Behind me, Schiller whispered, ‘Beside the window, there, in black, with red sleeves – that’s the French Ambassador, de Castelnau.’
And then, even as I stared, Clive Ronan slipped quietly through the door, past Major Guthrie, who kept his head and politely stepped aside for him, and made his way to Michel de Castelnau’s side. They exchanged looks but said nothing.
For a moment, I think we were all paralysed. Was it really going to be that easy?
Guthrie looked directly at me. I pulled myself together and made a tiny negative gesture. Now was not the time or the place. Concentrate on one thing at a time. If we got this afternoon wrong, we could lose our heads. Concentrate on the now.
Guthrie casually turned away so his back was to Ronan. Behind me, Schiller grasped my sleeve and gently drew me back a pace or two so we were sheltered by two very young women, who seemed, in some way, to be attached to the queen’s famous ladies – the Four Marys. Beaton, Seton, Fleming, and Livingstone. Only two of them were here today and which two was anyone’s guess. However, they were important women in their own right and these two younger women were, I guessed, ladies-in-waiting to the ladies-in-waiting.
There was so much to watch and think about, I hardly knew where to start. In front of me, Farrell and Peterson were doing a good job. Schiller was safe with me. Randall and Markham were outside if anything went wrong and Guthrie would hold the door until we could get away. All of which left me free to consider Clive Ronan, standing a discreet half pace behind the French ambassador.
The first thing that struck me was how young he was. How very, very young he was. He had hair. And two ears. And no scars. The second thing, to my huge relief, was that he didn’t know us at all. He hadn’t met us yet. His future was our past. I glanced at the oblivious Farrell and Peterson. They were doing their job. Guthrie was watching Ronan without seeming to. I turned my head to Schiller and cut my eyes to Ronan. She nodded and slipped quietly away. Other people were moving around too and chatter was springing up again as it became apparent the queen was occupied for a while. This seemed a very informal court. An approachable and affable queen set the tone.
I turned back and inadvertently brushed someone’s arm. One of the young ladies in waiting said, ‘Oh,’ and dropped a piece of embroidery. Quickly, I picked it up and handed it back to her.
‘Your pardon, mistress.’
She smiled nervously, considerably flustered. I put her age at around fifteen or sixteen.
‘Your stitching is exquisite.’ Which it was. Don’t underestimate our ancestors because they can’t drive cars or build a data stack. They had their own skills. She spread it out so I could see it properly. Beautiful birds swooped and danced in a variety of brilliant colours and complex stitching. It was lovely.
She blushed a little. ‘Thank you.’
We both shot a glance back to the queen who was still occupied with my boys. They all seemed to be getting along really well. So long as neither of them married her!
I had no idea of the protocol here and hoped for the best.
‘I am Mary.’
She smiled again, nodded and whispered, ‘Margaret.’ Either she was very shy or we were breaking some sort of rule and not wanting to push any further, I turned to watch the room, straining to hear the conversation with the queen. Within the last few minutes, the noise levels had risen considerably, not helped by two or three musicians playing softly in the corner. Well, they say the watcher sees most of the game, so I’d better watch.
Now the queen was openly laughing and Farrell gave the signal. The doors opened and heads turned in surprise. Markham and Randall entered, bearing a large carpet, and we were off.
With a flourish, they threw it down and its momentum propelled it down the room, unrolling as it went. It was a beauty, the biggest and best we had, in shimmering shades of red and gold and woven with intricate symbols, the meaning of which I could see Farrell explaining to the queen. She nodded vaguely, unimpressed. She had her own carpets. However, that was just the beginning.
I saw Markham speak to the musicians and coins changed hands. They broke immediately into something loud and lively.
The atmosphere changed and before people had a chance to take in what was happening, the show began.