“Go tell Fiona. And dinna worry for yer privacy. The entire East Wing is yers. The West Wing is mine. I shall speak to you further in the morning.” She walked him to the door and kissed him “Good night, my son. Send Marian to me on yer way down.”
“You have done a good thing, madame,” said Marian when she entered the room a few minutes later. “Sir Charles is floating, so happy he is.”
“Come, Marian, ye surely never thought I was building that large stone barn for myself alone.”
“It’s a castle fit for nobility, madame.”
“Yes, isn’t it,” purred Janet
“And how will ye accomplish that? No! Don’t tell me. You’ll have an earldom for him before yer through. When you get that look in yer eye—”
Janet laughed, “I want the pale gold silk nightgown and robe. There’s a border moon tonight, and I think. Lord Hay will come.”
After helping Janet remove her gown and petticoats, Marian placed a small tub from the garderobe in front of the fireplace, and filling it with warm water from a steaming kettle, added to it several drops of scented oil from a crystal flacon. Janet stood quietly in the tub as her waiting woman sponged her entire body with the fragrant water.
“It’s outrageous that a woman yer age should look as ye do,” muttered Marian wrapping her mistress in a warm towel, and thoroughly drying her. Next she poured a pale green cream from a gold bottle into her hand and massaged her lady’s skin starting at the soles of her feet, and working upwards to her neck. She then sat Janet at her dressing table and brushed her beautiful hair till it crackled and glistened.
“Stand up, madame.”
With a large lamb’s wool puff, she dusted an extra fine scented powder over Janet and rubbed it into the skin with a silk cloth, Marian helped Janet into her nightgown, sheer pale gold silk held up by ribbons at the shoulders, the low bodice covered in a fine lace, and a ribbon at the waist Janet then put on a matching cape edged from neck to hem in a thin band of dark sable. It tied at the throat with a single silk ribbon.
“I don’t know why you bother,” said Marian tartly. “He’ll have it off you quick enough.”
“Was not my lord Selim the same?”
“Aye. Men are alike that way.”
She carried the little tub into the garderobe. Corning back into the bedchamber she said, “I had Ruth put wine, bread and a joint o’ mutton in your cupboard. I fancy his lordship will be hungry after his cold ride.”
“Where is Ruth?”
“In her bed. Alone. I saw to that! Earlier, however, I caught Red Hugh sniffing about her.”
“I wouldna disapprove a match between them, Marian, but I’ve warned him not to seduce her.”
“Thank ye, madame. He’s a good lad, but—experienced, and my Ruth is so innocent”
“Dinna worry, my old friend. I love Ruth as my own Nilufer. I’ll let no harm come to her.”
“I know, m’lady. Good night now.”
“Good night, Marian.”
Janet walked to the fireplace, and reaching into a jar on the mantel, drew out a handful of aloes, which she threw on the fire. Standing by the window she gazed into the silver-lit black night The moon rode high. He would come she knew. For over a month now he had been paying her secret visits, entering Glenkirk by a hidden door at the base of this tower. Besides herself and Colin, only Marian and Ruth knew of the door’s existence. She had discovered it when she was a child
Feeling a draft she turned. He stood, the tapestry to his back, stripping off his gloves. He tossed them along with his cloak on the wooden settle by the fireplace.
“Jesu, sweetheart it’s cold tonight!” He opened his arms. “Come warm me.”
“And be frozen to death? No thank you, m’lord. When ye’ve thawed, I’ll consider yer offer.” Walking to the cupboard she took out a decanter and goblet and pouring him some wine, handed it to him. “Are you hungry? Marion has left fresh bread and some mutton.’
“Later.” He drained the goblet “That gown screams rape. If ye dinna want it ruined, take it off.”
Sprawled on the bed he watched her. Her slender fingers undid the ribbon on the cape, which slipped to the floor. She shrugged the ribbons off her shoulders and untied the one at her waist He caught his breath as the gown slid slowly to the floor caressing her ripe breasts, hips and long legs as it sunk into a mass around her ankles. She stepped out of it and joined him on the bed. Laying back she looked up at him. “Good evening, my lord Hay.”
“Madame.” He chuckled, and bending kissed the tip of each breast Instantly they sprang erect “So,” he smiled lazily, “that’s how it’s going to be.” Standing up he stripped off his clothes.
Hungrily she drew him down, and a few moments later they both lay spent and exhausted. For a while only their breathing broke the stillness. Then Janet said, “Are ye warm now, my lord?”
“Aye, and hungry too.” Grinning he stood up and helped himself to the bread and meat in the cupboard.
“Gi’ me some wine, Colly.” He handed her a cup which she sipped slowly. “I told Charles he might have the East Wing of Sithean. He’s delighted.”
“He should bel Yer damned generous, but I’ll feel better knowing that there’s a man in the house.”
“Red Hugh is a man. He’ll be living there, too.”
“Still after little Ruth, is her
“Aye, but he’ll have to wed wi’ her to get what he wants. Marian’s daughter is no wanton ready for a quick tumble under a hedge.”
“Will he?”
“I think so. What he wants of her no other woman, even a virgin, can gie him. My nephew hasna realized it yet, but he’s in love!”
“And young Ruth,” said Colin, “following yer instructions, no doubt, will first drive poor Hugh wild and then drive him to the altar. Yer a wicked lass, my Jan!”
She laughed. “Ye make it sound so odious! I simply want them both happy.”
“If yer for them, they will be, my dear. Now if ye would agree to marry me I should be happy, also.”
“Colin, my hinny, ye may have my love, my body, my undivided attention—and aye!—even my money! But I’ll nae wed again! It’s extremely pleasant being yer mistress, but ‘tis even more pleasant being my own mistress.”
“I’ll keep asking.” His eyes twinkled.
Putting her goblet on the table by the bed she held out her arms to him. He accepted the invitation. They made love tenderly, slowly, each striving to prolong the other’s pleasure, and as the moon began to set, they fell asleep.
44
SITHEAN WAS DEDICATED on Saint Andrew’s Day in the year fifteen hundred and thirty-three. Janet had been home six months. Afterwards there was a feast The Lady of Sithean had taken into her household a cook, a bailiff, a dozen housemaids and kitchenmaids, a laundress and two assistants, a spit-boy, three byremaids, a head groom, three undergrooms, a head gamekeeper, two assistant gamekeepers, twenty men-at-arms, their captain, her own personal body servants, two nursemaids for the nursery, and a priest In all she was to be responsible for feeding, clothing, and housing fifty-three souls, not including her own family which now consisted of herself, Charles, Fiona, and their two babies, Patrick and baby Charles. It was not however, considered a large household.
The celebration was for the family and a few friends. The earl of Glenkirk came with his countess. Ian, and his pretty Jane, who was again with child, came with their five-month-old son, Patrick. He was called “Wee Patrick” to distinguish him from his older cousin, Fiona and Charles’ Patrick who would be two in January. Sister Mary Agnes, Janet’s niece had come from her convent near Edinburgh in the company of her friend, Sister Margaret Mary, Colin’s unfortunate daughter. The master of Gray-haven arrived with his two sons—his heir, James, who brought his bride, Jean Gordon, and his younger son, Gilbert who was betrothed to Alice Gordon, Jean’s younger sister.
Gilbert Hay was twenty, and though twelve-year-old Alice Gordon might some day be attractive, she was not of inter
est to him now. How he occupied his time became obvious several months later when two of Janet’s housemaids confessed to being pregnant, and each tearfully named young Master Gilbert as the culprit
“Could he not have kept his cod in his breeches for one night?” she raged at Lord Hay. “Not one girl, but two! Do ye know how hard they are to train? For God’s sake why did ye betroth a lusty cock of twenty to a child of twelve? It will be two years before they can marry. In that time hell seduce every virgin for fifty miles around and start his own clan!”
That year, Twelfth Night revels at Sithean were particularly merry, for Janet’s younger serving woman, Ruth Browne, was married to Adam’s bastard son. As Lord Hay bad predicted, Ruth first drove Red Hugh wild, and then she drove him to the altar. Actually it was Hugh’s mother who had turned the trick. Out of the blue she had married a prosperous local farmer who had been recently widowed.
Speaking frankly to her son she told him, “Yell always be welcoome in our home, Hughie; but ye can see how busy I am wi’ Geordie’s puir motherless bairns. Cooking and putting up fur this great lot is more work than it was fur just the two of us. I dinna ken why ye dinna wed wi’ Lady Janet’s sweet Ruth. She’s a guid girl, and will make ye a guid home. Perhaps my lady will even gie ye a small cottage.”
“Och,” he replied, “the one we’ve lived in will do for me.”
“Nay, my son. Yer grandfather gie us that cottage, but we never owned it When I wed wi’ my Geordie, I returned it to yer father. Unless ye wed, yer only home is a barrack.”
Red Hugh More thought about that on the long cold ride back to Sithean. All night long he tossed in his chilly, lumpy bed, listening to the snores and moans of his men who were off duty. All the next day he thought of the sweet-faced girl with her soft brown hair and the merry blue eyes that looked so regretful when refusing his bolder advances. By evening he had made up his mind and going to his aunt came bluntly to the point.
“I want to wed wi’ Ruth Browne.”
“Have ye spoken to her?” Janet inquired.
“Nay. First I wanted yer permission. If ye’ll gie it me, I’ll speak to Mistress Marian, and then wi’ her permission, I’ll ask Ruth.”
“Very well, Hugh. Ye hae my blessing. Marian, come here.” Marian came in from the garderobe where she had been brushing Janet’s gowns. “Hugh seeks yer permission to wed wi’ Ruth. I hae given him my blessing, but unless ye truly want him for a son, dinna be influenced by my decision.”
Marian eyed the big man. “And what,” she demanded acidly, “hae ye to offer my daughter except a dubious name and your fine self? Where will ye live? Ye hae no house. My Ruth is gently reared and wouldna take kindly to being a camp follower.”
Tongue-tied, poor Hugh stood silently shuffling his feet Janet knowing the next move was up to her, spoke up.
“I will, for a wedding present to Hugh, build a small house in my new village of Crannog. They shall also have rooms here in my house for the times when they must remain here. As a wedding gift to Ruth, dear Marian, I will gie her her dowry.” She turned to Hugh. “Your bride comes well dowered, nephew. Besides all her clothing, linens, pots, and kitchenware, she has eighty-five gold pieces; her jewelry which consists of a pearl necklace and one of blue Persian lapis; a pair each of pearl, garnet Persian lapis, and plain gold earrings; and two gold bracelets. And, Hugh, my brother has promised me that ye’ll be legally recognized—without the right of inheritance, of course—and from now on, ye’ll be known as Hugh More-Leslie. Now, if ye are both satisfied and in agreement I think we should see if Ruth will hae ye.”
“If she won’t I will,” chuckled Marian. “Ye hae my blessing too, my son; but treat my daughter well, or ye’ll regret it”
Hugh was dismissed to find his prospective bride. With the privilege granted old retainers, Marian sat down on the settle opposite her mistress. The fire blazed merrily.
“Eighty-five gold pieces,” she said. “It took me a moment madame, but I think I’ve figured it out Forty years I shared yer captivity. My husband, Alan, may God absolve him, spent twenty-two years before his death a slave to my lord Selim. Our only child was born into captivity, and is now twenty-three. Do not these figures add up to eighty-five?”
Janet smiled. “It was not for nothing that ye helped Alan wi’ my lord’s accounts. Yes. Yer deduction is quite correct I wanted Ruth to have money in her own right and so the marriage contract shall read This way my nephew must behave himself lest his wife cut him off!”
“Only you would think of that, madame.”
At that moment Hugh More-Leslie was pouring out his heart to Ruth. After hesitating just long enough to make him believe that she might refuse him, Ruth accepted his proposal The wedding was set for Twelfth Night.
The wedding day dawned fair with a bright sun that sparkled on the new snow. The religious ceremony was held in Sithean’s Chapel of Saint Anne, with the castle chaplain, Father Paul, officiating. Sir Charles Leslie gave the bride away. Afterwards Janet gave the newlyweds a small feast in her own hall in the West Wing.
It was a small celebration, but a merry one, and it ended in great hilarity with the putting to bed of the bride and the groom. Since it was winter the newlyweds’ house could not be started until spring, so they were for the present making their home in the castle.
Janet Marian, Jean, Fiona and Jane hustled the bride from the hall to the nuptial chamber. There they divested the happy girl of her wedding finery, put her into a prettily embroidered soft wool nightgown, brushed her long hair, and helped her into the bed They were none too soon, for the door opened, and a laughing Charles, Ian, and Adam pushed a grinning Hugh into the room.
“We all wish ye joy,” said Janet quietly, herding the rest of the guests out before any ribald comments could embarrass Ruth. “Good night, my dear children.”
The following morning the mothers of both the bride and the groom paid the newlyweds an early morning visit Several minutes later from the bedchamber window the bedsheet—with its bloody virgin stain—flew proudly in the winter wind.
With the festivities of New Years, Twelfth Night and the wedding over, things settled down. Janet in defiance of her class status, had bought a large herd of sheep and intended raising them as a cash crop.
The winter was bitterly cold, with blowing snows. Had Lady Leslie not been popular with the peasants she might not have obtained the best shepherds in the area to care for her flock, but she did; and unlike others who lost over half their new lambs, she retained three quarters of hers.
“Why,” she asked Marian one sunny May morning, “do those innocent little creatures gamboling down in the meadow choose to be born during the worst of winter?”
“Because they’re stupid, madame! There’s no other reason for it,” she snapped.
The sheep might be stupid, but the lady of Sithean was wise. Her business flourished. After shearing, the wool was washed, dried, combed and carded by the men and women in Janet’s village of Crannog which had sprung up on the lake shore opposite the castle. The process was repeated to make the wool extra-fine. It was then dyed with special dyes made up by Janet herself. The formulas for these dyes were known to her alone. She was assisted by Dumb Jock, Glenkirk’s former slavey, whom she had rescued. It was his job to set the dyes. Jock might be voiceless, but he was neither deaf nor unintelligent He also had a fine sense of humor and chuckled to himself when he heard pleasing comments on the clarity of the wool’s color. He wondered what people would say if they knew the dyes were set with sheep’s urine.
After dying, the wool was spun and then woven by Janet’s own people. There was no mill; instead each family of weavers had its own loom in a separate room off its cottage. This was done to keep the cloth from being stained by either food, smoke, or beat The shorter bits of wool were used to make felt; the longer strands were woven into a soft, extra-fine woolen cloth which was discreetly brokered by the Kira family in Edinburgh.
The Kiras were her one link with the past Thro
ugh them her allowance from Istanbul flowed, and through them she received letters from her dearest friend, Esther Kira. These letters were the source of her greatest pleasure and her greatest pain.
Janet had been home one year when a Kira courier brought her a letter from Esther. Seated in the bay of her private anteroom, Marian and Ruth with her, she opened the large packet She began to read aloud.
Beloved madame.
As I now judge it safe to write, I send this message to you by the hand of my nephew, Aaron. It is carried on his person at all times, and in the event the ship shoud be attacked by any of Khair ad-Din Pasha’s friendly ships, or the equally friendly ships of the Christian nations between here and Leith, he is to destroy the letter immediately. Should yon be reading these words, however, then praise be to God or Allah, or Yahweh, or whoever!
The seated women laughed, and then Janet continued.
Your son has mourned you greatly. Removing yourself from his sphere has truly made you dead to him. Khurrem has, of course, taken advantage of this. You had not been gone a week when we received word that old Shah Ismail’s son, Prince Tahmasp, had broken the truce made so many years ago with Sultan Selim. The prince captured Bitlis, and his horsemen were seen at Baghdad.
Sultan Suleiman sent Ibrahim Pasha to put down this rebellion. This was done at Khurrem’s suggestion. At first I did not understand the reasoning behind it, but as I have watched carefully over the months I now know with certainty that she is out to destroy Ibrahim. You were wrong, madame, to assume her only ambition lay within the barem. She would rule the empire, but not subtly as you did, but openly and boldly. With Gulbehar and Cyra Hafise gone, only Ibrahim Pasha and Prince Mustafa stand in her way, and I fear for them both. She managed to have Iskander Chelebi sent with Ibrahim Pasha to quell the rebellion.
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