CHAPTER FIFTEEN

J AMES S TEWART WAS IN a rage.

He was not at Court; he had used every excuse not to make appearances when commanded to do so.

"I despair," he told Rowan. "My sister arrived here with the best of heart, soul and intentions. She cared for the country. She charmed the people, earned their respect. Now…it is as if she has forgotten all her training regarding politics and government. She has simply gone mad."

Rowan held silent, a heavy dread upon his heart. It was more than sad to see Mary and her half brother so torn apart. It was deadly.

He didn't need to reply. James continued without pause, gesturing as he spoke. "The fellow was raised in England and is all but a servant of Elizabeth. His mother thinks she has a right to the crown of England, and if she marries her pretty lad of a son to Mary of Scotland, the entire family will become all the more puffed up."

"Elizabeth has stated unequivocally that she will not bless such a union," Rowan told James.

James shook his head. "Go to Mary, see for yourself. She has quite lost her mind. Her wedding is planned."

"And you don't intend to be there?" Rowan asked.

"Nay, I do not!" James said forcefully. "She would hand the country over to the boy's parents, the Earl and Countess of Lennox, and I tell you, the lairds here will not accept it."

"But they may, in time," Rowan told him. "If an heir to the kingdom is produced from the marriage, the people will rally to Mary, whether they are fond of her choice of husband or not."

"She has already styled him as king, though the parliament or privy council must approve," James stated irritably.

"There has to be peace between you two," Rowan said. "There must be—or there will be further civil strife."

"I will not see my sister hand over our father's realm," he said flatly. "You must go to her and take my letters."

And so it was that Rowan arrived in Edinburgh in time for Queen Mary's wedding to Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley.

There had been changes at the queen's court, he saw. She had a new secretary, an Italian man named Riccio, and though her dear Marys were still all in attendance, there were several new young Frenchwomen and a few young Scottish women of high birth.

He was not even invited to see the queen before the wedding, which was to take place the following day in the chapel at Holyrood, though James's letters were at least taken to her.

The queen did not wear the traditional white but was dressed in black, with a great black hood, elegant and becoming certainly, but a clear announcement that she came into the marriage as a widow, the dowager queen of France. She exchanged her vows with Henry Stewart, and, as he watched, Rowan was deeply dismayed at the spectacle. He'd thought he had come to know Mary. She was passionate, strong-minded, and possessed of the deep belief that she had been born to be queen, that it was her right to rule. How could that woman have fallen in love with such a shallow manipulator?

He told himself that he had no right to judge. He even imagined, with a certain amusement, that Mary might well have first fallen head over heels in love with Darnley simply because the man was an inch or so taller than she was. He was golden and lean and, according to all reports, extremely adept at hunting and dancing, two of Queen Mary's greatest loves.

But there was something about the man that was unsettling. He was too golden. Too young. He lacked the strong character that the Scottish people would have adored and embraced in a king.

Soon after the ceremony, the queen abandoned her widow's elegant black as the feasting and celebration began, and at last Rowan was able to speak with her when he led her out to the dance floor.

Mary was euphoric. She didn't begin with questions about matters of state. Rather, she said, "Oh, Laird Rowan, is he not the perfect prince?"

He didn't want to lie to Mary. "It's certainly wonderful to see you so happy, Your Grace."

A strange look contorted her features. "She is envious, that is all," she said.

"Your Grace?"

"Elizabeth. It is because she will not choose a husband for herself, and she cannot accept that another monarch might do so and still fulfill her obligations. Tell me, how is Gwenyth doing? Well, I believe. Maitland has told me that my cousin finds her fascinating and honest. I must have Gwenyth with her, continuing to support me, especially if my dear husband and I quickly conceive an heir. Then the line of sucession must be drawn in my direction."

He lowered his head, understanding the ambition of royals, yet not understanding why it could not be enough to rule Scotland.

"She will, in her own loyal way, sway Elizabeth where others might not," Mary said calmly.

"You have yet to meet Elizabeth," he said warily.

"Yes—because she continually finds a reason why we should not."

"Your Grace, there are serious matters that I must discuss with you."

"In time. Here is the crux of your return. Will my brother beg my pardon?"

"Your brother loves you," he said.

"My brother loves power," she said, and stopped dancing to the music she so loved and stepped back, staring at him. "You will return to James. You will convince him that I will not turn from my husband. He will beg my pardon or he will be outlawed."

"I will go to him with your words," he said. "Your Grace, I would like to request that you call my Lady Gwenyth back to your service."

Her eyes widened. "Are you mad? She is dearly needed where she is. Of all my ladies, Scots by birth or no, she is best suited to be there as my representative."

"I have married her, Your Grace," he said softly.

He was astounded by the fury in the queen's eyes. "Does everyone seek to defy me now? I care not what trivial games you played together on your journey, you are not married! I will not have it! How dare you bow to Elizabeth and seek her sanction, rather than mine!"

He was stunned. "Your Grace, you must now know to what lengths passion can drive a man or a woman. I beg you—"

"You have offended me, Laird Rowan," she said icily. "And you will not disturb my celebration further by impressing upon me the disloyalty of my subjects. Go to my brother. Perhaps you can learn to repent together!"

With that, she walked from the dance floor and slipped immediately into the arms of her new boy-husband. Rowan stared after her, still shocked by her anger.

He watched her as she walked with the golden boy-king into the center of the room, and shook his head. This marriage was not destined to be what the queen dreamed, but there was no one here who would dare tell her so or to whom she would listen in any case. Henry Stewart was tall; she would never see that his height did not give him either wisdom or strength.

As he rode from Edinburgh, he told himself that Mary's reign would survive because it had to. She had been only an infant when her father had died, but her mother, Mary of Guise, had been an excellent regent, despite her religion, despite the English, despite the constantly feuding nobles.

Then, after the death of the Scottish dowager queen, James Stewart had ably and cautiously kept the government in good form.

But now…

An heir.

The Queen of Scotland needed an heir.

Once that was achieved, so much would be forgiven. And perhaps there would even be an agreement with Elizabeth, who continued to play at marriage negotiations and use them to her own benefit. He didn't believe, however, that Elizabeth meant to accept any offer that might compromise her rule. Unlike Mary.

In time, though, Mary would see reason. Surely.

At the moment, however, he was certainly in disgrace.

So be it. He did love Scotland, but he had learned that he could live happily as a man, as a husband.

He rode to find James Stewart where the man waited at his own estates.

Waited and, Rowan feared, plotted.

G WENYTH DESPAIRED AS SHE read the letter she had received from Mary Fleming, who had succumbed to the advances of Maitland and agreed to be his wife. Gwenyth couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment at first—the queen was so willing to be kind to others, yet she had been so unwilling to discuss the idea of her possible marriage.

But it was because of Maitland that she was able to receive the letter, and she devoured it eagerly.

Not one of us approved of Darnley, and we are still horrified, so you must, of course, burn this letter once you've read it lest it fall into evil hands. Gwenyth, you can't imagine how we see this man—and how the queen sees him. It is sheer insanity. In his speech he is grumbling and as selfish as a child. He thinks he is greatly deserving, that the nobles will all bow down before him. He can't see that most loathe him and his scrambling parents, and that they fear the Lennox power in Scotland.

I love our good Queen Mary as do you, but I fear this marriage. Please don't think I am anything less than loyal; I pray that it may all end well despite the signs.

I don't understand what happened; the queen wouldn't speak about it. But she argued with Laird Rowan—right on the dance floor in the midst of her marriage celebrations! Be warned; she is of such a temper that she defies even those she loves and admires when there is any threat of disrespect to Lord Darnley. She is still convinced that you will have more power with Elizabeth than a hundred men who speak of nothing but state. I miss you, Gwen, as do we all. Take the gravest care with all that you say and do; we are in dangerous times.

Setting the letter down, Gwenyth stared at the fire burning low in the hearth of the master's chambers at the town house.

She had received a letter from Rowan earlier, and he had described the wedding, but he had left out any mention of his own argument with the queen. He had told her only that the rift between the queen and her brother, Laird James Stewart, was widening, and that he was a futile messenger, going from one to the other, praying for peace.

Gwenyth rose, distracted.

Her days were not miserable. Annie was with her, and Thomas was a capable and gentle man, taking care that all went well.

She was not a member of Elizabeth's court, and she preferred to keep her distance. Each time she was summoned to attend Elizabeth, she was careful to remember her role as Mary's subject. She did not harp upon the subject of her own queen, but she was careful to take advantage of every opportunity to mention her talents, her morality, her steadfastness, all her strengths as Queen of Scotland and potential heiress to the English crown. Elizabeth, however, seemed to be baiting her. When she needed amusement, she called upon Gwenyth for games of cat and mouse.

And to be honest, since Mary's marriage to Darnley, their conversations had become very difficult. Elizabeth was most emphatically enraged, and her temper was such that it was difficult to broach the simple truth: she had been the one to bless the return of the Lennox household to Scotland. She had all but ordered Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, north, to her cousin's court.

There were times when Gwenyth wondered if Elizabeth didn't long to be happy, as it seemed the Scottish queen was happy. She had probably dangled young Lord Darnley out there as a temptation, just to see what would happen, assuming he would entertain Mary, but Mary would consider herself far too royal to marry a mere subject.

There was a knock at the door, and her heart leapt. It was foolish, she knew, but she prayed each time someone arrived that Rowan had returned. He would never knock at his own door, of course, a thought that allowed her to smile, even though she felt a bitter disappointment in her heart at the realization.

Thomas entered after knocking and said, "My lady, the queen requests your presence."

"I see. For what occasion?" Did the queen want her attendance at a dinner? Was she interested in a game of some sort?

"She has news to impart to you."

"I see," Gwenyth said, and stared at Thomas, hoping that he knew something.

But he shook his head and said, "I don't know what has happened, my lady."

"Thank you. Well, then, I will get ready to go to court."

As she rode Rowan's barge down the Thames, she tried to count the days he had been gone. It seemed as if it had been forever. She wanted so desperately to see him again. She knew, and she understood, that there would be times when they had to be parted; he had been serving Scotland far too long to forget his love of his country now.

And fate had put her in a like position, though she still, in her heart, resented the fact it had been so easy for Mary to send her away.

When she arrived at court, she was quickly met by Maitland, who looked at her sadly.

"What is going on?" she whispered to him anxiously.

"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.

"If it is the queen's pleasure that I should be under arrest, then I submit to your authority, good sirs," he said.

Alan Miller let out an audible sigh. "You will be taken to Edinburgh Castle, and there held, until trial."

"At your leisure, Sir Alan."

The man rode closer to him. "I must take your sword and your knife."

Rowan handed over his weapons. It was cold, but the young fellow was sweating profusely. His hands shook as he took the sword.

Rowan set his own hand on the younger man's arm. "You don't need to fear me. I am coming of my own will."

Alan Miller looked at him, swallowed, then nodded. "God protect you, sir," he said quietly.

"Shall we?" Rowan said.

And so he returned to Edinburgh and the queen's service, he thought bitterly.