Page 17 of Dawnlands

“So, when you told the king that your husband could raise hundreds…?”

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“Everyone does that!” the queen exclaimed. “No one tells him anything that he will not like! Just like his father, King Charles. He thought he was safe, they put him on trial, and he expected to speak—in the very hall where we went to open parliament! I probably stood in his footprints! I probably stood in his bloodstained footprints! He did not know, until it was too late, that people hated him!”

Her terror was infectious. “It will never happen again!” Livia promised.

“You heard the king. He doesn’t know. They’ve hated me since I came here, they burned an effigy the day I arrived! My wedding was held in secret for fear of the mob. They hate Catholic queens. Theyfired on Queen Henrietta! They would have killed her. She had to flee for her life!”

“She ran away?”

“She had to! I will have to! If Argyll and Monmouth are on the march, then I’ll have to go to France like she did. Her husband could not protect her and neither can mine!”

REEKIE WHARF, LONDON, SPRING 1685

Johnnie, surprised at himself, was drawn back to the warehouse within the week, and found his uncle Ned on the quayside with a cargo manifest in his hand.

“Has my ma set you to work?” Johnnie asked, crossing the cobbles.

“No one’s idle in this house. But actually, I am doing nothing more than holding this while your ma goes to find a missing barrel. I am the equivalent of a book stand.”

“It was you I wanted to see,” Johnnie said awkwardly.

“Here I am,” Ned said, and when the younger man hesitated, he said: “Still here.”

“Yes, I know. It’s… it’s about your lad… about Rowan, I mean. Your er…”

“About Rowan,” Ned prompted.

“I keep thinking about her!” Johnnie exclaimed, and then flushed. “Not like that! I mean, I have been thinking about her position. Here. And I’ve found her a place if she wants it.”

“That’s good of you,” Ned said carefully, looking at the younger man. “Good of you to take the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ve found her a place at a school, a dame school. She’d be a pupil in lessons and earn her keep by helping with thehousework. I thought she should learn to read and write there. If she showed aptitude, she could perhaps become a pupil teacher. She obviously doesn’t want to be a servant.”

“Why are you so interested in Rowan?” Ned asked.

The younger man flushed. “It’s not anything…” He trailed off. “I just think she should have a chance,” he said. “Coming as she does from… over there. And everything must be so strange for her here. She’s got such courage… Anyway, what do you plan for her? And what happens when you leave?”

“I don’t have any plans,” Ned admitted. “I bought her out of slavery on the dockside with no plan but to save her life. I thought she’d find her own way. Perhaps she’d take to your idea. You’d have to ask her.”

“You’d let her go?”

“I don’t own her. She’ll do as she pleases.”

“But she needs a protector,” Johnnie suggested.

“I doubt that. Anyway—tell her about the place.” Ned hesitated. “Be warned: she may not be grateful—her people don’t tally up favors like we do.”

“But I can speak to her?” the younger man confirmed.

Ned waved towards the warehouse. “She’s in the yard.”

Johnnie nodded and went down the alley at the side of the house to enter the yard through the open gates.

Rowan was squatting on her haunches, carefully picking the yellow buds off a bed of herbs and putting them in a basket. The sweet scent was all around her, her fingernails stained green. She heard footsteps on the cobbles and rose up in one supple movement to confront the intruder. He saw her relax as she recognized him.

“I’ve come to see you,” he said.