Love Wild and Fair

'It will be done, your majesty. It will not be easy, but it will be done.'

'If ye had gone to the Nether Bow this morning ye could have had him back in prison already,' said the queen blandly. Her ladies giggled, and Maitland shot the queen a venomous look which she chose not to see.

'What's this?' demanded the king.

'Lord Bothwell rode to the Nether Bow earlier this morning, James, and offered to return to prison if our chancellor would but come and fetch him. The servants claimed he was not at home, but I understand he was at home, cowering in a cabinet.'

The king began to chuckle, and the chuckle grew to laughter. 'He outfoxed ye, Maitland!' chortled the king. 'Trust Francis! He's a good fisherman, and he played ye like a salmon! He knew damned well ye'd nae dare venture out of yer house after him. He's made ye look a fool!'

'His behavior is an affront to the crown,' snapped Maitland. 'It undermines your majesty's dignity. He should be severely punished!'

'It undermines yer dignity, Maitland,' said the king, but the chancellor's words had stung him. 'How would ye punish him?' he asked.

'Forfeiture,' said John Maitland promptly. 'His offices. His estates.'

'No! No!' cried the queen. 'Francis is our cousin, James. I know he is reckless, and at times arrogant, but he is the kindest man I know-and he has always been your majesty's good friend. He has never conspired against ye, or lied to ye as others have.'

'There are the charges of witchcraft, Annie.'

'Ridiculous charges that no one believes! Your own peers are so offended by these charges that they will not even meet to try him! Please, my dear husband. Do not be harsh with Francis. He is our friend, and we have so few.'

'We must make an example of this rogue!' thundered Maitland.

'Sir!' said the queen, angrily drawing herself up. 'You quite overstep yourself!' She turned to the king. 'I should be very unhappy, sire, if ye punished our cousin severely. 'Tis midsummer, and if I know Francis he has but run off to go swimming.'

She made it sound so unimportant. James put an arm about his pretty wife. 'Let me think on it, lovey,' he said soothingly, and bent to kiss her.

The queen turned and, walking slowly to her bedchamber door, opened it. ' 'Tis still early, Jamie. Dismiss Master Maitland, and come back to bed.' Her blue eyes were innocent enough, but the look she gave him was very provocative, and the king felt a stirring in his loins.

Maitland was forced to retire for the moment. He was not one to give up easily. The queen had won this round by using her sex, a practice Maitland abhorred. He realized he needed something he could use against Hepburn which would anger the king and keep him angered long enough to allow for forfeiture proceedings.

Suddenly, memory pounced conveniently on the rumor about a woman who had ridden with Bothwell this spring. No one know who she was, but she was said to be very beautiful. Too, his spies had told him that when Bothwell had left for the border today, he had ridden with his bastard half-brother and a beautiful woman. Maitland didn't know whether knowledge of the lady would help him, but he felt he should have it. He sent for one of his most trustworthy men.

'Go to Hermitage Castle,' ordered the chancellor, 'and find out who Bothwell's woman is. I do not care how you get your information, but I must have it within a week.'

Several days later the man returned and said to the anxious chancellor, 'Lady Catriona Leslie, the Countess of Glenkirk.'

'You are sure?' asked the amazed chancellor.

'I got it from her personal maid.' The informant did not explain that he had lured the girl from the castle, tortured the name from her, and then cut her throat.

Maitland's memory leaped once again. The king's chamberboy had come into his pay, and he sent for the fellow. 'What do you know of Catriona Leslie?'

Barra wrote his answer on the pad hanging from his waist. 'She was the king's secret mistress, but she ran away from him. He still desires her.' He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to the chancellor.

John Maitland read. Smiling, he handed Barra a small bag of gold. He was jubilant! Here was just the weapon he needed to destroy Francis Hepburn. But he had to be careful that his spies were absolutely correct.

Discreet inquiries over the period of a few days netted him the astounding information that Lady Bothwell had just been granted a divorce by the kirk. A further probe told him that the Countess of Glenkirk had applied for a divorce through her uncle, the Abbot of Glenkirk Abbey. The abbot was presenting her petition to the Scots prelate. Unable to contain his excitement, John Maitland hurried to Holyrood. By the time his coach had pulled into the courtyard, he had managed to calm himself somewhat. The king must not suspect that his chancellor knew his most intimate secret.

He waited almost the entire day until he was able to see the king alone. 'I have,' he said, 'discovered an amusing sidelight to Francis Hepburn's life. I know the identity of the woman who's his latest mistress-the one who's been riding with him on raids.'

James loved gossip. “Tell me, Maitland,' he said impatiently. 'Who is she?'

' ‘Tis the most amazing thing, sire. Of all the noblewomen in Scotland I would have said this lady was the least likely candidate for Bothwell's bed. He plans to marry her, and Lady Bothwell has just been granted a divorce by the kirk. The lady I speak of is in the process of gaining her own freedom.'

'Yes, Maitland, very interesting, but who is she?'

'Why, 'tis the Countess of Glenkirk, sire. Lady Catriona Leslie. That lovely creature they call the Virtuous Countess here at court.'

For the briefest moment James Stewart thought his heart had stopped. 'Who, Maitland? Who did ye say?'

'Lady Leslie, sire. Glenkirk's wife.'

The king looked sick, so Maitland chose that moment to ask permission to withdraw. But as he went he heard the command. 'Dinna leave the palace tonight.' The chancellor departed, smiling to himself. Bothwell was as good as destroyed. Maitland hadn't missed the look of anguish in the king's face.

James paced his bedroom angrily. Francis Stewart-Hepburn was his nemesis and always had been. Four years older than the king, he had always been bigger, stronger, brighter. They were both handsome, but Francis was handsomer-almost godlike, with rugged good looks. James studied hard to acquire learning, but Francis sopped up knowledge like a sponge, easily and without strain. Women flocked to Bothwell. He was charming. James was quite uncomfortable with women, having been brought up in a male society where women were rarely included. In short, Francis was everything his cousin James longed to be.

Bothwell had gone too far when he had taken Cat Leslie from the king, and James would not forgive him that after all the rest. In bitter frustration, the king overlooked the circumstances under which Cat had fled him. All James chose to know at this point was that Cat had apparently offered Bothwell what she had refused the king. She had given Francis her heart.

He would stop the lovers. Cat would not get her divorce. lames would instruct Chancellor Maitland to speak to the cardinal about it. He also intended declaring his popular cousin an outlaw. His estates and title would be forfeit. Cat could hardly remain with an outlaw.

James was angry with Catriona Leslie. He had honored this insignificant highland countess by making her a lady of his wife's bedchamber. She had disappointed him badly. She was no better than any of the other women at court who spread their legs for a man with such ease.

John Maitland came later on, as bidden, hoping he did not appear too eager. His face was a study in impassivity as the king ordered that Francis Stewart-Hepburn, fifth Earl of Bothwell, be put to the horn and his estates confiscated. The following morning a royal herald publicly announced the king's decision to the people of Edinburgh. He was pelted with garbage by the outraged citizens. They hated having their hero brought down.

The king was feeling put-upon. The queen was not speaking to him and she had locked the doors to her apartments. Lady Margaret Douglas had forced her way into his presence, insisting furiously that the crown had no right to confiscate anything other than Hermitage. She waved a paper which she claimed proved that Bothwell had signed over all of his estates except Hermitage to their eldest son, the earl's legitimate heir.

James turned on her. 'While Francis was in my good graces, madame, his estates were his to do with as he