The Heather Moon by Susan King Page B

basins green with lichen, the water levels low and murky. Wine might never flow there again, William thought grimly. His hand went to the folded parchment tucked inside his leather doublet, written in Marie of Guise's own elegant italic script.
    He had been surprised by the summons. The queen dowager's display of friendship touched him deeply, and he would strive to do whatever she wanted of him. He owed that much to her. He owed it to Jeanie's memory too. As one of Marie's ladies-in-waiting, Jeanie had loved her royal mistress and friend dearly.
    Standing beside the fountain, he recalled sweet late evenings nearly two years past, when he and Jeanie Hamilton had met near this fountain. Those clandestine and passionate meetings had led them both along a tangled and tragic path.
    She had been lovely and young, and the only child of the one man he truly hated. William knew that rumor claimed he had shamed her deliberately. Few knew the real tale, he thought bitterly. Nor would he enlighten the curious.
    He turned and strode toward the northwest tower.
    * * *
    The echo of his pace was rapid and strong as he headed up turnpike steps and down wide, vaulted corridors until he reached the royal presence chamber. The guard outside the door lifted his halberd to allow William passage.
    "Rookhope, sir, welcome back." He opened the thick oak door. William thanked him and handed over his long sword, aware that Marie of Guise disapproved of weapons worn in royal audiences. The guard waved him inside.
    Sunlight poured through two tall windows, pooling on red brocade window-seat cushions and wall tapestries, and spilling in bright bars over the floor tiles. Music filled the air, emanating from the far end of the huge room, where the royal dais stood empty. Nearby, several men and women gathered in a circle around a man strumming a lute. All were finely dressed in costly fabrics, gowns and doublets gleaming with pearls and jewels. He could smell a blend of musky perfumes from where he stood.
    William glanced at his own clothing and brushed at the dust from his ride. His garments were good quality but simple in style, as he preferred: a sleeveless doublet of supple Spanish leather, pierced for coolness and comfort, over a finely woven linen shirt; breeches of black serge, and high leather boots, as were worn by soldiers and reivers, rather than courtiers. He wore his dark hair longer than was stylish, and did not keep a shaped beard, though he sometimes let his whiskers grow out. He did not polish his nails and wore no jewelry.
    He knew that most of the women at court favored his appearance. The rest, male and female alike, scoffed at his plain gear as more suited to a Border thief than a sophisticated man of the court. William was both, but he cared as little for the niceties of fashion as he did for the opinions of others.
    No one glanced at him as he walked into the spacious chamber. The courtiers surrounded a man seated in their midst who sang a ballad. His voice was vibrant above the soft twang of the lute strings. William paused to listen, leaning a shoulder casually against the oaken paneling.
    The bonny laird went to his lady's door
    And he's twirled at the pin
    "O sleep ye, wake ye, Jean my lass,
    Rise up and let me in."
    Fair Jean rose up and let him in
    For she loved him best of a'
    He's ta'en her in his arms twain
    And she let her kirtle fa'.
    A chill trickled down his spine. His heart slammed, his jaw tightened, and he remained outwardly calm by sheer effort.
    The singer was a young man in an elaborate black satin doublet. William recognized the queen dowager's assistant secretary. He listened, and decided not to interrupt. Yet.
    "O Jeanie, what ails ye?" her father spoke
    "Does a pain cut in yer side?"
    "I have nae pain, but a lover's gift,
    And my laird willna wed me for pride."
    Fair Jean went to the wood that day
    And took with her some silk
    She leaned her back against an oak
    And bathed her bairn in milk.
    William had heard