The Tudor Princess. Darcey Bonnette

5

       Mistress Stewart

      My honourable knight was as good as his word and made certain my residence was moved to Newbottle, where I danced and feasted and was treated to the finest spectacles he could arrange. He sent me white palfreys almost as fine as those from my father. I cooed in delight at my new pets as I stroked the velvet saddles, fingering the gold harnesses. Oh, the splendour of it all, oh, the sweetness of my king!

      The next day I donned a new cloth of gold gown trimmed in ermine. Again my throat was encircled in jewelled collars of gold and my hands were heavy with the weight of rings. I would be removing to Edinburgh, my new home, at last. Composed and serene as a queen should be, I climbed into my litter, and the last leg of the journey began.

      English lords and ladies were paired off with Scots and they formed a dazzling train while the thousands of onlookers cheered my procession. I waved and tossed coins, hoping to endear myself to the people who shouted blessings and sang my praises.

      We neared the halfway point, where I was invited to have a shot at a doe Jamie sent for my hunting pleasure.

      ‘I will not hunt without my lord!’ I cried, delighted he should think of me. How I longed to draw back my bowstring and show him my prowess! He would be so pleased with me!

      At once Jamie arrived attired in purple, sitting on a horse dressed in gold. My breath caught in my throat as I beheld him. Oh, but he was a true king! He dismounted, approaching my litter, and, without further ado, swept me up in his arms, planting a firm kiss upon my mouth.

      My eyes widened in delighted surprise as I wrapped my arms about his neck. ‘Oh, Your Grace!’ I breathed.

      His expression was soft, filled with tenderness. No eyes were kinder, I thought to myself as I gazed upon him. I longed to trace his face, to marvel in its every contour and angle. Never had I seen a man in possession of such noble beauty.

      For a while he rode beside me, making certain to ask after my comfort every few moments to the point that I began to giggle at his solicitude.

      ‘I should like very much for you to ride with me into the city,’ he told me.

      ‘I shall ride one of the new palfreys,’ I said as the procession came to a halt.

      ‘No. You shall ride with me, holding me about the waist,’ he added with a smile. How I adored the enthusiasm that caused his voice to crescendo with passion. So infectious was it that I giggled as he continued. ‘When the people see you thus they will know how pleased their king is by his precious little queen.’

      ‘Oh, yes, that would be delightful!’ I exclaimed as I was helped from my litter. After it was decided that Jamie’s horse wasn’t gentle enough for the task, one of the new palfreys was brought forward. I mounted behind Jamie, wrapping my arms about his waist just as he said. My hands encountered something strange then, a heavy belt of iron. I stiffened. ‘What is this, Jamie?’

      ‘’Tis nothing to worry your pretty head about, little one,’ he assured, moving my hands up to rest above the belt on his belly. ‘Come now, let’s ride!’

      We began to gallop toward the city. The wind rippled through my copper hair and I laughed, revelling in the freedom of it all. As we rode we were met by pageants and playacting. Knights mock jousted each other for the love of a maiden and I was thrilled at all the effort put into these displays.

      ‘It is all for you,’ the king told me. ‘All for my little Queen Maggie.’

      I nuzzled up between his shoulder blades and squealed in enchantment. All for me! This was a state of affairs I could well get used to!

      When we entered through the gates of Edinburgh at last I was presented with more revolting relics to kiss, including the arm of Saint Giles. Jamie, who seemed most observant and devout, urged me to kiss the disgusting things first, which I did with as much grace as I could summon, and he followed my lead, pressing his lips to the objects with a sincerity I did not feel. To me a bone was a bone.

      Next we were greeted with more pageants. I was presented with the keys to the city by an angel with real feathers for wings. Everywhere about me was opulence and excess; the fountains gushed with red wine and my head throbbed and tingled from the ringing of the bells.

      Edinburgh was alive with merriment and song.

      And all for me!

      It was my wedding day. The proxy ceremony, I realised, had nothing on this. Even if it were overcast the city would be lit by the gold in my procession – my eyes were dazzled by the cloth of gold and jewellery worn by people and horses alike.

      My gown was black velvet and white damask with red silk sleeves to match Jamie, who met me with his bonnet in hand as he did whenever I was in his presence as a sign of respect. My heart stirred at the sight of him standing before me so noble and proud.

      I wore a crown, the crown of a queen. It was heavy on my head and I trembled as I reflected upon its significance. My father had told me that this was my destiny – my fate since birth. He knew it then and I knew it now. I stood straight under the weight of this crown, promising even as I exchanged vows with my king that I would endeavour to be the greatest queen Scotland had ever known.

      The Archbishops of Glasgow and York officiated and we shared the Host at the Mass. I started at the trumpets that announced our union and blinked back tears when Jamie handed me the sceptre. Holy oil anointed me then and with this ritual I truly became the Queen of Scots.

      Jamie wrapped his arm about my waist as we removed to the banquet at Holyrood House. ‘One of my favourite residences,’ Jamie explained as I gazed at the castle towering before me. ‘I pray you will come to love it as I do.’

      ‘I love it already,’ I said because it sounded so charming. And I was dazzled. But as I entered the great hall I grew more aware than ever that this was not my home. I will never see you again. My father’s words rang in my ears, as resonating as the church bells celebrating my presence.

      Jamie drew me from my wistful reflections by insisting that the gifts be given in my name. He poured my wine with his own hand, attending to my every need as a stream of gifts paraded before us. Goblets and bolts of fabric, jewels and caskets, trinkets and treasures the worth of which was beyond my conception.

      ‘Are you happy, little one?’ Jamie asked me in his enchanting brogue. He began to fix our plate, making certain I was served first.

      ‘I am so happy, my lord,’ I breathed. ‘But I am happiest knowing I have married the handsomest, most wonderful prince in Christendom!’

      He laughed, bringing my hand to his lips.

      We ate the splendid fare before us, served from fifty different platters. I could not contain my ravenous appetite and Jamie laughed as he watched me sample the different meats and puddings. He was quite restrained and ate sparingly.

      ‘You think me unbecoming eating this way,’ I commented, flushing.

      ‘I think you are a growing girl,’ he said in soft tones, fondness lighting his green eyes.

      The evening passed in a whirl. The English and Scots minstrels and musicians battled against each other, each in the hopes of outshining the other, and there was an underlying tension behind the seemingly good-natured competition. We danced till the soles of my feet ached and throbbed. My legs tingled and my face flushed from wine.

      At last the moment that held the court breathless with anticipation arrived. We were escorted to our wedding chamber. Separately, the king and I were dressed in our shifts.

      ‘Your hands are cold, Your Grace,’ my aunty Anne observed as she squeezed my icy fingers in hers. ‘You are afraid?’

      I had not allowed