The Golden Harrow Tavern

The tavern was only a short walk from the garrison and nothing bred thirst like a fight. So James sauntered with his men through the town and eventually filed into the candlelit room. He was dressed in soldiers clothes and so only nobility could have recognised who he was. The friends he was with were of such old acquaintance that they had brotherly familiarity - no one could have suspected. Anonymity - finally - after the weeks of attention upon his return with his Queen.

He hadn't properly been out with his friends since Mary had come, to be sure, he had seen them but there had been a distinct lack of drinking and bawdy talk. He set a pouch of coins upon the table as they were supplied with ale and wine - already chuckling amongst themselves.

For sometime I had secretly been taking on a few shifts at the local tavern. It was a chance to earn a few pennies and be among some jolly cheered people. It was the same old rowdy crowd that usually came in at the end of a hard day but a voice of someone familiar took my notice. My eye's skimmed the room; trying to locate the man and just where he was sitting. Just as I thought he was the heart and soul of the crowd he was sitting with; talking and clasping each other on the backs brotherly.

The evening progressed like many before it. Many pitchers of ale had been served at their table, the wax of the candles now spilling like raindrops as the light grew dimer. The tavern workers scrubbed the tables before they were taken up by another party and relit the candles - all the while the men guffawed good naturedly.

Fuelled by drink, James and one of his closest friends bet several coins in their favour. James walked confidently to a nearby wooden column, chuckling with a drink in one hand while the other balanced a piece of fruit above his head. Meanwhile, his friend readied his musket and took aim apparently at James head. Their friends knew the trick well but most of the men didn't and so they became even rowdier with excited anticipation. James shut his eyes for a moment as his friend took the shot - a perfect shot and pierced the fruit. The place erupted with cheers and James grinned buoyantly.


At that moment he noticed Isabel whom he had met only the other day, "Lady Hamilton!" he called cheerily - his hands outstretched. He was hardly surprised to see a woman such as her in the tavern - she was very different from most ladies at court.

I held my breath as the fruit was placed above his head clearly nobody knew who he was. I only looked back a him when the fruit exploded into pieces over his head and down his shirt. "You are just as bad as the rest of the men here." I passed him my cloth which was hung at my waist and placed it in his arms.

He laughed at her words and took the cloth, passing it over his tanned skin and soaking up the pieces of fruit upon him. She seemed to benevolently scold him as if she were his mother though he took no offence and only found it endearingly amusing, "So I should hope," he said mischievously with a wink and took a pace closer, whispering playfully, "I am allowed to be just a man here."

He brushed down his shirt and glanced to her gown. She wasn't poorly dressed but she wasn't as finely turned out as when he first met her. She seemed to fit into both court and in the tavern, yet, he gained some clarity and with it worry. Why should she be completely amongst men - he thought nothing wrong with it, sometimes women would gather in the tavern but she at least seemed to be entirely alone, "Milady, might I ask...well...why are you here?" he asked with a note of concern and ruffled his hand through his hair.

His whisper breathed down my neck and my hand pressed firmly against his chest as I kept my distance. Their was nothing wrong with a whisper in an ear but it was how it made me felt that made me feel uneasy."Aye; and I'm sure you are more man than most. And I work here part time of course." My hand ruffled through his hair removing the last remains of the melon. For a fruit so beautiful it sure did create some mess no doubt the king had probably done worser drunken antics.

He widened his eyes in surprise and extended his hand to give her the cloth. He examined the needlework as he did, bending his knees so her hand reached his head with greater ease. It was a little stained from use but the craftsmanship was present, a subtle and pretty pattern around the border, "Did you make this?" he mumbled and returned it to her.

He was glad of her familiarity with him. He had only met her once and though he was neither shy or haughty with strangers - he was used to the common performance of courtiers. He felt - again - the same filial concern for her and so added, "Did you not write to Mary?" he asked with a furrowed brow, quickly correcting himself, "The Queen?"

"I thought you were broad minded please don't give me that surprise look." I ran my cloth through my fingers noticing his keen eye at my talent. "I might of done is this why you wish for me to write to the queen so I can sit around doing needlework." I cleaned the rest of his hair out; my fingers growing sticky as all that was left was mush. Not looking at what I was doing I patted the cloth around the back of his neck before fixing my gaze on him again. "I wouldn't fit in with her majesty other ladies in waiting. I'm not womanly or at least interested in womanly things."

He smiled brightly - compliments came easily to a King but he doubted she would say something unless she truly meant it, "I'm glad you thought so...it's just...not all the men here are," he said mischievously and added simply with a shrug, "And I wouldn't want you coming to any harm is all."

"And no...I thought it may be good for you - some company...and safety. Though, I don't rightly know what Mary and her ladies get up to," he said truthfully and leaned against the column, his arms folded casually across his chest, "I need someone to stitch my shirts for me acually. They've all become rather frayed and you have a good hand," he said and nodded his head in the direction of the handkerchief, "There'd be a few coins in it for you too."

"You need not pay me I can do the work without payment. Have you thought of investing in some new shirts as no offence they have become rather grubby." I smiled playfully as I set about to clear some tables. I wasn't prim and proper; I was a Scottish lass with a Scottish tongue and a Scottish temper. I couldn't speak French and I didn't plan to start learning their was no need. "I accept their you now own me"

He nodded and sat down behind the table she was clearing, stretching his legs in front of him and holding his clasped hands behind his head. He appreciated her candour. His friends were the only ones honest with him and he was the same with them, now well used to their camaraderie and kinship. She was an exception though, she was their equal in a way.

"That is what I would like," he replied and continued, "I am hereby commissioning you to stitch me a pile of new shirts - I am a married man now and need white shirts instead of grey ones. And I insist upon paying you."

I flashed him a grinned as he mentioned the subtle reminder that he was a married man but he still flirted like that of a free man. I was more than happy to indulge in this banter he was so far the only man to not eye me up like a piece of meat ready to be eaten. "Do you know your size so I can have the fresh linen cut for you."

He chuckled, "No, but you can take some of my old ones as a guide," he replied and stretched over to collect another cup of ale for himself, beckoning for a pitcher of whiskey for her. He glanced up and noticed her bright smile - she seemed happier in the tavern than when he had seen her in court and he was genuinely glad of it. His friends called at him from across the room, bawdy and drunk - smiles upon all their faces.

James scowled at them playfully and turned to Isabel again, "I hope you are not staying here though," he said and sipped the ale, "There is a room for you at court which would be much better than here and you can then at least meet my wife. She already agreed to see you and I already promised to help you however I could."

"French fashion or the classic court fashion" I moved his feet from the stool as I seated myself down. I rolled up th sleeves on my dress; revealing two wrist burns on my wrists. "You can't protect me from evil people as they already got to me."

"Perhaps a couple in the French fashion and the rest like my old ones," he said and took another drink of ale. He chuckled lightly as she brushed his feet aside and sat up more, leaning over the table to her.

His eyes widened as he saw the marks on her wrist. He took hold of one, his touch tender as he examined the marks upon her skin. He'd seen the like before but on the necks of men lucky enough to have a weak noose. He was angered that she had been hurt and swore under his breath in Gaelic - forgetting that she would probably understand his curses, "That's it," he said determinedly, feeling the same sort of protective instinct over her that he would for a sister, "You are staying in the palace now and the...cowards who did this to you - I shall send my men out to...have justice."

"I know who it was it's a punishment for being a traitor." I didn't tell him the entire story of what happened when I left the palace. It would do nobody any good to hear things that would disturb them or anger them. I believed in turning the other cheek; for not reacting to their actions.

He grumbled and drew his thumb gently over the pink mark before releasing her wrist from his hand, "You are not the traitor," he retorted with a furrowed brow.

His thoughts rushed about, devising a way to ensure some security for her future as he finished his cup of ale. Although, as ever, Mary danced into his mind's eye. His young heart warmed with passionate love to think of her, his imaginings always painted her golden and radiant; but this time she inspired a plan. He stumbled upon the memory of when he tried to teach her how to use a sword.

"If you prefer," he said, "There is the garrison. You will be safe there," he assured, it was a second home for James, "I can employ my men to teach you how to use a sword and a musket, they will be happy to I'm sure."

He glanced over her shoulder to his friends behind her - all chatting happily amongst themselves. They were a rugged sort but blessed with the rare quality of chivalry, he knew they would not take advantage of her vulnerability, "Perhaps that will suit you better than dances and needlework."

Maybe they viewed things differently but I knew that I shouldn't have run to a king for help when the consequences were not that nice. My interests were piqued when he mentioned a garrison what was this place he spoke of. "I can dance I am just not so well adversed in the company of ladies. All airs and graces and tea drinking I cannot pretend to be someone I am not."

"My wife has neither airs nor graces," he replied with relaxed smile, "I know you would be well cared for in her household," James added playfully, "And, I cannot imagine her forcing you to drink tea."

He could understand her logic though. Mary was only a new Queen - people had yet to know her, aside from how she behaved and looked. Perhaps the memories of his mother lingered. She - James was sure - would have been a harsh mistress and would have forced her ladies into positions they would have been uncomfortable with. Mary was pure of heart and he could only imagine that she would take sympathy for Isabel - especially if James had developed a fondness for her.

"And I'm sure the queen has a few tales to tell about you as well. If it is alright with the queen; then I can have a trial period." I couldn't be rude enough to decline his offer every time our paths met. Court was admittedly too silent; not enough hustle and bustle of real life with real actions going on. Their were rules and I knew I had problem following orders even from a king.

James laughed and bit his bottom lip, "Perhaps not yet," he replied and said jokingly, "I've been on my best behaviour with her. It's them over there-" he said and nodded in the direction of his friends, "-who have stories to tell...and so I am glad you will be at court and not in the garrison with them."

He was pleased she accepted, if it was only for a probationary period. Perhaps she would grow to like court or at least get used to it, indeed, he was sure she would make friends quickly. Mary would no doubt admire her spirit and she was clever, a pleasant change from the giggling maids at court. He was pleased too for himself - she challenged him and he enjoyed her company.

"And...I'm an open book. Since you always seem to find me with a drink in hand - there shall soon be nothing you don't know about me."

I glanced over to his rowdy friends wondering who I could bribe to tell me juicy tales of the king. "I doubt you have a drinking proble but it would be weird to not see you with a drink in hand." I blew out the candles on the opposite tables; soon they would be shutting up for the night and I was always up to receive the guests passing by through the night. "Then I look forward to getting to know you better. Shall we drink to our little friendship."

He nodded with a grin, "Why not," he said cheerfully and beckoned for a pitcher of ale.

He poured them each a cup and held his cup a little in the air, "But," he began, his dark eyes looking into hers, "On the condition that you come back to the palace tonight and don't leave yourself vulnerable to any more danger."

Perhaps it was because they almost shared a family resemblance, dark features and a stubbornness of character, but he felt as if he had a responsibility to her. She was spirited and it was a quality he admired - James loathed apathetic minds and she was anything but. He had enough generosity and benevolence of heart to go out of his way to ensure her protection.

I could sense he held some sense of responsibility for me and it was unnecessary in my opinion. We were two peas in a pod similar personalities similar traits. I was loyal just as he was loyal so he must of known what my apparent answer would be to that question. I looked at him feigning my insult that he didn't know what I was going to say. Instead; I clinked my ale jug against his with a rosy smile on my face. "I find it sweet that you care a lot for me and my safety just as you would any other woman." I quickly added not wanting to sound like I was some sort of special person. "Can't I just stay for the night and come to you in the morning when you are not covered in melon."