The Royal Nursery

It was around ten o'clock when James visited the Royal Nursery. Some of the court were already in bed. Most of these were the elderly nobles who felt the chill of winter in their bones and preferred their hot beds to merriment. The rest lolled about the Great Hall. The romances of the summer had turned into whispers in the candlelit corridors - mad with love, plighting their troth and fidelity as they clung onto each other. The rest were the good sort of courtiers, enjoying the stories of golden years by the fire, listening to fantasy tales passed through generations which grew more elaborate as they devoured ale and wine. James' Italian band played soft platitudes, a lullaby to soothe court.

Yet, James was far from it all. Past the crowd and music, he was with his son. The sleeping little prince who had no notion of what life he would have. James - protective as usual - spent the first ten minutes of his visit asking if he was protected night and day, recommending the best places for guards to be and the easiest place that one might enter the nursery undetected. 'Does he feed well, is he strong, healthy?' he would ask and always be told that the young boy thrived.

Softly, James rocked his little boy as he moved about the newly decorated nursery. The nursery was not the same as his, where he was confined in childhood. He had those chambers bricked off, sealed and shut away to recline into atrophy.

Ivy spent most days with the little prince since he had arrived. Before the Queen or the wee young lad came along Stirling castle was very boring. With boisterous men drinking with the king in the early hours of the morning. It most certainly was a palace of men before the Queen came along. Everything had been transformed overnight now Ivy felt safe to walk around the place not fearing any man or what he make take a liberty of. Her mother also worked at the palace as well, which Ivy relished in having her around. It was uncommon for a mother not to nurse her son after he was born the little prince was royalty and often the parents wanted the cream from the mothers breast to make the child strong. A wet nurse was first called to the palace after the birth, but the poor little prince had problems keeping the milk down. Antoinette the Queens mother had advised in a change of wet nurse which was immediately done. Still, he had refused to suckle and a new way to feed the little prince was suggested. A bottle was created so that when the little prince suckled from its gentle droplets of milk trickled into his mouth. When Ivy fed him she could see the look of concentration firmly on his lips. The little prince had certain habits, ones that his parents knew nothing of.

It was early in the morning, after the darkest hour but before the sunrise. James, having not slept soundly, awoke early in the morning. He had dreamt of his time roaming around the country with his men, meeting his people and raising an army. His dream had taken him to the highest cliff tops and let him relive the most warm of nights and when he awoke, though tired, he was content. For some reason he had felt compelled to visit his son, it having been a couple of days since he had seen him.

He trudged, bleary eyed with his dark hair spilling about his features, to his son. Approaching the nursery he heard that all was quiet, except the constant guards he had be near Jamie. They stood by the door in quiet hushed conversation and James remembered how he had whispered with his loyal subjects when he was still a young boy and planning his escape from the regent's captivity.

He entered the room and saw his young boy cradled in a woman's arms. He couldn't help but smile - he had never seen Mary with him since the day he was born and James was warmed to see him so loved, "Is it alright if I see him?" James asked warmly, his voice deep and a little broken from his tiredness.

The voice of what sounded like a broken man had stopped Ivy from reaching down and scooping up the little prince in her arms. Your majesty she quickly curtsied before stepping away from the little prince. Of course your majesty. The prince has yet to be fed perhaps you could like to feed him. It was a fine line to cross asking the king to feed his own son, but Ivy often found when she was tired the little prince was all she needed to distract her troubles. The little prince most definitely looked like the Queen his temperament, he probably got off the king. Whenever he was not being fed or cuddle his little legs would kick with frustration. Eager to be up and held rather than to lay down all day. Going over to one of the chest of drawers Ivy pulled out a gorgeous blanket with lace all around the edges. Swaddling the little prince she smiled to the king.

James was taken aback by what she had said and could not help but chuckle. He ran his hands through his hair and brushed it away from his face, “Feed him? Milady the room is lit by a few candles but surely you can tell I am no wet nurse.”

He paced forward into the room. It was dimly lit, tall candles burning a soft amber light about the place. The long, pale curtains drawn over the windows and the fire blazing. Just being in the nursery with his son softened James; all his sport for fighting, all his passions and foibles seemed to slip away. He could not believe that something so perfect could exist. As he drew closer he realised the girl was Ivy and bowed his head kindly upon recognising her, "No need to curtsey for me, Ivy," he mumbled.

When he stood beside Ivy he frowned. Even swaddled Jamie seemed smaller than the last time he had seen him, and that had only been a couple of days before. While still in her arms, James touched his hand softly against his little forehead. All his calm had melted away. He knew Jamie had been an especially small baby but James had never spent much time with babes and thought it normal. Indeed, he seemed to have been thriving. Yet, now…

The winter was approaching and this was the very last time his child should be loosing weight. James shot a worried look to her, his dark eyes searching her’s, “I was told he fed well, why is he so little? He seems smaller.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow irritated that the king did not know of his son's activity. To a man she could imagine that the daily life of a child would seem boring yet the little prince was no ordinary baby. A hard situation Ivy was now placed in surely the king must know that the Queen has never nursed her own son. Ok, well you see the Queen has never nursed her son. With no disrespect to her, of course. The little prince had rather a hard time in taking to the breast from a wet nurse. So we bottle fed him, which may sound rather strange. Her cheeks were flushed a scarlet red as she meant to cause no trouble especially in a marriage. The king looked so tired himself Ivy hoped that he would think that the words she said were just a dream. The little prince is a very strong boy I can assure you a good set of lungs on him as well. His routine is boring yet I would like you to know what happens here so you are up to date. Ivy walked over to the rocking chair which had the softest sheep skin rug covered over the wood. Sitting she released the blanket a little allowing his little hands to break free each finger stretching out.

James, of course, knew that Mary did not feed their son herself. Indeed he had never really thought to ask why. He heard it was the practice for some noble women but he couldn’t quite understand the reason. How could some stranger possibly nourish a child better than their mother? Regardless, Mary had her own mind and James assumed her own reasons. As long as their son was thriving he couldn’t care less. Yet now that he saw him reduced before him, he was filled with such severity of emotion - such that he had never felt before.

James watched Ivy walk over to the rocking chair with his son. It was so strange to see him so comfortable and at peace in the arms of a girl that James barely knew, “I am sure the stronger for you care,” he mumbled appreciatively and stifled a yawn, “If there are any such changes to Jamie’s care, please let me know - even if it is the middle of the night,” he added sincerely, barely realising that he referred to his son so informally. He’d never much cared for titles and pomp, especially when he was still as tired as he was.

“Please tell me, Ivy,” he said and moved over to where she sat, perching upon the ground at her feet, absent mindedly holding his son’s hand.

Is everything alright with your Majesty. It was not her place to pry, but a tired yet somewhat king sat at her feet like a lap dog. Perhaps he was driven to such emotions seeing his son in the light of day tiny and vulnerable. Father and son were both alike in the current presence. If Ivy could help the little prince then just maybe she could help the king from feeling so glum and tired. I care for the little prince as though he was my own. You need not worry, I shall do my very best and write to you with updates on his health. He is your son therefor I know he is a fighter try not to worry yourself. It was more than that that troubled the king's mind something to do with his marriage perhaps. A recent lover quarrel normally left a person so in love with their partner reduced to this state. Ivy had seen it happen with the stable boys and nearby girls who used them for their own good advantage. In those often situations Ivy normally found it hilarious, but the man beside her feet was the king. A King who loved his wife more than was possibly understandable. Perhaps you should get some sleep you can take my bed if you wish. Ivy pointed to her bed which was just to the right of them.

James glanced up to Ivy with some surprise. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt, yet he had never exactly known what it was like to have a ailing child. It was a peculiar feeling, a strange mixture of the urge to protect Jamie but a complete helplessness - how could James help him? If he didn’t feed there was nothing he could do but watch and pray for him.

“I’m fine, Ivy, its only him I worry about,” James replied honestly. He was truly glad to know that his son was so well cared for. To be sure, James had employed the greatest physicians he knew of to be in the prince’s household. He had actually argued with his council for hours after he had taken a Moor into his household, “I’m glad to know that he has such a constant carer.”

He glanced over to her little bed and then back to her with a warm, bright grin, “Nah it’s alright,” he said with a gentle chuckle, “How is it, Ivy, that you have found yourself in the palace? I know so very little of you…”

Oh my life is just simple but I am happy to be here, especially with this little one. My parent's found me a place here. Ivy smiled, trying to keep her smile straight as she could feel the corner of her lips twitch. Ivy was sent here out of punishment by her parents for being caught in the most compromising positions with a man. It happened a year ago with a flirtatious encounter with a local man. They had flirted giggled among barrels of hay and danced until their feet were sore. Then it happened, they both gave in to each other letting their bodies get the better of them. Two months after Ivy fell with child immediately they were forced to marry each other, but it never got that far. Loosing the child was her only way out of marriage, thus ending up here.

“Well then, I’m very glad that you’re happy here,” he said truthfully with a grin, looking at Jamie, still holding onto his small hand. He chuckled when he felt his small fingers wrap around his - a firmer grip than he thought the child capable of.

There was an abrupt silence after she spoke and James curiously glanced up. He noticed that she had a glazed look over her eyes, as if she were seeing something that was not there at all. James looked to Jamie for one moment and then, very gently, realised his little hand.

He did wonder about where she came from - so out of the blue. He knew that Mary was very fond of her and that she was one of her most trusted members of her household, yet that was still very little. If Ivy was anything like James’ servants, all of whom he was glad to consider friends, then she would have her own tales before she came to court, “And do you miss your home?” he inquired kindly, looking up to her bright face, “Did you live far from here?”

Ivy frowned at the king when he dropped the little prince's hand and quickly rose from the chair. Ivy was most certain that she would not disclose her private life to him or anyone else of the court. Ivy understood the natural curiosity the king had as she was looking after his so day and night. Gently Ivy lowered the little prince back into his cradle releasing the blanket a little so he could move his arms and legs a little. I come from Aberdeen your majesty a place that holds so many memories for me. I wish I could go back and seeing someone who meant a great deal to me but alas I am here. Young love what fools it makes of us now I take comfort in my body desires with one of your privy councilors. He would probably judge, but Ivy did not care what he or anyone else thought. She needed something to sustain her body and all the desires greeds of lust that came with it. The Queen does not know of my late night endeavors

James raised an eyebrow. She did not have the horrid Aberdeen accent that grated James’ ears - he and his friends would often joke that it was even worse than the English strain of voice. Ivy had a voice which was a little deeper, perhaps softer in tone than the crass tone he experienced in Aberdeen. He liked her a little more for being her own person, “Nice part of the country,” he finally commented - always inclined to say something positive when he could.

He raised an eyebrow when she spoke of her exploits and then grinned - his quick flash of a smile that touched his dark eyes and spoke mischief, “Who?” he asked with boyish playfulness and urgency, going over who is might be in his head, “I won’t tell, the Queen,” he said honestly before playfully adding, “But I may tease your lover...from time to time.”

We are not lovers your majesty, I can't explain we all have urges it is just sex. No love, no promises just two people helping each other out I am sure I do not need to teach your majesty the birds and the bees. Ivy said no more on the matter if the Queen did not wish to have Ivy in her household it wouldn't bother her. What bothered Ivy was the care of the little prince. Ivy may not be a mother, she had had only experience of children with her young cousins. There was a bond between Ivy and the little prince no one could care for him as much as she did. Going over to the chest of drawers Ivy pulled out a fresh, clean outfit for the little prince to wear. I care for your son more than I possibly should. He is your son if I have to beg you to spend more time with him than I shall. I want the little prince to grow up and know he was loved by both of his parents. My father never wanted a daughter, he wanted a son as all men do. He said my beauty would ruin me and he was right.

James was surprised by her candour. It seemed to him that - increasingly - the women in his court were becoming more honest about their intimate affairs. Indeed, he’d always known it was going on, he had always been a part of it. Was it now that he was not included in the frivolities of love that he felt it was everywhere, or was the court becoming more French and liberal?

“Well,” he said and brushed his hands through his hair, “As long as you and whomever the man is are…enjoying yourselves.”

As she moved over to retrieve fresh clothes for Jamie, James walked over to the cradle. He looked up at James with a sense that he almost recognised him, that he knew James was not just one of his many visitors, “Beauty can never be the ruin of someone,” he said and stretched his arm down to Jamie with a tender grin, “If it is used correctly, then a daughter can be just as great as a son.”

Ivy hoped that the King would make his visits a lot more frequently to see the little prince. Slowly a bond was starting to take place between father and son one that Ivy wanted to grow in strength. Maybe one day the Queen and yourself shall be blessed with more children. A brother or sister for the little prince but no pressure on you both. In another cupboard was a tub which was the same size as a Moses basket. Retrieving it Ivy placed it in front of the fire where a pot of water had gently been boiling. The water was Luke warm and soothing against her fingers as it splashed between them and into the tub. I need to bath him you can help if you like or I can either do it later and let you havve sometime with your son.

James kept looking at his son as she spoke, quite transfixed by the little thing. It was so strange to think that one so little would have so much responsibility thrust upon him. It seemed rather cruel to place the hopes of a nation on such a small thing’s shoulders, “Perhaps,” James said, he hoped - of course - that the weight of Jamie’s responsibility could be eased by the help and guidance of siblings. Yet, as things stood with Mary, it seemed quite unlikely that any children would come soon - if at all.

James looked up at Ivy and smiled, “I won’t be much help,” he said with a laugh, “But alright.”

Ivy moved with such carelessness about the nursery, knowing where everything was kept and still possessing a complete gentleness. He noted the golden hue to her neck in candlelit of the room and how her fair hair curled about her head, James could not help but smile, “Shall you go home for Christmas?” he asked curiously, “Do you still have family living where you come from?”

I am staying here for Christmas my parents shall send me a parcel of some sort I am an only child. So make the festivities grand with plenty of mistletoe. Ivy caught his gaze, she could feel his eyes burning straight through her some unexplainable pull the king seemed to have on the ladies. It was just a gaze Ivy told herself as she looked him over with hungry eyes admiring the curve of his buttocks.

James laughed at her words and replied mischievously, "Of course, often that is the greatest part."

There had never been much fuss made over Christmas in court, if anything it became quieter. The nobles retreated to their own estates and many others travelled home before the weather grew too severe. James remained behind with his friends and the waifs of court, those with no families or desire to leave. They would spend the cold days by the fire in the Great Hall, drink and eat heartily while the royal band played lively tunes. On Christmas day, after mass, James upheld the tradition of giving a gift to every member of court - even the kitchen maids and stable boys. There would be a hunt in the afternoon and entertainments in the evening. He had expected things would have been different that year, but he suspected it would be the same as before.

“They won’t come to court to visit?” James asked casually and smiled in Ivy’s direction, “I’m sure they will be proud of you.”