The Golden Harrow Tavern

He smiled at her as she reached him, somehow conveying a warmth from his eyes. It was endearing the way she had come careering towards him, hair untamed and eyes bright and searching. He wondered that she did not shiver for so light was her dress. James would have stayed any other night, he had on many occasions...but as much as he enjoyed her company...this night was different.

Unlike other mornings, his chaplain would wake him at day-break instead of the lark song. No man - not even God himself - could tempt James from what his chaplain would awake him for, "I can't," he replied truthfully with a shrug, "I need to be in the palace tonight...but you are - I remind you again - entirely welcome," he said kindly.

I was most certain that he would of said yes a bitter taste hit my taste buds. "I just don't think that the palace is the right place for me at this time. It just doesn't feel right so sorry to of let you down." I let my boot kick a stone that was lingering by my foot. He was married; a king and of limits. Yet I had never really wanted him to stay for those reasons I just wanted to be near him. "I won't keep you any longer then."

His brows furrowed as he noticed her frown, casting a dark shadow over her usually bright and mischievous eyes. He stepped forward and soothingly collected one of her hands into his, "You will be safe, Isabel," he replied warmly, "My friend is a good fighter and an even better man. I cannot tell you why I must go...but I do hope you shall come to the palace later..."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand, a soothing gesture and said playfully with a wink, "At least for the sake of my shirts."

"I can do your shirts without needing to come to the palace why do you need me to be there." I demanded to know as I moved my hand as though it hurt to beheld by his.

He shrugged and slide his hands back into his pockets as she let go of his hand, "I don't need you there," he replied simply and honestly, "But I would like you there...and you said you would at least try one week as a lady for Mary. I thought you were woman of your word," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

Yet he sighed, sensing her reluctance. He couldn't guarantee her safety outside the palace - which was more of a fortress than a castle. He knew if she was in Mary's household she would have a steady income and respectability should she decide to marry. His instinct to protect her was subconscious but he could't shake the desire to keep her safe. Perhaps it was their similarities, or her spirit but he was fond of her and would not have her living in danger.

"Damn I thought you wouldn't remember if I supplied you with enough drink." I was a free spirit something I thought he would at least understand. I couldn't yield to what a queen wanted me to do I would fail miserably at the task and only James would be disappointed in me. "I need to head back just incase I am needed." Stupidity had made me call out to him in hopes that he would come back.

He smiled lightly and took a step back, brushing his hand over his beard,"You are your own person and have a free will - I won't force you," he said simply and took another step back.

He could understand why she didn't want to come to court. He would probably not have lived at court if he didn't need to. It was stifling at times, but he was King - of course it would be. There were ample diversions in court and so while he may not have opportunity to leave his duties he knew others could.

"Perhaps, Isabel," he said and tipped his hat gallantly, "I shall see you soon."

"I will still make your shirts for you though. It may take me a couple of days but I shall have them done before a new month begins." I hoped that we would see each other again as I very much wanted to see him but I could not tell him how much it would be improper. As he moved away from me I took a couple of steps back myself; still not breaking the gaze.

Eventually, James turned away - the gentle smile of an optimistic man upon his lips. They would meet again, he was quite sure. He walked through the night, not looking back as he glanced up at the flickering stars. He knew she would be taken care of by his man - he was quite sure no trouble would come her way, he at least earnestly hoped for it.

Finally he was out of the the hamlet and made the short journey through the fields to his palace, seeing the lights glisten in the distance - beckoning him home.

The evening air was chilly after a long day of rain. In the distance I could here the bugs making their sweet music to one another. Down below in the tavern; the men were quiet solemn and mellow with their moods. They sang folk songs about lost loves most of them were lost to another Gaelic town Ireland. I laid in darkness letting their off key singing blacken my mind from any thoughts. I missed the friendship of one person; a person who now seemed to become irreplaceable in my life even though I did not know him that well.

For a change, James strode to the garrison sober. The evening was cold, a wind rustling through the land but the sky was still bright for the hour, the sun still leaving flecks of gold in the sky. He had been caught up in a petty brawl during his evening walk, something and nothing - the fight hardly challenging, the opponent more irksome than anything. Although, as such, his hair was even more bedraggled than usual and he'd managed to tear the neck of his shirt.

He had decided to go to the garrison briefly before going home since he would be cutting through the hamlet anyway. He collected a pitcher of ale but took his seat outside, a loner by nature, favouring his own company in certain moments. He perched upon a small wooden stump outside, watching the sky change colour.

The Tavern still held some merriment within its walls despite the somber songs being sung. I casually rolled off the bed opening the wooden panels which made for Windows. I perched my head outside; as though this was a brand new land to me. A slouching silhouette caught my eye his hair as wild as the long grass being blown harshly by the wind. Placing two fingers in my mouth I made a whistling sound wondering if the depressing fellow would turn his head.

James heard a piercing whistle peel through the quiet, disturbing the gentle twittering of larks and muffled songs from the tavern. He finished his ale as he glanced over his shoulder and saw Isabel. What did he feel in that moment? Surprise, certainly, but his pleasure at seeing her caught him rather by surprise. He had assumed she would be half way to England by now, perhaps just getting to the border - so why was she still here?

He stood up and grinned, beaming brightly in the dark, "I knew it," he called teasingly, "You realised that you would miss me too much and have decided to stay."

The first thing I noticed was his ripped shirt. I couldn't avoid to smile as wide as the deep blue sea it had always been a natural reaction. "Aye I leave you one moment and ye have ripped your shirt." He appeared so naturally out of thin air like he had been moulded into the tree all this time. His thick hair was gently blown along with the ripped part of his shirt. He was no mortal some kind of magic must've taken place to of made such a fine specimen of a man. Grabbing his shirt that I kept; I run down the stairs as though I was meeting him back from war. When I finally reached him my steps slowed down just a little; I carefully ran up to him; wrapping my arms around him. "I'm sorry."

He chuckled and waited for her outside as she disappeared from the window. He could see the little candle flickering at the ledge, the sweep of the curtains by the window . She suited that mysterious little room, warm and quiet, perhaps she would look out of place peering from the castle window. His eyes glanced to the darkening sky - hands resting upon his belt - as he looked upon the shimmering stars that burned so far away.

He was caught quite of guard when she rushed into his arms, falling heavily upon him. It was the first time that he could smell the fresh air upon her, the faint smell of wine as her head touched his shoulder, arms around his body. He touched both hands upon her shoulders, running his fingers over the thin material of her dress, “What for?” he asked deeply, his voice coming out a little broken as he felt his hold on her.

I let my hands dangle behind his back. Be still my beating heart I thought as I stood this close to him. He didn't smell like an ordinary man he actually smelt like a king it was very strange. I held my breath; too scared to make a sound in case it ruined this beautiful moment for me. "Oh it's nothing how did you rip your shirt." My shoulders hunched up as he placed his hands on them I wasn't used to a feel of anyone hands.

He eventually let go of her, feeling her breath upon him as he moved from her. She was closer to him than she had ever been in that moment, there was a veil that was torn in that moment - a familiarity forged that they could not return from. He cleared his throat and rubbed his head, taking a pace back.

He glanced down to the tear on his shirt that revealed his tanned chest and glanced up to her with a simply shrug, a smile forming upon his lips, "Oh nothing," he replied unassumingly, "Just a little...quarrel."

The chain that bound is in this moment was quickly broken as it had been made. I didn't look at him for a few seconds instead I just patted him on the arm as other men did in times of Jest. "You wish for me to fix it for you. I still have your shirt; did they know you were fighting a king." I took a casual seat on the old tree stump ready to hear all the details. "Did you scratch him with your sword; was their blood." I was wide awake eager for him to tell me all. I could picture him in battle the fierce expression his face would hold as he fought his way to victory. Helping a wounded solider who fought behind him in battle with promises to look after his family. That was why everyone liked him he had empathy for his people and he listened to them.

James glanced down to his shirt as he noticed the direction of her gaze traced the neck of his shirt. He adjusted Mary’s crucifix behind the linen, the metal warm from being against his skin. He looked back up to her with a warm smile, “There was barely enough time to draw swords. It was something and nothing,” he replied simply - unaffected by the brawl as he pushed his hands casually into his pockets. Her eyes danced with curiosity, bright in the dim light as she perched on the stump that he had just sat on.

“So…,” he asked with a playful smirk upon his lips, more curious as to why she was still here rather than the fight. He had more challenging opponents, fights in which he could feel his opponent almost hold his life in their hands - this one paled in comparison, “Why are you not in England?"

"The king disappoints his subject." I kept my eyes well and truly gazing behind him not trying to hide my disappointment in his lack of tale. "So now you wish me to be in England shacked up with an Englishman. " Who said that I wasn't still going to go I gave him neither time or date of when I was leaving. I would leave like a thief in the night; silently going when he least expected me to go. If I wanted to be cruel; I would let him feel my absence from his land. I was in a beautiful nightmare I enjoyed his company a lot but it was a nightmare that he knew that I liked him.

He chuckled and leaned against the wall of the tavern, “The subject equally disappoints the King,” he retorted playfully.

Normally he would go into detail about battles and brawls, display his scars and grazes but this was different. She had confessed her feelings for him, he would not exacerbate them when he was keen for things to remain unreciprocated. Perhaps he had led her on, indeed, it was hardly normal for a King to keep the company of a woman unless he wanted her as his mistress. Yet, he had always assumed that Isabel could not care less for him in that way and therefore he was unguarded around her…had he known from the start of her feelings, he may not have been so involved with her. Had things been different, had he not loved Mary or been married; then perhaps…well, perhaps was all it would be for James - a dream, a passing thought that he expected would never come to fruition.

“On the contrary. I want you to enter my wife’s household and sew my shirts all day for me, “ he replied, “Of course you will not submit.”

He held his hands outstretched at his side and shrugged theatrically and added teasingly, “I am powerless to your will."

"You must think that I am thick to think that I would want anything from you as I do not." I wished to have nothing from him not even his feelings which were nothing. It was rather insulting as I was not like the other woman if only he had a little faith in me. Clearly he didn't it was now hard to even maintain a civil yet simple conversation with him without me growing irritated at how he now treated me. "Ye of little faith my king has in his subject. Sad that I now feel forced out of a kingdom because; you treat me differently. It is perfectly natural for people to have feelings for another person it's part of being human. I have much more respect to lower myself to be anybody's whore." I wanted to be his friend that is all but I couldn't draw blood from his stone like attitude he naturally now consumed around me. I use to enjoy our conversations now I dreaded them as they left me feeling so utterly drained.

James stood up straighter with a deep and heavy sigh. Perhaps he had found her flighty nature enjoyable before - a different kind of personality amongst the vapid hoard who are so eager to please for material gain. Perhaps her whip of a tongue appealed to him, her honesty and candour amusing and different. However, now it grated upon him. He was weary of her already and they had only been in one another's company for a few minutes. One moment she was embracing him and the next she was claiming to be forced from Scotland. Folly, he thought.

James had no appetite for arguments - his skill was physical combat but anything beyond that drained him. He fought with the regents all his life, he fought with privy council nearly every day and he fought against those who sought to usurp peace - he would not fight over such a slight thing as a fancy.

"Shall I leave you then," he asked exasperatedly, "For who spoke of whoring or banishment - those are your words and have never been mine. I shall leave you - let you be and not speak to you if you find it so... unagreeable."

"You treat me differently now. You pick your words very carefully than you did before." It actually hurt me that we couldn't ever be friends again. He didn't seem that bothered by it he was unphashed by the events in what was once our happy friendship. "I just want us to be friends things will never be the same again now. I wish you all the happiness in the world." My words came out strangled and choked. I found myself running with tears that he did not deserve I never cried over anyone; his friendship meant a great deal to me.

He shook his head in complete disagreement. It were as if she perceived him entirely through a veil; a heavy and thick gauze that was malignant and distorted his true self. Indeed, common sense would indicate that after someone confessed such feelings - one either reciprocated or ceased contact. Yet, until that moment, he held Isabel in high esteem - higher than most. As such, he maintained their chord of communion - he felt a draw to her and his hedonistic character did not ignore this. However, the weeping girl in front of him was not the bold girl who sauntered into his study, nor the one who was playful in the tavern - this was not the girl he knew.

“I think,” he began tentatively, “That you have been different. You tell me that you are going to England to see a friend and then you say I am forcing you away. You say I am different...but the way I see it, you are now upset and will not tell me why."

He took a step forward, brow furrowed and head tipped closer to her. He extended his arm to touch her shoulder once more, "Surely you can understand that..."