Bond of Passion (23 page)

On April twelfth the trial was held at the Tolbooth in Edinburgh before a panel of Bothwell’s peers. It was noted that James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, was absent from the proceedings. The trial began at ten in the morning, and lasted until seven o’clock of the evening. As no formal charges had ever been filed in the matter, and there was no evidence produced connecting Bothwell with the murder, the Earl of Argyll, who was the presiding judge, acquitted James Hepburn of any complicity in the murder of Henry, Lord Darnley. The court then adjourned to a nearby tavern, where the innocent man treated everyone to a good supper.

“God’s blood!” Matthew Ferguson swore. “Is there a bolder man in the borders?”

Angus laughed. “Nay, I do not believe there is,” he agreed. “Nor on this earth.”

“The matter is settled then, and perhaps Duin can now concentrate on its own business, and not Bothwell’s,” Matthew said.

“Why is yer brother so hostile to James Hepburn?” Annabella asked her husband afterward, when they walked in the castle’s gardens. The gardens overlooked the sea.

“He doesn’t know James as well as I do,” Angus said. “James’s father, Patrick Hepburn, defected to England, casting shame upon the family name. Some say Patrick did it because Marie de Guise, whom he loved, refused his suit. Of course, Marie forgave him and pardoned him so he could return, but James never forgot the betrayal. He has spent much of his life proving the loyalty of the Hepburns to the royal Stewarts.”

“I think his care of the queen is because he loves her,” Annabella said quietly.

“Aye, he has told me so,” her husband admitted.

“Matthew fears your friendship and loyalty to Bothwell could endanger Duin, doesn’t he?” Annabella said. “He may be correct, Angus.”

“It’s over now,” the Earl of Duin told his wife. “James is acquitted of Darnley’s murder, and my need to go to Bothwell’s aid no longer exists.” He put an arm about Annabella as they looked out over the blazing sun sinking slowly into the sea.

But it was not over. Another messenger came from James Hepburn to Angus Ferguson, asking the earl to join him with a small force of his clansmen at Dunbar Castle.

The Earl of Duin did not hesitate, for his loyalty to his old friend was yet great. He rode out the next morning with fifty men. Matthew Ferguson was beside himself with worry.

“What mischief is Bothwell up to now that he needs to drag Angus into it?” he said.

Annabella was as worried as Matthew was, but she soothed him, saying, “Dinna fret, brother. Bothwell will nae put Angus in danger.” Please God he wouldn’t, for she was certain she was with child again.

It was a beautiful spring. The trees bloomed and leafed. The hillsides were covered with flowers. She, Jean, and Agnes walked out together most afternoons. It was during one of these walks that she told her sister and Jean that she was now certain she was enceinte. “The bairn should come before year’s end,” she said.

“Then I shall remain at Duin,” Agnes said. “Ye’ll need my company now more than ever.”

Jean smiled to herself. Agnes Baird had been at Duin for a year now. She would never leave Duin, especially if Matthew had anything to say about it. Matthew was in love with Agnes, but Agnes was proving a difficult girl to court. Unless Matthew soon took the initiative, they would spend the rest of their lives sparring with words instead of kisses, Jean thought. “We should tell Matthew about the bairn,” she said. “He’ll be relieved to know there will soon be an heir of Duin.”

Annabella laughed. “At least he’s stopped fussing at me about it,” she said. “Aye, let’s tell him. Perhaps it will lighten his spirits, for he worries that we have nae heard from Angus. I worry too.”

Her news did please her husband’s brother, and it was followed by a messenger from Angus Ferguson. They gathered in the hall that evening so Annabella might read aloud to them the letter she had received from her husband. Seated at the high board, the Countess of Duin unfolded the parchment written in his own hand and began to speak.

“ ‘My good wife, may God have mercy on us all, and upon Scotland. We reached Dunbar, traveling with all due haste, to learn that Bothwell had kidnapped the queen.’ ”

Those listening gasped with shock.

“ ‘They spent several long days and nights locked together in a tower,’ ” Annabella continued, “ ‘and we have now traveled on into Edinburgh, where Bothwell will be granted a divorce from Jean Gordon so he may then wed the queen. They are openly and desperately in love. There is no reasoning with them. I will attempt to make James understand that while my friendship for him remains, I can no longer endanger the Fergusons of Duin by being a public party to this event. The earls are now dividing themselves into two parties that are called the Queen’s Men and the Prince’s Men. Moray is not, as ye may well imagine, among his sister’s adherents. There is certain to be civil war. Look for me to return to Duin as quickly as I can. Your loving husband, Angus Ferguson, Earl of Duin.’ ”

The hall was silent as Annabella laid the parchment upon the table and, reaching for her cup, quaffed the remaining wine in it. “That is all,” she said to those who had been listening. “I hope ye will all pray for Scotland this night,” she told them.

“Madness!” Matthew Ferguson muttered. “And he has involved Angus.”

“He has involved others as well,” Annabella said in an attempt to calm Matthew.

“The others, I wager, are more important, more powerful names, who cannot be punished. We are nae important,” Matthew responded.

“Neither Angus nor the Fergusons of Duin were among the kidnappers. Angus was called to Dunbar after the fact. He is leaving before the marriage is celebrated. His friendship can be taken only so far, even by James Hepburn. His loyalty to Duin is greater than anything else,” Annabella told him. “He will come in just a few more days.”

And he did. The messenger had preceded his master by only two days. Angus Ferguson, however, was grim faced at his arrival. He climbed wearily from his stallion, flinging the reins to a stable lad, and, putting an arm about Annabella, kissed her hard. Reaching up, she caressed his grimy cheek silently. Their eyes met in understanding.

“My lord must bathe and eat,” the Countess of Duin dictated. “Then he will tell us everything.” Without another word she led him into the castle and upstairs to his apartments, where menservants were already seeing that the bathing room tub was filled with steaming water, and feeding the small raised hearth so that the chamber remained warm. Annabella undressed her husband, and as the servants exited she helped him into the stone tub.

Angus closed his eyes briefly and emitted a deep sigh as the hot water sank into his tired body. He opened them as Annabella stroked a wet cloth over his face.

“Ye look exhausted,” she said, meeting his gaze.

“I am. Once I had spoken with James I did not delay in departing Edinburgh,” he said. “God’s blood, sweetheart, this time he has overreached himself. They won’t be satisfied until they have slain him or driven him from Scotland for good and all.”

“He understood why ye had to leave him?” Angus was probably correct in his assessment of the situation, but Bothwell had always been clever at wriggling out of tough situations. It was entirely possible he could outride this storm, and if he did she did not want the Fergusons of Duin on his bad side.

“Aye, he understood. I asked him why he had called me to Dunbar when he did not really need me. Do ye know what he answered? He said that because he knew the great risk he had taken with the queen he wanted one true friend by his side, if only briefly.” The earl’s eyes teared with the memory, but then he continued. “When I said it seemed to me that all of his friends surrounded him at the moment, he laughed. He said they were none of them true friends. They would remain with him as long as it appeared he had a chance of winning, but once it was decided he could not win this particular fight, they would disappear like so many rats scuttling back to their holes.”

“Oh, Angus, how sad!” Annabella said, and she kissed the tears from his cheek.

“He’s wagered it all this time, sweetheart.”

“Does he really love her, or is it just the power he seeks?” she asked.

“Nay, he loves her. Madly. Passionately. And she returns his love. She has already said she will not make him king, or give him the crown matrimonial,” Angus told his wife as she washed him. “He feels their marriage is the only way he can protect her from Moray and the others. Because he is one of them, and because he has always been strong, he thinks he can manage to keep them in check as her husband. I do not. They know she will be influenced by him to a certain degree. Ye know the earls. Each a cock on his own dunghill, crowing. They are afraid of him because individually he has the power to keep them at bay so Mary Stuart may rule. None of them has that charisma. They all need one another to defy her. And now they will with a vengeance.”

“Did they wed?”

“Aye, but it was nae easy. He gave Jean Gordon everything she wanted to be free of her. The queen’s confessor had been forbidden by the pope from performing the marriage, and has withdrawn from her side until she gives Bothwell up, but in this even the Church cannot prevail. The queen is wildly in love for the first time in her life. Darnley was but a foolish infatuation. James Hepburn is another matter altogether. But even Edinburgh’s most distinguished pastors of the Reformed kirk would nae perform the ceremony. They finally found one who accepted a large bribe to formalize the marriage. I left Edinburgh at dawn the morning of the wedding, which was performed at Holyrood’s chapel.”

“But surely now the deed is done Moray and his cohorts will accept the queen’s decision.” She quickly washed his dark hair and rinsed it free of soap.

He arose and stepped from the large stone basin. “I dinna remain to find out, but I doubt it. Moray is but for an accident of birth the man who should be king. He is nae about to give up his position at the top of the hierarchy. He’ll fight, and many will fight wi’ him. The question is, can Bothwell gather as many forces, and overcome him.”

Annabella toweled her big husband dry with several towels warmed on a rack by the fire. “I’ll leave Tormod to get ye dressed again,” she said, referring to Angus’s servant. “They’ll be waiting in the hall to hear all of what ye have told me. Ye’ll nae be going away again soon, will ye?”

“Nay, I’m home to stay, sweetheart.” He pulled her against his naked body, and kissed her a long, sweet kiss. “I’ve missed ye,” he said.

She lingered a moment in his embrace, but then drew quickly away, her hand brushing down his long cock, which was showing strong signs of interest in her. “There is nae time, my lord, for they are waiting in the hall. Afterward, however, I shall be pleased to entertain yon eager laddie. I have some news that should please ye well. By year’s end we’ll hae an heir.” Then, with a quick smile, she turned and left him.

Angus Ferguson wanted to shout with his joy. He was home! Duin was safe! And Annabella was going to give him a son. “Tormod!” he shouted as he opened the door back into his own apartments. “I need clothes!”

She heard him as she hurried down into the hall, and Annabella smiled. While she felt a strong sympathy for Mary Stuart and James Hepburn, she didn’t want the Fergusons of Duin involved in what was certain to be a very volatile matter, and would surely become worse. They would be safe in their haven here in the southwest borders. The summer was almost upon them, and she would have her bairn in safety.

But while peace surrounded Duin, the queen and her bridegroom found themselves facing a great wall of opposition to their marriage. On June fifteenth, a month to the day after their marriage, the forces of the queen were defeated at Carberry. Bothwell fled north into the isles, while Mary was taken first to Edinburgh, and then imprisoned at Lochleven, where she miscarried of twins on the twenty-third of July. This served as proof to all that Mary and Bothwell had been adulterous lovers. The next day the queen was forced to sign a document abdicating her position in favor of her year-old son, James. The little king was crowned five days later at Stirling, and his uncle, James Stewart, now ruled Scotland as the king’s protector. But at Duin none of this was known until several months later.

The summer faded away into autumn. Annabella grew large with her bairn. The earl was openly solititous of his plain wife. Their amusement came from the constant battle between Matthew Ferguson and Agnes Baird. Agnes would be seventeen at year’s end, and there was no hiding the fact that Matthew wanted her as his wife. The laird of Rath and his wife would be coming before winter to be with their eldest daughter when she gave birth. Matthew intended to ask the laird’s permission to marry Agnes then. He had, however, said nothing to Agnes; nor would he until he had spoken with Robert Baird.

Finally, in mid-October, a messenger arrived to say the laird and his wife were but a day behind him. Annabella was overjoyed, for she had not seen her parents since their fateful journey to Edinburgh almost two years prior. Agnes was not as pleased.

“I hope they do not want me to return to Rath,” she said.

“Ye’re welcome to remain wi’ us at Duin,” Annabella replied, “but as ye’re soon to be seventeen I suspect our parents are concerned that ye hae no husband. There is no court for ye to visit, and so a husband must be found for ye among the border families near Rath. Ye must be wed, Aggie. The old Church is nae longer an option, so it is wed ye must be. I’m sure Da will have a suggestion as to a husband for ye.”

“I dinna want to leave Duin,” Agnes insisted. “I love it here. I love being wi’ ye.”

“Then if a husband canna be found for ye at Rath, one must be found at Duin,” Annabella said mischievously, looking directly at Matthew Ferguson, who looked away.

Agnes saw her look and sniffed scornfully, but said nothing, to her sister’s surprise.

The Bairds of Rath arrived, to be greeted by both of their daughters. Anne Baird looked upon her eldest daughter’s big belly, exclaiming, “Are ye certain this child is to come in December?”