused under any circumstance.

As they camped on the land before the castle and the queen weighed her options, word came from Lord Huntly that the gates were to be opened to allow the queen entrance.

"The wily old goat has heard that the Highlanders are ready to rise for their queen in the face of such an insult," James said.

Rowan couldn't argue that. He had seen the people cheer Mary in the streets. Even so…"Armed men enter first," he warned.

Mary despised violence, but when James informed her that the captain of the castle must be hanged, the queen paled but could not disagree, and the man was hanged over the battlements without delay.

At their first meal in the great hall, Mary rose, lifting her glass to her supporters at the long table. "To the Highlands. We must dress as these valiant folk. Laird Rowan, you're close enough in appearance. The rest of us must take to our clan tartans."

Rowan looked around the table at the queen's ladies, at her close advisors, at the men-at-arms invited to the great table, and wondered what was to become of them all.

The queen had made no final decision as to what was to become of Lord Huntly. The man was not a fool. He moved constantly from one of his holdings to the next, always ahead of the queen, while his son and his men harried the queen's party. Rowan had been wary and on alert for so long that he was exhausted and feared whatever time the queen might spend beyond the fortifications of the castle.

Gwenyth, surrounded by the queen's Marys, seemed light and happy. She lowered her head to listen to words spoken by Mary Fleming, and her smile was radiant. The queen's ladies were all pleasingly attractive, but none shone like the Lady Gwenyth. He forced his attention to James Stewart, who was drawing invisible maps of the countryside with his finger upon the table.

"All Huntly land," James said, his expression serious as he shook his head. "Although I have seldom seen the queen merrier. She seems to love the Highlands and is calm in the face of the ever-present danger offered by Huntly." He set his tankard down hard. "She has never fallen to his coy suggestions that she have a Catholic stronghold here in the north, but neither does she relish her duty of seeing that he is ousted from his position."

Rowan held silent. James Stewart was an ambitious man himself, and Rowan wondered if Mary truly understood people, even now. She had to move against Huntly, and she knew it. But he wondered if she was aware what a serious mistake it would be to cast all the power with the Protestant lords, her brother at the head of them.

"Rowan?" James said, and pointed at the invisible map. "What do you think?"

"If I were Huntly…here, when we leave to cross the Spey…therein lies the danger, and we know that John Gordon is following us with a thousand men, at least."

"We will be fiercely on guard," James said.

"What, not a singer among you?" the queen demanded, drawing their attention as she laughed with the musicians who had just entered, bearing their various instruments. "We all love to sing, but Gwenyth is our star. Come, my dear. These men know all the lovely Highland ballads, and you, dear friend, know them all, as well."

The queen dragged Gwenyth forward as the musicians began to play.

She had a beautiful voice, Rowan thought, and rose, just as the others at the table began to do so, ready to dance at the queen's behest.

He had to leave, he thought, as she sang just as she had sung to Catherine, night after night, before his wife had died.

He caught her eyes across the crowded hall, and when she looked back, he knew it was in apology. She had but obeyed the queen's command, he knew, but still, he could not stay and quickly exited the great hall.

T HEY CROSSED THE S PEY without incident, though they knew John Gordon and his troops were watching from the woods.

Perhaps they made no move, though they saw the vulnerability of the party as it crossed the river, because they were aware they were being watched in return. Perhaps John Gordon knew that despite the army he had acquired, he didn't yet have enough strength to attack the queen.

When they reached the castle at Find, the queen ordered that it be surrendered, but she was not obeyed, and the men advised her that it could not be taken without cannon. And so they passed by.

On the return to Aberdeen, she was joyously greeted. And it was there that she sighed and gave in to James, allowing him to send for weapons, cannon and men. In the days that followed, emissaries carried messages between Huntly and the queen, she making demands, he countering them.

As Rowan sat to breakfast with James and Mary one morning, one of the queen's spies arrived. The man was exhausted, and when the queen stood to greet him, Rowan and James followed suit.

"The countess was angry when you denied her a meeting here, Your Grace. She rode out to meet her husband. I heard her crying in despair. She said her witches assured her that he would lie dead by the tollbooth by nightfall, not a mark on his body. They plan to attack, and she is convinced he will die."

"Where and when will the attack come?" Mary demanded.

The spy hung his head. "I don't know. I had to run away with what I had. My presence was noted, and I feared I would not be able to get back with what little I knew if I did not quickly slip away."

"You did right, and I thank you for your service. You will be rewarded."

Rowan turned to James. "He will take up a position on the Hill of Fare, right above the field of Corrichie."

"What makes you so certain?" James asked.

"He has it in his mind that any of the Highlanders fighting for the queen will desert, that he will take the day."

"And will they desert?" the queen asked softly.

Rowan turned to her. "I don't believe so. You have given them no cause. And you…" He hesitated, afraid to create a bloodbath, then told himself that the battle would be fought, so better a bloodbath for the enemy than for the queen and their party. "Strike him here. He will be trapped, and I'm quite certain he will not see it," Rowan said, explaining with lines on the floor as he spoke. "If he's forced down the hill, he will be caught in a swamp. There will be no escape."

"You are certain that the landscape sits so?" James said.

"I know the Highlands like the back of my hand, Lord James."

"But you can't be certain he will choose the position you have indicated."

"It is the only one he can take. He will believe he has the high ground, and that he will hold it."

The queen looked saddened as she looked at the two of them. "Then so be it. We will be ready," she said, and looked intently at Rowan. "I pray you are correct in your prediction of his position."

T HE QUEEN HAD TAKEN to spending the mornings in council with her brother, and sometimes with Rowan and Maitland, as well, so Gwenyth was startled when Mary burst into her room, where she had been reading to pass the time.

"The insolence…the treason!" the queen cried.

Gwenyth struggled quickly to her feet, staring at her monarch.

"The word has come. Huntly indeed intends to attack. His wife's witches have said he will be triumphant, so says our spy. Witches! A pox on them all. They practice their evil craft illegally, and it is almost impossible to bring them to justice."

Gwenyth was silent; she still found it difficult to believe that someone as well-educated as the queen could believe in the power of witchcraft.

The queen continued. "Thank God we avoided some of Huntly's holdings. It is almost unbelievable, but the man actually intends to abduct me, to force me into marriage with his son. It's…despicable." She shook her head. "It's treason."

"He will not succeed," Gwenyth said, trying to calm Mary before she became so upset that she made herself ill.

"This would not have happened in France," Mary said.

"I fear that men are avaricious everywhere," Gwenyth said. "They always want more than what they have."

The queen sank down on Gwenyth's bed. "I will have to do battle against one of the few Catholic lords in this country. May God forgive me."

Gwenyth weighed her words carefully. "You are the queen. You must rule your country. You must preserve Scotland, no matter what it takes."

"I must," Mary agreed, distraught. She gripped Gwenyth's hand suddenly. "Laird Rowan is confident he knows Huntly's plan of battle, but what if he is wrong? What if we fall?"

"We will not."

Mary stood and began pacing again. "If only I knew for certain…"

Gwenyth watched her tortured pacing. "What of your spy?"

"He can get no closer. I have other men out there, but…"

"Someone will find the truth. Huntly has held power here these many years," Gwenyth told her, "and yet so many of your good Highlanders are in awe of their beautiful young queen—they will honor and support you."

The queen stopped. "The townspeople will know something. Servants know everything, and they tend to whisper," she said.

"That's true," Gwenyth agreed. Then she frowned, afraid that an idea had been born in the queen's head.

"We must go out among them," Mary announced.

Gwenyth's heart sank. She had been right. "Mary, they will recognize you. They'll bow down, but they won't talk."

The queen shook her head, growing excited. "We will go in disguise. Like washerwomen, like fishwives…servants, seeking the markets."

Gwenyth bit her lip, surveying her monarch. "Your Grace, you cannot hide in a crowd."

"Why not?"

"You're far too tall."

Mary hesitated. "I will go out as a man."

"It's still too dangerous."

Mary began to pace again. "We must win. The gall of Huntly—and his wretched son! John Gordon is of the opinion he is so powerful and fetching a young man that I will be delighted to make him king and obey in his shadow. They think that I am so fickle a queen that I will forget the will of my people, that because of my religious beliefs I will turn on those who do not believe as I do. They will attack me. "

"Mary, you have the finest men at your service."

"And I would not lose them, Gwenyth. But what if things do not go as Laird Rowan expects? We will go out in the streets, as servants, and we will hear what gossip circulates there."

Gwenyth shook her head. "No. You cannot, Mary. Not as a man or a woman." She took a deep breath. "I'll go. I'll take some of your hairpieces and have Annie dress me in the proper garb. She and I will walk the shops and the green, and find out what is being said among the people. Besides, my lady, I need not feign the accent that will let me blend with the people here."

Mary frowned, watching her. "I would not put you in danger."

"Yet you would put yourself in danger!" Gwenyth laughed softly. "You are gold, Your Grace. I am but silver."

Mary smiled at that. "You will stay near the manor. And you will return the minute you have heard anything about the battle."

"Aye, Your Grace."

"This mission must be completely secret. You must take care. What if you are recognized as one of my ladies?"

"I will not be recognized," Gwenyth assured her.

Gwenyth was able to prove her point an hour later when she entered the hall in Annie's clothing, cotton stuffing filling out her blouse and skirt beneath her jacket. She wore poor, oversized work boots, a dark hairpiece, and a woolen shawl over everything. She had used charcoal on her cheeks and around her eyes to give herself the look of someone who had been working over a fire all day.

When she and Annie entered the queen's chambers, the queen did not recognize her. "Annie, where is your lady?" Mary demanded. "And who is this you have brought before me? Does she work here in the manor?"

Gwenyth burst out laughing, and Mary gasped, then laughed, as well. "Indeed, you've proven your point."

"I will take no chances, Your Grace," Gwenyth assured her. "We will shop the stalls and hear what we may."

Mary hesitated, then nodded. "We have to be certain," she said. "But if you're not back before nightfall, I'll have the guard out after you."

"We will be back," Gwenyth assured her.

As they left the queen's chamber, Gwenyth nearly froze when James, Maitland and Rowan walked by. But none of them noticed her. James and Maitland didn't pay them any heed; Rowan merely offered a nod and a slight smile to Annie.

As soon as the men had passed by, Gwenyth grabbed Annie's hand and went running down the hall, trying not to laugh. Annie freed herself from Gwenyth's hold, turning to berate her. "'Tis a fool's errand we're upon, I tell ye, a fool's errand."

"Oh, hush, Annie. Please. I'm but playacting for a matter of a few hours."

They strode past the queen's guard, who had been stationed around the manor when she had bowed to her brother's decision that they must be on high alert at all times.

"The city is filled with the queen's forces," Annie noted.

"Aye, she has her best archers, her finest military minds…"

Annie let out a breath. "Then 'tis good enough, I suppose, to protect fools against fools' errands."

"The fish market," Gwenyth said.

Annie eyed her warily, and they walked on. "At least ye've the right accent for it."

They walked the streets, huddled together like a pair of servants who had long attended to the same master. Gwenyth knew that Aberdeen was small enough that many people would know one another, and yet it was large enough that visitors might roam the markets unremarked.

As they perused the stalls, they were greeted by the squawking of chickens, the aroma of fish and the cries of the hawkers peddling everything from woolens and needles to cooking utensils. A toy maker dangled a puppet before them, and they thanked him for the entertainment but moved on. At each stall, they pretended to be weighing the merchandise against the coins in their purses. At length they paused before a vendor selling cups of ale cheap.

Annie lifted her nose at the place and gave the vendor a long speech on the amount of dirt he was allowing into his ale, complaining that she didn't like imbibing Aberdeen dust. And as she argued her point, Gwenyth at last heard two maids nearby whispering about Huntly and his planned attack.

"It may well be now that he sets himself up as king here," one girl, a tiny but work-worn redhead, whispered, giggling.

"Aye, an' that will make the countess a happy woman—and a queen," the second maid, a pretty young lass with brown hair, agreed.

"'Tis also said they mean to take the queen an' marry her off to their son. Then the whole of the country will be under Huntly rule," the redhead whispered, looking nervously around.

"All the better for us," Gwenyth chimed in beneath her breath, yet loud enough for the two women to hear.

Annie, bless her, kept up her chastisement of the vendor, giving Gwenyth ample opportunity to join in with the maids.

The redhead giggled again. "What do I care, who is king, who is queen? I work the whole day long, no matter who rules."

The dark-haired girl was more serious. She sniffed. "Ach, we may find our lot far worse if the laird fails and the queen takes revenge."

"And would Laird Huntly fail?" Gwenyth asked as if such a thing were impossible.

"Never," the redhead agreed.

"We'd best be going," the brunette urged her companion. "So many to feed, with the men climbing to the heights."

"Camping upon the Hill o' Fare soon enough," the redhead said.

The brunette elbowed her. "Come, it's time to go."

"Or the countess will be showin' her wrath," the redhead agreed.

They hurried on, nodding farewell to Gwenyth, who grabbed Annie by the arm, almost causing her to spill the cup of ale she had finally agreed to purchase.

"We can go back."

"Back?" Annie said.

"Aye, now!"

They started back to the manor, no longer strolling the aisles and pretending to judge the merchandise for cost and quality. In her haste, Gwenyth began to stride quickly, deep in thought.

Annie pulled her back. "Ye can't go racin' through the place," she warned.

Gwenyth turned back to Annie, who had been huffing and puffing behind her, and started walking again. With her eyes still on the older woman, she plowed into the muscular body of a man. Startled, she looked up and was instantly filled with unease.

She had walked straight into Bryce MacIvey.

She held her breath, wondering what he was doing there in Aberdeen, since she knew he was one of the Protestant lairds. Perhaps that didn't matter. Perhaps he and his men had chosen to fight for Laird Huntly against the queen.

To her great relief, he looked down with disdain, clearly not recognizing her. "Stupid woman, get out of the way," he commanded.

She readily complied.

Apparently her face betrayed her rush of fear, because Annie demanded, "What? Who was that?"

"Bryce MacIvey," Gwenyth said, shuddering.

Annie gasped. "The clan that borders Laird Rowan's lands?"

"Aye."

"He might have known ye."

Gwenyth looked at her, shaking her head. "Didn't you see how he pushed me aside? He has no interest in servant girls."

"Let's hurry on," Annie urged.

But Gwenyth paused then, thoughtfully watching the man as he strode away, into the crowd. Then he stopped, as if in confusion, and looked back.

She stared into his eyes, and he frowned before hurrying away again.

"He's come to fight against the queen," Gwenyth said.

"Perhaps he's come to fight for her," Annie suggested.

Gwenyth shook her head. "He's dangerous, and he hates Laird Rowan. He desperately wants to increase his holdings, and he cannot not do so while Rowan supports the queen and the queen bows to his judgment."

"Then we must return to the manor and tell all we know," Annie said.

"We don't know enough," Gwenyth protested. "Laird Bryce's presence changes everything."

"We know enough," Annie insisted.

"All right," Gwenyth agreed softly.

They were on a quiet street nearing the manor when Gwenyth heard hoofbeats behind her. She started to turn, only to find herself swept up by the rider. Bryce MacIvey. A scream tore from her throat, which gave no pause to the horseman. Despite the thunder of the horse's hooves and her own state of danger, she was aware that Annie had also been snatched. She continued to scream loudly, praying that they could attract attention before being carried too far away.

Her heart thundered as she tried to think. Had he taken her because he knew who she was? Or only because she had aroused his suspicion, watching him as she had done?

The horse was moving with such speed that she knew she would be badly injured, perhaps die, if she fought so hard that she fell to the roadside.

And so, with a man she despised holding her tightly upon his mount, she had no choice but to cling to the horse and wait to see what fate would bring.

I T HAD BEEN EASY , with the buildup of arms on both sides, for Rowan to keep himself busy and not spend time dwelling on the woman who had come to haunt his every moment, waking or sleeping. But today, knowing that an attack was imminent, Rowan found himself disturbed when he didn't see Gwenyth among the queen's women.

When he asked Mary about her favorite's absence, she was vague. "She went to the market, I believe."

He remained worried. Aberdeen had seemed to welcome the queen—despite Huntly. Still, that any of the queen's ladies might be blithely walking about was a concern. Rowan knew too well how fickle the minds of the Highlanders could be, especially as now, when caught between loyalty to a new young queen, and the laird they had known and honored for years.

When he also couldn't find Annie busy at any task within the manor, he found himself growing more concerned. At last, he made up his mind that he was going to take a walk to the market and find her. He was irritated as he stepped out; there were now more than a thousand of the queen's men finding shelter in the fields, forests, halls and houses in the area. There were drills to be carried out and formations to be determined. His own cavalry awaited his command, and yet here he was, on a fool's errand.

Outside the manor, he found Gavin speaking with one of the queen's guard, awaiting his orders. But when Gavin lifted his brows, awaiting a military summons, Rowan shook his head and said only, "Join me. I need to find the Lady of Islington."

"I saw her maid, not an hour ago," Gavin told him.

Rowan frowned. "Where?"

"Heading with another servant toward the market."

"Did this servant dwarf Annie?" Rowan inquired.

"Aye, indeed."

"It was Gwenyth," Rowan said with annoyance. "What in God's name is she about?"

Gavin laughed. "It was not the Lady Gwenyth. She had to be a kitchen maid. She was all sooty, dark haired—and quite corpulent."

Rowan shook his head. "Trust me, my friend. It was Gwenyth. And I want to find her before she gets herself into some new trouble."

Even as he spoke, he heard screams coming from the direction of the market. He looked at Gavin. "Get the horses," he told him brusquely.

He was amazed when the troop of horsemen—six of them, two bearing screaming women—passed by the very manor itself, with all the queen's guard in attendance. When the guards would have sprung to life, Rowan stopped them. "It may well be a trap, intended to mow down many of the queen's finest before the battle. Inform Laird James that I am following the mob into the forest beyond. Tell him to take care, to avoid the obvious route, but to come after us."

Gavin arrived with the horses and looked questioningly at Rowan. "So we will ride into this trap?"

"Nay, Gavin. We will take the old Roman road through the trees, while these fellows will be tempting the queen's men upon the established trail."

Gavin nodded gravely. "Those were MacIvey colors, worn by the horsemen."

"Bryce MacIvey in the lead," Rowan said in agreement.

"They will know the old roads, as well."

T HE JOLTING , brUTAL RIDE lasted a good thirty minutes, carrying them far from the queen's manor—and the great host of men arriving to fight on her behalf.

When they came to a halt at last, in a small clearing deep in the forest, Gwenyth was dismayed to realize that there had been no pursuit, though they had been taken from beneath the very nose of the manor and its guards

Of course, who among the queen's guards would desert his post to ride to the rescue of two servants, servants no one would even have realized were in the queen's employ?

She found herself crudely dropped to the ground and let out no sound, but she heard Annie's bellow of protest at her rough fall. Gwenyth sprang to her feet, quickly adjusting her mantle and the woolen scarf atop her head, knowing full well it was more important than ever to maintain her disguise.

As Bryce MacIvey stared at her then, she realized that he did not in fact know who she was—only that he felt he should know.

"What manner of idiocy is this?" Annie railed from behind her. "What fool laird has decided that servants of the Highlands are to be abducted and abused?"

Bryce spun on Annie, approaching her with menace. "Ye are no Highlander, woman. I can hear it in y'er voice."

"She's me dear auntie!" Gwenyth cried out in old Gaelic. That drew Bryce's attention back to her, and she thought quickly before speaking again. First she spat on the ground, as if in disdain of him, even if he was a landed laird. "Me auntie is in the queen's service. I live in the woods outside Aberdeen, with me mum. But the queen does not allow for her servants to be ill treated. They'll be comin' fer ye, that they'll be!"

"Let them," he said.

Then she knew. The woods were surely crawling with his men. He had expected, even intended, to be followed. He must have had it in his head he would gain favor with Laird Huntly if he winnowed down the queen's troops.

Perhaps it was not so strange that no one had followed. The queen's guard must have seen through his ruse.

She pointed a finger at him and spoke sternly. "When the queen wins this battle, m'laird, ye'll hang. Mark me words, ye'll hang."

He scowled fiercely. "What? Do ye be some witch, casting out predictions?"

"No witch, m'laird," she said. "No witch, be I—just none other than a loyal Scot."

Bryce let out a sound of disgust and thrust her toward his men. "Keep a careful watch," he ordered them. "As for this one…she's young enough. Do with her what ye will. Then…well, we'll see. Like as not Laird Huntly will see that she hangs."

As she was thrown forward, the woolen scarf around her head was loosened. She had lost too many of her hair pins during the reckless ride, and now the hairpieces she had borrowed from the queen began to fall away.

"She sheds!" cried a man.

"She's filthy," added another.

"What whore is not?" Bryce MacIvey demanded. "Clean her up, if ye choose. There's a brook through yonder trees."

Fergus MacIvey came riding through the group of men. "What foolishness is this, Bryce? We mustn't play with the queen's refuse. We must stay on guard."

He dismounted and, coming through the crowd, grabbed hold of Gwenyth. She lowered her head, knowing it was best not to fight him. She was desperate to maintain her disguise. But he lifted her chin, despite her pretended subjugation.

He stared at her in stunned silence, searching her eyes, and then he started to laugh. "Bryce, y'haven't the eyes of a blind mole," he announced.

Bryce MacIvey didn't appreciate the laughter, even from a kinsman. "Fergus, guard y'er tongue!" he roared.

"Take a look at y'er servant girl, me lad," Fergus said.

Bryce MacIvey strode over, wrenching her from Fergus's grasp. He slipped his hand into her hair, jerking away the last of the hairpieces, bringing tears to her eyes and an involuntary cry from her lips as he did so.

Then he, too, started to laugh.

"Already," he said to his men, "we have bested the queen." His eyes narrowed, and he pulled Gwenyth closer. "And you, little witch, have lost indeed. There is no great Highland laird with his men to stop me now."