“I missed hearing you laugh too.”
Fifty-seven - Kaitlyn
Stirling Castle was gorgeous, even bigger and more imposing than Edinburgh, steeped in history, and it was only 1552. Clinging to the edge of cliffs, like it was part of the stone and rock jutting up from earth, it sprawled — full of rooms. We rode through the big imposing gate and were given a tour, including the armaments which were the reason we were here. Mary of Guise’s military engineer wanted her approval of his designs. We were shown to our rooms and again treated royally, something I could totally get used to.
Magnus and I had a large room, with windows that looked out over the courtyard, with a four poster bed with quilted, silk brocade curtains. We set a transmitter in the window behind the shutters, though we were actually past hoping, now it was just something we did out of habit.
Our days were full of meals and small talk, walks around the grounds. The men went on hunts and we all played at archery. The younger people played at games that involved much laughing and chasing and being embarrassed and caught by the opposite sex. There was a great deal of it that was silly and naive and quite a bit that was sure to end someone in the middle of the #MeToo movement.
There wasn’t a lot of talk of consent in this world, but as I was an old married lady I got to watch and gossip with Mary and her ladies, and if young ladies needed help in finding a match, it was our job to embarrass everyone roundly while putting the young ladies with their match at any cost.
Mary of Guise would say, “Mistress Seonnie, you must carry this to young Master Cornet, I demand it.” And the poor girl would have to carry something to the man and would have to converse with him while her cheeks turned red in embarrassment.
As the days passed I realized the nature of the real game: can the virgin stay virtuous while the older women put her in harm’s way and the older men tried to see what they could accomplish, while the young man, who really wanted her, tried to win her while being completely outmanned, too embarrassed, and all but impotent to succeed?
Whenever possible I kept Mistress Seonnie beside me to protect her from the lascivious attentions of some downright horrible old guys. I tried to get Master Cornet to join us as well, and to strike up a conversation, only to have one or the other rush away in embarrassment. Then the games began again. I was irritated. But with virtue at stake and so many people watching, and all of us bored, it was understandable why it took so long for their courtship to actually happen.
There were parties. Poets and musicians visited and performed. Dignitaries arrived. The intrigues were manifold. Every new person arrived with gossip and stories to accompany them.
Magnus and I spent a lot of time fornicating in our awesomely curtained bed. I felt like a queen on the best days, or like a member of the queen’s mother’s entourage on the worst days, both would do.
Magnus was sitting on a long low wall in the sun watching a friendly fencing match. He winced at a particularly bad thrust that ended in Master Cornet’s stumble. I was standing beside him, enjoying the sun on my face, but too hot in my dress.
“He is not able to perform because Mistress Seonnie is sitting right there with Master Gaufrid giving her attention,” I said. “Plus he’s not that good.” I had been watching fencing for so many days that now I was practically an expert.
He said, “Aye, he is terrible and he is goin’ tae lose the young Mistress Seonnie. Master Gaufrid is speakin’ tae her father on the dowry.”
“I hate that. Is there time? Is it lost?”
“Nae, but the young man best move faster than he is, Master Gaufrid is too verra auld for the young mistress. Nae one wants the match, but a match will come. She is of age for it.”
“Poor baby, I’ll tell Master Cornet he needs to go faster or he will lose her. He is so stupid, so so stupid.”
Master Cornet mis-stepped again with a weak thrust that caused both Magnus and me to wince.
The tournaments began.
We were lucky to have some gorgeous days with little rain, and the games were set up on a wide green lawn. I entered the archery events. I had been practicing and with Magnus’s help in training, I had gotten really good. I loved aiming for the target, drawing the bowstring, concentrating, and letting the arrow fly. Breathless. Until the judge announced the results. Time after time my arrow flew sure and hit right in the center.
I would turn around to see Magnus beaming in the seats, applauding like crazy. The only person he applauded for more was Mary of Guise, and that was just good form. It took three days, from the first qualifying round to the last, for me to come in second place overall. Mary of Guise came in first, so I was pleased with the results.
My prize was a white silk scarf that I tied around Magnus’s arm as he took to the field for the finals of his own event, sword fighting.
He had already run a footrace, thrown a stone put, tried his hand at caber tossing, and fought five times, and this was the last battle, against the reigning champion, John Stewart.
On the sidelines, Magnus held his blunted sword, watching across the field as John Stewart prepared for their fight.
I said, “You can take him, he’s small.”
“Aye, but he is a worthy opponent, he is quick on his feet, not an auld man such as I.”
I smoothed his shirt across his chest. “Well, while that is true, you can still win, just watch his double-step on the downward arc, it means he’s about to change direction.”
The corner of his eyes wrinkled with his smile. I knew the ‘why’ of his grin, he didn’t need to say it. I said, “Have a good fight.” I kissed him and went to sit with Mary of Guise and her ladies, one of the best seats in the house.
The fight started out well. I loved watching Magnus, sure and strong. He and John Stewart were well-matched and so it got exciting and theatrical, they both knew how to work the crowd. Their swords arced and swung, and then they would prowl in a circle around each other, taunting each other. Jesting.
Then Magnus had two good swings and the upper hand. Parts of the audience began to chant, “Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!”
He swung his blade down, missed, and dazedly looked around at the assembled people, still chanting, “Magnus! Magnus!”
I stood up from my chair.
Magnus wasn’t focused on the fight at all. John Stewart swung his blade down and hit Magnus hard on an unprotected shoulder, causing him to stumble back. John Stewart took his two steps and started to swing again, but at the look on Magnus’s face, he faltered. Magnus looked at his shoulder, a tear on his sleeve, as if he was confused. He took a step back, then another, and dropped his sword to the ground.
No one was chanting anymore. I raced onto the field.
“Magnus! Are you okay?” I checked his shoulder. It was going to have a nasty bruise. “Magnus do you hear me?”
“Och, they were chanting.” His eyes were roaming wildly around the field.
“I know. Focus on my face, look in my eyes.” I brushed the hair from his damp forehead. “I know.” We looked into each other’s eyes. “Focus, breathe. Are you breathing?”
He drew in air and pushed it out. “Aye.”
We continued to look into each other’s eyes until it seemed like he was on top of his breaths. “Are you ready to continue?”