Now I was Henry’s only sister left; for a Tudor nursery once so full, it was now down to the two of us. It made the necessity of peace between our realms all the more urgent for me. I could not bear the thought of being at odds with my only sibling.
Anne was delivered of a baby girl in September of that year, and though my heart ached for my brother’s disappointment, I rejoiced just the same. They called her Elizabeth after our mother and I was told she had the Tudor red hair, perhaps a heavenly tribute to her aunt Mary in heaven. Elizabeth was said to be a lusty bairn and I was assured her birth meant more babes would soon fill England’s nursery again.
I wondered if my Margaret saw the baby and what she thought of her.
I did not hear from my daughter enough to know one way or another.
In 1534 the treaty of Berwick was renewed between Jamie and my brother. It would not be long before, I hoped, a meeting could be arranged between uncle and nephew. As the treaty stood, both Henry and Jamie swore to peace as long as they lived. May their reigns be long!
‘I canna help but feel complete,’ I told Ellen. We had just arrived at Stirling from Edinburgh and I was glad as always to be at my favorite residence. ‘Everything I have worked for has come to fruition; I have at last realised my purpose.’
‘Well, good,’ Ellen said, her voice laden with weariness as she sat, a bit heavily, in her plush velvet chair, pulled before the merry fire I insisted remained stoked in my rooms regardless of the season. It reminded me of the many days I spent before fires, with Albany, with Jamie, with my brother Arthur … fire cheered me; it restored me. As I was born under the sign of fire, this did not surprise me. I was one with it.
‘Now perhaps this means Your Grace can take a bit of much-needed, well-deserved rest,’ she said.
‘Rest?’ I waved a hand. ‘Really, Ellen, you speak to me as if I am an old woman! Rest!’ I mocked with a laugh. ‘Not while Jamie is unmarried and has that ridiculous notion of wedding Lady Erskine. No, I must find him a proper bride. And I still must arrange the meeting between him and my brother.’
Ellen regarded me a long moment, then shook her head. Or perhaps I imagined she did. Her smile was as indulgent as always.
She offered a long sigh. ‘Perhaps you will allow me, then, to take some rest, Your Grace.’
‘But of course!’ I told her. ‘Do you need to nap? You may go to your apartments and rest as long as you like, only come back later so we might sew together and take in a bit of music.’
‘No,’ Ellen said, her voice unusually firm. I started at the sound. ‘Your Grace, I mean, I would like to retire from court life. I would like to go home.’
‘Home?’ I screwed up my face in confusion. ‘What do you mean, home? Your home is with me.’
Ellen bowed her head. ‘I would like to go to the Lindsays. It was Marjorie Lindsay who took me in as a child, and I have … family there. I would like to retire with them.’
‘But, Ellen, that is just foolish,’ I said, incredulous that she should suggest such a preposterous thing when we had so much to do. ‘Whom will I consult on gowns? You know I hate my other ladies; I have no use for any of them, they are all flighty, falsehearted fools. I need you. And the Lindsays, you dinna really know them, not like you know me. You wouldn’t be happy there.’
‘Perhaps Your Grace would allow me to be the judge of that,’ Ellen told me. ‘Your Grace, you dinna really need me. What am I? Your Moorish lass. I am nothing to the great minds who advise you. And wouldn’t you like to repair things with your lord husband?’
‘Ellen!’ I snapped. ‘Dinna throw Harry at me at a time like this, just to distract me from you weaseling your way out of my service, and after all I have done for you! Really!’ I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. ‘I’ll hear no more talk of it; it is sheer foolishness. I will permit you to take rest whenever you like, though,’ I added in softer tones. ‘I know we are none of us as young as we once were, though I’m hard pressed to let it stop me,’ I said with an air of superiority. ‘You can go rest now, if you like, and we shall go on as if this unpleasant topic has never been discussed.’
Ellen rose. I averted my eyes from the tears glistening in her ebony eyes.
‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she said in low tones.
I waved her off, still miffed at the audacity of her suggestion.
Too many had already left me. I was not about to lose the best friend I ever had.
‘News of England, Your Grace,’ Lord William Howard informed me. I smiled in greeting as always when meeting with the handsome young ambassador. We were in my apartments today. I was thinking of returning to Edinburgh of late to attend to the matter of Jamie’s meeting with my brother; for two years now he had teased me with the prospect and I was tired of him putting it off. My brother was willing to meet him at York, but stubborn Jamie would not venture further than Newcastle. It was obvious now that Jamie did not intend to meet with my brother, on the advice of his council, a party that was standing more and more at odds with me by the day.
‘Good, perhaps my brother has agreed to pay me back the money I spent on a suitable wardrobe for the meeting that never happened,’ I said, irritated that Henry was silent on the matter of my funds. I was to appear the mother of one king and the sister of another; I would not be seen in rags!
‘I am afraid His Majesty has been occupied with rather serious matters,’ Lord William said. ‘Queen Anne Boleyn has been executed for adultery and high treason.’
I glowered at the thought of a woman executed. The image never sat well with me. ‘Our poor brother,’ was all I could think of to say. ‘Is he well?’
‘He took a hard fall in January at a joust,’ Lord William told me. ‘It has caused him much grief. And Princess Dowager Catherine passed in January, you know,’ he added then, as if this perhaps figured into Henry’s current state.
I could not help but feel for the woman I had regarded almost the whole of our lives as my sister-in-law. As I had never met the Boleyn creature, I was not as inclined to regard her as family. And though my bond with Catherine was precarious at best, she was still yet another fixture of my youth to perish, proving herself as mortal as the rest. I wondered what this bespoke of my own life’s impermanence.
‘We had heard,’ I said, my tone heavy with mourning. ‘First Our dear sister Mary, now Catherine. I feel as though I am the last of something.’ I blinked several times. ‘There is something more, isn’t there?’
Lord William nodded. ‘I am afraid it regards your daughter, the Lady Douglas.’
My heart lurched at the name. ‘What of Margaret, Lord William?’
‘She is being held in the Tower of London,’ he said. ‘She … she fell in love with the wrong man, it seems. She was betrothed without the permission of the king. He – the young man – is imprisoned as well.’ He closed his eyes at this, swallowing hard. ‘He is sentenced to death,’ he added, his tremulous voice soft with the horror of it.
‘Who is this man?’ I asked, anger hot as wine coursing through my veins at the impulsive act of my daughter, who should have conducted herself as a good English maid in my brother’s court and instead went on to shame us both.
‘My brother Thomas,’ Lord William revealed, lowering his eyes.
‘Norfolk?’ I asked, grimacing.
‘No, my other brother Thomas, the Younger,’ Lord William hastened to correct me, for which I was eternally grateful. I could not imagine my daughter succumbing to the considerably lacking charms of old, hawk-nosed Norfolk.
‘Well, We are much aggrieved for both the Howards and for Our daughter,’ I said. ‘We canna abide Margaret disobeying Our brother after he has hosted her with such kindness, raising her as his own. It is most unseemly and ungrateful and We are ashamed of her; We shall disown her if she canna deport herself with the dignity of her station,’ I added, my tone hard with severity. ‘It is obvious she has had little guidance from her own father.’
Lord William’s expression was piti
able at this and I dismissed him. Only after he left did I succumb to trembling and pacing before my fire as I wondered after my daughter’s fate. Would she be put to death as well? Surely Henry would not risk it, for putting to death the sister of the King of Scots could bode war, and Henry did not want war, not after renewing the treaty of Berwick. No, he would not put her to death, I assured myself.
I sat before my fire, rocking back and forth, staring into the flames, praying with all my soul that my daughter be wise, that she be kept safe from my brother’s wrath.
Oh, Margaret, Margaret, you foolish girl. We know each other not, yet how like your mother you are …
23
The Distant Drums
I returned to Edinburgh to be with Jamie. I would take comfort in the only child I had and hoped I would find in him reassurance.
‘More than ever I believe it imperative that you meet with my brother,’ I told him. ‘Your sister’s life could be in jeopardy,’ I urged Jamie. ‘He must be made to see how vital peace with Scotland is, and how risking the life of your sister could thwart the treaty of Berwick.’
‘Margaret is safe, Mother,’ Jamie informed me, his tone thin with impatience. He met me in my apartments. He would not even suffer to see me alone, but allowed Harry in the room with him – Harry, whom I went without seeing for months at a time, and only by chance when we did meet.
‘She is?’ My heart was pounding heavily in my chest. I put my hand to my breast as if I could still it. ‘You are sure?’
‘Yes,’ Jamie told me. ‘I have been assured this is more of a chastisement for her behaviour and no real harm will come to her,’ he added.
‘Thank God!’ I exclaimed, closing my eyes a moment. ‘What of Lord Howard?’ I asked then, pitying the young man who had the misfortune of loving my equally unfortunate daughter.
‘Still imprisoned, but the death sentence has not been enforced,’ Jamie said. ‘He is none of our concern. There is other news, Mother.’
By the wistful light in his eyes I discerned it was nothing good and stiffened in my chair, drawing in a deep breath. ‘What now?’ I asked.
‘The Duke of Albany, Mother,’ Jamie told me. ‘He’s … he has passed on.’
The room seemed to be moving. My heart thudded against my ribs in a violent rhythm. Albany … Albany …
‘No!’ I cried. ‘Oh, Jamie, no!’
‘I am afraid it’s true,’ Harry interjected.
Jamie bowed. ‘Perhaps I will leave you to discuss this alone,’ he said, pressing my hand with a brief kiss before making an all-toohasty retreat.
I began to sob. ‘Not Albany!’ I cried. ‘Oh, not my Albany …’
‘“Your” Albany,’ Harry stated with a sigh. ‘You really loved him, didn’t you?’ His tone was soft.
I could not help but nod. I did love him. And now he was gone, denied me forever.
‘Always the men you canna have,’ Harry noted then, and I flinched. ‘I suppose there is something about the forbidden that keeps such love forever sweetened. It is never tainted by the hardships of reality.’
‘You would know,’ I snapped, my cheeks hot as I thought of his Janet.
‘I suppose it is better for John Stewart to never have known your love,’ Harry said then. ‘Perhaps you remained as tender in his memory as he does in yours.’
‘Jehan …’ I whispered though tears. ‘He … he called himself Jehan …’
Harry bowed to this. ‘I crave your pardon, Your Grace,’ he said in smooth tones.
‘Oh, Harry, I want to be alone, won’t you just let me alone?’ I hissed, impatient with his mocking banter. ‘No … fetch Ellen for me. Yes. I would like Ellen beside me now.’
Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.
But he had no sarcastic retort and I was grateful. He left to do my bidding.
Ellen entered the room, wrapping her arms about me and holding me as I sobbed for Albany, for my dear Jehan.
‘Oh, Ellen, do you remember how he used to sing?’ I asked her. ‘Did you ever hear him? His voice was so strong and low. Oh, Ellen!’
‘There, there, Your Grace,’ Ellen soothed in her soft voice. ‘He is with God now, and his wife and daughter. He is in a better place,’ she assured me as she pulled away.
I looked into her face. ‘His daughter? Oh, yes. I had forgotten.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘I supposed I always hoped there would be a chance for us,’ I admitted in soft tones. ‘I always seemed to miss my mark, didn’t I, Ellen?’
But Ellen was not listening. She was gazing at a point just beyond my head and sinking to the floor, her mouth forming a perfect O.
I rose from my chair, stooping beside her. Her eyes were fixed, staring beyond me still as I shook her shoulders.
‘Ellen! Ellen!’ I cried, holding her to my chest. She was heavy, limp in my arms. ‘Oh, Ellen! Oh, God, help me!’ I screamed. ‘Please help me!’
Servants rushed into the room, sweeping my Ellen up and removing her. I followed, ordering a physician’s immediate assistance. I was eager for a report as soon as possible.
Harry, having heard the ruckus in the hall, joined me as we progressed to her rooms.
I linked my arm through his. ‘Oh, Harry, Ellen canna be ill, not when I need her so much!’
‘Yes, God forbid she take ill when you need her,’ Harry spat, pulling away from me.
‘I canna expect you to understand,’ I cursed as I made my way into her rooms. The physician who met me there only shook his grey head.
‘I am afraid her heart is failing,’ he informed me. ‘Should be no surprise; she lived much longer than expected. She has been unwell for many years now.’
‘She has?’ I asked, mystified as I rushed to her side, taking her hand in mine.
‘She hasn’t long, Your Grace,’ the physician told me.
‘All right, then, leave us,’ I said in harsher tones than I meant as the physician and servants quit the room.
‘My people,’ Ellen murmured. ‘I hear the drums … home at last …’
‘Your people?’ I returned. Though it had always been obvious that Ellen was from a distant land, I never thought of her as having people. I never thought of a lot of things.
‘Your Grace …’ Her voice was barely audible as a trace of a smile curved her full, dark lips.
‘Yes, my darling?’ I squeezed her thin hand in mine. Had I not noted how thin her hands were becoming? Why did I do nothing? Why did I push it aside, as if it would go away?
‘Listen, Your Grace,’ she said then.
‘To what?’ I cried, my voice growing shrill with panic. ‘I dinna hear anything, Ellen!’ I was desperate at once to hear what she heard, to be part of her world, a world I chose to ignore in lieu of keeping her tethered in mine.
‘Just learn … to be still,’ she told me. ‘And listen.’
‘Of course, I will, Ellen, only stay to teach me!’ I begged, reaching out to stroke her forehead. Already it was cooling; already the life was leaving her. I wondered if she would meet Albany and my children and my sister, and all those I longed to see but was deprived of.
‘Oh, Ellen, Ellen,’ I cooed, leaning in to kiss her dusky forehead. ‘Dinna leave me, Ellen, please dinna leave me …’
But her eyes were empty. She had left me for her people and the land of the distant drums.
And I was all alone, listening.
I quit her room, moving as if prompted by unseen strings. I was numb, my body going through the motions of walking, of breathing, of what seemed now to be the useless act of living.
Harry had been waiting. He caught my elbow. ‘Come now,’ he urged in soft tones. ‘We must leave her to be attended to.’
‘I want a grand funeral arranged for her,’ I announced, stifling my tears. Ellen would want me to be strong. ‘She shall have the best gown, the best of everything, as my dearest friend.’
‘Her funeral shall be as her family sees fit,’ Harry told me in harsher tones as we made our way back to my apartments.
Harry leaned against my writing table, shaking his head. ‘Are you really so blind, Margaret, or are you just that selfish?’
‘What do you mean?’ I demanded, mortified Harry should choose such an inopportune time to scold me.
‘She had a daughter in care of the Lindsays,’ Harry told me.
My heart seemed to slow. My breath caught in my throat. ‘What do you mean, a daughter? I never heard that; she never said. How do you know this?’
‘Because, unlike you, I stopped talking long enough to listen, to inquire after her life and what was important to her,’ Harry told me. Listen, Your Grace … ‘As you could not, as her “dearest” friend. Did you know there was another Moorish lady, a Margaret?’
‘Yes, she was named for me,’ I said dumbly.
‘That is irrelevant, but I suppose that is the first thing you would think of,’ Harry said. ‘Did you know why she was not close to Ellen? They were from different tribes. Is that not ironic? The one person she could have claimed as a friend, who knew of her people and her lands, was from another tribe, thus forbidden to her. They honoured that even here, even in Scotland, the land of warring clans. We are not so unlike the Moors, are we? But why would you care? You know nothing of your friends, let alone strangers.’
I sank into my chair. ‘Harry, why are you telling me this now?’
‘Because, as Ellen’s “friend,” it would serve you to know a few things about her,’ he returned, his tone icy.
‘Oh, but Harry …’ I breathed, unable to take it all in. ‘A daughter …’
Tudor Princess, The Page 29
