by Olivia Rae
“You believed he was mine!” the queen spat. “My sister Mary sent the boy north when she was queen, not I, but you do not think she could be the mother?” The heat left Queen Elizabeth’s eyes. Even she knew that wasn’t possible. Mary Tudor desperately wanted a child and would have claimed even a bastard as royal if she could have gotten away with it. Nay, this child was another’s. But whose?
Gavin and Audrey remained silent. The gentle flowing water seemed to help the queen regain her composure. She fixed a stern eye on Audrey. “The child is not mine.”
Audrey did not back down. “Then why are you so interested in Thomas? Why send me to make queries?”
“You recruited my mother to your schemes,” Gavin added, suddenly not caring what the queen would do to him as long as Thomas was safe.
Queen Elizabeth began to pace back and forth. “This is more complicated than I thought. Pimberly tried to pull more information out of Lady Francis, but she was very protective of the boy. In truth, Lady Francis believes you are Thomas’s father.” She pierced Gavin with a stern look. “Once I read my sister’s writings, I needed to know more. That is when Pimberly established a steady stream of communication with your mother. I didn’t want Thomas to become a pawn used between Scotland, England, and France.”
Gavin rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I dinnae understand. If you arenae Thomas’s mother, then why are you concerned about his future, and how can he be used against you?”
Queen Elizabeth frowned. “We all know how Thomas came to be your son, but you do not know all of the story. Nor had I until I came upon my sister’s papers. Sometimes I believe ’tis her guilty conscience that killed her and not the disease that ravaged her body.”
A twinge of unease wiggled through Gavin’s insides. Could the queen be an emissary from Thomas’s real father? If so, then the man had to be influential. More powerful than the Queen of England. Someone not easily persuaded. His jaw clenched. How was he to fight an invisible foe? A man stronger than royalty.
The queen released her breath. “Though I was held at the tower, I was not the only would-be queen imprisoned.”
Audrey stepped forward. “Do you speak of Lady Jane Grey? She was rightly beheaded for treason.”
“On this we are in agreement. But one queen killing another tends to set a precedent. And in truth, the young Lady Jane was used by very ambitious men. My sister did not believe the girl ever wanted to become queen, even for nine days.”
Gavin impatiently folded his arms across his chest. If Elizabeth were not a queen, he would direct her conversation back to Thomas’s future instead of discussing the tragic death of a traitorous queen.
“According to my sister’s writings, being of soft-heart, she refused to kill Lady Jane.” Like a royal, the queen paused for effect. Obviously, she realized how preposterous her statement must sound, for all knew Lady Jane Grey did die that cold February day in 1554. “Instead, my sister found someone else to take Jane’s place at the block.”
“Say again?” Gavin dropped his hands to his side, not wanting to miss what she would say next. Either she was mad or found humor in telling such a ridiculous lie.
Audrey gasped and wobbled before the queen. “Do you jest?”
Queen Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “I never jest.” She lifted her chin, forbidding anyone to gainsay her. “She sent Lady Jane Grey to a convent in France, but the girl escaped to the German Nations.” The hair on Gavin’s neck began to rise when the queen paused. “And here, my dear Audrey, is where your brother comes in.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The past started taking focus in Audrey’s memory. Her brother would do almost anything to put food on the family’s table. “You speak of Asher?”
“Of course, I speak of Asher,” the queen confirmed. “Do you have another brother that was a spy for my sister?”
Why did the queen taunt her? She was just an innocent in all of this mess. ’Twas her brother not she who had spied against the Protestants when Queen Mary sat on the throne.
“After Jane’s escape, my sister realized her folly in letting the girl live. She sent your brother to kill Lady Jane Grey.”
The cold cruel words sent a clammy chill down Audrey’s back. Surely, she was mistaken. Asher rounded up the Protestants, but he never…eerie screams of those being burned at the stake cried out from the past. The smell of burnt flesh singed her nose once again. Audrey put her hands against temples. “I cannot believe he would…”
The queen waved a hand. “Do not worry, he did not kill her, he married her.”
“What?” Audrey stumbled back, and Gavin reached out to steady her.
He held her tight while casting an accusing glare at the queen. “Have care, Your Majesty.”
“Have care? How dare you threaten me. I am England.” Elizabeth regally took her seat on the log.
“With respect, you are not in England, and you are not Scotland,” Gavin challenged.
Audrey squeezed his arm. They were in no position to correct her words with a gaggle of guards less than a shout away. Besides, what the queen said had to be false. Her brother would never marry a dethroned queen. Why, he was married to a German woman. A person Audrey had never met.
Audrey untangled herself from Gavin’s arms and stood straight before the queen. “This cannot be true.”
Queen Elizabeth slapped the front of her gown with her hands. “Of course, it is true. Why do you think he lives halfway around the world?”
“I remember the last time we spoke. He said his wedding was a secret…that I would never see him again.”
The queen nodded. “And you haven’t, have you?”
“No,” Audrey feebly answered as all the pieces began to fall into place.
“Nor will you unless he becomes a widower or you decide to take a long trip far from Scotland and England.” The queen sighed when Audrey blanched. “Have no fear. As long as Jane Grey is content to be a merchant’s wife and does not seek the throne, I am willing to forget the matter completely as should all of you.” The queen leveled them with a threatening glare.
“I am sure Mistress Audrey agrees that neither of us would want to cause harm to England.” Gavin stepped to Audrey’s side.
The queen seemed pleased with that answer. “Then we shall forget this conversation ever happened.”
Audrey was in full agreement. If this secret ever became known, her brother’s safety would be jeopardized. She was ready to put this whole affair behind her, but then Gavin opened his mouth.
“Your Majesty, one thing remains a mystery. I am wondering what does all this have to do with Thomas?”
The queen slapped her hands against her chest. “Goodness. Do you not see? Thomas is the son of the poor woman who took Jane’s place at the block and got her head chopped off.”
* * *
Gavin wanted to close his ears as the queen told the tale of how this poor woman chose to die in order to give her son a better life.
“At first I did not believe the tale myself. That is why I had Pimberly make inquiries. I had to know if my sister’s words were true. It seems she had her chaplain, John Feckenham, drug the real Lady Jane and replace her with a common woman of similar looks. Thomas could very well be the key to unlock the past. There are still those in my realm that would like to remove me from my throne.”
Audrey worried her lower lip. She feared for her brother. The past was never really forgotten until all who knew the truth were dead. If the queen ever came after Jane Grey, Asher would lose his life as well.
Slitting her eyes, the queen motioned to Gavin. “Now that you know the whole story, what think you of Thomas’s future? Are you worthy enough to be his father and protect the secret, or should I find another who would raise him to be an honor to the sacrifice his mother made?”
The queen’s condemnation was well deserved. For never was there a worse father than he. Nevertheless, he wanted the lad, even if he was lowborn. He had to make the queen see. Gone were
the years of hatred. Gone were the years of bitterness. Gone were the years of blaming. He would protect his family from harm because he loved them all.
He went down on one knee before Queen Elizabeth and beat his chest. “I know I have no claim on the lad, but I promise, from this day forth, I will be a good father.”
The queen lifted her brows. “According to your mother, you harbor little feeling for your children. I fear if I question Mistress Hayes, she would agree. Give me one good reason why I should leave the boy here when I can think of many excellent English families that would rear the child to be an asset to England.”
His heart sagged. Her words were true. Gavin licked the dryness from his lips. “I dinnae disagree with your thinking. But there is one thing I can give the lad that others cannae.”
The queen puckered her lips. “And what is that?”
“I love him. This I say with my whole heart. I will honor your decision, but wherever Thomas goes, he will always be my son in my heart.” Gavin touched his chest. “May God’s will be done.”
“God’s will.” The queen chuckled. “I have heard you carry no faith.” Audrey took a step forward, but swiftly the queen raised her hand, blocking any protest.
The stream seemed to slow, and the wind died. The birds grew quiet. Either God was contemplating her words or Gavin had been rendered deaf.
Finally, the queen stood and ruffled her gown. “Well, I may be mistaken. Perchance you could fulfill your fatherly duties and protect the Crown’s secret.”
Gavin rose to his feet but humbly kept his head bowed. “I promise. I will rear Thomas in the Protestant faith.”
“Mmm. Mistress Hayes might have another opinion on that. I would prefer that you would just raise him to be a good Christian. Of course, one that loves England.”
“And Scotland, Your Majesty,” Audrey interjected.
The queen sniffed. “I need your word, Armstrong, that the boy continues to be educated in the English ways.”
A ray of optimism pierced Gavin’s hopeless heart. “I promise. His education will not be slighted.”
“And that you will bring him to London at least once a year.”
On this, Gavin paused. The lad’s presence at court would set tongues wagging, but if Queen Elizabeth did not care, then why should he. “Aye, Your Majesty, if it would please you, I shall.”
“I am sure Mistress Hayes would enjoy seeing the boy again too.”
The queen’s words all but froze Gavin’s insides. He had forgotten Audrey would be leaving now that Truce Day was over. For so long he had wanted her to leave, and now that the time had come, he couldn’t bear it.
“I am sure you are ready to leave this place and see your family again?” The queen held out her hand to Audrey.
“I do miss my mother.” Audrey looked away, hiding her heart. In fact, her voice became light as she and the queen discussed London’s markets on their walk back to Warring Tower.
Gavin’s mood grew darker, and he finally begged off and headed for the stables. There he found Fraser preparing his mount to leave.
“What say you to a ride on the marches?” Gavin called.
Fraser shook his head. “I have to go and drag Jaxon out of one of his favorite taverns close to Maxwell land. Mistress Pittman let Rory and his men leave after he swore not to be a threat to her. I think that was a foolish decision, but what care I what happens to an English queen.”
So even Fraser had figured out Mistress Pittman’s identity. It would not be long before her enemies knew she was here. The queen would return to her own soil soon, taking Audrey with her.
“I have heard Jaxon is causin’ quite a ruckus. Seems yesterday’s festivities moved there and have been goin’ on for quite a while.”
“Do you mind if I ride along?” Gavin asked. “I need to clear my own head.”
“Suit yerself, but once I drag him out, I will return him to me father. Someone needs to inherit his lands.” Fraser would be banished from his home for what he did on Truce Day, and yet, he cared what would happen to his brother. The man deserved a kingdom for his family loyalty. Perhaps someday God would grant him peace and prosperity.
“You will always have a home at Warring Tower. I want you to know that.” Though he meant what he said, Gavin wondered what Hew and Fraser would do if they knew about Gavin’s parentage. Another secret that would need protection.
Fraser’s sad eyes held gratitude, but also a deep longing of a missed future. “Nay. My time has come to move on. This world is a big place, and I am itching to discover it.”
Gavin called for his horse, and the pair rode out into the meadow as the sun rose high in the sky. This season would not only be a new beginning for Fraser but also a new beginning for Warring Tower. He would rear his sons to be good stewards of the place and devoted disciples of God. Gavin frowned. He had always believed that Audrey would be around to help him in this task, but clearly, she had no desire to do so.
By the time they arrived at the tavern, Gavin’s mood had spoiled. He worried that he might have to defend Warring Tower against Hew, and he dreaded the lonely years ahead without Audrey at his side.
Merrymakers were lying outside the inn, and singing boomed within. He smiled. This was exactly where he needed to be. The heavy, stale air assailed Gavin’s nostrils the moment he crossed the threshold. Not a chair sat unoccupied as they shuffled through the cramped space. Near the hearth sat Jaxon with a buxom wench on his lap. He was waving a mug of small beer in his hand, singing crude songs off-key.
“Brother,” he called to Fraser. “Tell me ye have brought us some ale, for the innkeeper has run out hours ago. He has naught but this watered-down beer.”
“Nay, I come to take ye home. Da will be lookin’ for ye and willnae be happy until his favored son has returned.” Fraser put his fists on the table.
The woman on Jaxon’s lap wisely departed, knowing when a fight brewed. “I wish ye would beg his forgiveness, for I have no desire to inherit such a crumblin’ keep. I plan to take that fair maid and set out for a brighter future.” Jaxon took a swig of his beer and pointed his mug toward the lass.
The table cleared, and wagers on the presumed fight filled the air. “Ye can tell him yerself. Come along now. ’Tis time to go home.”
Jaxon rose and took a swing, missing Fraser’s head completely but hitting one of Maxwell’s men. Faster than it would take a mule to kick, the whole tavern erupted. Bubbling over with his own anger, Gavin heartily joined in.
Bones cracked as punches connected with jaws. Tables and chairs were tossed about the room as if they were a pile of feathers. Blood oozed, and teeth lay like pebbles on the floor. Gavin could not remember having a grander time. He gladly smashed each face and body that appeared before him. Even with blood dripping down from a nasty gash above his eye, his vigor did not slow.
His fists were raw, but Gavin kept swinging, throwing punches and taking them until his head spun. Ready to stop, a man with a long white scar stumbled into Gavin’s arms. His greying brows and brown eyes were well known.
“Rory Maxwell. This will be a pleasure.” Shoving him away, Gavin spat into his hands, then hurled his fist into Rory’s left cheek.
The older man fell back but recovered quickly. Screaming, he ran full force into Gavin, slamming him into a dirt wall. Rory laughed and started walking away, thinking Gavin wouldn’t recover. That had been his mistake. Gavin fought to stay on his feet. He took a full breath. “Maxwell,” he shouted, coiling his hands into tight fists.
The two men sparred until neither of them had the strength to lift their arms and the inn was nothing but a ramshackle mess. “Leave off,” shouted the innkeeper. “There be nothin’ left for ye to ruin.”
Bodies lay strewn about the floor or sitting dazed against the walls. Not a stick of furniture stood intact. The tavern was nothing more than a smelly, sweaty, shambled shack. Bloody shirts decorated the rafters. A chorus of moans and groans drifted through the air.
Frase
r dragged Jaxon out the door and winked. “See ye later, cousin. I have to be gettin’ me brother home.”
Gavin nodded at his dear friend, hoping they would spend more time in the future riding the marches.
Maxwell gave out a belly laugh and spat out a tooth. “Now that’s a good fight.”
“Aye, and the Maxwells and the Armstrongs will pay for fixin’ the place up again.” The innkeeper took a rag and tried to wipe up some beer on a broken table.
Gavin stood and wiped the blood from his nose. Maxwell slapped him on the back. “Two beers and be quick about it. Before Armstrong and I die of thirst.”
“May God make the both of ye choke on yer own spit.” The innkeeper poured two small beers. “Take them outside.”
Maxwell picked up his mug and downed it in two gulps. “Another.” Gavin finished his off just as quickly. “Give him another too.”
“Nay, not until I see some coin.” The bartender held the pitcher of beer far from their reach.
Maxwell threw a couple of coins at the innkeeper. “Now give me the whole pitcher and leave us be.”
Satisfied with the generous amount offered, the innkeeper handed over the pitcher, then went to salvaging his furniture. Gavin and Maxwell exited the tavern and slid down the side of the building until they were seated on the ground. Both took a long pull from their drinks before staring at each other.
“I cannae remember havin’ such a grand fight.” Maxwell polished off his mug and poured himself another.
“Nor I,” Gavin agreed.
The humor in Maxwell’s eyes left, and his face seemed to age years. “Had I known, I would have fought heaven and hell to get yer ma and ye out of there.”
“I know.” The pain oozed out of Gavin’s memory. His father’s coldness, his mother’s tears, all made sense now.
“Dinnae be so bitter.” Maxwell rubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m not bitter,” Gavin snapped.
“Ye are. ’Tis as plain as yer bloody nose on yer pasty bloody face. Francis did what she did to stop a war and save many a life. Yers included. If anything, she is a saint, she is.” Maxwell tossed back his mug, taking a healthy slurp before resting his head against the wooden building. “Ye look like her, but now I can see the Maxwell in ye too.” He pointed to his chin. “Right here.” He then slapped Gavin’s shoulders. “And in yer brawn.”