by Olivia Rae
She spoke of the marriage of her mother with King Henry VIII. Some in England, mostly those of the True Faith, did not recognize Elizabeth as the real queen. They would prefer to see Mary Queen of Scots, a good Catholic, who was married to the French Dauphin, sitting on the English throne.
As was her way, Queen Elizabeth got right to the point. “I cannot trust the Scots. Some English near the border claim to be my loyal servants and others do not. The borderlands are in constant disruption. That is why I need you.”
“Me?” Audrey regretted her outburst the moment the syllable left her lips. The queen’s brow wrinkled. “Forgive me. I just do not understand how I would be of help.”
“Do you not?”
Audrey met the queen’s steady eyes.
“You served my sister. If Armstrong carries your faith and wishes to put Mary of Scots on the English throne, who better would he confide in than another of the same beliefs. Who has been oppressed by the illegitimate Queen Elizabeth.”
Audrey lifted her chin. “I have never thought such or been disloyal to you.”
“I know. That is why I am sending you. I know you will be loyal to me, and I will reward that loyalty by protecting your mother and her brood of stepchildren.”
The lashing, though heavily coated with sweetness, was well taken. Audrey could not imagine that this Laird Armstrong would tell her all his secrets. Nonetheless, she had to accept the queen’s offer. “My Queen, you give me more honor than I deserve. I am neither noble nor a man, why would this Gavin Armstrong of Warring confide in me?”
Elizabeth raised a well-manicured brow. “An act of birth nor one’s sex makes someone loyal. I would rather sup with an honorable digger of ditches than a prince who would sell his devotion for a bauble. It has all been arranged. You are to go to Liddesdale, in the northern marches of my realm. Those who live there honor neither my throne nor that of my cousin Mary of Scots. You will go in the guise of a companion to Laird Armstrong’s mother. There you are to keep your ears and eyes open. You shall relate to me any threats to my Crown. I want to know who the man corresponds with, where he goes, whom he confides in. I want to know everything that is going on with that family.”
Audrey’s stomach sank. She shouldn’t have complained earlier of living a mundane life for now that life seemed sublime. However, one question remained in her mind. Why this Scot and not another? Surely there was more to this story than the queen was willing to share. “And if there is nothing out of the ordinary, would you like me to talk about the weather?”
The queen narrowed her eyes and pointed a thin finger in Audrey’s face. “Do not taunt me. Your very life and of those you love are in my hands.”
The heat in Audrey’s belly and her saucy tongue had gotten the better of her. Why could she not be cool and calm like Asher? Why did she spout off when she should not speak? No good ever came from insulting a queen. Audrey tightly folded her hands. “Forgive me. My words were vile.”
A soft smile curled the queen’s lips. “Your speech is forthright, and you have a strong spirit. You have just forgotten to choose your words wisely as you did at court. A few weeks at Hampton Court should cure that.”
The Tower would be more preferable. But this was not about her, it involved her mother, and Jacob, and her stepsisters. Audrey tempered her words. “I am sure it will.”
“You have the ability to write?” the queen questioned.
Audrey nodded her head, but briefly she thought to deny the skill. Without a doubt, the queen already knew the answer and the query was given as a test of loyalty.
“Good. It has been all arranged. Once you are in Liddesdale, you will write weekly and send your missives to a Mistress Pittman on Little Lane.”
“Little Lane? I have never heard of such a place. Would not the message get lost?”
“That is not your concern. Just try to gain Gavin Armstrong’s confidence. Learn and report everything he does. Even if it seems of no consequence. This might be done by keeping an eye on his son.”
The last request was thrown in as an afterthought, but the queen’s cryptic manner told Audrey it was not. “You want me to watch the children as well?”
“Just the oldest, the flamed-haired boy, Thomas, who likes to go fishing and has a sharp mind with numbers.”
Queen Elizabeth clearly had spies watching Laird Armstrong and his family already. The hairs rose again on Audrey’s neck. Then why was she needed? Once more her curiosity took root, but she was wise enough not to broach the subject. “As you wish, my lady. I will do your bidding, but if Laird Armstrong and the family are no threat to you, I want your promise that I will be returned to my mother within a year’s time.”
Queen Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot upward as her jaw worked back and forth. Audrey could already feel the Tower chains biting into her hands and feet for her insolence. The queen opened her mouth. “If there is nothing there, why would I leave you in such a godforsaken place?”
Chapter Two
Early April, 1559
Liddesdale, Scottish Border
The cart hit every rut as it rumbled along the rough road. Audrey’s backside ached from being in this wagon since Lanercost, England. Not that she could not bear the pain, but her company was not much better. Peter, a sour man of middling years, grumbled incessantly and whipped his horse more than necessary. The man stank of ale and smelled worse than a frothing donkey. As they rounded the bend in the road, he pulled the cart to a stop.
“There be the keep of Armstrong of Warrin’.”
Audrey peered at the stone structure circled by a stone barmkin wall less than a rod tall. The fortified building resembled a peel tower more than it did a country home. None of this surprised her considering the lawlessness of the shared disputed lands. Claimed by both England’s and Scotland’s crowns, the area was under constant attack either from the English or the Scots. Few cared to occupy this land because of the constant wars and raiding. The Scottish people called this raiding reiving.
From what Peter had told her on their journey, the Armstrong families established their holdings on both sides of the border along the Liddel Water. The fertile valley was good for farming cattle and harvesting crops, but the constant warfare between both crowns had rendered the plentiful farms into wastelands and thus reiving became a necessary way of life in order to fill one’s belly.
Audrey scanned the rambling hills and mountains that surrounded the valley. “’Tis a wonder anyone can find this place.”
“Hey? Look at the hoof prints and droppin’s on this trail, there be more bodies and horses whistlin’ through here than the wind.” Peter spat on the heavily rode road before looking up at the fading purple sky. “Best we get ye inside before the night falls. No tellin’ what the darkness brings.”
A brisk wind whipped up her back. Audrey pulled back her shoulders, trying to bolster her courage. The look of the bleak place sent spiders to her spine. What would the inhabitants be like? She wanted to beg Peter to take her back from where they had come, but instead, she lifted her chin and sat up straight with feigned courage. It was not her own welfare that she needed to think of but that of her mother and the rest of her family.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the instructions she had received from Sir Walter Pimberly, one of Queen Elizabeth’s trusted spies. For a fortnight, he and his cohorts instructed and forced her to memorize almost everything about the Armstrongs, especially Lady Francis, Gavin Armstrong’s mother. The questions burned within her. Where had Lady Francis been born? How long had she been married? What was her favorite spice and flower? What habits did she keep? On and on these questions swirled through Audrey’s head. Sadly, to her frustration, she had not been as quick of a study as Sir Pimberly would have liked her to be. Being devious was not in her nature. The thought of pretending to be someone she was not repulsed her. She could not bring herself to use knowledge for trickery. Hence, the facts did not plant in her brain. Knowing her mother and stepsiblings would suffer, Audre
y endeavored to memorize some.
Her training did not stop there, she was supposed to be alert and report who visited Warring Tower and who resided within. She had to chronicle where Laird Armstrong would go and who would come to see him. The most disturbing was the demand that she should keep a close eye on Thomas, the laird’s eldest son. What interest could a boy of six be to the queen? Audrey’s skin crawled with growing unease in her task of deception; yet, she had but one year to endure this deceit. Hopefully all her missives would not knot a noose around her neck.
As they approached the grey fortress, Peter gave a wave to the guard on watch at the tower’s yett. A few words were exchanged before the iron-latticed yett rattled open and they proceeded into a modest courtyard. The stone rectangular tower stood near the left within the keep’s courtyard walls, its narrow windows staggering up the sides of the tower. The keep’s battlements on either side of the tower included the required iron basket for signal fires within the ruinous turrets, a result of years of wars and conflicts fought between the riding families and between the two crowns. A slanted stone roof protected all within these stark, sad walls.
Audrey’s mouth went dry, and she had to resist the urge to make the sign of the cross over her chest. She could not move from her spot when the cart stopped in front of a stone arch that led to the ground floor of the tower.
“Here, mistress, take me hand,” Peter offered, encouraging Audrey from her seat.
She hesitated, then placed her cold fingers in his grimy palm as she descended to his side. Audrey scanned the empty yard. “Is no one about except the guard?”
Peter shrugged. “May not himself, Laird Armstrong, but the old crone is within. The bat rarely leaves her cave.”
“Whom do you speak of?” Audrey asked.
“Why, Lady Francis, of course.” Peter spat on the ground. “She cares not for me.”
Audrey thought to question him further, but this did not seem to be the place to discuss the lady of the keep.
“And the children and servants, where are they?” Audrey bit her lip and tasted brine.
A rusty chuckle creaked out of Peter’s throat. “Oh, they be around.” His gaze slid up the tower wall. “Probably watching you from above.”
Audrey followed his gaze and thought she saw a figure slip out of view from one narrow arrow slit. “I would have thought someone would have come to greet us.”
“Ah, make nothin’ of it. This place ain’t like the queen’s place. There is much work and few to do it. Besides, to them ye are just another mouth to feed and to clean up after.”
“I can look after myself.” Audrey lifted her jaw. “And I do not eat much.”
“That is good, mistress, because there be little to go around in this land. Come, I will take ye in.”
They walked past a small stable that held maybe two or three horses. Sir Pimberly had instructed her that most Scottish Galloway ponies were left to graze in the fields and were only brought in when raiders were spotted in the area. Not far from the stable on the other side of a low wall was a block kitchen. As they got closer, Audrey could hear a servant whistle while another hummed a merry tune. She wanted to stop, but Peter wished to press on.
“This way, mistress.” He pointed to an arched doorway, which led them into a bleak cellar filled with sacks, barrels, and other supplies. Toward the back of the cellar, she noticed two bulky wooden doors with small eye slots. Watching where her gaze went, Peter added, “Those be the laird’s prison cells.”
Her shoulders shook as she heard the squeak of mice and rats rustling through the soiled rushes. She hoped the cells were empty, for no man or beast should live such a way.
Peter’s eyes took on a sinister glow. He took a lit torch from a wall sconce before he lumbered to a spiral staircase. Her throat clogged with damp dust as she followed him up the steep narrow steps until they came to another rough wooden door. Peter pulled the iron latch. Once opened, instant warmth caressed her weary bones. The hall was bright and heated from a large stone hearth. The rushes smelled fresh, though the tapestries that hung on the walls were mended and threadbare. Had she not known it to be possible, Audrey would have thought she had stepped back in time before kings and queens ruled Scotland and England.
Near the hearth sat a woman, her braided grey hair covered by a thin veil. She stroked a cat whose fur was as white as the woman’s skin. She beckoned Audrey with a bent finger. “Come here, my dear, so I can have a closer look at you.”
With slow measured steps, Audrey shuffled forward while Peter, without a fare-thee-well, slipped behind a wooden screen heading for what appeared to be a small scullery. An unusual thing for a peel tower. Perhaps Laird Armstrong was the cautious type and wanted another place to prepare food in case his courtyard and kitchen were breached. Whatever the case, this was her new situation. She threw back her shoulders. Courage. You can handle an old crone. But coming to stand before the woman, Audrey’s mouth gaped and shut in a blink. The woman was neither old nor a crone. Her eyes were a light blue, her figure slim, and her braid was not grey at all but a soft blonde.
“I am Lady Francis, come sit by me. Are you parched from your journey? I shall call for a soothing drink.” The cat leapt from her lap as she clapped her hands.
Relief flooded Audrey’s body when she dropped into a curtsy. “My thanks, my lady.”
The woman gave out a hoot. “My word, such manners. I have not seen the likes since I left London some thirty years past. There is no need for such formality here. Please sit and let me take a good look at you.”
Audrey had barely settled into her chair when a serving maid appeared with a small beer in her hand.
Lady Francis raised her mug and took a long drink. She wiped her mouth; her blue eyes glinted merrily. “Though the brew is not strong, it will warm you all the way through.” She then turned to the maid. “Get Mistress Hayes something to eat.” The girl paused as her eyes grew wide. Lady Francis waved her off. “Oh come now, Blair. The boar is not about, and he’ll never know we fed her a morsel.”
With a nod, the young woman took off toward the scullery as if this boar Lady Francis spoke of was at her heels.
“You will have to forgive her. She has not been with us long.” A few wrinkles hemmed Lady Francis’s eyes when she smiled, but then the grin faded, and her eyes took on a look of caution. “It was kind of Pimberly to offer me a companion. It has been a while since my son’s wife, Edlyn, died. Though I must say, until this past year, I have not seen nor heard a word from my cousin in close to five years.” Lady Francis paused. “I suppose he did not know what to do with you, eh?”
Audrey tried to clear her throat, yet the lump remained.
“Do not fret so,” Lady Francis fussed. “I am pleased that he did. I do miss Edlyn, even though she was a mouse in every respect and duller than a goose.” The older woman winked, and Audrey’s heartbeat slowed.
Edlyn died not long after her second son was born. Audrey took a small sip of her beer and tried to recollect the facts about the tragic death. According to Sir Pimberly, Edlyn seemed to be doing well after giving birth to her son, but then two months later, she took to her bed and then soon after died. The death was thought to be due to a woman’s melancholy after giving birth. Any other questions Audrey had on the matter were quickly dismissed.
She wanted to reach across and console Lady Francis with a gentle touch, but they were so newly acquainted and such an act would seem improper. “I am sorry. I do hope I can bring a little cheer to your life.”
Lady Francis leaned back in her chair and cocked her head. “I am sure you will. And I think you have more wit than Edlyn as well.”
The older woman winked again, and Audrey’s face warmed. When Blair came back with a meager plate of oatcakes and cheese, though not a king’s feast, she was certain it would ease her noisy belly and busy her mouth.
Lady Francis took another drink, then placed her mug on the floor. “You shall have Edlyn’s old room. I will have y
our trunk moved there forthwith.”
A piece of oatcake caught sharply in Audrey’s throat as she offered, “Oh, my lady, I do not think that is seemly. I can sleep with the other women in the women’s solar.”
Gentle laughter left Lady Francis’s lips. “The other women sleep here in the hall or in their hovels in the nearby village. Nay, that will not do. Edlyn’s old chamber is fitting. It is between mine and the boys’ room. Children do not annoy you, do they? Thomas can be quite boisterous.”
“Nay, I like children. I have two younger stepsisters who are very sweet.” Audrey took one more sip of her beer before she finished her food.
“Do you?” Like an eel sliding through the water, the simple words slid out of Lady Francis’s mouth. A wintry nip slipped into the older woman’s eyes and then was tucked away under a cheery twinkle.
Audrey’s breath hitched. She was the one that should be extracting information, not the other way around. It would be folly to let her guard down around this sharp woman. Best to start with kindness and humility. That is how she survived at court. Plus blending into the walls, which would not work in this case. Except for Lady Francis, no one else had English mannerisms.
She lowered her head and folded her hands in her lap. “’Tis one of the reasons Sir Pimberly suggested I come here. Our home was quite crowded.”
“Mmm, I suppose that takes care of his problem and adds to mine.”
A problem! How had she gone from being a welcomed companion to a problem? Audrey opened her mouth, but before she spoke, Lady Francis rolled her eyes and slapped her hands on her knees.
“Please do not take offense. Living here is difficult, and those of weak constitution do not last long. The fighting and reiving is constant. And then, of course, there is the boar.”