James was angry with Catriona Leslie. He had honored this insignificant highland countess by making her a lady of his wife's bedchamber. She had disappointed him badly. She was no better than any of the other women at court who spread their legs for a man with such ease.

John Maitland came later on, as bidden, hoping he did not appear too eager. His face was a study in impassivity as the king ordered that Francis Stewart-Hepburn, fifth Earl of Bothwell, be put to the horn and his estates confiscated. The following morning a royal herald publicly announced the king's decision to the people of Edinburgh. He was pelted with garbage by the outraged citizens. They hated having their hero brought down.

The king was feeling put-upon. The queen was not speaking to him and she had locked the doors to her apartments. Lady Margaret Douglas had forced her way into his presence, insisting furiously that the crown had no right to confiscate anything other than Hermitage. She waved a paper which she claimed proved that Bothwell had signed over all of his estates except Hermitage to their eldest son, the earl's legitimate heir.

James turned on her. "While Francis was in my good graces, madame, his estates were his to do with as he pleased. Since he is no longer in my good graces his property is being confiscated by the crown."

"Ye cannot expect me to leave Crichton," snapped Margaret Douglas. "'Tis my home, and that of my children. Where are we to go?"

"Go to yer father, or go to the devil!" replied the king. "I care not, Margaret, but stay out of my presence! Yer forbidden at court."

Margaret Douglas retired, defeated. She would be back, for she didn't intend seeing her eldest son robbed of his inheritance. But she needed time to marshal her forces.

By the following day, Francis Hepburn knew that the king had declared war on him. He did not know precisely why. Breaking out of his prison in Edinburgh Castle had probably not prompted this.

"He knows," said Cat with the certainty of a woman's intuition. "He knows we are lovers."

"Nonsense," returned Bothwell. "Even Jamie could not be that petty."

But she knew she was right, and when Lord Home arrived several days later his conversation with Francis confirmed her suspicions. Sandy Home caught her hand and raised it to his lips. "The most beautiful, and the costliest hand in Scotland," he whispered. He loosed her hand and turned to Bothwell. "I've been charged by the king to take ye," he chuckled. "However, if yer not of a mind to return to Edinburgh in the summer's heat, I'll understand, and I think I'll join ye here on the border."

"What's put Cousin Jamie in such a temper?" asked Bothwell.

"Maitland. He suggested forfeiture two weeks ago, but the queen defended ye, reminding the royal ingrate of yer loyalty and yer service to the crown." Home looked serious. "I believe all would hae been well, but I think the king has found out that Cat is here. When he charged me to come to Hermitage and make ye a prisoner of the crown, he kept harping on yer 'lustfulness' wi a 'certain lady' of the court. I dared not question him, Francis, but I am sure he meant Cat. How in hell could he have found out?"

"The girl who has been my maid since I came to Hermitage was found murdered in the woods near here," said Gat. "She had been cruelly tortured."

"Aye," added Bothwell. "The soles of her feet were burned black, and her throat was cut, poor lass. We pried this out of her hand. Do ye recognize it?" He dug into his pouch and held up a silver button.

Home took it and nodded. "One of Maitland's men. The badge on the button is the chancellor's. He probably sought knowledge of the woman wi ye. The bastard! He's found the weapon he sought to destroy ye."

"He'll nae destroy me, Sandy. But tell me, what of Margaret and the children?"

"With Angus."

"James made her leave Crichton? And she went? God's bones, I dinna believe it! Margaret always loved

Lord Home laughed. "She sought the king, Francis. Said only Hermitage belonged to ye, as ye had turned everything else over to yer eldest boy. James sent her and the children back to Angus."

Bothwell choked back his laughter. "Poor Margaret. Of course she must regain the estates for my heir. However, I am sure Angus will see to that. In fact, I imagine he's already anxious to get Margaret out of his house."

"And what of Hermitage, Francis?"

"If James wants Hermitage he must come himself and take it. There are two things I hold dear in this world," said Bothwell. "My home, and Catriona. I'll nae gie him either."

But Cat was frightened. "Let us leave Scotland, Francis," she begged him. "Jamie has taken everything ye own, and he will take me too if we do not flee him."

But he would not entertain the idea of running, even when a messenger arrived from the Kiras with word from the Abbot of Glenkirk. The cardinal had denied Cat's petition for divorce. Charles Leslie, dissatisfied with the answer, had personally gone to St. Andrew's and explained the situation to the cardinal. It was then that the cardinal explained to Charles Leslie that he had been informed by Chancellor Maitland's confidential secretary that the king would be highly offended if the divorce were approved. Considering the precarious situation the old kirk faced in Scotland today, the cardinal would do nothing to jeopardize it further. Unless James changed his mind, Cat Leslie could not have her freedom. Nor could she marry Francis Hepburn.

Again she begged him. "Take me away, Francis. In France the church will nae have to answer to the King of Scotland, and I can obtain my freedom."

"For a price, my darling."

"I am a very wealthy woman, Francis. I can bribe any cleric living. Damnit! What is my money for if I canna have what I want?"

Francis Hepburn laughed, and put an arm about Cat. "My dearest, spoilt darling," he said tenderly. "Even if I must leave Scotland to satisfy James, I would still make my peace wi him before I go. And I must retain Hermitage for the son ye will gie me one day."

"Oh, Bothwell, ye great fool! Jamie does nae intend to let us be together. Please take me away now! I care not if we can ever wed if only we are together!"

But Francis thought they could manage. Francis Hepburn was a man of honor. He did not really understand yet that the boy cousin he had done some of his growing up with intended to be the King of Scotland in every way. And he did not fully appreciate how much his royal cousin desired Catriona Leslie. The king wanted Cat back. And if he could not have her, then neither could Francis Hepburn.

During that summer of 1591, Bothwell rode the borders with his lovely mistress and Lord Home. They raided into England, but in general the peace between England and Scotland was kept. During that summer, James made his royal progress from Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh to Linlithgow, where his mother was born, to Stirling, to Falklands, and then across the Firth of Forth and back again to Edinburgh.

Chapter 29

THE Earl of Glenkirk stood nervously before the king. It was the first time Patrick had seen him since that terrible morning eight months prior. James looked up at Patrick Leslie.

"Why have ye pursued this divorce, Glenkirk? I informed the cardinal that it would be displeasing to me if ye and Cat were divorced."

"Sire, Cat wishes her freedom. I saw her in June, and she'll nae return to me. She's a different woman."

"Do ye know where she is, Cousin Patrick?"

"No, sire. She would nae tell me."

"I know where she is," said the king softly, leaning across his oak desk. "She ran from ye so she might be Bothwell's whore! And Cousin Francis is so besotted by her that he has divorced Angus' daughter in order to wed Cat. But… he'll nae wed her! She will nae get her divorce!"

Patrick Leslie was stunned. He could hardly believe what the king was saying. And then in a clear and blinding flash, he remembered her saying so many times, "Francis is my friend. Nothing more."

"I am," continued the king, "arranging to lure Both-well into Leith in a few days' time. The chances are favorable that Cat will be with him. I want ye there to take her home. If she repents her folly she may return to us at court."


"Sire! Cat no longer wants or loves me."

The king looked coldly at the Earl of Glenkirk. "I dinna care whether she loves ye or not. I want ye to take her back. And I want ye to make sure she stays wi ye. Ye may leave me, cousin. I hae work to do."

Patrick Leslie returned to his townhouse. Making himself comfortable in the library with a cheerful fire and a decanter of whisky, he sat down to think. She had fled to Bothwell, yet he was sure that she was not Francis Hepburn's mistress when she left him. That had obviously happened later, and now Bothwell was in love with her-enough in love to have divorced Margaret Douglas. But unless the cardinal gave her a divorce, Cat could not wed anyone else. Patrick didn't know whether to be happy or sad. He was expected to go to Leith on the king's command and kidnap his wife. After that, Lord Bothwell would undoubtedly come north with his men to retrieve her.

"Damn these Stewarts!" he said out loud. He was caught between them, and all because of his beautiful wife. Oh Cat, he thought wistfully. Three men want ye, but only one can have ye, and 'tis nae the one ye want. He wondered why she had not fled with her lover when she learned that her divorce petition was denied. But then he remembered what he knew about Bothwell. He was an honest man, and that would surely lead to his downfall. The king had little of honor or honesty.

The following day Patrick was summoned by Mait-land's confidential secretary, who told him that Bothwell was expected in Leith in two days. He always quartered himself at the Golden Anchor Tavern on the waterfront. Lady Leslie would be with him.

Two days later, on the 18th of October, the Earl of Glenkirk waited in a private room at the Golden Anchor Tavern for the Earl of Bothwell's arrival. He had told the landlord that he was Bothwell's cousin, and had come to meet with him. Since the landlord believed the border lord's visit a secret, he assumed that anyone who knew of it must have been so informed by Bothwell himself.

The Earl of Glenkirk waited alone. He had no intention of forcing his wife to return to him. He knew he was deliberately disobeying the king, but he had his pride. In the quiet of the misty dawn he heard suddenly the arrival of a party of horsemen in the yard below. There were footsteps on the stairs, and the door to the private parlor flew open. "Good morning, Cousin Francis," he drawled. "Come in and join me for breakfast."

Francis Hepburn was surprised, but then a slow smile crossed his face. "Cousin Patrick, a good morrow to ye," he answered, and accepted the tankard of ale handed him.

The two men sat facing one another.

"Is Cat wi ye?"

"Nay. I left her at Hermitage. Something didna smell right about this meeting."

"Aye," returned Patrick Leslie. "‘Tis a trap, but ye've time yet."

"What are ye doing here, Glenkirk?"

"Cousin Jamie sent me to reclaim my wife."

"I'll nae gie her back," said Bothwell softly, and his blue eyes glittered dangerously.

The two men looked at one another for a moment, then Patrick said quietly, "I still love her, Francis, but I know I've lost her. For God's sake, man, lake her away and be happy before James destroys ye both!"

"I must make my peace wi the king, Patrick. I want Cat for my wife, and I want Hermitage for our children."

"Take her away, Francis. Once ye gave me that same advice, and I heeded ye not. Then when I found the king wi his hands all over my wife I lost first my temper and then Cat. Dinna make the same mistake I did."

"I would never do to Cat what ye did. I know what she went through. She relived it in her sleep for weeks. Christ, man! Why didn't ye just kill her?"

"If I had, cousin, ye would not have known the happiness ye know now," he replied angrily.

"Touché," said Bothwell. He stood up. "Gie Maitland my regrets, Patrick. Tell him a pressing engagement." Francis Hepburn swung a leg over the window sill and grinned. "I'll go the back way for safety's sake. Take my horse, Valentine, home wi ye. I know ye'll keep him safe." Then he was gone.

When Maitland and the king's soldiers arrived a short time afterwards they found the Earl of Glenkirk finishing up a large breakfast.

"Where is he?" demanded the chancellor.

"A pressing engagement called him away," said Patrick Leslie, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.