A walk from Stirling

As the early ray of sunrise descended onto our skies I crept out of bed, wrapping myself up in the most simplest of clothes I could find. I had not an easy night's sleep strange foreign beds that did not know how to shape the mould of my body was always hard to sleep in. Throughout the night the winds battered against my window, bringing with it a tune of the winds which was always interesting to listen to when one couldn't sleep. It was probably one of the warmest winters I had endured there was no ice on the ground no fog to conceal me with mystery. All the land was clear with a white, greyish sky, no blue in sight. The land, however, was damp and with every footstep I made a splash of water would shoot up my black boots leaving it tear stained. I don't know what it was I was exactly hoping to get from my visit to Scotland I didn't even know the purpose of my visit to be honest. But I wanted to soak up as much of its history that the country had to offer.

It was only when I walked up a short hill that I decided to stop and take in the scenery right before my eyes. Glancing back, I noticed the castle in a distance burning torch that had now become insignificant against the daylight that was eager to break through. Bending down I gathered a piece of soil in between my fingers a habit I had picked up from my father. He always used to touch the soil of a foreign land whenever he travelled and it was common among most soldiers. I rolled the mud around my hand until it was made into a tiny little round ball a few speckles of green grass sticking out. I kept it in my hand pressing very gently my thumb against the ball of dirt as it swirled between my thumb and palm. Arising from bending down a beautiful stag could be seen grazing the grass growing up in Spain I never ever saw a stag or deer. Until I was carted off to Bavaria in preparation of a marriage with one of the most influential families at the court. On my first night there we were given deer to eat much to my secret despair!

I was thirteen at the time still only a child, but an adult in the eyes of my parents. When tucked up in bed, I had cried that night for eating such a beautiful and magnificent creature as the deer was my food palette wasn't used to such things. Now in the present moment I took such joy in watching this beautiful creature go about its own business always been cautious with every movement it made.

It had barely been light when James was awoken by his squire. Of course, James was used to the cold dark days at the end of the year, to awake when it still seemed to be night and be toiling before sunrise. However, that morning, was particularly bitter and damp. Indeed, the gnawing headache and latent nausea in the pit of his taut belly made rising all the more painful.

The night before had been full of laughter. Ale and whiskey were in steady supply after the main feast, the music played until late and became only slightly out of tune when the musicians themselves succumbed to the temptation of mulled wine. James, amongst the people of his land, had told stories and listened to tales from long before he was born, he joked and play fought with his kin in typical fashion of the men in his court. He’d almost forgiven half the courtiers rents and waved any debt they held to the crown. In contrast to the playful, goodnatured and boyish man that James became when he was drunk; he was quiet and even more rugged than usual the morning after. Most commented that it was only when he was hungover that he bore any resemblance to his surly English mother.

Yet he still rose up. That morning, there would be a Christmastide service in the town and James was duty bound to make an appearance. He’d promised months ago to be with the folk of the land for that mass and James never backed out of his promises - even if his wife’s bed seemed like heaven on earth that morning. He rode to the church with a party of roughly fifty, members of his own court and friends from different clans.

The service, mercifully, passed quietly and James’ headache was somewhat lifted. He rode behind the group as they returned to the palace and as he did, he caught sight of a woman on her own. It was barely an unusual sight and as he made to bow his head chivalrously, he noticed she was the Austrian noble from the party, “Morning, Your Grace,” James called with a brightness and warmth that surprised even himself. He dismounted his horse and made a few paces to bow before her, “I must apologise again for leaving your company the other night. I hope you had a pleasant time?”

It had all been a pleasant sight watching the stag graze among the grass until the thundering sound of horses rattled the earth. Perhaps it seemed that men were incapable of appreciating such rare beauty and tranquillity among the land. The only beauty they took comfort in was that of a woman any wise man should know that even a ladies beauty can ruin the strongest of men. Turning to walk back one of the men sitting most proudly on his horse was the king. Disappointed when he unmounted his horse he didn't fling his leg over the head like most men did. My expression was neutral as I walked the short way to greet him. The black circles under his eye's countered for his late night of drinking with friends or writing documents about the lands and the kingdom. I had yet to explore the castle and its hidden riches of history the men here were a rowdy bunch I kept myself in the chamber.

"I think my lord needs to define the meaning of pleasant,"

James widened his eyes, tilting his head, “Perhaps, if it has to be defined…pleasant would not exactly be a good description,” he offered with some hesitation and absent mindedly petted his horses mane. The beast, despite being tall and strong, black like a shadow, was calm beside James and dipped it’s head his head with a quiet huff upon James’s touch.

“I do hope your trip has not been too unpleasant though, Your Grace?” James asked kindly and looked up to her kindly. As far as James was concerned, the court had improved since Mary had arrived - everything was more sophisticated, more European. Even James had started to play the lute - something he had not touched since childhood. The courtiers were still the same, the same friends of James. Yet the very presence of Maria displayed to James that more international nobles thought the Scottish court - in some ways - equal to others.

Martin of Navarre had arrived at the palace in Scotland, mounting his horse he took in the fresh air's breeze enjoying every moment of it while he could. Turning his head towards his horse he allowed it to drink from the waters of its lake as she took a breath of air within his lungs while he pet his horse, a servant rushed to let the Queen of Scotland know a envoy from Navarre was there to see her when she was ready and he was outside.

Mary had shut herself away whilst James had been away, refusing to see anyone. As the king of Navarre was announced by a servant, she tried her best to be her most cheery self. Once she stepped outside Mary took in the glorious freshness of spring the clean fresh air. That filled her lungs, leaving a healthy glow upon her cheeks rather than the white complexion that had shadowed Mary for months.

Welcome to Scotland your highness! It is so good to have you.~

Turning his head to look upon the Queen of Scotland he turned to face her and bows his head to her, taking her hand he placed a gentle kiss upon it "a honor your majesty, thank you for having me here" he told her, his blue hues gazing upon her own while he was dark complectioned and spoke fluent with a Spanish accent.

He smiled at her with the up most respect "Navarre sends her love and devotion to Scotland as your most trusted friend. I do hope we may begin a lasting friendship between our two kingdoms" he stood there in front of her speaking to her hoping she would agree to such ideas.

For Mary it felt a little strange to be kissed by another man if only it was in the hand. It sent a shiver down her spine, causing her rosy cheeks to blush a deep scarlet red. She cast her eye's down to the floor as her hand fell back to her side. It felt nice to be in the presence of another royal who could understand the possibility of how weary it was to wear a crown.

I most humbly thank you for coming I am only sorry that my husband could not be here to receive you as well. But an offer of friendship is greatly appreciated I too would also love to build on that. For the sake of our countries.~

Martin stood after kissing her hand and he nodded "yes it would be beneficial for our kingdoms, and it is quite alright for the kings absence, I do understand whatever his reasons may be" he told her "perhaps we may go to the castle and arrange alliance's between us, maybe when your husband is arrived so we may come to a agreement together with the three of us your majesty" he offered the idea.

It had been night for hours and yet the land was only just becoming dark; the sky a strange purple shade, save for a swelling bubble of silvery light where the sun and moon came together for the evening. James had been travelling for two weeks in order to get home. After the attack on James, his progress across the country had been hastily organised. The elder nobles who had revolted against his young rule seemed to rally around their King and sent him to call for the sons of Scotland to arms - in the event of battle - while they would defend his Queen and his boy. And they had - to his relief.

During his time away, only a couple of months yet seeming like years, he had visited the highlands and sailed to Ireland and back; bringing a whole boat full of his kin across the sea. Not just soldiers but farmers and tradesmen, families who would work to make Scotland a great country and, in their gratitude for James's opportunity of salvation, protect her from their mutual enemy: the English. The clansmen who were loyal to his stepfather pledged their fealty to him, after the endorsement from the older nobles.

James returned a King, stronger in his own kingdom. His crown less heavy, the burden lighter. The army had increased, the land had more farmers to cultivate it and the cities had people to fill them and make them as great as any European citadel. Yet, there were of course battles. During the last, James sustained an injury below his heart which had only stopped bleeding after his men pressed his red hot sword against the wound. Since then it had turned black and that evening James felt the hot and cold chill of a fever. In his pride, he refused to enter the carriage and allowed the youngest members of his retinue to rest as he battled the great temptress Sleep, forcing himself to remain awake, swaying like a reed in the wind.

Finally, he saw the castle - lit up. It looked like home and he so earnestly wished to feel the embrace of his wife. Yet, her wrath at his absence gave him more fear than English man could. Sorry would hardly suffice and yet he could barely think of what to say - except, perhaps, I love you and now I am home.

Mary did listen to the foreign King; albeit a bit confused the only connection they had was linked to an English Princess. Who had previously been Queen of Navarre the country seemed a mess one that Mary wanted to avoid. Politics didn't suit Mary; who had been a recluse since James had been away; refusing to see anyone except her son. He was like James in every way his curly brown hair shadowing his fathers. She lived in what seemed like a dark world her sun gone away hid from all the world to see. Even the moon refused to glow as bright; casting the land into darkness.

What happened next felt like Mary was dreaming it was too good to be true. As she turned around; her hair plaited with a blue ribbon weaved throughout. He stood there in the distance still the same James; Mary had loved all along. Without further hesitation; Mary picked up her white skirts and ran to him like a wild horse returning to his master.

James had not taken his eyes, which occasionally drooped closed in exhaustion, from the castle. He had never felt the pull to it that he did in that moment. The candlelight inside and around the castle cast a amber glow about it - warm as honey, inviting as any hearth. James imagined Mary - in the gardens - wandering by candlelight, her skirts trailing across the cold grass. In his mind she was singing, her voice lilted and as French as it had been when he met her. In his mind she called out to him.

His head nodded as sleep lulled him closer and when he looked up once more, he saw her. He saw her running. There was a commotion behind him, shouts in Gaelic threatening whomever approached. Battle had hardened the men but even in his delirium, James could see Mary from miles.

"Fuirichibh!" he commanded as he dismounted his horse with all the grace of a falling stone. He ran to towards her, heavy footed but quick. Soon he was close enough to see how her cheeks flushed and how her hair glittered and her mouth parted. He grinned in relief, feeling entirely a boy and fell upon both knees. He was home. Nothing made him weaker than Mary, not even the pointed end of a blade and so for the first time in months he let his guard down entirely, "My Queen," he said with a bowed head, his voice more jagged than usual, "My wife...A gràidh...Will you take back a poor soldier?"

It was only as Mary approached him did she see the men behind him all battle worn and covered in dirt. When James was away; she hadn't thought twice about what he was up to. Now it seemed like every Gaelic he could find he had brought back with him to Scotland. A part of this instilled fear was Scotland at war or was this just a precaution to make Scotland safer. Right now; though Mary just wanted to scoop him up and put him to bed never wanting to let him go again.

As James bowed down like a humble servant. Mary ran her hand through his hair; letting the odd piece of dirt to fall out where her fingers now remained. Of course I shall take you back! I am very happy you are back; but what are we to do with your army. ~

James bowed his hand, kneeling at her feet as if she were a shrine - something sacred and beyond that: beautiful. Her hands upon him seemed to absolve him and melt away the hardness of being exposed to rugged terrain for months; the hunger and exhaustion, and residual fever from the wound. When they had met, James had taken her from the crowd and promised his protection; now, Mary took him aside and gave him refuge.

James stood up with a muffled grunt and touched both hands against her cheeks. He tenderly looked upon her face, as if she were some painting; no blemish, no flaw - her face pale and shining in the moonlight, “Mo airgeadach,” he replied with a grin. He touched his forehead against her’s, hunching over and finally pressed his lips against her’s - lingering for a few delirious moments before pulling away.

“Some shall travel into the city…but I have promised many families lodgings in the castle - we certainly have the room and they need physicians that they won't get elsewhere. The garrison will house the soldiers; the others will take refuge in convents and monasteries, the hospital and inns in the city will take them in...But, how is our boy? Is he well?.”

Although tired Mary was happy to see his stamina didn't fail him. She returned his kiss with an urgency not wanting to let go of him yet at the same time. It felt like their first kiss all over again, but much more matured. His lips still tantalized her; his hands knew every inch of her body knowing the places Mary liked to be touched. As their lips broke from one another she stayed close to him with her arms wrapped securely around his body. This has been one of the happiest days ever.

When James spoke of the men and what was wrong with them; she frowned biting her lip. Just what adventures had they embarked on across the Gaelic sea. Only time would tell when James felt ready to speak of it. I understand my love I'll have the servants make up some beds for them. Little Jamie is well; I think you shall see he is much more like you. Shall we get you all inside for some supper perhaps. ~

Mary ventured as she took his hand in hers. If he had been hurt James showed no signs of injury so far. Ecstatic was how she felt just to have James back it was an unexpected but very welcomed surprise.

James nodded and cast a glance over his shoulder at the crowd who had gathered to a halt ten feet or so behind him. With a nod from James there was rustle; horses neighed and wheels whined as the gathering moved on. The ones who had travelled with James from Stirling began to take the lead, directing groups in the appropriate direction.

“Aye, supper would be nice,” James mumbled appreciatively with a sigh and wrapped his arm over Mary’s shoulder as he began to walk back to the palace with her. With a whistle he heard the familiar hooves of his horse as it moved to walk behind him - steady and strong, more placid than a child.

As they drew closer to the castle he kissed Mary’s forehead absent mindedly, “I’m sorry, Mary,” he said, still walking at her side, holding her close, “We had to leave suddenly. We thought the English were going to attack and there was talk of Sassenachs in the highlands. We had to bolster the army, Christ, the whole counry…but I’m sorry. I missed you every day - every hour. My mind kept wandering to you and to Jamie and where you both were and I couldn't write incase it was intercepted.”

There was nothing that Mary wanted to do than to cuddle up next to him right now. Scotland would probably always be at a sort of war with England even an heir couldn't stop that although Mary had hoped that it might. The situation was that of a peculiar one as James seemed to get along with his aunt Katherine Tudor. It wouldn't of surprised Mary if he had said yes to whatever it was she was proposing. Why does the English king want the throne so bad? Scotland has always been a land of freedom. ~

“I have heard many explanations,” James began, “Yet none account for the barbarism and cruelty we have been subject to - for centuries. We are fortunate that their King is too concerned with creating his own church to fight those who remain with the true faith…yet, one day, I have no doubt, they will march here once more…but we will be ready, we will win as my father hoped to.”

James glanced to Mary and smiled. All resentment and bitterness he held for the English dissolved when he looked at her. To be with Mary was to dream, to be free from the world and only calm. It were as if his heart swelled to behold her, to know that they were joined by something neither of them understood but obeyed willingly. He had loved, to be sure, but none so much as Mary, his Mary. He’d seen her portraits as a girl, he’d dreamed about her as boy and loved her as a man. If it weren’t for the exhaustion he’d take her into the woods and back to their lodge, “I love you Mary,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet and sentiment sincere, “Always will.”

Mary was glad that the war hadn't changed James the way it had changed some. The men came back broken, not even able to look at their loved ones anymore, yet alone still desire a woman. Perhaps James did have the best strategy sadly Mary wasn't so trusting of any English person. Whether they be loyal or not they had hurt her husband who was a piece of her. Kingdoms at war the king sitting on the throne only cared about conquering more land to add to their map. Mary wouldn't be surprised The Tudors thought that they owned France as well
.
The love that Mary had for James was one that simply wouldn't go away easily. She was bound to him by something that Mary alone couldn't control. To love a person as much as Mary did was both a blessing and a curse. Nothing is the same without you all the color has gone. The flowers all crumble up into pieces as the light has gone out of their world. There is no happiness around even the skies turn a deep burgundy refusing to carry on until you return.~

James paused with a smile at Mary's tender words, "Aye, well the weather has been bad for spring," he gently teased with a warm chuckle, touching his hand against her cheek and finally kissing her forehead, "I am home now, Mary. You'll understand I only left without telling you I love you because I didn't have the time. But now I do have the time and I do love you and won't leave you - or Jamie - for a very long while."

James began walking again, holding her hand and touching his other to his rib - feeling the heat through his shirt. He wouldn't tell Mary, he wouldn't worry her. It was a scratch - nothing of concern, he told himself as they came closer to home.

That's what the world seems like to me when you are not here.~

Mary closed her eyes; feeling his lips touch her skin. She loved how his lips felt like soft petals being trickled over her skin cooling down her desires and satisfying her lustful mind. Now she would get him into bed and hear all about his tales it would be the perfect evening. Of course Mary would inspect his body James was like a piece of land that Mary had discovered very well and she wanted to reclaim his back. In Mary's mind; she had marked all the places she loved to kiss him to look at him as he smiled with delightful glee. I'll behave for tonight only because you look so tired and rugged which is actually more alluring.

Mary ran her hand through his unruly locks which were starting to lose the bouncy curls but she didn't mind. James was back and Mary longed to be held tightly in his arms once again like he had done many times before. If you like I could bathe you while the water soaks your skin. Oh; I could get some fresh strawberries too! ~

Mary started to pull him faster toward the palace as she rambled on about their night together.

James walked a good few paces behind her as she hurried to the palace, her skirts billowing around her ankles like a cloud. He smiled to himself as he realised he was trying to remember what her legs looked like; how they were pale at midday and tanned in candlelight, how they curled around him… He almost laughed as he realised he was thinking like a boy - a naive boy - who had never seen or felt a woman’s touch before. As she ran her hands through his head again, his shoulders hunched over and he leaned towards her. It was such blissful tenderness that he almost feel upon his knees once more like a lap dog, willing to accept any affection from it’s mistress.

“No,” James said with a smile and shook his head, touching his hand subconsciously to the cut. He would have loved nothing more but he wanted to examine his wound in peace or at least clean it a little before Mary saw him again, “I’m not a pretty sight, a ghràidh, I will manage myself and come to you when I look a bit more like your husband.”

Oh~

Mary mouthed her enthusiasm starting to fade away upon hearing his words. It had never ever crossed her mind that James would actually take part in a battle most kings didn't. Rather; if they did them wore a massive crown upon their heads; letting the enemy know not to touch them. James was different he would part take in such adventures to protect his own land and that's why Mary loved him. Even if his back was lashed at 100 times that wouldn't deter Mary at all she loved him despite his Latin looks. Come to me when you are ready I love you James.~

James held onto her shoulder and pressed his forehead against hers, absent mindedly drawing curves and lines over her arm, “I won’t be long,” he promised sincerely, with his dark eyes closed. He was no medic but his own pride refused to let him admit he had an injury any worse than a scratch. He took a breath and recognised the familiar perfume of lavender and honey mixed with the smell of fresh air, the warmth of her, the softness of her next to him…

He drew away with a breath and then turned back to her, “Will Jamie be asleep?” he asked.