"A daughter on March third, baptized Margaret as it is a Stewart family name," Janet said brightly. "She's at Tweed House with her wet nurse. It's safer for so young a bairn. The king has returned. His delicate French queen is dying. I have not seen her; few have. But from what I'm told, she'll not last the summer."

"How tragic!" Maggie exclaimed. "Did ye hear, Grandsire? The young queen is dying, poor la.s.s."

"She was frail to begin with, if one can believe the gossips," the old laird said.

"Aye, it has been said," Janet agreed. She looked to Fingal and to the laird. "My lords, I need yer aid in a certain matter." When he nodded at her, she continued.

"The king promised when he saw me wed to my good lord that he would provide for our child, for that responsibility is not my husband's. If a lad, the child would be given a living, a priory or monastery as his other sons have received. The king also swore that if the child were a la.s.s, she would be given a small yearly income and a generous dower portion. Alas, with the queen so ill, his promise has not been fulfilled. Now, with her death imminent, I fear the king will be so deep in mourning that he will not want to be troubled by this matter."

"Yer a clever la.s.s, and a good mother to want it settled soon," Dugald Kerr said.

"How can we help ye, Jan?" Fingal Stewart asked.

"Ye promised to give the king a portion of the revenues ye receive from the tolls ye collect from the Aisir nam Breug," Janet Munro said. "But the king could transfer that right to his daughter to meet his obligation. Margaret would be taken care of at no out-of-pocket expense to James."

"Yer cousin is a bold woman to put her hands in our purse, Fin," Maggie said bluntly. She looked straight at Janet Munro when she spoke.

"Ye owe the king in any event," Janet replied stubbornly.

"If he promised yer bairn a living," Maggie snapped, "why not remind him of his promise? While I have heard the king was tightfisted, I was also told he was good to his offspring. Why do ye not solicit him directly and remind him of his promise?"

Janet Munro was surprised that her hostess was so forward, and she wondered why Fingal, her cousin, did not speak up. The look on his face was one of amus.e.m.e.nt. Did he consider the matter of her child's financial well-being something to be laughed at? But then, to her relief, Lord Stewart did speak up.

"If the king is as deeply in love with his dying wife as has been reported," he began, "he will hardly be in the mood to be reminded of an old obligation to a child born on the wrong side of the blanket. And we do owe him a third of all the tolls we collect to be paid in coin each St. Andrew's Day. That was what was agreed upon when I came to Brae Aisir. Dugald knows it. The king wanted half, only that I bargained him down."

"Why should he have any of our income?" Maggie demanded to know.

"Because he saved Brae Aisir's fate by sending me to be yer husband," Fin told her. "Do ye not think I'm worth a third of the monies we collect each year? I think ye more than worth the two-thirds we retain." He grinned at her.

"Yer a fool, Fingal Stewart," Maggie said. "I'm worth it all!"

"Aye, Maggie mine, ye are," he told her. "Now let us return to Janet's dilemma. I think it an excellent solution that the king's portion from the tolls collected be used to support his daughter. But how can we manage to make such an arrangement? He must be very diverted at the moment with his queen's poor condition."

"He is," Janet said. "Her health is so perilous that she cannot even be moved to Stirling or Linlithgow. She is in the royal apartments in Edinburgh Castle. We can get into the castle. I have a kinsman among the castle guard. And the king's secretary owes me a favor I shall now collect from him. But I need ye with me, Fingal, to a.s.sure the king that ye are content with this disposition. Will ye come back to Edinburgh with us?"

"Ye will need me as well," Maggie said. "I am the heiress to Brae Aisir."

"But Fingal is yer husband, and surely 'tis his right to make such a decision," Janet Munro said primly. She was a woman of tradition.

Fin laughed aloud. "Nay, Jan, Maggie must come with us, for she is the heiress, and whatever I now possess I possess through her."

"We must leave on the morrow then," Janet Munro said.

"We will depart the day after," Maggie replied. "Ye are barely past childbed, madam, and have raced into the Borders from the city. Ye and yer horses will have a day of rest before we begin our journey. Now I must go and see to yer comfort while ye are with us, and the cook must be informed there will be two more at the high board this day." With a smile she hurried from the hall.

The laird chuckled. "She has had her way since her birth," he said to their guests. "There is no changing her now."

Fin grinned. "The king gave me quite a responsibility, didn't he? It takes a particular skill to manage it, Cousins."

Dugald Kerr laughed aloud.

"She is very forward," Janet Munro ventured.

"A headstrong lady, I can see," Lord Tweed said with understatement.

"She is known as Mad Maggie," Fin murmured, "and is rather proud of it."

"G.o.d's foot!" Janet exclaimed. "And ye put up with it?"

Fingal Stewart smiled knowingly. "She is worth it, Jan. I should have never imagined such a wife as I now have."

"He loves her," the laird murmured softly.

"I have not said it, Dugald," Fin quickly replied.

"But ye do nonetheless," the old man answered, "and I'm glad for it. I shall go to my grave content knowing Maggie is safe with ye."

"Yer an old fraud," Fin said. "Ye won't go to yer grave for years, Dugald Kerr, and we both know it. Ye may fool Maggie, but ye don't fool me."

The laird chuckled, giving his grandson-in-law a broad wink. "Ye'll not tell on me, I hope," he said.

Janet Munro smiled at the repartee between the two men. When she had suggested her cousin to the king's service, she could not have imagined the happiness he would have, but she could see it in his face. She saw it when he teasingly reprimanded his wife and saw it in the warm relationship Fingal Stewart had developed with the laird of Brae Aisir in just under a year. Her cousin had a family now, which was something he had not had in many years. All that was missing were bairns. "Is yer wife with child yet?" she boldly asked Fin.

"Not yet," he said, "but neither of us will disappoint Dugald. She is young yet. Will ye give yer lord bairns, Cousin?"

"Aye," Janet replied. "Margaret is three months old now. In another month or two we shall work harder to give her a brother, for it would please my lord, would it not?"

Matthew Baird nodded. "It would please yer lord very much, Jan," he said.

Fingal Stewart smiled. His cousin had found happiness as well, and he was glad of it. He looked forward to the time they would spend together. The rest of the day and the evening were pleasant. The following day Maggie and Fin took their guests on a ride through a portion of the Aisir nam Breug. Lord Tweed was impressed by the traverse and how it was protected. His wife, however, was enchanted by the multicolored summer flowers that lined the way-yellow and white ox-eyed daisies, common milkwort, Mary's gold, bluebells, and heather.

The following day they departed for Edinburgh, escorted by Iver and a company of a dozen men-at-arms. Fin had sent ahead to Master Boyle, saying that he would expect his house vacated for his arrival and that of his wife and their guests. Two hours before their arrival in the city, and on their second day of travel, Archie and Grizel rode ahead to make certain all was ready. They found Master Boyle eagerly awaiting them.

"I've had the house cleaned, the beds made, and the fires started," he told Archie. "How long do ye think yer master will be here?"

"Two or three days, but no more," Archie answered. "What's yer hurry?"

"I've got two bishops arriving next week, and ye know these churchmen pay well for their lodging. Especially for such a fine house so near the castle."

"We'll be long gone," Archie said. "Lord Stewart wanted to pay his respects to his cousin, the king. We have been told the young queen is failing fast."

"Aye, aye," Master Boyle replied mournfully. " 'Tis a great tragedy. Why he picked such a weak little la.s.s is a mystery."

"She brought a large dower with her for the king, and 'tis rumored he loves her," Archie responded. "Even the mighty fall in love with their wives now and again."

"Then 'tis an even greater tragedy. They say some of the lords are already seeking a suitable second wife for him," Master Boyle confided. "Some are pressing for another Frenchwoman, but others say he would do best with a good Scotswoman. Look how many bairns he's fathered on his own. Six fine sons and two daughters-and all healthy. 'Tis hoped they at least allow the king to mourn before they're putting him to bed with another wife by his side." His curious gaze went to Grizel. "Have ye taken a wife then, Archie? I didn't think ye ever would, but she's a fine-looking woman."

"His wife?" Grizel said, outraged. "As if I would wed with a bandied-legged old fellow! Indeed! I will have ye know that I am my lady's tiring woman, ye nosy little man. Now, if there is nothing more of import ye need to tell us, get ye gone back to from wherever ye have come. Go on with ye! Shoo! Shoo!"

At first surprised, Master Boyle recovered quickly. With a wink at and a sketchy bow to Grizel, he went off chortling, but not before telling Archie, "Now, there's a fine redheaded woman who could well warm a man's bed on a cold night if he were smart enough, and quick enough, to catch her."

Archie laughed aloud.

"Yer neither smart enough nor quick enough," Grizel said darkly. She bustled off to make certain all was truly ready for their master and mistress but not before instructing Archie to go to the cookshop, and the baker. "Is there wine in this house? And see if ye can find some cheese. We must set out some sort of meal, for my lady will be tired and hungry when they arrive."

The travelers arrived in the late afternoon. Janet Munro sent up to the castle to ask if her cousin, the guardsman, would join them later. When he came, they were able to offer him a joint of mutton, bread, cheese, and wine. He ate and drank the meal gratefully, and when he had finished, he looked at Janet, saying, "Ye wish to enter the castle? When?"

"Tomorrow," Janet said. "We will all come to pay our respects to King James at this trying and terrible time for him."

"I will see ye get in," the guardsman told them, "but it's unlikely ye'll get to see the king. He rarely leaves the queen's side. I saw her, ye know, the other day. She was being carried in a litter to the royal chapel of St. Margaret to hear Ma.s.s."

"What is she like?" Janet asked eagerly.

"Pretty as a picture," was the reply. "She looks like an angel and is already halfway to heaven, I'm thinking. I hear ye gave Jamie his second daughter."

"Aye," Janet replied casually. "She's a bonnie bairn."

"Come first thing in the morning," the guardsman said. "I'll leave word at the gate for them to expect ye, and yer husband, and . . . ?" He looked at Fin and Maggie.

"The king's cousin, Lord Stewart of Torra, and his wife, Lady Margaret," Janet told her kinsman. "Actually, I believe the king will want to see Lord Stewart."

"It's not up to me," the guardsman replied. "But at least I can get ye into the royal apartments, Janet. And Lord and Lady Stewart," he added, rising from his place and addressing Fin, "I thank ye for yer hospitality, my lord."

Fin nodded. "I thank ye," he replied.

"Will ye carry a message to the king's secretary for me tonight?" Janet asked.

"Of course."

Janet Munro handed the guardsman the letter she had written earlier to the king's secretary. In it she reminded the man of the favor he owed her and requested that he get them an audience with the king within the next two days. The guard went off with Janet Munro's message tucked in his leather jacket. "I can but hope we are successful," Janet said with a small sigh.

In the morning they dressed carefully, Lord Stewart in black velvet canions, black and white striped hose, and a black velvet doublet lined in white satin, its puffed sleeves slashed to show the white. He had never seen any of these garments before, but all Archie would ever say when he asked was that he had come by them honestly. Maggie wore her fine burgundy velvet gown. Her hair, usually worn in a thick plait, was neatly contained in a gold wire caul this day. They rode out with Janet and her husband early. It was a fine June morning.

Edinburgh Castle sat on a craggy hill that jutted out over the town. It had first manifested itself as a wooden fort, built by King Edwin of Northumbria, in the seventh century. He had named it Edwin's Burgh after himself. The Anglo-Saxon princess, Margaret, who had married King Malcolm III, was considered a saint. She had built the chapel. As she lay dying, the castle was being besieged by an army of Highlanders. Her dead body was lowered down the fortress's west wall and taken to Dunfermline Abbey for burial. The great and newest stone building was a banqueting hall that had been built by James IV. The court, however, disliked this castle, for it was extremely cramped. They preferred Holyrood Palace, which was nearby in the city; a confection of witch's cap towers that reminded one of the great chteaus of the Loire Valley but for the background of rugged hills behind it. Holyrood Palace had charm whereas Edinburgh Castle was what it had always been-a great rough fortress.

They crossed the moat, entering into a great open courtyard where their horses were taken. They followed Janet Munro, who knew her way well, walking to the stone building housing the royal quarters. Maggie didn't like it at all. It seemed a cold, hard place for a queen, let alone a dying woman. Inside, it was cramped, and the furnishings spare due to the lack of s.p.a.ce.

"Stay here," Janet said as they came into what was obviously an antechamber. "I must find Master MacCulloch." She hurried off, making her way from the antechamber down a narrow corridor and finally stopping at a small door at its end. She knocked, and then without waiting for an answer, stepped into a little chamber. "Good morrow, Allen," she greeted the man at the high writing table.

Allen MacCulloch looked up. He was a colorless man of medium size and girth who would be indistinguishable in a crowd. He considered this to his advantage. "Good morrow, Janet. Yer up quite early," he said, returning her greeting.

"We must see the king, Allen," Janet said. "I know ye've read my message. Ye never leave anything undone." Her eye went to the comfortable chair by the small hearth. "Do ye sleep here?" she wondered aloud.

"When we are here, aye, I do," he said with a brief smile. "Why do ye want to see him, Janet? 'Twill not be easy, for he rarely leaves the queen's side now."

" 'Tis not yer concern why I would see him," Janet Munro said sharply.

"Kinswoman, if ye expect me to work a miracle for ye, and 'twill be a miracle to pry him away for even five minutes, I must know the reason," Master MacCulloch said.

"Remember that I helped ye retain this position when ye were accused of stealing from the privy purse," Janet reminded him. " 'Twas I who watched, and I who learned it was Albert Gunn who was the thief. You would have been hanged instead of Master Gunn had it not been for me, Kinsman."

" 'Tis true, Janet. I owe ye my life, but I still must have some idea of why yer here if I am to gain the king's ear for ye."

Janet Munro sighed. "Very well," she said. "The daughter I bore him in March was promised a dower and income. My husband sent to him telling the king of Margaret's birth, but he has not replied. I know his love for his queen has driven all else from his mind, but the longer we must wait to settle this matter, the less likely it will be settled. Ye know as well as I do that there are those already seeking a new bride for him. He will mourn, and then be distracted by the search for a new queen. I will never gain what is due my daughter, Allen."

Allen MacCulloch nodded in agreement. "Aye, yer right," he said. "But it hardly seems so urgent a matter that I must disturb the king over it now."

"I have a way to quickly accomplish the deed, Kinsman. I just need to speak with the king for a brief few moments. I understand that not all that was taken from the king's privy purse was returned," Janet murmured softly.

The secretary flushed, then said, "I will get ye yer audience, Janet. But ye must stay here in the castle until I can accomplish it, for when it is possible, ye must go quickly to him, and state yer case. If ye are not available when the king is, there may not be another opportunity. Do ye understand?"

Janet Munro nodded. "I do, Allen, and I thank ye."

"The debt between us will now be paid in full, will it not?" he asked her.

"Aye, it will be," Janet responded. "I am a mother, Kinsman, and I only want what my bairn was promised, nothing more. I'll have little if anything to do with the court after this. My lord wants a few bairns of his own, and I'm yet young enough to give him some sons, and maybe even a daughter or two."

"Where can I find ye?" he asked her.

"In the first antechamber," Janet Munro replied.

"I'll send to ye when it's time," he told her.

"Farewell then, Allen, and thank ye," Janet said as she left the cramped chamber.

"Well?" Lord Stewart said as she rejoined them.

"The secretary says we must remain here until we are called to come. It may be hours until he can find a moment to get us to James, so we must be patient."

"Will I get to see the king?" Maggie asked ingenuously.

Janet Munro was unable to restrain her smile. "Aye, ye will, but remember ye must not speak to him unless he speaks to ye first."

They waited. And they waited. And they waited. The morning pa.s.sed. The royal quarters were very quiet, for the king had ordered nothing disturb his queen. Now and again a servant would pa.s.s through the chamber in which they waited. The long June afternoon faded into a long twilight. Night came. They had not eaten. They had had nothing to drink but some wine Janet had instructed a serving man to bring them as night finally fell. They spoke little, for there wasn't a great deal to say. Maggie did remark that the hospitality in her grandfather's hall was far better than in the king's.

Finally, two hours past midnight, a page came running into the antechamber. "Are ye Lady Tweed?" he asked of Janet. "Yer to come with me, madam." The page's eyes widened when the two men and the two women got up to follow him. "I was told a lady," he said nervously.

"Ye were not told correctly then," Janet said. "Yer a Leslie, aren't ye, lad? Ye know me, for ye were here when I was last the king's lover. We must all follow ye."

The boy did not argue, for he did indeed know that Janet Munro, now Lady Tweed, had been the king's last mistress before he went off to France to bring back his sickly queen. He led them quickly to a small empty chamber, and then left them.

No one spoke. The door opened suddenly, and James Stewart stepped into the chamber. Maggie followed Janet's lead, curtsying deeply while both men bowed low.

The king raised Janet up by the hand. "A daughter," he said. "Well done, madam. What have ye called her?"

"Margaret, my lord."

James Stewart's glance swung to Fingal Stewart. "Cousin," he greeted him.