The Queen's Lady

August 19, Year of Our Lord 1561"Who is that?" one of the maids whispered, hovering behind Queen Mary as they arrived, earlier than expected, at Leith. Gwenyth wasn't sure who had spoken; Mary, Queen of Scots, had left her native land as a child with four ladies-in-waiting, all of them also named Mary: Mary Seton, Mary Fleming, Mary Livingstone and Mary Beaton. Gwenyth liked them all very much. They were all charming and sweet. Each had her individual personality traits, but they were known collectively as "the Marys" or "the queen's Marys," and sometimes it seemed as if they had become one collective person, as now, when Gwenyth wasn't sure who had spoken.They were all--including the queen--watching the shore, their eyes on the contingent awaiting them. The queen's beautiful dark eyes seemed, to Gwenyth, as misty as the day itself.Gwenyth didn't think the queen had heard the question, until suddenly she replied. "Rowan. Rowan Graham, Lord of Lochraven. He visited France with my half brother, Lord James, some months ago."Gwenyth had heard the name. Rowan Graham was considered to be one of the most powerful nobles in Scotland. She seemed to recall that there was some strange tragedy connected with him, but she didn't know what it was. She also knew that he had a reputation for speaking boldly and having the personal power and political strength to assure he was heard.She sensed at that moment that this man was destined to haunt her life. He was impossible to miss, standing beside the queen's half brother and regent, Lord James Stewart. Mary herself was tall, at five feet and eleven inches, taller than most of the men who served her. James himself was not as tall, but even if he had been taller than the queen, the man by his side would have towered above him in the mist that shrouded the land. The light was thin, but what there was of it gilded his wheat-gold hair, turning him into a golden lord, a warrior knight, akin to the Viking raiders of long ago. He was clad in the colors of his clan, blues and greens and, despite the fashionable raiment of the group assembled to greet the returning queen, he was the man to whom eyes turned.Lochraven, Gwenyth thought. A Highland holding. Even in Scotland, the Highlanders were considered a race unto themselves. Gwenyth knew Scotland better than her queen, and she knew that a Highland lord could be a dangerous man, for she was from the Highlands herself, and very aware of the fierce power of the clan thanes. Rowan Graham was a man to be watched.Not that the queen had a reason to fear any man in Scotland. Mary had been asked to return home, but there were things Gwenyth knew that the queen did not. Just a year ago, Protestantism had become the official religion in Scotland, and with fanatical men--persuasive men--such as John Knox preaching in Edinburgh, the queen's devotion to the Catholic faith could place her in danger. The thought made Gwenyth angry; Mary's intent was to let people worship as they chose. Surely the same courtesy should be extended to the queen."Home. Scotland." Mary murmured the two words as if trying, in her own mind, to make them synonymous.Gwenyth was startled from her own thoughts and looked at her sovereign and friend worriedly. She herself was delighted to return home. Unlike many of the queen's ladies, she had been gone but a short time, only a year. Mary had left her home before the age of six. The Queen of Scotland was far more French than Scottish. When they had left France, Mary had stood at the rail of their ship for a long time, tears in her eyes, repeating, "Adieu, France."For a moment Gwenyth felt a surge of resentment on behalf of Scotland. She loved her homeland. There was nothing as beautiful as the rocky coast, with its shades of gray, green and mauve in spring and summer turning to a fantasy of white come winter. And she loved her country's rugged castles, a match for the steep cragsDrake, Shannon is the author of 'The Queen's Lady', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373772315 and ISBN 0373772319.