Bertrice Small - Love Wild and Fair

It had been decided that the queen's antechamber would be the ideal place for the earl to catch the king. James must pass through it on his way to his wife's bedroom. Francis Hepburn knelt before his queen. He took her extended hand, kissed it, and then turned it over and kissed the palm.

"Rogue!" laughed the queen, snatching her hand away. But her face was flushed and her heart beat quicker.

Bothwell grinned up at her and rose to his feet, "Thank ye, madame, for letting me wait for Jamie here. I must make peace wi him. And too, he must allow the cardinal to gie my lass her divorce so we may wed. Catriona has always been a loyal servant of yer majesty₉ and it hurts her too when Jamie punishes me."

"You love her very much, don't you, Francis?"

"Madame, I hae never known such happiness or such' peace since Cat came into my life. If only I were reconciled wi James. All we ask, yer majesty, is to live quiedy at Hermitage. We would even live abroad if it were the king's pleasure. I ask only to retain Hermitage for any bairns Cat will gie me. Our children must nae forget that they are Scots, and loyal subjects of James Stewart-as Cat and I are."

The queen was obviously touched by this speech. "I will plead your case, cousin. James is not thinking clearly at all. Master Maitland confuses him." She sat down and patted the space to her left. He sat next to her. "Beatrice," she said to Lady Ruthven. "Please watch for the king, and see we have plenty of warning." She looked to her other ladies. "The rest of you may make yourselves useful with your embroidery, or music. I wish to talk to the earl privately." The ladies of the queen's bedchamber settled themselves across the room from the windowseat where the queen and Bothwell sat conversing.

"Now, tell me, Cousin Francis, how did this great romance with the Countess of Glenkirk begin? I thought she truly loved her husband."

Carefully, he told her the story he had concocted when anticipating her question. "Cat and I became friends before yer majesty came to Scotland. Glenkirk and I are distant cousins. Did ye know his mother is a Stewart? I have always liked Cat. She is an educated woman, and I enjoyed being wi her. Never did anything improper occur between us in those early days. But as time went on, yer grace, I found that I was falling in love wi her. I fought my feelings, for I knew that she was no loose woman. Imagine my surprise to discover she was fighting the same feelings! Finally we could fight our emotions no longer. We love each other," he finished simply.

The queen's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "What of poor Glenkirk?"

"He loves her too, but is resigned to letting her go."

"Perhaps," said the queen, looking towards Christina Anders, "the earl might remarry. Mistress Anders' husband has recently expired from measles, and she is widowed again."

Bothwell did not think Patrick Leslie would marry Christina Anders, but he needed the queen's support, so he nodded affably and said, "Very possibly. But first he must be free, and the king will nae allow the Cardinal of St. Andrew's permission to sign the petition of divorce."

"I will help you, Francis," said the queen.

At this point Lady Ruthven returned white-faced. "Your grace. His majesty is in the corridor outside. He asks me to tell ye that he has learned the Earl of Bothwell is somewhere in the palace. He says he will punish anyone who tries to introduce the earl into his presence."

Francis Hepburn stood up. "Damn!" he said. And then turning to the queen he asked, "Is there another way I can leave?"

The queen led the way into her bedroom and, opening a small unobtrusive door, revealed a narrow staircase. "My tiring women use this. Follow it all the way to the bottom. It exits in the servant's courtyard."

He kissed her hand again in farewell. "Thank ye, madame, and God bless ye for yer help."

She smiled prettily at him. "I won't forget, Francis. Go with God."

The queen closed the door and returned to her antechamber. She picked up her embroidery. "Beatrice, go and ask the king if he intends standing in the corridor all night."

The queen's ladies giggled, and Anna bit her lip to keep from laughing as James entered her rooms with his guards. They rushed into her bedchamber, poking under the bed and behind the draperies with their pikes.

"Come, sire! What is the meaning of this?" demanded the queen.

"Bothwell is in the palace, Annie!"

The young queen drew herself up. "Well, sire! He is certainly not in my bedchamber. Or is this some new slander of Master Maitland's? First he alleges that the bonnie Earl of Moray is my lover… does he now say 'tis Bothwell?" She turned to her attendants. "Fling open the wardrobes, ladies, so the king may see we hide no earls!" She turned back to the king. "When ye have finished with this foolishness, please take your men and leave me. All this uproar has given me a terrible headache."

Disappointed, the king retired to his empty bed. Equally disappointed, Bothwell returned to Hermitage. He again set himself to living quietly, in hope of allaying the king's fears and calming his anger.

In October the king mounted a small expedition into the borders. Bothwell and Cat immediately left Hermitage for their secret and well-hidden hunting lodge. Hermitage Castle stood open to the king, who could not, under these circumstances, complain of his cousin's disobedience.

The king returned to Edinburgh only to be waylaid again by Lady Margaret Douglas. She had chosen to catch him publicly, in front of the gates of Edinburgh Castle, crying for mercy upon her and her children. In God's name she begged the return of Bothwell's property for her innocent children.

James was furious at having been placed in such an embarrassing position, and in public. He forbade the lady to enter his presence again. "I dinna know how Francis stood her as long as he did," said the king to his wife. "She doesna care for him-just his estates!"

This was the opening that Anna had been waiting for. "They were not happy, Jamie?" she inquired innocently.

" 'Twas a political thing. He's well rid of her."

"In that case, my love, why will ye not allow the cardinal to give Lady Leslie her divorce? Bothwell is deeply in love with her."

The king was startled. He had not been aware that his frivolous little queen knew of Bothwell's involvement with Catriona Leslie. He wondered nervously what else she knew, and decided to move cautiously. "Lady Leslie is nae a girl, Annie. She is the mother of six bairns. She is behaving like an infatuated maid, and must be brought to her senses."

"But Jamie! Glenkirk is willing to let her go, and now that my dearest Christina is widowed-oh, Jamie! Twould be so wonderful if Christina could be Glen-kirk's wife. Then my little goddaughter, Anne Fitz-Leslie, could be brought up properly."

"My dear Annie, the Leslies hae been wed for fourteen years. I canna allow them to dissolve their marriage on a whim. Twould set a bad example for the court. There must be more morality in our court. If I allow the Leslies to divorce, then every man who becomes infatuated wi another woman will want to divorce his wife, and every man's mistress will expect her lover to wed wi her."

The queen thought that the king was making a great deal more of the matter than was warranted, and she felt that if he wished to reform the court he might do better by way of example than refuse a divorce for a couple who wished to marry. These people did not want to sin. However, she could argue no further with him at this time. She was disappointed, for she liked Francis and would have enjoyed helping him.

On New Year's Day, 1593, the Earl of Bothwell appealed to the kirk for aid, begging them not to despise him on account of the king's anger. He needed their help, but the kirk ignored him. The old Queen of England, however, did not. She saw to it that the border lord was financially comfortable. England offered money, and sanctuary if he should need it.

Elizabeth Tudor did not like James Stewart. He was her logical heir (though she had not named him officially yet) but she thought him a mealy-mouthed hypocrite. He was shifty, saying one thing and doing another. She could not understand this sudden relentless pursuit of Francis Stewart-Hepburn. To the best of her knowledge, the Earl of Bothwell had always been loyal to the Scots crown.

Elizabeth chuckled. Bothwell had visited her court some years back. He had been young, but damn! He was a brilliant and elegant rogue even then. There was more to this than met the eye, yet her spies could come up with no explanation. So, because it pleased her to be perverse and to thwart James, and because she had always had a weakness for charming rogues, she lent her support to the border lord.

Again the winter closed in around them, and Cat was relieved. They kept Twelfth Night revels at Hermitage for the neighboring gentry. Though she was not Bothwell's wife, she was treated as such by the local lairds and their ladies. They had no patience with the king's unkindness towards their hero and his lady.

Cat had not seen her oldest children in almost a year. It was simply too dangerous for them to come now. She barely knew the two youngest ones, and sadly wondered if they remembered her at all.

Bothwell missed the children too. Catriona Leslie had the knack for making family life a warm and happy thing. Bothwell found it restful. And until they could marry, they dared not have a child of their own.

As the winter deepened Cat became increasingly eager to go to France, and finally he agreed that if, by the end of the year, he had not settled things with his cousin, they would leave Scotland.

WHEN James Stewart learned that his cousin the Queen of England was financing his cousin the Earl of Bothwell he sent word to Sir Robert Melville, his ambassador in England, to persuade Elizabeth to cease. Publicly exposed, she had no choice but to agree. Francis Hepburn was now in danger on both sides of the border. But worse was to come.

On July 21, 1593, sentence of forfeiture was again passed against Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the fifth Earl of Bothwell. But this time his arms were riven asunder at the Mercat cross in Edinburgh. Shocked, the Duke of Lennox and other noblemen determined to help Both-well. If Maitland could turn the king against his own blood, what could happen to them?

Bothwell, accompanied only by his half-brother, rode for the capital. His borderers slipped into the city by twos and threes until Edinburgh had discreetly swelled with them. Catriona Leslie had been left behind at Hermitage.

"What will happen?" she had begged him.

"I dinna know. If I can get to James I must convince him to restore my lands, which I hae given to my heir. And I will force him, if necessary, to allow the cardinal to grant yer petition of divorce. Then, love, we'll be safe."

"And if ye canna reach him, Francis?"

"Then, my darling, we're for France. Let Angus fight the battle for his grandchildren."

She clung to him, her mouth inviting his kisses, her body soft and yielding. Accepting the invitation, he made passionate love to her, then slept for several hours, cradling her in his arms. When she awoke he was gone, and she was frightened.

Early on the morning of July 24, 1593, James Stewart awoke to the faint gray light of early dawn. The air felt damp, and he wondered if it were raining. He heard a faint noise, a chair scraping the floor. "Barra, laddie? Is it you?" he called. There was no answer. The king's heart began to pound violently against his ribs and his nightshirt became soaked in cold sweat. Ever so slowly, he turned and peered out of the bed curtains.

"Good morning, Jamie," drawled Francis Stewart-Hepburn.

The king screamed. Scrambling to the other side of the bed, he leaped out and quickly turned the handle of the queen's bedroom door. It would not give. James turned to face his antagonist, pressing his back to the queen's door as though he could press himself through it. For a moment the cousins stared at each other-the one disheveled and frightened in a damp silk nightshirt, the other calm and assured in his red plaid kilt, his sword drawn.

Slowly Bothwell closed the space between them. The king was shaking. Francis Hepburn's blue eyes narrowed. Catching his cousin's face between his thumb and his forefinger, he growled, "Lo, now, my fine bairn. Ye that hae said I sought yer life… look how I hold it in my hand!"

The king swayed as if he would faint.