Typically, when it did come, the summons gave us only one hour’s warning. We scrambled to be ready in time. More mind games. Randall couldn’t remember where he’d put the chess set for safekeeping. Schiller fumbled getting me laced into my dress. Neither of us could get our hair right. Markham fell down the stairs. Sometimes, the word ‘shambles’ just doesn’t even begin to describe us …
Never mind opening with ‘It was a dark and stormy night …,’ it was a dark and stormy day. Early summer time in Scotland. It wasn’t raining yet, but it would soon – the clouds were so low that even I was nearly banging my head on them.
We were dressed to kill. I wore the heavy black and gold dress, which weighed a ton, and stupid little jewelled slippers that weren’t going to keep my feet warm at all. Farrell, Guthrie, and Peterson wore boots. In this century, as in any other, men wore the comfortable, practical stuff, and the women wandered round expiring underneath over-decorated tea-cosies and with inadequate footwear. I was wearing only the bare minimum of undergarments necessary and it had still taken Schiller nearly an hour to get me into them. Consequently, I was not in a good mood.
We checked each other over.
‘Have you got it?’ I asked. Peterson flourished the jade chess set we were presenting to the queen.
She’d sent a closed coach. We were conveyed in style if not comfort as we jolted and bounced our way to the palace. It would have been quicker to walk. We sat in silence except for the odd curse as Peterson or Guthrie, both tall men, banged their heads on the roof. Which put me in a much better mood.
Our second visit was low-key, but we got in much more quickly this time. We stood tightly together in a stiff little group, facing outwards. I had my back to the doors but felt Peterson stiffen.
‘Carefully. Look over towards the fireplace. On my right.’
We turned our heads casually. Talking to the French Ambassador and a group of other men and slowly moving towards the doors was Ronan. Where was he off to?
I felt a strange tingle in the air.
Something was happening.
Again.
Words came out of my mouth.
‘Right, change of plan. Major, you, Chief Farrell, and Markham – go after Ronan. That’s your priority. We must get him back to St Mary’s so the Boss can decide what to do with him.
‘Peterson and Schiller, you get back to the house. Lock all the doors. Get everything ready for emergency extraction. If we do get Ronan, we may have to leave quickly. Go back to the pods and wait there.’
‘What about you?’ said Peterson.
‘I’ll concentrate on our original plan and try to see the queen. I doubt it on my own, but you never know your luck and we still have to point her at Bothwell. I’ll make Sir Richard’s apologies – sudden indisposition – whatever – and try to smooth over any difficulties, Maybe, since we’re actually trying to put things right, History will cut us a break for once. Give me the chess set and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘She’ll be furious.’
‘Can’t help that. It’s more important to get Ronan out of here before he does any serious damage and, since we’ve been summoned, we can’t all disappear.’
Farrell said, ‘I think I should be the one to stay.’
‘Excellent idea,’ I said, ‘and I’ll get out on the streets after Ronan.’
There was a thoughtful pause.
They weren’t happy, but as far as I could see, I was in the safest place here. And I would be out of the rain. And I was the boss. And seriously, no one, least of all me, anticipated what was coming. They quietly disappeared and I stayed put.
There is a huge advantage to living in a masculine world. It is very, very easy to make yourself inconspicuous, if not almost completely invisible. Without a gaggle of men around me to give me status, I practically disappeared into the woodwork. I drifted around the room, paused vaguely at the head of a passageway, took a step backwards, then again, ostensibly admiring a small tapestry. Another step backwards and the hum of voices behind me grew fainter.
It couldn’t be that easy, of course. There were guards everywhere. I took off my cloak, folded it over my arm and carried the chess set carefully before me. Now I was an indoor lady, carrying something precious, maybe at the queen’s behest. Palaces are very much like hives. Both have a queen and both assume that if you’re inside then you’re meant to be there. That someone, somewhere, has run the checks and you’ve passed muster. Confidence is the key.
I swept up and down corridors, passageways, and the occasional staircase with measured steps, bearing my precious burden carefully before me. It seemed to work. One guard actually opened a door for me. I nodded and gave him a small smile. Nothing too effusive, but acknowledging his courtesy. Always smile at the man with the big gun/spear/sword/tank/clipboard/whatever. If this afternoon went badly, he could be the one arresting me later on and I’d need a friendly face.