Section CXLV: April 1537
Falkland, April 1537
“You cannot marry Mistress Eleanor!”
The door has scarcely swung shut on James’s bedchamber before he is rounding on his brother, apoplectic with fury.
Sawney, darker and cooler-tempered, if rather more exuberant, than his older brother, merely arches a sardonic eyebrow in the face of James’s screaming rage.
“Can’t I, brother? I quite believed I already had.”
“A secret wedding, full of skulduggery before some drunk, half-blind priest?! That won’t cut it for the heir to Scotland! You need my permission to wed, and I can assure you, I’m not giving it!”
“Actually,” Sawney retaliates, leaning his weight back on one leg, “I don’t. I’m your brother, not your son. You don’t control me the way you would a Duke of Rothesay. I only needed your permission to wed if I sought to marry while I was underage. I turned twenty-one two years ago, meaning that, whichever yardstick you use, I’m of age and of sound mind, as is Nora. As such, by the laws of the Holy Mother Church, all we need to do for our wedding to be considered valid is to exchange vows in the present tense before witnesses and then consummate said vows. We said our vows on the morning of Twelfth Night, in the presence of Sir George and Lady Katheryn Boleyn and all their retainers at Kilkenny Castle. James Boleyn’s confessor himself oversaw our vows. I assure you, there was nothing secret about this wedding. As for consummation, well, I’m your brother, Jamie. You know me. Do you really think I’d leave my marital duties undone for a full four months?”
“I’ll not stand for it! I’ll petition the Holy Father to have the match annulled! It’s an insult to Cousin Mary’s memory that you should wed her maid before her year mind has even passed – before she even lies in her final resting place!”
“Oh, that’s rich! As if you ever really cared about upholding Mary’s honour! You let Louise scorn and belittle her at every turn, just because of who her father was! Why does Mary’s honour suddenly mean that much more to you, just because she’s dead?”
“Louise is my wife! Of course I’d take her side!” James rears back from his brother’s sharp words in shock. They haven’t fought like this in years, not since they were old enough to understand their relative positions as King and subject as much as brothers. Ever since then, the generally mild-mannered Sawney has always done whatever he can to stop any disagreement from going beyond a minor quarrel.
Now, though, the younger man has the fury of righteousness coursing through his veins and the bit between his teeth. Sensing his brother’s discomfort, he goes for the jugular.
“And Mary was mine! Mary was my wife, not yours, Jamie! I knew her and loved her in a way you never did, for all she was your hostess for four years!”
“I know that, but that just makes your betrayal -”
“Mary asked me to marry Nora!”
The words fall into the rage-filled room like stones into a well. James starts visibly and Alexander pauses, struggling to get a hold of himself.
“Mary asked me to marry Nora,” he repeats, breathing hard, dredging the painful truth up from the most private parts of himself, praying that, if he lays himself bare, it will be enough to make his beloved older brother understand.
“After she’d given birth to Mary Katherine, when we knew there was nothing more the midwives could do for her, she lay in my arms and she asked me to marry Nora, so that I might have a good and faithful wife, and our children might have a loving stepmother. It was the last thing I ever promised her. So, I’m sorry, Jamie, but I’ll marry Nora, come what may. Throw whatever you will at me – at us – but I will marry her in spite of it all. She’s the only second Duchess I’ll ever accept. Because she’s the one Mary chose for me.”
To his horror, Alexander hears his voice crack. He hurriedly turns away from his brother, so that Jamie won’t see the tears that are threatening to fall.
An awful silence permeates the room. James watches his brother’s back, digesting the heartfelt revelation.
“Don’t take her to Birgham,” he says heavily, when the words finally come, “Aunt Katherine will be there, Meg will be there. It’s going to be emotional enough without the salt of your remarriage being rubbed into the wounds. So leave Nora at home while you honour Mary one last time. But if you promise me that, then I’ll support you. I’ll back your marriage against our sister’s fury and against Uncle Henry’s. I’ll even back you against Louise. She’s not going to like having to acknowledge a nameless miss as her sister.”
James tries for humour, nodding teasingly towards his young wife’s pride, but the joke falls flat, for Sawney, who usually jumps right in on this kind of thing, is in no mood to respond.
James waits for a few moments, but when the younger man still says nothing, neither in agreement nor discord, he steps over and places a gentle hand against the younger man’s back.
“Sawney. I need an answer from you. Do we have a deal?”
There is a long silence. Then Sawney swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and nods.
