by Olivia Rae
For as long as Gavin could remember, his father had always hated Rory Maxwell. A string of curses would roll out of Ian Armstrong’s mouth whenever the Maxwell name was mentioned. What then broke up this friendship?
“We are gettin’ to that,” Maxwell snapped.
Queen Elizabeth bristled at his tone. “Then by all means, sir. Quicken your tale.”
Maxwell rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Ian never appreciated his beautiful wife. A week after he was wed, I saw him dallying with any maid who would look his way. It angered me, but I held my tongue. He was my friend after all. But then I got to know Francis better.”
The sheepish look Maxwell swiveled to Gavin’s mother filled in most of the mystery. They were like Fraser and Edlyn. Gavin took a long swallow. And he was like his father.
“Rory was so kind and treated me like I was the most precious stone,” Gavin’s mother said.
“When Ian said he was going to get an annulment”—Maxwell paused—“because he believed Francis was barren, I began to woo her. First, it was just to console…” He stared at his boots and folded his hands behind him. “I am not proud of what I did.”
Gavin’s mother placed a gentle hand on Maxwell’s back. “What we did. I welcomed your attentions.”
The truth did not set well with Gavin. He felt his rage well up inside him again. God’s love seemed so far away. He made to leave when his mother reached out.
“You must hear all of this. The ring was given to me by Rory. The horse represents him as he was a fine horseman in those days.”
“And the bluebell is a symbol of your mother as she was always a delicate flower to me,” Maxwell said quietly.
Gavin’s whole body quaked, and the devil crept back into his soul. “You told me it was my father who gave you that ring,” he yelled. “Can you not be honest about anything?” Tears rolled down his mother’s face, but his heart remained hard.
“Gavin, please. This does not help.” Audrey reached out, but he lifted his shoulder, bumping her hand away.
“I think it explains much.” The queen tapped her chin. “But there is more. Isn’t there?”
Her cryptic words baffled and heightened Gavin’s fury. What more could there possibly be? Clearly his father had been a cuckold. “I have heard enough.” He pivoted to leave, and this time no one would stop him.
“Hold.” Queen Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I have not dismissed you.”
Gavin wanted to remind her he was not one of her subjects, but wisely he said nothing. Instead, he leaned against the wall next to the door, folded his arms over his chest, and crossed his feet.
The queen’s lips slimmed, but she did not demand he stand in front of her. She sat down and nodded to Gavin’s mother. “Go on.”
“We met often. Days stretched into weeks and weeks into months.” The wistfulness in his mother’s eyes had clearly taken her back to a more pleasurable time. When she was young and wanton.
“But Ian Armstrong never did find another wife,” the queen said, drawing Gavin’s mother back to the present.
She shook her head. “Nay, and then—”
“She told Ian,” Maxwell interrupted. “He went into a rage and came lookin’ for me.” Rory reached up and traced the weathered scar on his face. “That’s how I got this. Ian swore he’d take me manhood if I ever saw Francis again.” Despite the rugged scar, Maxwell’s face softened. “No matter, I was determined to rescue Francis. But she would not answer any of me missives, nor would she even look in my direction when I would see her in yonder villages.” He sighed. “Then I heard she was with child. Ian’s child.” He reached up and touched the old scar again. “That’s when this became hard to bear.”
“I see,” Queen Elizabeth said, stroking her long neck.
Audrey reached out and rubbed Gavin’s mother’s shoulder. Why would she give sympathy to a woman who played all false? A spy for the queen. All made sense now. How she wanted Thomas to be schooled in English ways. Why she was so intent on having Audrey come to Warring Tower. His mother knew about Thomas’s heritage. Not only had she cuckolded his father, she had lied to her son.
Tell me God? How can I show mercy and love to someone who has lied to me all her life?
Hot bile rose in his throat when his mother rotated and held out her hand to him. “Come here, Gavin. There is still more to this tale.”
“I shall hear it from here. Or leave and not hear it at all. You are a deceitful woman, Mother.”
Audrey and Maxwell protested. Both taking steps toward Gavin. One with a hand held in caution, the other with his hand folded into a fist.
“Cease this,” shouted the queen. “Laird Armstrong, you will come and stand near me. I fear that you might run, and then I will never hear the end of this story. And that would trouble me greatly.”
Gavin held his position, eyeing the door. He wondered how far he would get before the queen would call her guard. With a heavy sigh, he pushed off the wall and came to stand before the queen. After all, what could he possibly learn that would change his already low opinion about his mother and Maxwell?
Satisfied, Queen Elizabeth settled back in her seat. “Now then, Lady Francis, please continue.”
His mother fidgeted. Her cheeks flushed, and her hands trembled. Her sad eyes seemed to droop all the more. Her gaze traveled between Gavin and Maxwell. “There is a reason I told Ian about the affair.” Her lips quivered, and she shook her head as if the words got stuck in her throat.
“Ah,” said the queen. “Let me guess. The child was not your husband’s.”
Gavin’s mother gave a timid nod.
“What?” Rory Maxwell roared and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Is that true, Francis?”
Audrey paled and covered her mouth.
Gavin wished he still had the wall to brace his stance for his legs wobbled and his head spun. Surely his mother jested. What cruel trick was this?
Though the queen was keen for more, Gavin’s mother spoke only to him. “’Tis all true. You have the same cleft in your chins. Your wide shoulders. You even have the same gait.”
Gavin and Maxwell assessed each other, but Gavin rejected the premise.
His mother carried on. “When I told Ian I carried another man’s child, he flew into a rage. I begged him to let me go. This was the chance to get the annulment he sought. But he was so livid he stormed out of the tower. I was certain he would kill Rory. I prayed. How I prayed that Ian would relent and not harm him. When Ian returned, he was so calm. I feared Rory was dead, and I expected to follow him. Instead, he offered another bargain.”
“Why didnae ye come and tell me the truth?” Maxwell moaned. “I’d have moved hell itself to free ye.”
“You are the best swordsman in these parts now, but not back then. No man survived a fight when Ian held a blade against him. But that is not why I never spoke the truth.” Gavin’s mother fisted her hands over her heart. “Ian was no fool. He knew now without a doubt that he was the one unable to sire a child. With no heir, Warring Tower would have gone to his brother, Hew. An unbearable thought. So, he offered to recognize my child as his own.”
“The lad was mine,” Maxwell roared.
Those words being said out loud punched a hole in Gavin’s chest. Nay, this revolting beast wasn’t his father? His mother lied before, she could easily be lying now. If she truly cared about Maxwell, she would have left Warring Tower. Something wasn’t right.
His mother boldly came to stand in front of Gavin. “If I did not agree, he swore to kill my child. And that was one thing I could not abide by.”
Gavin searched his mother’s gaze. His heart lurched. Her eyes were open and hid nothing. This was the truth. All she did, she did for him.
Chapter Thirty
Gavin stormed from the chapel, and Audrey wanted to run after him, but a gaggle of guards brought him back. “I’ll not stay and listen to any more of this,” he shouted to the queen.
Wisely, she did not demand he stay. Instead,
she ordered him to his chamber with a guard placed outside his door.
“This is my home, not yours,” Gavin spat, struggling against his captors.
The queen rose to her feet. “Perhaps so. But we have other things which need to be discussed, and until you can conduct yourself in a civilized manner, you will remain in your chamber. I’ll not have you run off and lick your wounds in some tavern. Not while I am here!” Her hand slashed the air. “Take him away.”
His shouts and screams could be heard throughout the keep. Audrey wanted to soothe away his anguish, but she could not. Nor would her attention be appreciated in his present mood. Twice Gavin broke free, and twice he had to be subdued. Finally, the queen ordered him to be taken to the cells below the tower.
’Twas wrong. How could the queen be so cruel and lock Gavin up in his own home? Something had to be done. Audrey inched forward. “Your Majest—”
“Say not a word. The man is not thinking right and needs to cool his heels,” the queen clipped.
Then all was silent. The queen let out a heavy huff and sat back in her chair with a thump. “Now then, where were we?”
Audrey stole a glance around the room at those who were still present. Any affection Rory Maxwell had ever harbored for Lady Francis seemed to evaporate before her eyes. The veins in his neck stuck out like purple snakes as he ground his teeth.
“Ye should have told me,” he spat at Lady Francis before stomping to the door.
“And where are you going?” the queen asked, raising her voice an octave.
He turned back. “Home. I have no wish to stay here anymore.”
“I have not dismissed you.” Queen Elizabeth lifted her chin.
“Ye are not my queen. And even if ye were, I would leave. The truth be, I dinnae care who our rulers are because none of them care about the borderland people. I only sent Warrin’ to Perth to get rid of him so I could have his lands again.” He looked toward Lady Francis. “I missed…having control of these lands. Years ago, the lust of gold caught my eye and I sold them back to Gavin Armstrong.” Maxwell looked away. “But I no longer have the desire to own this keep and those within.” He then cocked his head and glared at the queen. “And I dinnae care if James Stewart or that heretic John Knox lives or dies. I dinnae care what faith rules here, True Faith or Reformed Faith. For the only demon that reigns in these lands is the devil. So go back home and let the demon angel have his ground or he may just come for yers.”
Queen Elizabeth flinched and rose to her feet. “This may be a godforsaken country, but as long as I stand on its soil, you will not leave this keep until I am satisfied your words are true.” She raised a finger and pointed it at him. “Do you understand?”
Rory gave a sarcastic smile and bowed. “Aye, Mistress Pittman.” His scar puckered on his face. “I’d be happy to tell ye the names of those who wish to harm ye, if it gets me out of this stinkin’ tower. There’s a whole bushel of zealots in these parts. Until then, I’ll be with me men in the courtyard.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded. Without looking at another soul, Rory Maxwell left, the chapel door slamming behind him. A ripple of revulsion raced through Audrey. The man would sell his soul to save his own neck. Perhaps he already had. Poor Gavin to have such a cold sire. Then again, she must remember it was time and circumstance that hardened the man. All she could do was pray he would have a change of heart.
“What an impertinent man. What did you ever see in him?” The queen did not wait for Lady Francis to answer. “Well, I think that is enough for one day. Do you not agree?” Queen Elizabeth asked to no one in particular. “I am sure there is a nice quiet chamber for me to rest in this eve.”
“You may have my chamber. I shall sleep with the children,” Lady Francis said with a shaky breath. She resembled and sounded like an apparition, void and bland of any real substance. “I shall go and ready the room for your comforts.” With quiet feet she left the chapel, leaving Audrey alone with the queen.
“These Scots truly do not think of their own necks. For never has a room emptied so quickly in my presence. And without my permission.” The queen sighed.
“You must remember they have been addressing Mistress Pittman and not a queen.”
“Aye, you are quite right. And Mistress Pittman would like to see her chamber.”
Audrey led the queen to Lady Francis’s room and was glad the chamber had many luxuries. Though worn and not as fine as her palaces, Queen Elizabeth would have some of the amenities she was used to, and she would be far safer than setting up a pavilion in the fields.
Few words were exchanged before the queen requested the services of one of her own ladies. “I have traveled light to stay undetected, but not without some comforts.”
Once the queen was settled in, Audrey went back to the hall. “Come, mistress, have a drink with me,” Sir Pimberly called from a table placed in a shadowy niche.
She stepped closer and saw he sat with a full pitcher of ale and two mugs before him. He picked up the pitcher of ale and filled each mug. He then sat back and pushed the cup toward Audrey. “First, Laird Armstrong is led away under guard, and then Laird Maxwell storms out of here. Care to enlighten me on what transpired in the chapel?”
Audrey took the offered drink, letting the cool ale moisten her throat. She had never been fond of the brew, but right now it did seem splendid. “Perhaps you would like to ask Mistress Pittman, for I am not at liberty to say.”
His lips curved downward. “Then I may never learn what happened.”
“In all honesty, you are the most fortunate for not knowing.”
At that very moment, one of the queen’s guards descended the stairs and entered the hall. “Sir Pimberly, the queen wishes to speak to you.”
With great care, he gently placed his mug back on the table. “Ah, it looks like I shall have no rest tonight either. For I am certain the queen has a task for me to complete before morn.” He rose quietly and gave Audrey a neat bow before he slipped away on silent feet. The man was born to his sneaky ways, and whatever the queen wished to discover, there was no doubt he would uncover it.
“I suppose I should go to bed,” Audrey said to herself, but when she got to the stairs, she descended them instead of ascending them. There was one person she wished to see yet this night.
The lower level of the tower always stank of aging brew and mold. The damp space sent goosebumps to her arms and a shiver to her spine. Few torches lit the area, so she had to step carefully to the cells where Gavin was kept. She yelped once when a rat squeaked and scurried out from behind one of the large wooden barrels. Her heart seemed to bang off her ribcage as she kept moving her feet forward.
Finally, she saw two large wooden doors. One open with no occupants and another closed flanked by two guards. Their faces etched with years of battle and service to those who ruled England. Sweet words would not give her entry. Honesty and perhaps an act of omission would gain her admittance.
“Hold there,” one of the guards said as she approached. “Come no closer.”
“Good sirs, I only wish to speak to Laird Armstrong, nothing else. I know the queen would not mind.”
The guards looked to one another but did not move or offer a word.
She timidly stepped closer and reached out her arms. “I have no weapon upon me.” She twirled about. “You may search me if you like.”
One of the guards coughed, and the other looked pained. Their sinful thoughts formed on their faces. Surely, they would not take advantage of her with the queen sleeping above?
“What do you want with the likes of him?” one guard finally asked.
“Just to speak. I know Mistress Pittman did not deny him visitors.” Indeed, the queen had just given her guard orders to take him to the cell for safekeeping. Audrey cautiously crept forward. “Please, just for a moment. He cannot escape, and I think I can get valuable information from him that the queen would be most appreciative to hear. I would tell her of your aid to me.”
The guards exchanged a look, and then one of them stepped to the door, slipping open the lock. “Not long,” he said gruffly.
With light feet, she rushed into the dark cell before the guard changed his mind. The door slammed into place, and a small window cut within slid open, leaving a dim ray of light to snake across the floor. The foul odor of waste assailed her nostrils. She reached for a cloth in her bodice and covered her nose. She tiptoed farther into the dark cell. “Gavin,” she whispered. “Where are you?”
It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then she found him sitting against a moist wall, his legs stretched out before him like a bruised and beaten caged animal. Tearstained dirt etched his face. “Ye shouldnae be here,” he croaked.
The desire to embrace him in her arms and kiss all his hurt away overwhelmed her. In a half a day’s time, everything he knew to be true had been shattered. His true father was an enemy, his mother a spy, and she…wasn’t much better. If she opened her heart and spoke of her love, would he accept her or reject her?
She licked her lips and tried to find the words. “Perhaps not, but many are concerned about you.” What a safe answer. She was nothing but a coward.
“Many?” His voice came out like a grainy cough. “Like who? My mother? I think not. My father?” He spat out, shaking his head. “My whole life has been a lie.”
The self-pity did not suit him. Nor was it good to wallow in something that was impossible to change. Right now he did not believe in love, nor would her admission chase away the dark demons that scraped at his soul. So she would fight them head-on.
“Tell me,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Would your life have been any different if you had known the truth? Would it have been better to be raised by Maxwell?”
He left out a snort. “Heavens no. The man is an ignorant bore. Crude and ill-mannered. What my mother ever saw in him…”
“She saw love. At one time, I think he was a very handsome and a kind man. But time and tragedies have a way of whittling away the good. Your mother did what she did to protect you. Because she loved you. She saved you from disgrace.”