The Earl Of Douglas

Seasgad

"Just when were ye going to tell me ye are carrying me bairn?" Eòin cocked a brow, looking down at his wife as they walked arm in arm to the great hall of Stirling Castle.

"Oh...um about that..." She left off, looking nervously left to right. She brought her hand to her lips and chewed anxiously at her fingernails.

"Aye, congratulations are in order. Ye finally secured yer line!" Allistor bellowed, clapping a hand on Eòin's shoulder.

A crush of turquoise linen floated past them as Isobell rushed ahead. Eòin's eyes darted to Allistor. He hadn't missed it either. She'd overheard them. All the progress she'd made in the past few weeks seemed swept away in one fell swoop.

"I'll leave ye two to celebrate. I'll go find Izzy." Allistor finished, hurriedly shuffling off behind her as she disappeared into the crowd.

The event was much grander than Niamh expected. She attended parties and soirees at the palace since she'd arrived but nothing at this scale. The palace was draped in finery. As they entered through the doors of the Great Hall, a candlelit chandelier hung from its impressively high vaulted ceiling.

She couldn't pry her eyes away from the wall decorations of weapons, wall hangings, murals, and coats of arms. There was a large fireplace for warmth and long tables with benches set around the walls for the guests. Even the floor was taken care of and spread with straw and herbs to keep out pests and provide a little fragrance. People of this era were not known for their hygiene so she was glad of it.

Seating arrangements were quite well defined. The King and Queen with their immediate entourage sat on a raised platform at the end of the hall. A place awaited Niamh and Eòin among them.

Only the King and Queen sat on a chair; everyone else had to make do with the benches but that never bothered Niamh. In a place like this, it didn't pay to stand out. The tables were simple affairs set on trestles which were only set up at mealtimes. Laid with a tablecloth, each place had a knife, spoon, and cup while shared between diners were jugs for drinking and a dish for salt.

As they approached the royal couple Eòin bowed and Niamh curtsied. James looked fit to be tied. Something or someone had goaded his anger. Niamh's eyes found Richard who was only a few seats down. He'd rather see Clan Douglas in ruin even at the cost of his kin.

Niamh's brows furrowed in angst. She shouldn't be surprised at his behavior. Doing her a few good turns didn't mean he was any less the snake she pegged him out to be.

"Welcome. Welcome Earl and Countess Douglas," The queen began. She pushed smoothly to her feet in a very unhurried and practiced manner but the action was done with so much elegance and grace, Niamh was sure the woman knew how to float.

"Thank you, Majesty," Eòin responded but was deeply engaged in a staring contest with the king.

"Yes, welcome." James offered in a curt manner.

Despite his surly demeanor, the queen continued unstirred. "In the short time we have come to know Countess Douglas, she has been an influential and instrumental part of the running of this court and in point of fact one of my dearest friends. So it is with the greatest honor that I bestow upon you the title of Mistress of the Robes." The queen's delicate hands came together in applause. The court followed. All except the king.

"Thank you, Majesty." Niamh gave a deep curtsey.

"But, alas, we shall lose you before you've even had a chance to start." Mary continued.

Rising to her feet, "Majesty?" Niamh asked curiously.

"My darling the news is all about the court that you are enceinte. In such a delicate condition you cannot be expected to undergo the laborious duties of the Mistress of Robes. I am so very glad your husband is here to fetch you."

"Yes, Majesty. I am eager to take her home." Eòin clenched her hand in his. His blue eyes smiled as much as his mouth when he looked down on her.

"Do not yet believe that the countess has received my blessing to depart Earl Douglas." The king's acrid voice cut through the conviviality of the moment.

"My Lord," Niamh's eyes widened with pleading and earnestness. "Will you not permit this, Royal Highness. I will grow large and ungainly very soon. I'd like to spend my confinement in my home with my husband."

The king leaned forward in his seat. "You do not have my permission to leave Countess. You are needed here." He turned his head, putting a point of finality to the statement.

"She leaves with me." Eòin rebuffed.

"Eòin...stop. Say nothing." Niamh kept her eyes on the floor. She'd always heard James could be fickle. She'd never experienced the sharper end of his displeasure until now.

"How dare you speak to your sovereign in such a manner!" Richard shot to his feet.

"Hold yer tongue Colville or I'll hold it for ye!" Eòin shot back.

"I have heard enough." James stood slowly to his feet. "Earl Douglas for the crime of insubordination to the crown, you are hereby stripped of your lands and title. Your dulcet wife will be welcome among us but will retain only the title of lady. She will remain one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting. But for now, Eòin Douglas," He nearly spat as he said the name. "I will see you in irons and dragged before the court for treason for the crime of Lèse-majesté (to do wrong to majesty). And we shall see if you do not share the same fate as your dearly departed father."