Yhoill and Hogmanay

Marching over the snow, newly settled on the cold land, clans from each corner of the land made their way to court for Christmas-tide. From the north first came the MacKenzies, followed soon by the Sutherlands, Munros and MacLeods. In the east came the Duncans, Gordons and MacDuffs while the Campbells, MacDonalds and Wallaces came from the West. Leaving their places in the south the Armstrongs, Fergusons and Melvilles made their journeys the latest; having to prepare their battlements for every eventually for fear of an English attack.

Finally, in parties of at least thirty, the clans arrived - cloaked in their tartans with their beards trimmed and the smell of whiskey and ale on their breath. It was something of a tradition to get completely drunk when travelling to court for Christmas…indeed, James had stocked the palace so heavily with drink that some barrels had to be stored in outhouses around the estate. Greeting each clan personally - many singing upon arrival, harmlessly inebriated and laughably out of tune - James waited by the road to the palace. He did not see the faces of strangers - they were those of friends. Friends whom he had not seen for months - some for years - but friends none the less. Their mutual happiness to see each other again was inevitably celebrated with more drink.

When all had arrived, a feast had been planned - exclusively by Mary. He was incredibly proud of her and brought up - often - that she was undertaking the whole task herself. James only recommended compositions for his band to play…and suggested fireworks - a new entertainment from Europe.

As he made into the busy hall with Jamie on his hip - rosy cheek and giggling - James he was gratified to hear his band playing a lively galliard. He made through the crowd, pausing for a while to speak with friends, trying to ignore the pomp of his crown which he had been coerced to wear. His kilt was however worn with pride, he had even wrapped Jamie in their family tartan.

The Christmas season was always a good time to visit the various courts and see what kinds of traditions they did. Half of my journey was particularly unpleasant strong winds from the north nearly blew our ship into England, where we would've been less than welcome. Spanish by birth my last couples of years I had resided in court in Europe, where a marriage had been contracted for me apart from the noble marriage nobody knew who I was. I didn't demand the certain authority that came with my blood lineage a Daughter of an Emperor. It never bothered me that people did not know, but it was irritating when lesser nobles with bringing ranks acted like prima Donna. If there was one person I could think of who had trouble with his identity so to speak, it would be James V of Scotland. Of course I wanted to see his French wife that people spoke of and le petit prince. My journey had been pleasant, even if the wind here was a very cruel mistress that made the carriage rock as if we were at sea not on solid ground.

I dare say that Scotland was full of variety and spice traveling through the country proved rather fruitful. It wasn't a quiet country wherever we went people were busy the women selling lavender and lots of other pretty items the men well, most of them would punch each other in the face to settle a dispute even if they were the closest of friends. Strong of an accent if reciting poetry or singing their words soon easily became understandable to my ears. The road to the castle proved welcoming little fires were a light high up and seen from far away any doubts of intruding as such were soon banished from mind. But which country did I represent? Should it be my homeland or a land I had to live in due to marriage. Tricky as neither country had sent me I was here on my own accord. As a servant greeted us then showing us the way to the hall I took in all the history of the castle. Many battles had happened outside the walls of Stirling yet still it stood glorious and proud. I ran my fingers across the wall closing my eyes so I could feel its history. If only these walls could talk their tale would be of all the lovers that ever graced the palace. The ongoing struggle of England trying to reclaim Scotland as their own land if the English ever got it's hands on Stirling they would ruin it. Try to make it a palace of grandeur and pomp not of history which is why I loved it.

"Are foreign visitors allowed to explore the palace,"

I asked quietly to the by servant.

James was in deep conversation with his friend Thomas Erskine - also cloaked in his family tartan. Both men choosing muted down colours - less ostentatious and the colours generally worn for a hunt. For once, in months, he and his royal secretary could talk of something other than politics or official duties. Indeed, aided a little by their cups of warmed ale, the conversation flowed with even greater ease than usual. Their conversation punctuated by hearty laughter or brief asides to Jamie. They spoke of the band and the music, trying to decipher if it was music by an Italian or German composer; of Jamie and how he had grown - if he looked more like James or Mary. Both men, rugged by nature, reduced in the presence of the little prince.

There was a whisper around the congregation and the conversation between James and his friend paused. An unknown woman had wandered into the hall. He had never seen her before but judging by the heavy cut of her gown, the fall of the damask and silk, the noise she provoked: James assumed she was Maria of Austria.

He had heard of her coming, the date of her arrival ambiguous but the fact that she favoured his court instead of the English one was enough to immediately endear James to her. James made his excuses to Thomas and made his way through the throng of bowing heads and approached her, “Her Grace Maria of Austria…I presume?” he asked with a charming grin, casting a glance over the room for Mary - hoping she would deliver him soon. He knew her grace and wit would be greater appreciated by the noble who stood before him than his own talk. Even greater, he hoped to see her beauty and his mind drifted to a moment to how she would look - if the cut of her dress would be provocative enough to sate his appetites until the feast was done.

Unexpectedly, James caught sight of his friend Royce entering the hall as he passed his discreet and dark gaze about the room. His friend was accompanied by his wife, a graceful woman who shadowed him like a gentle whisper, and followed by his two boys - boisterous and happy. James passed a quick look to the Duchess and touched his large hand upon her forearm in a friendly manner. He assumed that she and Mary would be able to converse with the fluency of speech that most European women possessed, the way most cultured and educated members of court could. Yet, James was personally intrigued by her - Austria was a greatly important part of the Holy Roman Empire and apart from his natural curiosity and hopes to learn more of her, he knew that eventually an alliance between an increasingly powerful land would be useful to say the least. In spite of this, he had not expected his friend to be home for Christmas.

“If, Your Grace, will please forgive my manners,” he said, attempting to thin out his heavy accent, his voice deep and clear, “My friend has returned from his travels with his family and I must wish him well,” he explained and nodded his head towards Royce, “If you’ll give me a moment…we shall speak soon I hope. I am sure Mar- the Queen shall be here shortly to keep you company.”

He shot her a final grin, a quick flash of warmth as if she were his greatest friend, and then waded through the throng of well dressed courtiers to Royce, “You’re back!” he called with a happy chuckle, “How was France?” he asked and received the goblet happily: examining the fine craftsmanship, “This is a very fine thing, thank you,” he said sincerely with a warm smile.

James looked behind his shoulder and without saying, two servants brought forward a large box containing finely crafted armour - fit for the greatest of soldiers: shimmering like gold, carved with figures of Roman warriors, “A gift for you, my friend,” James said with a smile.

I had received word from my trustworthy lady in waiting that she was returning back to Scotland. While all the merriment was taking place I waited by the window. Checking the door every few moments to see if she had arrived. The winter weather was mild a strong fog which turned the night sky a strong red. Gave to an even more cosier atmosphere, especially with a warm goblet of mulled wine.

As I walked into the hall my eyes searched for Mary, I could see her by the window with a goblet of wine, I smiled to myself and walked over to her, I curtsy to her and then to the king and Queen of Scotland. I turned to Mary Mary I am very happy to see you, It's been a while now, how was your trip to France?

With the entrance of my lady in waiting to return to Scotland I could not restrain such a joyous smile. That was now firmly spread across my lips. We had been parted for so long that she had yet to meet my two young sons James and Oliver. Nay neither had the King of Scotland. I simply shrugged my shoulders, my pride slightly bruised as my sister had been here, but not mentioned it to me. Then again she was one to do things on her own free will.

"Ursula my dearest and closet friend I am so glad that you have returned. Will you join me for a walk around the room while the others make merry."

" Of course my lady"
I was Glad to be back in her company again, and I wanted her advice on a personal matter.
" Do you know many of these people Mary? I have not been to Scotland until today. I whisper to Mary.