“Henry Tudor has a great sense of his own importance,” Rosamund began. “When he decides that he is right, he will follow a course to its end. And God is always on his side,” she finished with a smile.

The Earl of Glenkirk laughed aloud at this. “I think, my darling,” he said, “that you have a very sharp eye and will be very useful to me in this matter.”

“I will not act against England, Patrick,” she told him. “I am no traitor.”

“Nay, lovey,” he responded. “We do not act against England, but Scotland’s king is older, more experienced, and has more wisdom than your Henry Tudor. And do not forget that Scotland’s queen is England’s sister. But we would prevent a war, and our king will not betray his alliances to serve his own ends, as your king attempts to make him do. It is most dishonorable, Rosamund.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Meg always said her younger brother was a bit of a bully. And now he is England’s king.”

“And jealous of King James’ good relations with His Holiness. He attempts to destroy that relationship for his own ends,” the earl noted.

“He is not a man who likes to lose, or even take second place,” Rosamund admitted. “Patrick, tell me exactly what it is you go to do.”

“When we are aboard La Petite Reine,” the earl said.

“You do not trust me?” She was astounded and hurt.

He took her in his arms. “Aye, I trust you, but I cannot know who is listening at the door, my love. Do you understand me?”

Her amber eyes grew wide with surprise, and then she silently nodded.

A moment later the door opened to admit Dermid and a servingman bearing a tray. The tray was set upon a table, and the servant left after a swift glance about the room. There was nothing of note, and it was just as his master had told him. Lovers escaping to another land. No one would pay good coin for that unless they were people of importance, and while their clothing was fine, it was not extravagant, and the gentleman wore neither a plaid, nor a badge that would identify him. Disappointed, the servingman was swiftly gone.

“He’s got a sharp eye in his head,” Annie noted pithily.

“Nothing to see here.” Dermid grinned at her.

The two young servants served their master and mistress the meal that had been brought, and then, invited, sat down to eat with them. There was a joint of beef, a fat capon with apple, and bread stuffing. There was a bowl of mussels steamed in white wine and bread that was freshly baked and still warm from the oven, with softened butter melted on it. A wedge of cheese had been supplied along with a pitcher of October ale. They ate in silence, and they had barely finished when there was a soft knock upon the door. It opened to reveal a young boy.

“Madame and monseigner will follow me,” he said, turning to go.

Annie set her mistress’ fur-lined cloak around her shoulders and then stuffed the pockets of her own cloak with the apples and pears that had come with their meal. Then she and Dermid followed after the ship’s boy. They exited the inn through the same back entrance through which they had entered, and followed their guide away from the courtyard and down a narrow alley, out onto a long, wide dock. At the end of the wharf was their vessel, a fair-sized boat that appeared to be in good condition. They boarded, and the boy led them through a door at the ship’s stern.

“This will be your cabin,” he said, and then he left them.

Rosamund looked about the room. It wasn’t very big, she thought nervously.

“There is still time,” he said to her.

“Nay,” she responded.

A large wide bunk was built into the wall, and above it was a single bunk.

“You and Annie will sleep here,” the earl said. “Dermid and I will take turns sleeping and watching.”

“ ’Tis cold,” Rosamund said.

He nodded. “We won’t be warm again for several weeks,” he told her. “Traveling in winter is never very pleasant, but we will manage. You and Annie get into bed now, for that is how you will stay warmest. Remove only your shoes, lovey.”

The two young women climbed into the larger of the two bunks after taking their shoes off. They burrowed beneath a surprisingly warm down coverlet.

“It’s better here,” Rosamund agreed.

“You can sleep safely. Dermid and I will not leave you,” he told her.

“I think I am too excited to sleep,” Rosamund told him, but both she and Annie were soon snoring lightly.

“Get your rest. I’ll take the first watch,” the earl told Dermid, and the servant climbed into the top bunk without another word. Patrick settled himself in the small window seat of the stern window. He listened while the ship was freed from its moorings. He felt the shift of the vessel as it began to get under way, slipping out into Firth of Forth, riding on the outgoing tide. He could see the royal shipyard with the black masts of Great Michael, the king’s pride and joy. The night was fair, and as they moved farther down Firth of Forth and away from the port the stars began to appear in the dark skies above them.

Patrick thought back to the last time he embarked for San Lorenzo. His daughter, Janet, was no more than ten, and Adam, six. He traveled as King James’ first royal ambassador to San Lorenzo. He hadn’t wanted to go, to leave Glenkirk, but duty had called him; the king had said it would not be for more than a few years. When he had returned again to Scotland his daughter was lost to him forever. He and his son and Mary MacKay, who had been his daughter’s maternal grandmother, had gone back into their Highlands. Mary had died several years later, in her cottage, where his daughter had been born. Jan. Janet Mary Leslie. What had become of her? Was she even alive today?

And now here he was once again on his way to that exquisite Mediterranean duchy, traveling this time with a girl younger than his daughter would be now. What madness, he thought, with a small smile. And what incredible happiness he was experiencing, such as he had never known in all of his life. Silently he thanked the fates for giving him Rosamund. That she was as passionate about him was astounding. The mode of their travel was hardly romantic. It would take them several days to reach France traveling as they were, and then a long and weary ride stretched before them. He had been mad to ask her to go. He had been mad to consider going himself. It was a fool’s errand the king was sending him upon, but James Stewart would do whatever he had to do to keep the peace with England.

Amazingly, the weather held as they sailed south down the coastline, never letting the land disappear from their sight. It was cold, but the brisk winds sent their vessel speeding along. And then, one morning as Annie and Rosamund stepped from the cabin for a walk about the deck, Captain Daumier approached and pointing, said, “France, madame. We crossed the Strait of Dover in the early hours of the morning. As the weather is holding, we shall make for Le Havre. With luck we will be there by the morrow.”

“That is very good news, captain. Does Lord Leslie know?” Rosamund asked him.

“Aye, madame. ’Twas he who told me to come and tell you. He is at the wheel even now. Look up,” the captain replied.

Rosamund did, and to her surprise saw her lover piloting their vessel. Laughing, she waved at him and called, “Be sure, my lord, that you do not bring us back to England!”


***

The next morning La Petite Reine sailed into Le Havre and was made fast to a sturdy stone wharf. To Rosamund’s great surprise, their horses were brought forth from the belly of their ship and led out onto the pier.

“I never thought about the beasts from the moment we dismounted at the Mermaid,” she said.

“It’s less noticeable if we retain our own animals and do not seek to purchase new ones. The fewer people we deal with, the fewer remember us. These ports, and many of the inns, are nests of intrigue. The buying and selling of information is a brisk trade,” the Earl of Glenkirk said. Then he turned and thanked Captain Daumier for their safe passage.

“It was le bon Dieu’s own good fortune, my lord,” the seaman said. “You know this is not a good time to cross from Scotland. We were very lucky. Certainly le bon Dieu is smiling on your endeavor, whatever it may be.” Then he shook the earl’s hand and turned away.

Rosamund, Annie, and Dermid were already mounted. The earl joined them.

“We have the day before us, and we have eaten aboard ship. Let us get away from the port and be on our way as quickly as possible,” Glenkirk said.


They rode each day that followed from sunup to sunset, bypassing Paris, moving cross-country, usually staying off the main roads. Both Rosamund and Annie were garbed as young men, and anyone who noticed the riders saw four gentlemen. Rosamund remembered her trips to the English court from her northern home. They had been far more civilized than this travel was. There had been monasteries and nunneries in which to stay the night. In France they sought their shelter where they might find it, but mindful of the two women, the earl did seek out farms with good barns in which they might overnight, offering the farmer a coin in exchange for his hospitality. More often than not, the farmer’s wife would offer new bread, which they gratefully accepted. They purchased food occasionally in the market towns along their route.

The weather, which was at first cold and some days wet with rain or snow, began to grow milder as they traveled south and east. Suddenly it was spring, and the sun shone more often as they rode along. Finally, after many days on the road, the earl said, “We will reach San Lorenzo tomorrow.”

“The first thing I want is a bath!” Rosamund said fervently. They had settled into a comfortable barn for the night, having been invited to the farmer’s table for a hot supper.