Queen's Own Fool (41 page)

Before I realized his intention, he lunged forward to snatch the queen's plaid aside. Instinctively, she reached up and grabbed his hand to stop him. He stared wide-eyed at her long delicate fingers.

“Those nae be a washerwoman's hands,” he said.

She pulled herself free, and as she did so, the plaid fell away exposing her pale, beautiful face.

The boatman leaned back, his face torn between accusation and apology. “The queen ...” He darted quick, nervous glances at the island to see if anyone was watching us.

Sitting up straight and casting aside her washerwoman bearing as though it were an old garment, the queen leaned forward. “Yes, I am your queen, boatman. But I do not command you now. Instead I beg your help to escape this unjust imprisonment.”

The boatman's knuckles went white, so hard did he grip the oars. “I canna be a party to this escape, Your Majesty.”

I could stand it no longer. “Canna? Or willna? It is only a short way. We are hardly more than a minute from freedom.”

“A minute from my arrest, ye mean. They willna wait for a trial to hang me. Ye be royal, Ma‘am,” he said to the queen, “and they dare not harm ye. I have to think on mysel'—and my wee bairns.”

The queen said nothing, but gazed at the mainland, now so tantalizingly close.

“If you betray us, you might still be taken as an accomplice,” I said quickly. “Who will believe you could have rowed this far without recognizing the queen unless you were part of the plot? Would anyone think you such a fool?”

He shook his head but still made no move to shift the boat one way or another. It floated midway between the island and the shore, rocking slowly in the waves.

I tried to judge the distance. Heavily clad as we were, we could not possibly swim the rest of the way, even if the boatman did not cry out.

“Please,” I begged, “we are so close.”

The boatman shook his head. “I will take ye back to the castle, lassie, but I willna raise the alarm. Get yerselves ashore and hide all trace of yer disguise. I dare no more.”

I was about to appeal again but the queen motioned me to silence.

“It is the best we can hope for under the circumstances,” she said quietly, as the boatman took up the oars again. “If we remain floating here much longer, suspicions will surely be aroused.”

So wordlessly we were returned to our island prison, where we made our way back to the gloomy tower, just two more unhappy slatterns from the mainland come to work.

Mary met us at the door, having watched the whole thing from the window.

“Your brief reign as queen is over, my dear,” the queen said.

Those few words sent us all into doubled-over paroxysms of laughter that very soon tumbled into tears.

46

ANOTHER PLAN

O
ver the next few days more members of the Douglas clan arrived at the island, as though Lord William were calling in reinforcements while his wife was confined to her chamber.

A young orphaned redhead named Willie Douglas was among the first. Friendly and good-natured, he reminded me of his cousin George. For a while, I dared hope that he might act as our protector in the event Lord James's men came to take the queen. But after he had paid his respects, bringing the queen a gift of sweet comfits set in a basket as if they were eggs in a nest, we saw nothing more of him.

Two young Douglas nieces arrived soon after and attached themselves to us like limpets on a rock. Scarcely fifteen years old, they had come to the island to help with the new little laird. But they were also there to bask in the presence of the beautiful queen about whom they had heard so many tales.

The girls soon became companions as constant and unwanted as their aunt, begging Mary and me to teach them card games and show them what clothes the queen had at last been sent in her confinement. They oohed and aahed over her red satin petticoat furred with marten and the black silk tights. They cooed at the little red velvet box with the crossed F's made of silver. They overpraised her embroideries. They made our quiet confinement a noisy prison.

And as we had no guarantee they would not betray our confidences, we were careful to give them none.

One day, while we were in the middle of a card game, the dowager Lady Margaret paid the tower a surprise visit. She had been spending most of her time in the hall with her new grandson, so we were not expecting to see her.

Even more surprising was the deferential manner in which she approached the queen.

“Your Majesty,” she said, giving a bow whose stiffness owed more to her great age than coldness of manner.

Mary and I looked down at the cards in our hands, but the queen smiled graciously.

“Come, Lady Margaret, and sit by me. I do not know about you, but my legs get stiff with standing on these cold floors.”

Lady Margaret sank gratefully into the chair.

For a moment the queen turned her attention back to her cards, but she was never unaware that the Old Lady—as everyone called the dowager—was there for a reason.

At last the Old Lady got to the purpose of her visit. “My son George has written for permission to return to the island,” she said, her fingers tightly knotted around a lace kerchief. “He plans to leave for France to seek his fortune and wishes to make his farewells to his brother, despite the harsh words that passed between them....”

“And a cannonball,” I whispered to Mary, for a guard had told us that Lord William had fired at George across the water. But despite my sharpness, I was pleased that George was returning. Perhaps he had a plan that was better than mine had been.

The Old Lady ignored me. “His brother has relented of his ban for this purpose only—and George is not to stay the night.”

So much for a plan,
I thought.

“There will be many opportunities in France for a young man of George's abilities,” said the queen. “I will give him any letters he might require. In France, at least, my name can still open doors.”

The Old Lady's face grew as frosted as a January windowpane. “That would not be to the purpose,” she stated icily. “He must remain in Scotland. He is a Douglas! A post can be arranged for him at the regent's court. After all, the regent, Lord James, is also my son.”

The queen became just as frosty. “Has it
escaped
your notice, Lady Margaret, that I no longer wield influence at court? Else I would not still be here.”

Both Mary and I went still as statues.

The Old Lady blinked uncomfortably, but continued on doggedly. “It is not your influence with the regent, Majesty, but your influence with young Geordie I am asking you to employ. If anyone can dissuade him from this foreign adventure, it would be you.

I dared a look from the corner of my eye at Mary. She had pursed her lips but otherwise not moved.

“Would you have me command him as a sovereign?”

The barb was not lost on the Old Lady. She bowed her head, and without raising her eyes, answered, “I would have you speak to him as a favor to a mother whose heart would break should he leave these shores. Surely you of all women can understand that.”

For a moment the queen was quiet. Then in a softer tone she said, “I do indeed know what it is like to be separated from a beloved son, Lady Margaret. I will speak to George. But only in private.”

“You have my word,” the Old Lady agreed.

George returned to Lochleven the next morning. Even the sun seemed to shine on him with a particular brightness. The water around his boat was dotted with motes as round as gold pieces. I watched from the window as he was greeted by Lord William.

“They are acting as if the quarrel is well behind them,” I said. “The laird's arm is over his shoulder.”

“The Old Lady has a long reach,” Mary commented dryly. She and the queen continued their embroideries as if George's arrival was of no consequence, but I could feel the excitement in the room.

It was yet another hour before George crossed the courtyard to the tower. As soon as he came up into the queen's chamber, he fell on one knee before her.

“Forgive my long absence, Majesty,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
And your long silence,
I thought. “I have done my best to serve you well while away.”

“Get up, Geordie,” the queen insisted, setting down her embroidery hoop. “True friendship never asks forgiveness. If you have been driven out of your home because of your devotion to me, I hardly have cause to complain.”

I shut the door carefully and put my back to it. The Douglas girls rarely came in without knocking first, but still I stood guard.

Rising, George said, “I have been visiting Lord Seton and others loyal to your cause. I have told them to expect you back soon.”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” the queen said, patting the chair next to her.

George went to it as eager as a lover.

“We have already attempted one escape in your absence,” I said. “And yet here we are still. Freedom is not so easily won.”

George leaned forward, elbows on knees, frowning in concern as we explained all that had happened.

“Laundresses—eh?” He turned and looked at the queen. “But how could you hope to disguise such majesty?”

I rolled my eyes as Mary got up to tidy the queen's table, setting a tray with her dirty dishes beside me at the door.

Sitting back, George continued. “Still—if my brother did not get wind of the attempt, it will do us no harm.”

“I do not believe he knows a thing,” the queen said. “Only three of us knew of the plan—and the boatman found out after. All four would have been done some injury if the escape had been uncovered. Your brother is not loath to tell us when we have done wrong.”

George nodded. “Well I know. But he has no wind of what I am about, either. I have not only been meeting with nobles, but with others even more crucial to our plans. You have met my young cousin, Willie Douglas?”

“The sprightly redhead?” asked the queen. “We have. He seemed friendly enough when he arrived. Even brought me sweets. Though he has not been back since.” She picked up her embroidery ring and started to work again at a picture of a phoenix rising from a flame.

“He is more than merely friendly.” George gave a wide grin. Then caution overtook him. “Nicola, please check the door.”

“I would have heard ...” I protested.

“Your mother promised we would be alone,” the queen said.

“But my brother did not.”

I flung the door open, and put the tray outside. There was no one on the floor or even down on the first landing. The Old Lady had kept her word.

George looked relieved and I shut the door again, but did not leave my place.

“Young Willie has always loved the old hero tales,” George said. “When I offered him the chance to rescue a damosel from a tower, he immediately bound himself to our cause.”

“A damosel!” the queen laughed merrily. It was a lovely sound, and so rare these days. I silently blessed George for that. “I am a thrice married woman with a child!”

“How bounden can wee Willie be?” Mary said sourly. “He has not been up to see Her Majesty but the once.”

“I counseled him to conceal his loyalty so that he can act as our agent without suspicion,” George replied.

“Boys playing at Knights of the Round Table...” said Mary, her own embroidery ring set down firmly in her lap, “does not get the queen out of this gloomy place. We have only a few days at best before your sister-in-law is out of childbed and rejoins us.”

“Reporting every snort and sniffle to Lord William,” I added. “And then there are those chattering girls....”

“The Magpies!” George smiled.

I laughed, it was such a perfect name for them.

“Yes,” George said, turning back to the queen, “our best chance to get you away is while my brother's wife is still confined, and the girls helping with the new baby.”

At the mention of the baby, the queen's face got a misty look, as if remembering her own child.

“Perhaps we could carry you off in a great box,” George said. “I could say I was transporting my papers off the isle.”

“Never!” the queen cried. “I have a horror of enclosed spaces.”

“Then we will need a new disguise,” I put in.

“Oh, Nicola,” Mary said, “not again.”

“There is no other way.”

“I agree.” George grinned at me. “But, Nicola, it will have to be better than those washerwomen.”

“Those washerwomen got us out of the tower and into the boat,” I reminded them.

“But did not set us free, dear Nicola,” the queen said softly.