The Border Trilogy Read Free Page A

instead.
    A new voice, louder than the others, demanded just then to know whether perhaps James VI liked being King of Scotland too well to intercede on his mother’s behalf.
    Douglas’s tone was grave. “I do not know what Jamie will do. He treasures his throne but will not want to anger the Scottish people, many of whom, as you all know, are still pressing him to demand Mary’s release. However, you must also recognize the difficulties encountered whenever one attempts to make him comprehend the power he holds against Elizabeth. As we all know, he could create a deal of trouble for her should he decide to cast his lot with France or Spain against her, but he sets great store by the alliance he signed only months ago and fears to annoy her lest she leave her precious crown elsewhere and not to him. Nonetheless, I agree that MacGaurie’s news is ominous. Jamie must be told at once so that whatever can be done may be done quickly. I warn you, however, that I doubt even this news will convince him that Elizabeth is capable of signing Mary’s death warrant or that of any other monarch. For her to do so would be to set a most undesirable precedent.”
    The gravelly voice said bleakly, “It is impossible now that both Mary and Elizabeth shall continue to live.”
    The tangle of voices rose again as Mary Kate leaned weakly against the door, amazed by what she had heard and trembling to think that she had listened in upon such a conversation—or upon any conversation, for that matter, for she had been strictly taught to regard eavesdropping as an unthinkably disreputable action. A highland servant caught with an ear to his master’s door was assumed to be a traitor attempting to gain information to be used against the clan. For such an act, she had heard of people being summarily executed without question or trial. Though she had reason to believe that listening at doors was not everywhere so violently disapproved, such behavior was, according to her Aunt Aberfoyle, consistently regarded as an unforgivable social solecism. Surely, she thought, she must have greatly overindulged herself in her uncle’s mulled claret to have been guilty of such a contemptible act.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by Douglas’s voice. “There is little else we can accomplish tonight, though my own lads would do well to forgo the festivities below in favor of sleep, for we leave for Edinburgh at dawn.” When someone suggested that more haste than that was in order, he laughed. “We will make greater speed by waiting for this storm to lift. Besides, there is a wee, winsome armful waiting to offer me the comforts of her bed and ’twould be ungentlemanly to disappoint her.”
    Furious to realize that he must be speaking of her, Mary Kate snapped upright and nearly pushed open the door to contradict him on the spot. But then, cheeks burning, she came to her senses, flipped her skirts around, and hurried back to her own chamber, sped along the length of the gallery by mortifying echoes of appreciative male laughter.
    “How dare he!” she demanded of the ambient air as she snapped the door shut behind her and slammed the stout iron bolt into place. Pacing wrathfully, she kicked off her satin shoes, letting them fall where they would, and told herself bitterly that she ought to have expected nothing less from such a man. Boast how he might of maternal relations in the highlands, Douglas himself was naught but a lowly, uncivilized borderer.
    Had she not heard all her life that such men held women cheap? Had it not been recommended on more than one occasion that she ought to thank the good Lord for having granted her the privilege of being born in the highlands, where women were properly respected, where they could own property in their own names, where they might even become clan chieftains? Border women, like Englishwomen, were said to be regarded by their men as inferior beings, as mere chattel, in fact. Even among the upper classes the women