The Look-Out

James had made the arduous walk to the roof of the castle before the coronation ceremony. The court was even busier than usual and so the only place he would have privacy was the look-out. He passed through crowed corridors and climbed countless stairs, until he finally reached the summit.

In his ceremonial dress - finally at the top - he made his way to the edge of the lookout, looking over the land as the wind raged about him. It was dry and despite the wind, that he was well used to, the sun blazed amongst the clouds. He could discern the villages in the distance, the woods that surrounded the estate - the noise was gone and he breathed out a deep sigh.

James had moved to the edge and now fearlessly perched on the edge, his feet swung over the side of the battlement walls. His gaze was directed towards the sky, now burning with the final rays of sun - the blue patches of sky mingled with orange sunset.

The wind whistled about him, coursing through his hair and rendering him to deaf to all but the singing birds in the trees around him.

James turned behind him, curious as to where the noise was coming from. He squinted his eyes in the sunlight and noticed a feminine figure in the distance, little more than silhouette. He slid back from the edge, swinging his legs round to solid ground and jumping from the edge.

He walked forward, stepping on the balls of his heels with each step, cutting a tall figure, "Milady," he called, thinking it was strange to see someone up here other than him.

He chuckled warmly, "No, no," he assured her with a good natured grin appearing on his lips, running a hand through his hair, "Things have not gotten that bad yet," he replied teasingly.

"It is busy indeed," he continued, "The French court are here to see Mary - that is - the Queen's coronation...things shall settle in a few days, no doubt. Might I ask who your godsons are, milady? For, I have never seen you in court before..."

James smiled as she spoke of his good friend's children. Perhaps she was a friend of Royce's wife as he had never heard his friend speak of her. She did after all say that she lived in the English court. Although, she was no English woman, her accent curled around her words in a different way to the English tongue would. Perhaps German, James thought, as he pondered the serendipity of their meeting, "Royce is my kin," James replied with a smile, "Any friend of his is a friend of mine."

Normally, he might have sustained the pretence that he was not King but she would soon know of whom he was if she told Royce of their meeting, "You are most welcome here...I am James," he said and bowed his head, "And yes I do live here, this is my home."

James shrugged, “Perhaps if they have more then I shall have the honour - although, I am sure they believed you to be a fine influence upon their children.”

He was quite sure - at that point - that she had no idea who he was. Indeed, he had no idea who she was either - not even her name. She was relative enigma; somehow befriending the highest of Scottish nobility, all the while, a resident of England but not English. Often he would not introduce himself properly beyond court but it would be discourteous to keep her in ignorance, surely their paths would cross again through Royce and his wife. As they both peered out beyond the castle boundaries, a wild wind ravaged through the woods and rustled onto the roof tops.

“Might I know your name, milady?” he asked and turned to her with a friendly smile.

He laughed at her reaction, "Yes," he replied, "But you did not tell me your surname name. I thought you might have - perhaps - been married into a Scottish clan but alas Prue is no name from this land."

She kept her true identity well hidden but indeed James wasn't exactly forth-coming either. He presumed she may have come to the conclusion he was King, most would have but she was not from here and so the summation may not have been as easy to come to.

“Scots men are entirely superior, “ James laughed and replied jokingly, running his hand through his dark hair, “Of course I am biased.”

She seemed to be a good natured sort, James speculated, she had at least earned his respect by speaking favourably of his kin. Perhaps her mystery was merely a part of her playful character. Eventually, he thought, she had realised who he was - clearly her mind had been influenced by the English court though...

"Nay," he replied truthfully, "Fight them...perhaps," he added a little mischievously. It wasn't a lie, there was the scars upon him to prove it. Although he didn't kill for sport, he fought to defend what he believed to be right - divinely right. His God had given him his throne and he believed that God was a deity who understood and would forgive his many complexities. His faith was resolute.

He was glad to hear that someone from another country wished to live in Scotland. There had been a time when the highland culture may have seemed barbarous to outsiders, uncivilised to the English but Scotland was soon emerging as a renaissance land like the rest of Europe. Scotland had been at relative peace for recent years after his coronation, he had reinstated the laws of the land and the people responded with loyalty - it was safer than it had been for years.

“I suppose you mean Anne Boleyn?” he asked. It was interesting that she said her husband worked for Anne, as a King - he already thought he could gain some knowledge of the state of affairs in the English court. Indeed, there were official ambassadors who worked in England on James’ behalf but things were orchestrated to show the country in a favourable light and there was not much truth to be seen. Yet, since she seemed to hardly have any love for her husband  - perhaps she could be useful. On the other hand, James pitied her situation. His marriage was not for love but it had turned into love - it was a pity that such a young and interesting woman was bound to a man who paid her no affections.

“Perhaps you can elope with a clansman,” James added jokingly with a wink, “Since the English King is fighting for divorce it shouldn’t be an issue."

“Ah,” James began, “So your husband is a reformer. That may explain your cold bed...”

He continued jokingly with a wink, “…apparently half of them are puritanical monks and the others are no better than brothel workers. It seems you have been unfortunate and married the former…I myself would prefer the latter.”

James decided that he liked this woman. She did not bend the knee to Henry, despite living mainly in his dominion and being married to one of his creatures. Anyone who displayed an inch of rebellion against the Tudor rule, was pleasing to James’ ears, “It easy to forget that there is a world beyond the palace,” he explained, “I sometimes come here to collect my thoughts…seek divine guidance,” he said with a laugh.

“Why not receive an annulment?” James asked curiously, “Especially if no one knows of your union and if you are unhappy. Indeed, the very fact that you have survived the journey from your home, to England and now here displays an independence of character. Not many women - married women are so well travelled,” she would get along well with Isabel, James thought. They were both unusual for their time and though peculiar their minds may have been, James was a modern and relished speaking with a woman as an equal.

“Courts are always looking for handsome women. I’m sure some noble would accept you into their household and facilitate a better marriage for you…that is if you would wish marriage again. I also hear on very good authority,” he added with a bright grin, the charming type that came so easily to him, “That this court shall be looking for a royal governess soon."

He could understand what she meant. There were too many women ostracised in court because of their husband’s whims. Despite the fact that James was still rather a traditionalist, he loved to find a woman who had a mischievous streak of violence in their personality. He doubted Katherine was such but she had an independence of spirit which he could not help but admire, “I couldn’t tell you,” he replied honestly with a shrug, “Indeed, I think most of it is down to a person’s birth and the connections they have in court.”

James contemplated the idea of mentioning her to Mary. She was a reformer, something James resolutely was not. Politically it would be careless to allow people to discover that he kept a protestant in the highest echelons of his court. Perhaps her reformed faith was her husbands doing, not hers…

“We have a child,” he said with a grin, “A boy. He’s very young - only a babe."