Euphemia glanced down at her lap, tracing the intricate embroidery of her dress, tiny thistles etched woven into the fabric, a reminder of home. It was difficult to try and be a voice of hope but the world was about to enter a period of rebirth, she was certain of it and the Queen of Scots wanted to be at the head of the pack. She could no longer sit about and wallow in her own grief, not when Scotland was on the precipice. “Aye, we were denied in the past, when we had nothing left to give nor lose but regardless, there are other, far-flung kingdoms who we may befriend. England will sorely regret their weak indifference and we shall flourish as their convenient king loses the love of his people. The memory of his elder brother and his untimely demise will not be easily forgotten, I’m sure.” She shrugged, harsh words tumbling forth as she resolved to put England out of her mind. The past was the past and their neighbors to the south did not factor into the queen’s ambitions.
Euphemia had spent many nights thinking about Scottish exports, took care to send funds to the farmers and convents so they could continue to grow food and sell their wares, doing all she could so that the population would become healthy and productive again. Other countries would have need of their livestock, salt, coal, and wool and in return, Scotland would require wood, iron, and grain should the harvest be lacking. But Euphemia had since held her tongue, unsure if she could involve herself the minutiae of government and trade while she and the king were estranged. How could she go against him when their marriage had become a ghost that haunted her waking hours?
“You are right, we have reason to be apprehensive but you mustn’t worry, m'eudail. We shall never let our people be taken advantage of and I do truly believe there is hope of a prosperous path forward. Alasdair, I believe, is still bereft at the suffering of our people and the loss of our poor Alexander, as am I. Perhaps, he fears venturing into this changed world, knowing that it is always the king who is held accountable no matter the outcome. Perhaps, he only sees what can be lost and not what can be gained…” The queen trailed off, suddenly saddened that she could only offer inference, unsure of his true feelings. In these moments she missed him terribly, not merely as a husband but as her oldest friend. “Of course, I cannot know his mind and we cannot comprehend the burden of kingship. We can only do our best to help shoulder that burden where possible.” She caught herself then, sinking into the quicksand of such serious matters, not wanting to drag Geillis down with her, “I suppose that means keeping our thoughts on French fashions between the two of us. For diplomacy’s sake.” She added, allowing herself a faint but jocular smile. It was necessary to find light in even the most worrisome matters.
Geillis always felt calm around the Queen of Scots. She exuded a calm and a presence that Lady Vass could ne’r hope to compete with. Just sitting with her here reminded Geillis of home. She listened in silence as Euphemia spoke, nodding at regular intervals. “Aye, that’s true,” she agreed, thoughtfully, the mention of England’s King sending a chill down her spine. Only God kent the truth about what had put that man on the throne, but Geillis couldnae help but wonder. She kent the talk, and she kent why their closest neighbours had no’ helped them during the plague, but the betrayal (and it did feel like a betrayal) still hurt. She couldnae see Alis making inroads with foreigners, not while he hung onto that harlot of his, and brought shame to their country.
She kept her face impassive as Euphemia continued, trying not to let the mention of her poor nephew show on her face. She had locked herself in her room for days after the lad had passed, raging at the world, and God himself, for taking him away. She marvelled at the Queen’s resilience in the face of her brother’s betrayal to their marriage vows, and smiled encouragingly when she trailed off. “Perhaps,” she agreed, softly. “But we cannae know his mind. I have no’ known it for a long time now.” Ever since Alexander had died, and Alasdair had taken to being seen with his mistress in public, Geillis had no clue of what was in his head. She kent the responsibility he carried, but it was no excuse for what he was doing. “You’re very brave, Your Majesty,” she offered. “And I hope you’re right. There is a prosperous path forwards, for us, and for Scotland.” Those things were, after all, one and the same.
She smiled when the Queen offered a joke. “Aye, I think tha’ telling these dandies that they wear too much makeup will no’ help our cause,” she agreed, smiling. And then, free spirited as ever, she stood up, and took the Queen’s hands, pulling her to her feet. “Come, Your Majesty,” she said, smiling. “Shall we play a while wi’ Alice and Agnes?”
