They finally reached Paris in late April. Rosamund was exhausted and glad for this respite from their travels. Annie was obviously already with child and equally relieved to stop. The duke had arranged for them to break their long journey at a small house he owned just outside the city. The concierge had been alerted to their coming. The house was freshly cleaned and aired. Two servants, a maid, and a stableman had been brought in for their visit. The morning after their arrival, Patrick left to seek out an audience with King Louis, if indeed the king was in Paris.

He was, and after waiting almost the entire day, he was finally admitted to King Louis XII’s august presence. He bowed low and said quietly so that only the king might hear, “I come from James Stewart, but I must speak with you privately, monseigneur.”

The king’s eyes flickered, curious. He was a tall, handsome man with a warm smile. “Leave us!” he said to his attendants, and they immediately vacated the chamber. “Sit down, my lord,” he invited the earl, “and tell me why you have come.”

“Merci,” the earl replied, and he seated himself opposite the king. “I was called by my king several months ago to come from my northern home to Stirling, where he was holding his Christmas court. I had not been in his presence for eighteen years. Long ago I was King James’ first ambassador to the duchy of San Lorenzo. The king wished me to return there, traveling secretly, although once I arrived it was no longer a secret.” He smiled at King Louis. “Though my king held out little hope of his plan succeeding, he still believed it necessary to try. I was to treat with representatives from the Emperor Maximilian and the doge in an effort to weaken the alliance they had made with Pope Julius, Spain, and Henry of England. As you know, the English king has been pressing my king to join with them. But James Stewart will not betray his alliance with France, my lord. I am here to reassure you he will keep his faith with you.”

“I had no doubt he would,” the French king responded. “Your mission, of course, failed.”

“It did. However, I was able to plant within the minds of both emissaries a suspicion of King Henry,” Patrick said.

“And how did you do that?” King Louis asked, smiling.

“I told them the truth of his personality and his ambitions,” the Earl of Glenkirk replied with an answering smile. “You know, of course, the story of the Venerable Margaret’s jewels.”

“I do,” King Louis said. “ ’Twas shocking and most meanly done. I do not believe I should like this Henry Tudor if indeed I ever met him. I doubt I shall, but my son-in-law, Francois, will have to deal with him one day. I think, perhaps, they might get along, for they have similar characters. Francois, like Henry Tudor, is a large man with a large appetite and a great lust for all that life has to offer. Still, he is a good husband to my daughter Claude.” Then King Louis arose from his chair, signaling that the interview was over. “Tell James Stewart that I thank him for his efforts on France’s behalf. And I particularly thank him for his honorable stance. I know it will not be easy. His brother-in-law’s reputation already grows.”

The Earl of Glenkirk bowed politely. “I shall take your good wishes to my king, my lord, and I thank you for seeing me.” Then Patrick backed from the French king’s presence. He returned to the little house outside of Paris on the Seine.

Rosamund was awaiting him. “I began to fear for you when it grew dark,” she told him. “You will not have eaten, I expect. Come. Dermid brought us a good supper from the nearby inn.” He looked tired, she thought, leading him to the table and seating him. “Annie is not feeling particularly well, and so I insisted she rest. It is often this way with a first bairn.” She lifted the cover from a tureen and ladled a good-smelling stew onto his plate. “These French know how to cook,” she told him, setting the plate before him and tearing a hunk of bread off the loaf for him. “Eat, Patrick, and then tell me what transpired this day.” She poured a dark red wine into his goblet and then waited while he ate. He was obviously hungry, she noted, as he quickly cleared his plate of food, mopping every bit of the gravy up with his bread. “More?” she asked, and he nodded. “You did not eat all day, did you, my lord? That is not good for a man of your years.”

Patrick swallowed down a portion of his wine. “I had to wait for King Louis to see me,” he said. “Or at least for one of his pompous secretaries to make an appointment for me. I was so persistent, they let me in at the last moment.” He spooned the stew on his plate into his mouth, eating vigorously until he finally seemed satisfied. His wine cup was refilled twice. Now the Earl of Glenkirk sat back and took Rosamund’s hand up to kiss it. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, sweetheart.”

“We cannot always be roiling with passion, Patrick.” She smiled back at him. “Now, tell me what King Louis said.”

“He said he expected no less of Jamie Stewart than he had gotten in the past. That he knew Scotland would adhere to our auld alliance. He sends King James his good wishes. ’Twas a courtesy the king sought of me, and King Louis knows it. There is little need now for us to remain here.”

“But I have never been to Paris,” Rosamund said. “And when shall this country girl have the opportunity to come again, my lord? Can we not spend just a few days here? I should very much like to see the cathedral, and besides, Annie really could use a respite before we begin the last of our journey. A sea voyage is apt to play havoc with her belly.”

“Two days,” he said, “and we depart on the third. Will that satisfy you, madame?”

“It is more than generous, my lord,” she assured him.

“I’ll send one of the duke’s men to Calais to see if our ship is awaiting us. He’ll not have time to return to Paris, but he can meet us on the road. The English will be on the lookout for vessels sailing beneath the French or Scots flags.”


The following day Patrick and Rosamund visited the great Cathedral of Notre Dame on the Ile de la Citй. Paris itself was a bustling and noisy city, and to Rosamund’s surprise it was quite different from London, despite the similarity of having a river running through it. The French were colorful and vibrant. They saw gypsy performers in the streets. The taverns overflowed with revelers. No matter the war, Paris was always vibrant and alive.

“It is exhausting,” Rosamund laughed as they returned home the evening before they were to finally depart. “I do not think I could live here. Did you see the fabrics in some of the shops? They are marvelous, but they do not have a wool as fine as we raise at Friarsgate. The wools I saw were heavy and coarse. They were Scots, or Irish, or mayhap even English, some of them. But they were not of the quality of Friarsgate wool. I must speak with my agent in Carlisle and see what can be done about that. The French appreciate quality, and I can offer them that.”

“I have never before seen this side of you,” he marveled. “You are suddenly a woman of commerce.”

“I have not the advantage of your birth, my lord. Friarsgate folk have always been simple people, but we are industrious. I see profit here, and to overlook it would be foolish,” Rosamund told him.

“You are growing restless with this life you have been leading, aren’t you?” he said, reaching out to tip her face up to him.

“Aye,” she admitted, “I am. You have been busy, Patrick, on your mission of diplomacy for your king. I have been an ornament for your pleasure. And mine,” she amended with a small smile. “But I am not used to being so idle.”

“I will have you home by midsummer,” he promised her, and he smiled back. She almost broke his heart with her loveliness, he thought to himself.


They departed Paris the following morning just before dawn. It was Rosamund’s twenty-third birthday, and quite forgotten even by her. They met the duke’s man along their path. A ship was awaiting them. It was a Scots vessel, but it would fly the flag of a Flemish merchant prince. At Calais they boarded their transport in a falling rain, but the seas were relatively calm. Two days out, as they made their way up the North Sea towards Leith, the weather cleared, giving them a brisk and unusual southeast wind. They saw other sails on the sea, but no one challenged them even as they neared the border between England and Scotland. They sailed closer to land now, and the captain pointed out the opening to the river Tyne.

“We’re almost home, my lord,” the captain said. “We’ll be entering the Fifth of Forth shortly. We dock at Leith in the early morning.”

It was early May, and the mists partially obscured the land as they reached their destination. Their luggage was off-loaded and taken to the inn from where they had departed almost six months before. They were settled in a comfortable apartment with several fireplaces all now blazing warmth and taking the chill off the early morning.

“I will have to arrange for transport to Edinburgh, or wherever the king is now,” Patrick told Rosamund.

“Inquire if the queen has been safely delivered,” Rosamund said, and he nodded.

“Aye,” the innkeeper replied to the question asked by the Earl of Glenkirk. “The wee queen did give birth to a fine healthy bairn on the tenth day of April. They say the king does wrap the laddie in a blanket and ride through Edinburgh town wi him so the people may see this next Jamie Stewart.”

“And the queen is well?” the earl inquired.

“Och, aye, she is, my lord,” the innkeeper answered with a smile. “She but needed a bit of seasoning to do it well.”

“The king is in Edinburgh yet?” the earl queried.

“Aye, he be in the town,” the innkeeper said.

“I’ll ride in today,” the earl said.

“I’ll go with you,” Rosamund responded. “I must see Meg, and I did promise to return. The sooner I see her, the sooner I can confess my deception, and then perhaps she will let me go home. It has been nearly five months since I’ve seen my lasses, Patrick.”

“I’ll send a message to Glenkirk,” he said. “Adam will not be unhappy to remain master there for a while longer. I am anxious to see your Friarsgate, lovey.”

“Annie and Dermid can follow tomorrow,” she decided. “We can do without our servants for a night, and heaven only knows if there will even be room for us. Court life is not the most gracious for ordinary folk.”

They rode the few miles between the port of Leith and the capital city of Edinburgh. Once at the castle, the Earl of Glenkirk sought out the king to give him his final report. Rosamund, however, went immediately to the queen’s apartments. Margaret Tudor spied her friend immediately and shrieked a greeting.

“Rosamund! Oh, come and see my beautiful boy, Rosamund! I am so glad that you are back! How are your girls? Come! Come!”

Rosamund laughed and crossed the room to peer into the ornate cradle by the queen’s side. The month-old boy stared up at her. He was plump and alert. Waving his little fists at her, he made small noises, and Rosamund laughed again. “Oh, Meg, he is a fine laddie! The king must be so pleased!” She curtsied and blushed slightly, realizing that she had slipped back into a familiarity she should not, but the queen waved her hand, dismissing the breach.

“Come and sit with me, and tell me all about Friarsgate,” the queen said.

“We must speak privily about that,” Rosamund said quietly.

Immediately the queen’s curiosity was piqued. “Get out! All of you! I would speak confidentially with the lady of Friarsgate. You, also,” she said to the cradle rocker. “My son will survive without being in constant motion.” And when the queen’s chamber had been emptied, she turned again to her childhood friend and said, “Tell me.”

“I have not been at Friarsgate, Meg. I have been with the Earl of Glenkirk in the duchy of San Lorenzo.” Then she went on to explain the mission the king had sent Patrick on, and of how he would not go without her, and of how she loved him so desperately that she had lied to Margaret Tudor and gone. “Will you forgive me?” she asked the queen as she concluded her tale.

“Of course I forgive you!” the queen said sincerely. “So, you love him. But does he love you? And if he does, why does he not offer marriage?”

“He does love me, but I choose not to marry again, Meg. At least not now. I have a duty to Friarsgate, and Patrick has his duty to Glenkirk, although his son is able to carry on in his absence. With your permission I am now going to go home to Friarsgate, and Patrick will come with me for a time.”

“You must bide with me for a brief while,” the queen pleaded prettily.

“Agreed,” Rosamund said, laughing once more, “though you really do not need me. You have all your women to keep you company.”