Three Sisters, Three Queens

LINLITHGOW PALACE, SCOTLAND, SEPTEMBER 1515

I am seated in a chair at the fireside, in a loose silver night robe. My hair is combed out and spread over my shoulders like a golden veil. When the captain of Albany’s troop brings my husband into the room I raise my eyes and make a little gesture as if to show that I cannot rise, as Archibald, tanned and smiling after weeks of hard riding, runs to fling himself at my feet and bends his smooth fox head into my lap.

“Your Grace,” he says, muffled. “My wife, my beloved.”

“I’ll leave you,” the captain says, anxious to be out of the perfumed room. “My lord—you are on parole. I will report to the Duke of Albany in Edinburgh that you are safely here and on your honor to stay here within the palace walls.”

My husband turns his head and smiles at our enemy. “Thank him for this,” he says. “I am grateful. Whatever happens in the future, he has behaved with the courtesy of a lord of chivalry.”

The captain puffs up a little, and bows and goes out.

Silently, Archibald tiptoes across the room and locks the door behind him. He turns back to me. “Ready?” His dark eyes are sparkling with excitement.

“Ready,” I say. I throw off the billowing night robe, underneath I am wearing my riding gown. Archibald himself kneels at my feet and helps me into my riding boots. My lady-in-waiting hands me a dark cape and I draw the hood over my head.

“You have everything?”

“Tom, my groom, has my jewels and what money I have to hand,” I say. “The luggage train will come after.”

He nods. “You know the stairs?”

I lead him through the adjoining door to the little chapel. Behind the altar is a hidden doorway, used only by the visiting priests. It opens without a creak and I take a candle from the altar and lead him down the winding steps. The door at the bottom is unbolted, Archibald pulls it open and there, waiting for us, are George Douglas and a couple of servants and men-at-arms.

“Can you ride?” George asks, eyeing my swollen belly.

“I have to,” I say simply. “I will tell you if I have to stop.”

They have a pillion saddle on Archibald’s horse and a man-at-arms lifts me up behind him. My maid and my lady-in-waiting go on their own horses and the grooms lead a couple of spares.

“Not too fast,” I say to Archibald.

“We have to get away,” he reminds me. “We have to meet with Alexander Hume and his guard, and ride to my castle before they know you are gone.”

I wrap my arms around him and I put my belly against his back. My baby’s father is going to save us. He has rescued us from an unjust imprisonment. We are free.