Bond of Passion (48 page)

That first night back, after she had made her rounds through the hall seeing that doors were barred, candles and oil lamps snuffed out, the fires in the fireplaces banked, Annabella went to her apartment. She had dismissed Jean, and now stood gazing out upon the sea, which was silvered by a glowing full moon. Angus came up and began to unlace her yellow gown. He kissed her shoulder and the nape of her neck with slow, heated kisses. Annabella sighed.

“Ye’re happy to be home,” he said.

“Aye, and I never want to go anywhere again, my lord. Duin suits me well. The autumn is coming, the winter will follow, and by midsummer we shall hae another bairn, for I am certain now that I am breeding. If it is a lad, we shall call him Patrick or Ian or Charles or David,” she said.

“But what if it is a lass,” he teased her, pushing her gown and chemise down, cupping her wonderful firm, round breasts in his two hands.

“I dinna know what I will call a lass,” she replied, “but I know what I will nae call a wee girlie,” she told him.

He chuckled. “What will ye nae call her?” he asked.

“Mary,” Annabella said firmly. “I shall nae call a daughter Mary.”

The Earl of Duin turned his wife about to face him, laughing as he did so. “Madam,” he said, “I am in full agreement wi’ ye. We will never call a daughter Mary.” And then he kissed her hard. Nay, there would be no more Marys causing difficulty in his family. If the bairn were a lass, they would name her anything but Mary.

But on midsummer’s eve next, the Countess of Duin was delivered of a strapping son who was called Patrick. And the question of the name Mary never came up again among the Fergusons of Duin.

T
he question of the boy King James VI’s regent raged on for six months. Finally, in the summer of 1570, the Earl of Lennox, the king’s paternal grandfather, was chosen on the strong recommendation of England’s Queen Elizabeth. Mary Stuart, imprisoned in Tutbury Castle, was furious, but there was nothing at all she could do. She held the earl responsible for his son’s character and behavior. She did not want her own son falling victim to the same man, but the choice was no longer hers to make.

The gentlemen of the Queen’s Men would not accept Lennox, for as much as Mary Stuart hated him, he hated her as well. In her youth he had been suggested as a possible husband for the child queen, though he was twenty-six years her senior. When he had been refused he had gone into England, where he had lived for many years. His son’s marriage to Mary Stuart had returned him to the limelight. Lennox held her responsible for his son’s death. With the power of the regency in his greedy hands, it was a matter of concern to many how he would treat the little king.

The Queen’s Men formed a rival parliament at Linlithgow. The Gordons came forth under the command of their earl and met the forces of the Duke of Lennox at Brechin, where they were defeated. Several months later, in February of 1571, another Hamilton rebellion was put down at Paisley. In April of that same year a group of daring commandos scaled the heights of Dumbarton in the dark of the night, capturing the formerly impregnable castle. All that was left for Lennox was Edinburgh, which was held by Kirkcaldy of Grange, now Mary Stuart’s most devoted adherent.

When the duke attempted to hold his parliament in the Canongate beneath the castle, Kirkcaldy’s guns quickly chased the parliament away. Edinburgh found itself a divided city, with two town councils and two kirk sessions. John Knox wisely withdrew from the city entirely, and the King’s Men set up in Leith, where they were besieged for the next fifteen months.

In August of that year a parliament was held at Stirling, the little king’s home.

In early September a raiding party of over four hundred men from the Queen’s Men got into Stirling in the middle of the night. They rounded up all the lords who had come for the parliament, and then remained. The king’s guardian, John Erskine, the Earl of Mar, managed to regain control of Stirling and keep the little king safe. The Earl of Lennox, however, was shot in the back and died several hours later.

The Earl of Mar quickly became the king’s new regent. It was unfortunate that a little over a year later John Erskine died of natural causes. He had been the most moderate member of the King’s Men, and until Darnley’s murder a devoted supporter of Mary Stuart. Now the regency fell to the Earl of Morton, a proper villain who had been implicated in the murders of both Riccio and Lord Darnley. Morton hung onto his power until 1580, during which time Elizabeth Tudor sent a large force of men who helped him to regain control of Edinburgh Castle once again. Kirkcaldy of Grange and his kinsmen were hanged. The King’s Men had triumphed. There was no absolutely no hope that Mary Stuart would ever regain her throne.

In the years that followed her son grew up under the influence of a group of hard men. He was well educated, but timid, having spent his early years surrounded by war. It was a hard and loveless childhood, but the boy survived and even learned to think for himself. Finally, after several more years of peril during which he was influenced by his French cousin Esme Stuart, the new Earl of Lennox; and a brief captivity at Ruthven, from which James escaped; the young king declared himself emancipated and took up his throne to rule Scotland by himself. He married Princess Anne of Denmark shortly thereafter, and several years later, at the age of thirty-six, found himself not only king of Scotland, but king of England and Ireland too. His reign is well documented.

As for the Fergusons of Duin, they quietly faded once more into the anonymity that was their custom, and which they preferred above all else. But if you seek Duin Castle today, you will not find it. The legend says that that both castle and village disappeared one day into the mists that came off the Irish Sea. Neither was ever seen again. Some, however, claim to have heard ghostly pipes gaily playing in the vicinity of Duin on clear winter nights. So perhaps the Fergusons of Duin were sorcerers after all.

Bertrice Small
is a
New York Times
bestselling author and the recipient of numerous awards. In keeping with her profession, she lives in the oldest English-speaking town in the state of New York, founded in 1640. Her light-filled studio includes the paintings of her favorite cover artist, Elaine Duillo, and a large library. Because she believes in happy endings, Bertrice Small has been married to the same man, her hero, George, for forty-eight years. They have a son, Thomas, and four wonderful grandchildren. Longtime readers will be happy to know that Finnegan, the long-haired bad black kitty; and Sylvester, the black-and-white tuxedo cat who is the official family bed cat, are thriving.