Then my top layer was a really beautiful gown in pale grey-blue velvet. The neckline was square. Magnus bought me pearls to wear at my throat. And Lady Fleming told me I would want to wear a French hood, to match Mary of Guise, so that was the style of head covering I chose.
When I had it all on it was heavy and gave me the right form for the time — I joked with Magnus, “I look like a large wide pyramid.”
He joked back, “Tis better than a square.” He was indeed looking squarely-shaped and in almost as many layers. He was the owner now of four linen shirts, with embroidery on the edges that mimicked mine. He had long hose that covered his legs. A black doublet with the front covered in embroidered flowers. During the fitting we figured out that the tailor’s goal was to make Magnus look thick and to give him the illusion of a large belly. We put a stop to that.
And then he had trunk hose, or what I liked to call ‘puffy fancy pants’ in black with stripes of silver peaking out. The tailor tried to persuade him to wear small, high-heeled fancy shoes with this ensemble, but that was not happening. Magnus bought thigh-high, leather boots instead. But he had no choice about the ruffled collar, he had to wear it. His cloak was a deep black velvet.
I sat primly on a chair, because in all these layers prim was the only way to sit, and admired him. “I’ve never seen you quite so...”
He said, “Ridiculous?”
“No, you sir, are never ridiculous. You’ve taken those puffy fancy pants and made them downright sexy. I was going to say ‘dressed’. And now I totally get what you mean about watching me get dressed makes you want to take it all off.”
“Och, careful Kaitlyn, ye will get me started and twill take us two hours tae get undressed and re-dressed again. I am too hungry for the interruption.”
I stood. “I totally get you. That was a long time with not enough food, let’s go eat.”
Fifty-two - Kaitlyn
A couple of weeks later we spent the day riding in the countryside because we needed a freaking break. The night before we had been introduced to Lord Châtellerault. It had been a difficult meeting. He was in his mid-thirties, and wore a thin mustache under a long, thin nose which made him seem to be always sneering. He wore the fashion of the time — a thick cloak with a high collar over a tight coat with a stiff ruff at the neck, but Châtellerault’s clothes looked like he had said to the tailor, “More, please! Heavier! Make it really uncomfortable!” On his bottom half he wore trunk hose and fancy shoes that made his feet look diminutive in comparison to his weighty upper half. He topped his look off with a heavy necklace, and a sword at his hip. He was so overburdened by his clothes that he seemed to be constantly irritated.
He was next in line for the throne and bore the heavy weight of it by being as somber and pompous as possible. And because his grasp on power was tenuous, it made him dangerous. He was suspicious of everyone and came across as having a mean streak a mile wide. We would need to be very cautious around him.
The meeting had been exhausting. He was curious about us because he was in a battle for control against Mary of Guise and we had dined with her the week before. Lady Fleming had connections to everyone, being all the right sort of people, even if no one really wanted to spend time with her.
So after a nerve-wracking dinner party, we woke up with nice weather and decided to go for a ride. Magnus had been riding every day, but I didn’t get out much. It was imperative I get some air and a chance to breathe. And Mary of Guise had given Magnus permission to ride and hunt in the parks around Holyroodhouse.
Magnus gave me a tour of the woods, pointing out the trees and the banks of the lochs, and somehow, watching him, it came to me, this man was so beautifully competent. I joked, “Dang it, Magnus, you beautiful highlander. Can we go somewhere so I can have at you?”
“Here in the woods? Haena we had enough of ‘have at ye’ in the woods?”
I laughed. “True! It’s just something about horses that gets me all hot.”
He joked, “Tis half the reason tae ride them.”
The ride did clear my head, the fresh air, the scents of pine and that deep dirt of a forest floor. Woodsy and fragrant I filled my lungs. And knowing we needed to solve this shit, a plan unfolded. I rhetorically asked, “How are they going to find us?”
Magnus was arched back watching a falcon soar on the wind. “I daena ken, they will need tae... I daena ken.”
“They don’t even know our date, right? Not even the year, right?”
“Nae, they will hae tae search for us.”
“I was thinking about how we are in Edinburgh, hanging out with royals, or at least their regents — we’re at court. That is amazing, we have to be able to get a message to Lady Mairead somehow. We have to. So what about this... Put your signature down.”
“What... write m’name? Where?”
“I don’t know, deeds and contracts, registries, family records. What about a contract with Lady Fleming? You could witness important documents, the kinds that will last through time.”
He turned his horse towards mine. “Och, tis a good idea.”
“I know, I’m quite proud of it actually.”
He turned back into the lead. “The best part of it is I will get tae use m’pens.”
“You still have them?”
He chuckled. “I hae so many pens. I dinna realize I had collected so many.”
“That’s hilarious, but also awesome. So when in doubt, if there’s a paper on the desk, offer to sign it.”
Fifty-three - Kaitlyn
In my journal I wrote: Fucking March.
“I want to kill her.”
Magnus got the front panel on my heavy gown open and pulled it off my arms. The whole heavy gown hit the floor with a thud. “I ken, mo reul-iuil. Everyone is gravely irritated by her.”
I sighed. “You sent my maid away — you really want to undress me?”
“Och aye, I will do it tonight. I hae been thinkin’ on it.” He began the work of untying the back of my kirtle.
I smiled, but then remembered I was irritated at Lady Fleming. “The moping, the complaining, the not quite silent sobbing, the martyrdom. Would it kill her to smile once?”
Magnus chuckled. “Apparently she believes it might. Ye do hae tae spend a great deal of time with her.” My kirtle dropped to the floor and I stepped from the middle of it.
“I don’t mind it in the morning. We meet for prayers and we sit together in quiet contemplation. It gives me time to think about the children, to mourn. I need it, but the rest of the day she’s so sad, sighing and carrying on, and judging me.” I pulled my petticoat off, able to do that on my own.
Magnus raised my smock up and off my arms and tossed it to the side.
I was fully naked, but in such a rant I barely noticed. “She thinks God will smite her for smiling. She confuses bemoaning with piety, and is sucking all the oxygen from the room.”
“What does this mean?” Magnus’s hand was a hair’s breadth from touching my breast.
I waved my hands. “It’s a metaphor. Oxygen is what we breathe, she’s taking all of it with her over dramatic sadness, and the rest of us have to help her. I would like to take all the oxygen for once, but also — what are we talking about? Your hands are so close you’re making me dizzy.”