The Queen's Lady. Shannon Drake
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he could say or do. For how could a man tell the queen that she was asking him to be escort to far too great a temptation?
No. He would be expected to be the staunch guardian, whatever his thoughts or desires.
“Rowan, Mary asked my advice on this matter,” James informed him. “I think your friendly visit to Elizabeth will mean much, and bringing Lady Gwenyth along will help matters. She attends Mary but remains Protestant herself. She loves Mary dearly, but her blood and her ways remain far more Scottish than French. Unofficially, she will serve as an ambassador for our queen’s cause.”
“Does Lady Gwenyth know about this?” Rowan inquired.
“Not yet,” Mary said. “But she will understand perfectly what I want from her. I am newly here, though not newly queen, for that has been my title since I was but days old. My desire to bring only good to my country must be understood, as must my desire for peace. You, sir, are the man who can hold out the true hand of friendship in what is most important, an unofficial capacity. I will not be bound to words you exchange, while, if my ministers and ambassadors make foolish statements in the heat of the moment, I am held to them. You will bring Elizabeth some personal gifts from me, and I know that she will be enchanted by Gwenyth. I have yet to meet anyone, commoner or king, who has not found her to be charming and intelligent. Her nature will serve me well.”
“When did you intend that I begin this journey?” Rowan asked.
“After the next Sabbath,” the queen informed him gravely.
CHAPTER FOUR
GWENYTH WAS STUNNED.
She couldn’t believe that Mary would send her away. Of course the queen had her ladies, her Marys, but Gwenyth had believed that Mary depended on her for her friendship. As well, they had just arrived. Surely Mary needed her for her knowledge of Scotland.
Though she realized she was being presumptuous, Gwenyth told her thoughts to the queen. “I can’t leave you now. You need me with you.”
At that, Mary smiled. “Please, Gwenyth, have you no faith in me? I have been away since childhood, but I am extremely well-read, and I am also fortunate to have my brother James to advise me in all things. I intend to move very slowly and carefully. I’ll be journeying to many cities within the country soon, so I can meet more of my people. Gwenyth, I am not sending you away. I am placing the dearest desire of my heart in your hands.”
That was a staggering thought.
Elizabeth was more than a decade older than Mary. She had taken the throne at the age of twenty-five, after bearing witness to turmoil, battle and death for many years. She had even been incarcerated—in royal conditions, it was true, but incarcerated nonetheless—because there had been times when her older half sister, Bloody Mary Tudor, had feared a Protestant uprising. In time, Mary had died a natural death and Elizabeth had duly taken the throne. She was neither young nor naive, and she had gained a reputation as a powerful and judicial monarch. Mary of Scotland still believed in the heart—in her emotions—in the belief that wishing could make things right.
“I fear you set a task before me that I may not be adequate to achieve,” Gwenyth said.
“I ask of you what I can ask of no other person. Gwenyth, it will not be for so long. A few weeks in the Highlands, a few weeks journeying south, perhaps a month in London, and then you will return. You are perfect for what must be done. I am not expecting an official reply from Elizabeth. I am seeking merely to lay groundwork for the future, for all that the ministers and ambassadors hope to accomplish.”
“What if I fail you?”
“You will not,” Mary said, and that was that.
They were due to leave after services on Sunday.
Mary had already informed Laird Rowan of her intent, something that, Gwenyth was certain, sorely aggravated him, as well. Surely he could not welcome the task of being responsible for her safety. Her determination to attend two services, both the Catholic Mass and her own Protestant rite, was intended at least in part to irritate him, as it would no doubt make their departure later than he had intended.
However, her plans went immediately astray.
She had wisely known she mustn’t attend the great kirk in Edinburgh where the fiery John Knox was the preacher, so she rode out with several other Protestant members of Mary’s court to the smaller, very plain chapel that lay just a few miles to the southwest of the city.
The minister’s name was David Donahue; he was a man of about fifty, and appeared to be soft spoken and gentle. But as he began his sermon, Gwenyth knew that she was in trouble. He was what the Marys laughingly called a pounder.
From the moment he began his vindictive tirade against the taint of Papists in the land, he was pounding his lectern. And he stared straight at Gwenyth as he did so. Then he pointed at her.
“Those who worship false idols are blasphemers! They live in blasphemy, and they are like a curse upon this land. They are akin to the witches who call upon dark evil and rancor and death.”
Shocked at first, Gwenyth sat still. But as his words reverberated, she stood.
She pointed at him in return, seething with fury. Her mind seemed to be moving at a maddened pace; she wanted to choose her words carefully, but that proved impossible, for she was inwardly burning, as if she were about to combust.
“Those who believe that God is their friend, and their friend alone, who dare to think He whispers what is right and wrong in their ears alone, they are the taint upon this land. None of us knows for a fact what His divine purpose may be. Those who condemn others and see no fault in themselves, they are dangerous and evil. When a land is blessed with a monarch who sees clearly that no one will know God until called before Him, who wants to allow her people to see goodness as they will, then the inhabitants of that land should bow down and be grateful. Sometimes, I fear, it may well be a pity that she is so kind and wise that no blood will be spilled.”
After she finished speaking, she stared at him for a moment longer, then swung around and stumbled over her neighbors in her haste to exit the pew.
The whole congregation reacted with shocked silence. She felt it keenly as she walked with as much dignity as she could muster down the aisle.
Just as she was about to exit the church, she froze, for fierce pounding was coming from the podium once again.
“Satan’s witch!” the reverend bellowed.
She turned. “I’m very sorry you think so, reverend, for you have impressed me as being a servant of Satan yourself,” she said with far more calm than she felt.
“This will stop now!”
Gwenyth was stunned when she saw Laird Rowan Graham rise from a pew toward the front of the church. He stared at the reverend, then at her. “There will no casting of vindictive accusations by any party within this house of God. Reverend Donahue, speak to our souls, but do not let the pulpit become your venue for personal attack or political arousal. Lady Gwenyth—”
“He attacked the queen!” she raged.
“And he will no longer do so,” Rowan declared. He turned back to the reverend. “Our queen shows nothing but tolerance for other beliefs and encourages the Scottish Kirk. She has asked only to be left to cleave to the religion she has known since a child. She will never tell others what they must feel or believe in their hearts. Let us respect her mind and steadfastness, and worry about our own souls.”
Gwenyth could only imagine how all the parishioners would be talking that evening. At the moment, however, they were all simply sitting, shocked and perhaps a bit excited, as they awaited the next lines of the scandalous scene unfolding before them.
But the show was over, Gwenyth thought with relief, as she virtually stumbled out into the day. Amazingly, the sun was shining.
She hurried along the broken stepping stones that led from the church and