‘Bothwell!’ McNaughton cried out in astonishment at the apparition before him. ‘I can hardly credit it. You have my undying admiration, sir.’
Bothwell shrugged aside the compliment and mounted the horse McNaughton had brought him.
‘And you have mine. It takes more courage to be a friend of Bothwell than it takes to scale a rock face! I swear, McNaughton, I will never forget your part in this adventure. And now let us be gone from this place, for my thirst is great and that tankard of ale awaits us!’
Later, in a tavern in one of the wynds, Bothwell looked very much at ease and in no hurry to take his leave of Edinburgh. When Gavin remarked on this, Bothwell replied,
‘I doubt if there will be any great zeal to renew my confinement. Anyway, I have business to do here. My troubles have emptied my purse.’
‘I have business too,’ McNaughton said, ‘but of a more pleasant nature. If, that is, I succeed in getting past the guard at Holyrood—Lord James is there, and any friend of yours would doubtless receive a more than warm welcome at the hands of his men.’
Bothwell’s dark, weather-beaten features relaxed into a grin.
‘Ah, you are going to see the beautiful Marie Hepburn! She’s worth a risk or two, I’ll wager.’
‘I’d risk my life for her.’
‘That is perhaps what you will do, my friend, if you venture near Holyrood.’
‘You advise me against it?’ McNaughton laughed. ‘After the risks you have taken yourself this very night?’
‘Not at all.’ Bothwell raised his tankard. ‘Here’s to success in all our ventures.’
They arranged where next to meet, planning to go first to Crichton Castle and then to the Hermitage. Bothwell had a powerful force stationed there.
After they parted, Gavin gave some thought to how he could get into the palace of Holyrood. He was prepared to do anything that was necessary, no matter how dangerous. But the obvious thing to try first was to bribe the guard.
He was surprised at how easily his ploy succeeded, and he proceeded swiftly on his way to Marie’s bedchamber. It was very late and she was already in bed. The curtains of the four-poster were closed against the cold nocturnal draughts.
‘Marie,’ he whispered, not wanting to startle her. ‘I had to see you. I am forced to leave the town to escape the wrath of Lord James. …’
The curtain was drawn aside by a shapely white hand. Emerald eyes widened when she saw him.
‘I know all about your troubles, Gavin. But I had begun to think that you had only been toying with me and did not truly care. …’
‘My love,’ he came over to her, pulling the bedclothes back so that he could lie beside her, ‘how could you think so after I told you of the depth of—’ He stopped when he noticed the changed shape of her body. ‘You are with child?’
She nodded.
‘I hope you are pleased.’
‘Of course! I am delighted and proud. When I return, we will be married and I will take you to Glasgow. In the meantime, you must try to obtain the Queen’s permission.’
‘The Queen is already softening towards you.’
‘Good. Then we have nothing to worry about. Naughton Castle will have its Duchess, and I will have not only my heart’s desire, but a son and heir.’
She gazed up at him and he cupped her face in his hands.
‘Smile! As your future husband, I command it.’
He was rewarded by a quiver of her lips which he immediately stilled with a kiss. He made love to her gently, tenderly. Then he left, assuring her that he would return as soon as possible.
‘I will speak to Bothwell. I have promised to accompany him as far as the Hermitage. Once there, my services will no longer be needed, and I will return to you with all haste. I give you my word.’
The fugitives rode through the night, and by morning they had passed Hawick on the road to the south. Away from Edinburgh and his enemies, Bothwell now seemed more relaxed, as the massive hills of Cauldcleuch and Greatmoor towered above them, and their horses’ hooves splashed through the clear waters of mountain streams. As they cantered on, Gavin began to whistle a familiar tune.
‘You are in happy mood today,’ Bothwell remarked.
‘I have good reason to be happy, my friend. Although you have no good reason that I can see to be at ease with the world.’
Bothwell smiled knowingly.
‘Do I take it that the meeting with your lady was successful?’
‘We plan to wed. She is with child.’
‘I see! If you wish, I can release you from your word now. I can go on alone from here.’
‘No, my word is my bond. I’ll not break it. I could not live with myself if you perished for the want of another sword-arm. And while I’m away, Marie will put in a good word with the Queen—for both of us, Bothwell. She is close to the Queen. Let us hope she has influence enough.’
The Hermitage was a huge and gloomy fortress, dominating its windswept moorland vantage point. It could hold more than six hundred men, horse and foot, within its towering walls, and almost fifteen hundred moss troopers could be raised from the surrounding countryside. Its reputation, however, was dark and unsavoury. It had been built over two hundred and fifty years before by the family of Nicholas de Soulis. It was said that De Soulis dabbled in sorcery and kept a familiar spirit in one of the dungeons. Finally the King had become weary of his notorious and bizarre behaviour, and cried out in exasperation, ‘Oh boil him. But let me be plagued with him no more.’ His courtiers had taken the King literally and, in the words of a song Bothwell was fond of singing,
‘They rolled him in a sheet of lead,
A sheet of lead for a funeral pall;
They plunged him in the cauldron red
And melted him—lead, bones and all!’
The dungeons were still said to be haunted, but this did not appear to concern anyone unduly. Certainly not the sentries or any of the occupants, and now that Bothwell had returned, the castle buzzed with military activity.
‘I know only too well,’ Bothwell said, as Gavin prepared to take his leave, ‘that my chances of a full pardon depend greatly on the Queen’s good-will. Without it, I am at the mercy of my deadly enemy, Lord James Stewart. But enough of my troubles, my friend. You have business of your own to attend to.’
Gavin set off for the return journey to Edinburgh with a happy heart. For the moment all his troubles—all his debts and the ever-present threat of ruin—were forgotten. If all went well, he would soon be married to one of the most beautiful ladies of the Court.
XXVII
WONDERFUL! Wonderful!’ Effie clapped her hands in delight. ‘You will be the Duchess of Glasgow and mistress of Naughton Castle after all!’
‘That depends on one thing and one thing alone,’ Marie said.
‘And he is such a handsome young laddie. Such fair hair and blue eyes I have never witnessed in my whole life—’
‘Mother, will you listen to me,’ Marie broke in, her voice loud and harsh. ‘Everything can very easily be ruined. My life, my happiness …’
‘Foolish lassie, what could possibly go wrong. He has asked you to be his wife.’
‘You could ruin everything, mother. I have nightmares about it. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Oh tuts. Do you mean that unfortunate business again? It was an age ago. Everybody has forgotten about it long since.’
‘He was Gavin’s father. Gavin McNaughton hasn’t forgotten.’
‘Well, that may be so, but what does it matter now?’
‘What does it matter?’ Marie echoed incredulously. ‘Mother, are you mad? Of course it matters. This is exactly what worries me. Your carelessness in what you say and do. You must never, ever, breathe one word about what happened that night, to anyone, not to a living soul, do you hear?’
‘My dear lassie, have I said one word to anyone in all these years?’
‘Maybe not …’ Marie admitted, in a worried and uncertain tone.
‘I may be a little foolish at times, Marie, but I’m not mad. I will not do or say anything, I promise you, that will injure our standing at Court. Especially with our dear Queen who has taken such a liking to me.’
It was true that the Queen was thoroughly enjoying Effie’s cheerful company. Not so much for her good cheer and capacity for merrymaking, Marie suspected, as her mother’s expert knowledge of all forms of gambling. Gambling was an obsession with the Scottish nobility.
‘Do you swear to me … will you swear on the Bible … ?’
‘Of course, of course, but why such a fuss? Now let us try to forget all this nonsense and talk about your marriage. There is so much to prepare. The Queen and I will have a wonderful time planning the wedding. She is such a dear, generous girl, and no expense will be spared. She is sure to dig very deeply into the royal purse for her Marie. Do you know what she told me the other day…?’
Marie allowed her mother to chatter on about dresses, and all sorts of other nonsense. Meanwhile, her mind turned to more important matters. She was glad that the child she carried would have its chance of legitimacy, as the legal heir of Naughton Castle. In due course, he would inherit the dukedom and all the lands that went with it. Secure in that knowledge, she eagerly anticipated welcoming Gavin back to Edinburgh. Yet she still feared what the Earl of Edinburgh might do or say. She had avoided him as much as possible since his return, but she had not forgotten his threats. She prayed that her pregnancy would cause him to show mercy towards her. And it seemed her prayers were answered.
As soon as the Duke of Glasgow returned, he sought an audience with the Queen. Marie stood at his side, while the Earl of Edinburgh looked on in stony silence. He was as usual flamboyantly and fashionably dressed in a massive blue and gold doublet and slashed satin and fur cape. Gavin was dressed in elegant black and white. Marie, wearing a floating gown appropriate to her pregnancy, made a formal curtsy to the Queen. The Duke gave a deep bow, and thanked her for allowing him to return to Holyrood once more.
Later, Gavin and the Queen spoke of Bothwell, whose fortunes had once more taken a turn for the worse. He had been shipwrecked while en route to France, and taken prisoner by the English.
‘He has now been confined in the castle of Tynemouth, until the Privy Council decide what to do with him. I fear for his life, your Majesty. If only something could be done to help him. Despite your differences, he has served you well in the past.’
The Queen nodded.
‘I will give the matter serious thought, and in due course, I will discuss it with my advisors. But I think it will be difficult to offer him any help.’
As he listened to all this, Guthrie Jamieson wished it had been Gavin McNaughton who was languishing in an English dungeon once more. What had once been a mild dislike for the Duke had now turned to burning hatred. But just then an idea struck him. Perhaps McNaughton’s loyalty to Bothwell could provide Jamieson with the means of bringing about the downfall of the gallant Duke of Glasgow.
A plan began to take shape in his head, and he consoled himself with the thought that soon enough he would be rid of Gavin McNaughton for good. Then he would finally claim Marie for himself.
In no time at all, the day of Marie’s wedding to the Duke of Glasgow had arrived. A most excellent musician called David Rizzio had recently joined the Court, and he and the other Court musicians were to provide the entertainment. Rizzio could both sing and play the lute and although he was an ugly man, small and hunched, his Latin love of fine clothing made him stand out in a crowd. Few could have guessed then what tragedy lay in store for the Queen and her new musician.
Among Marie’s wedding gifts from the Queen was a sparkling diamond necklace to wear with the bridal dress. To the bridegroom the Queen had given a jewelled sword and an outfit glistening with gold buckles and silk embroidery.
Not to be outdone at the wedding, Effie wore her hair dyed chestnut and spangled with jewels. She had painted her face and plucked her eyebrows. Her dress was a nest of gauze over scarlet taffeta pinned at the neck and breast with a plethora of different coloured brooches. A pair of long earrings waggled continuously as she spoke. At the wedding feast she sat next to the Earl of Edinburgh and it was he who had to listen to her frivolous chatter. As they drank many toasts, the Earl managed to retain his look of polite interest, a feat that gained him much praise and sympathy from the other guests. For their part, they would have long since strangled the awful woman if they had been trapped in his unfortunate position.
Marie had seen Effie behave in this way so often it did not unduly surprise or trouble her, and she was grateful to Jamieson for containing Effie’s behaviour rather than allowing it to encompass the whole table. Before long, two of Effie’s maids had to be called to help her from the table and lead her, none too steadily, away to her bedchamber.
She was very annoyed to have missed the dancing but as Marie told her next day, she had hardly been able to walk from the banquet hall.
Effie had just laughed at this revelation. She had no memory of it and would not have cared even if she had.
‘The difference between you and me,’ she told Marie, ‘is that I know how to enjoy life and you don’t.’
‘We certainly have different ideas of what is enjoyable,’ Marie said.
As the dancing continued, Marie tried her best to keep away from Guthrie Jamieson. But he was determined to dance with her. As they danced he said,
‘This marriage will never last, Marie.’
‘You don’t know what you are talking about, Guthrie. You are jealous of Gavin,’ she retorted.
‘You know it’s me you really want. Perhaps I should ask your husband if he is sure the child you carry is his? Or maybe I could tell him one of our other little secrets?’
‘You wouldn’t dare! It would finish you as well.’
‘Maybe the price would be worth paying, just to see his face when he discovered the truth about his precious Marie.’
‘Guthrie!’ she pleaded, ‘this has to stop! I do not love you. Maybe once … but not any more. It’s Gavin I love, and I only want to be a good wife to him.’
‘You must do as you see fit. But consider this: perhaps you don’t know him as well as you think you do…’
‘What do you mean?’
‘One day you will see. And when you do, you will beg me to have you back.’
‘Never!’ Marie said bitterly, with tears in her eyes, as she turned and walked quickly away before the music had stopped.
XXVIII
HUDDLED in the corner of his dank, freezing cell, Bothwell was being slowly driven mad by the howling gale that lashed against the castle walls. His new prison was situated on a headland lashed by the North Sea. From morning till night, his ears were assailed by the ceaseless din of the elements. His despair was only relieved by the occasional visits from his few loyal friends, most notably the Duke of Glasgow.
It was during one of these visits that Gavin brought Bothwell the news he had been waiting for. Gavin had long since abandoned all hope that the Queen would intervene on Bothwell’s behalf, and so he had decided to mount a rescue attempt. But it had been the unexpected intervention of the Earl of Edinburgh that had finally convinced him to take such drastic action. As he told Bothwell,
‘I had not thought Guthrie Jamieson was a friend of yours, but there seems no doubt about it now. He came to me a few weeks after my wedding with a plan to free you, and a most excellent scheme it is too.’
Bothwell looked uneasy.
‘Guthrie Jamieson, you say? Well, well. I wonder what that sly fox is up to? If I were you, Gavin, I would not place my trust in him. We never were friends before, so why should he help me now?’
‘Frankly my friend,’ Gavin replied, ‘I don’t care why he wants to help, so long as he does and we get you out of this hell-hole with all speed.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Bothwell relented. ‘But take care, Gavin, take great care.’
Later, to re
lieve the oppressive atmosphere of the cell, they talked of other, more pleasant matters—not least Gavin’s new family.
‘We have twins, a little son and daughter. The Queen keeps my wife and I at Court in order to have the infants near her. She showers them with gifts, and as often as not I am forced to leave Marie and Kate and Machar at Court while I attend to the running of my estates.’
‘You called your son after your father?’
‘Yes. Marie was very much opposed to the name but I insisted. At least my father’s memory will live on in my son.’
He hesitated.
‘The matter of my father is the only discord that ever arises between me and my wife. It is a worrying obsession with her. She even ordered the servants to remove my father’s portrait from its position of honour above the fireplace. It dominates the room, she said. And why not, I said. I confess I was very angry and ordered its immediate return.’
‘One would think,’ Bothwell said thoughtfully, ‘after all this time …’
‘Yes indeed. It is most peculiar to say the least. Yet in every other way my beautiful wife is perfectly reasonable and normal.’
Bothwell shrugged.
‘Women! Will we ever understand them!’
Burning Ambition Page 17