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And the largesse did not end with food and drink. A troop of minstrels had been invited in to strum lutes and coax merry tunes from their pipes and drums. A lone bagpiper awaited his turn to entertain the guests. Katherine was not personally struck on the strident, wailing tone of the instrument, but her view was clearly not shared by most here.
“Your king is a most generous host,” she murmured to Robbie, seated beside her at the high table in Holyrood’s great hall. “I doubt we could entertain him so well were he to come to Roxburghe.”
Robbie quirked his lip. “I suspect we would manage. He is out tae impress his English guests. Were it just you and I and a few other lairds, I doubt we’d be feasting on dates and figs.” He helped himself to a handful of the fruit. “Would ye like one o’ these?”
Katherine accepted the delicacy and determined to enjoy herself. This was, after all, to be her final evening at Holyrood. Tomorrow, she and Robbie were to ride to Dundee, and from there they would sail to Calais.
James had wanted Robbie to depart for Italy at once, but had succumbed, reluctantly, to the earl’s insistence that Katherine was not well enough to travel so soon after her ordeal, and he flatly refused to go without her. The compromise had been struck that Robbie and Katherine would remain in Edinburgh for a week, perhaps two, but would not expect to return before the end of the year. By autumn the weather would be uncertain and the North Sea crossing more hazardous, but they were both content to spend the colder months abroad and travel back to Scotland the following spring.
Katherine was beyond excited, never having left the isles of her birth before. The prospect of spending the entire winter season in Italy pleased her mightily. Robbie had promised her a trip to Florence, and to Naples. They might even sail to the island of Capri, which sounded incredibly exotic to her.
The gathering this evening was in part a celebration of the new-found common cause between James and the northern English shires, and in part to wish the Earl and Countess of Roxburghe farewell and a safe passage. The company was exceptionally merry, and she did not believe that happy state could be entirely explained by the endless flow of ale and wine. For Katherine, much of the joy in the event was due to the fact that everyone who mattered to her was here. Flora and Frances, and the children, had joined them in Edinburgh and were now ranged opposite her at the table. Unlike herself, both ladies seemed perfectly at ease at the royal table. Katherine wondered how long it would take before she became accustomed to these lofty circles in which she now mingled.
The young Whitleigh twins were less in awe of the fine company and squabbled incessantly unless they were fully occupied with sweetmeats of some sort or other. They were not fussy and determined to sample everything. Thankfully, the two babies were better behaved.
Clustered together at the head of the table, Richard, Stephen, and James were deep in conversation. Doubtless a report of this meeting would be carried to Henry of England at the first opportunity, and Katherine expected an invitation for herself and her new husband to be His Majesty’s guests at Greenwich before long. Henry would be as keen as the Scottish monarch to test the strength of this opportunistic alliance.
“I had a letter this day, from Charles,” Robbie told her. “He believes he has discovered what happened at the Mulletts’ well.”
“Oh?” Katherine paused, her dagger halfway to her mouth, a succulent mouthful of roast duck impaled on the tip.
“Aye. It would seem that two o’ the Baillie lads were seen hangin’ around their farmstead. Young ruffians they are. I have had cause tae take issue wi’ ’em afore, for stealing trout from the loch.”
“Are they not allowed to fish there?”
“Not wi’out the laird’s permission.”
“I see. And have they admitted fouling the well?” Katherine asked.
“Aye, they have.”
“But why would they do such a thing?”
“They swear it was an accident. They told Charles that they were trapping rabbits on the edge o’ the Mulletts’ farm an’ one o’ the creatures wriggled free. They chased it, and the daft wee beast ran right o’er the edge o’ the well.”
“Why did they not try to get it out? Or at least tell the women what had happened?”
Robbie shrugged. “Their tale is that they didnae ken how serious it might be. They swear they meant no one any harm.”
Katherine shot her husband a disbelieving look. “Are they telling the truth, do you think?”
He shrugged. “Neither o’ them was anywhere near the front o’ the queue when the dear Lord handed out brains. It could be the truth.”
“But Mistress Mullett almost died. If she had…”
“…then I suppose I would have had nae choice but tae hang them. I still could, I suppose.”
Kat did not answer. She was running somewhat short on mercy, whatever the extenuating circumstances claimed by those who played fast and loose with the lives of others.
“’Twould be a pity, though,” Robbie went on. “The youngest lad is only eleven summers, an’ his brother is but thirteen.”
She gaped at him. “But they are just children.”
“Aye.”
“You cannot hang them,” she whispered, aghast suddenly, at the notion that two boys might lose their lives for what was, surely, a children’s prank.
“Well, certainly I prefer not to,” Robbie agreed. “An’ a better solution appears to be available.”
