B009AY3XF6 EBOK

by D. L. Bogdan

  There was no use rallying against the system at hand. There was but to remain a step ahead of my council and all who opposed me. They became my Party Adversary, for that was what they were—divided, disloyal men, all out for themselves and all of them so willing to take my kingdom and children from me for the simple offense of marrying a man of my own choosing and not theirs. It was a battle of pride, nothing more, nothing less.

  In that, they did not realize whom they were up against.

  No one was prouder than a Tudor.

  October proved an eventful month. My sister, fair little Mary, became Queen of France, a development that rather took me by surprise, as she had once been betrothed to Charles of Castile. It should not have shocked me much, in truth. Mary had everything—famed beauty, the admiration of kingdoms, the unquestioned adoration of my brother and his court, and now she had France. Did it matter if old King Louis was riddled with the pox? She no doubt would take on plenty of lusty young lovers of her own. And should the old man die, she still had the title without any of the adversity I had suffered as a widow. Henry would coddle her, no doubt, and no army would be strong enough or large enough to come to the rescue of his baby sister.... Better to be happy for her, I supposed. I could not think of it much, in any event. I had enough worries of my own.

  For also in October, the see of St. Andrews became vacant once more, as old Elphinstone passed away; again, no surprise: He was ancient when he was elected. It was my chance to use my authority for good and show my own strength. At once I recommended Angus’s uncle Gavin Douglas to the post. It was my right, the Crown’s right, to do so. Gavin deserved it, after all, as I had thought before ever marrying Angus. He was not only a gifted poet with a quick wit but also a most learned man. He had translated the entire Aeneid into English—quite a feat! Despite the fact that I hadn’t read it, it was still admirable nonetheless.

  I believed my reasoning for my pick to be sound. Would it not be prudent for Scotland to see that not all Douglases were of the “Red Douglases”? That one could perform holy duties and prove himself an able man and be seen as living beyond the scandals of his family name? If so, could then my Angus be seen as more? Not least of all, it stood that whoever the Archbishop of St. Andrews would be, he would be guardian of the king. It would do to have a man as close to my son’s family as could be.

  My nomination, like my every move, went without support, save for the Douglases and Henry, who whispered in the Pope’s ear on my behalf. His Holiness still favored Andrew Forman, however, and Henry could not influence the fate of the see any more than I could. The Hepburns, the Bothwells, and a force organized by Lord Fleming took the castle of St. Andrews by force, placing John Hepburn, the prior of the castle, in care of the see. Though I sent my husband and his men in the hopes that they could take the castle back for Gavin Douglas, the force Lord Home sent was stronger, defeating my husband’s men.

  And while I waited for news and pondered every angle of my situation, my most faithful of attendants, my rare dark jewel, Ellen, rushed into my privy chamber, stealing me from my reverie.

  “Your Grace, forgive my disturbing you!” she cried, breathless. “But Lord Home has stormed Edinburgh! He has the castle surrounded.”

  My heart lurched in my chest as my stomach twisted in a painful knot. I reached out, taking her hand in mine.

  “We will escape,” I told her. “We will take the children and flee to Stirling. Angus will find us there.”

  Ellen’s ebony eyes misted over as she offered a quick nod.

  I alighted to the nursery, my forced smile bright as I clapped my hands. “Come, my darlings!” I cried to my children. “We shall go on a ride!”

  Little Jamie, the king of our land, hopped up and down, his face creasing into a smile. “A ride! A ride! Hurray!”

  Swallowing tears, I gathered my babies in my arms, determined that they should not be prisoners in their own domain.

  Nor would I.

  Far too recognizable to accompany me, Ellen remained behind. I took but two servants and a guard, ordering a coach. It all seemed too easy; no one noticed our departure, and as the coach lurched along the road I held Alexander on my lap and Little Jamie to my side, exclaiming over our night ride and how they would be given sweetmeats at Stirling. Of course the baby knew nothing was amiss and Little Jamie was in favor of a treat. They did not feel my heart pounding against my ribs, or the beads of sweat gathering on my forehead, running down my face as I struggled to maintain even breathing. I must be calm. If not for myself, for the boys. They needed their mother the queen to be decisive and strong, not simpering and afraid.

  The hooves pounding behind me alerted me to the fact that we were missed.

  “Faster!” I ordered the driver, holding the children closer. “Please,” I whispered. “Please dinna let them catch us—”

  “Halt there, in the name of His Grace, the King!”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, drawing in a breath. As the curtains were drawn, I could not see what was happening, but I felt the coach roll to a stop. I bit my lip.

  “Are you or are you not transporting the queen, His Grace, and the Duke of Ross?” a male voice thundered.

  “Aye,” answered my driver, after the slightest of hesitations. I sighed.

  At once the curtains were pulled open by armored hands. Rough faces poked in, examining us with undisguised disgust.

  “Right then,” the voice continued. “Take them back to Edinburgh Castle; they are not to leave.”

  “Is that your wish, Your Grace?” the driver shouted. I knew it was for form’s sake, to make it seem as if I had a choice.

  But I would follow form, if only to make it appear that I still had some power.

  “Yes, it is Our wish,” I answered in husky tones.

  And so we went back, as prisoners in all but name.

  We were trapped, and a more sad and solitary place could not be found. I had no one to rely on and few I could trust.

  I could think of nothing to do but write to my brother. Angus was right; Henry could be of great help to me. I all but begged him to detain Albany’s arrival from France any way he could and to send an army—he could by both sea and land, I suggested—along with supplies. As it were, I could not keep my forces paid and supplied with my own meager income, especially now that the Party Adversary had voted to cease payment for my dower rents. Henry could afford to send an army that would not threaten the Scots. They must keep the peace without molesting the people and their property. I was sure Henry would understand that. He had to. I was his sister, was I not, and now the danger that faced me was very real; I could not risk losing what little respect the people retained for me as their monarch. It was advantageous to everyone if he sent an army; he could not risk his brothers to the north living in a land of lawless bandits. The violence on the Border proved unsettling enough; could he afford all of Scotland to follow suit?

  There were only two men I trusted to relay my messages to Lord Dacre, through whom all correspondence with Henry was sent—Adam Williamson and my secretary, Sir James English. With spies everywhere, robbing and assaulting at will, these brave men traversed the wilds of Scotland to make certain that my brother and I could at least communicate.

  Angus meantime roamed the countryside with his men, instigating their own reign of terror. Though it was right to intimidate his enemies, I feared for him. He was not loved by the people, nor was his family. Every day I waited to hear of his murder and I cursed myself that I ever allowed my heart to act before my gut. I was fond of Angus, and God knew I found him desirable. But I should not have married him and put him in this position. His life was in jeopardy now and I was to blame.

  “My brother says he will help us,” I told Ellen as I paced before the fire in my chambers. “He said he would send ships. Oh, where are they?” I wrung my hands, picking at my nails until they bled. “If they take the boys from me, Ellen, I do not know if I will survive.”

  Ellen could only shake her head.
I knew there was nothing she could say to reassure me; my fears were real and Ellen was too wise to try to dismiss them.

  At once I heard the doors to my antechamber burst open. I started, gasping. They had come for me! They had come to take my children and perhaps worse.

  But as I collected myself, I saw to my delight that it was Angus entering my innermost rooms, Angus and not the enemy. I breathed a sigh, smiling at the rugged soldier making his way to me in long, confident strides.

  My heart began to race—how handsome he was! I threw myself in his arms. “Angus, my darling!” I cried. “You’ve come to save me.”

  He held me tight a brief moment before disengaging. “I have. Come, there is no time to waste. We are taking the boys and going to Stirling. We will be safe there.”

  I held my tears of relief at bay as we rushed to collect the children. All the while I could not help but thank God that Angus had come, that I was not all alone.

  That must have meant that he loved me, it must have....

  Snow was beginning to fall that November night as we made our way to Stirling and Little Jamie delighted in the sparkling white flakes that fell from the heavens. Through his eyes it was a magical adventure, something else I thanked God for. The little boy had no awareness of the idea that he was the center of such conflict and that as many wished to help him, as many wished him harm. I held him close in a moment of wild fear and he squirmed against my embrace.

  “I canna see the snow, Mama!” he cried as he wriggled out of my arms to look out the window of the carriage.

  I laughed. “We will have plenty enough snow for you to play in at Stirling,” I assured him. “You can play all day if you like, when you aren’t in your lessons.”

  Little Jamie’s eyes brightened at this as he thrust his arm out of the curtain to catch the soft snowflakes on his fingertips. He giggled.

  It was such an innocent moment, and watching him, I somehow knew I would always remember it. How I wished it could last.

  Stirling Castle was a safe, strategic spot in the Midland Valley along the Forth, well fortified and well supplied, and my servants there were loyal to me, a hard enough asset to find in anyone. We could hold out there a long while and I could be assured of the safety of my children. Once we arrived, I ordered the portcullis dropped while I wrote my brother once more, briefing him on the situation and begging once more for his help.

  There we passed Christmastide and I made the occasion merry for my children, who did not find anything out of the ordinary. I donned a lovely red gown of heavy velvet with gold undersleeves and a matching gold stomacher embroidered with seed pearls, with a matching gown for my faithful Ellen. She was able to accompany me along with some of my ladies who remained out of obligation if nothing else. I trusted none of them beyond Ellen. I was ever grateful for her company and we feasted with music and dancing, a modest entertainment, but it would not do for a queen to pass Christmas by with nothing. I was still a civilized woman despite the fact that I was in Scotland.

  Angus seemed to enjoy the festivities; he was boisterous and held a bit of a court of his own.

  “He’s taken in quite a bit of wine,” Ellen observed from where we sat at the high table. Her eyes followed Angus as he leaned in over another lady’s plate, laughing as his eyes traveled to her bosom. My jaw clenched.

  “He has had a great deal to worry about,” I told Ellen. “It is good to see him enjoy himself; we’ve had little enough to celebrate since our wedding.”

  I watched the woman tip back her lovely head, offering throaty titters of laughter that I knew were for his benefit, and my cheeks began to burn.

  “Who is that woman?” I asked Ellen.

  “That is Jane Stewart,” she informed me. “Of Traquair. Do you . . . do you know of her, Your Grace?”

  “What is there to know?” I asked, offering an open stare toward them that I hoped revealed my displeasure.

  Ellen was silent.

  I turned toward her. “What do you know of her that I do not?”

  Ellen lowered her eyes. “It may be just a rumor.”

  I drew in a breath, expelling it slowly. “Ellen, by God if you know something of this woman, I should know, too!”

  Ellen raised her gaze toward me, sighing. “Only that it is said that my Lord Angus held her in some esteem before he knew Your Grace.”

  “What kind of esteem?” I asked as my heart began to thud in my chest.

  Ellen hesitated once more. “It is said they spoke of marriage.”

  I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair. The great hall became warm at once and I longed to shed myself of the burden of my gown, the gown I had thought to be so fetching, which Angus hadn’t bothered to compliment once.

  Angus, in fact, did not say anything at all to me that night.

  “Well, didn’t you have a merry evening,” I said to Angus when we had retreated to our bedchambers after the festivities. I sat at my vanity brushing my long tawny tresses while Angus lay across the bed, one arm thrown across his forehead, which ached from his enthusiastic intake of wine, I imagined.

  “I did,” he said, rolling to his side and leaning on his elbow. “It was good to be surrounded with people we care about and who care about us instead of having to look over our shoulders.”

  “Aye, there were some who cared for you a bit more than others, were there not?” I retorted, attempting to keep my anger in check and remain calm.

  Angus offered a wide smile. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

  “I suddenly become ‘your dear’ whenever you know you’ve displeased me,” I snapped, slamming down my hairbrush and rising from the vanity. “Who is Lady Jane of Traquair and what is she doing at Stirling Castle?”

  Angus averted his eyes. “She is of no import, Margaret,” he told me. “Just a lovely young girl who is loyal to you and your cause, I might add.”

  “Your lover?”

  “For God’s sake, Margaret, no,” Angus said, flopping on his back once more and staring up at the canopy.

  “But she was your lover . . . wasn’t she?” I hissed.

  Angus drew in a breath. “We were fond of one another once. But you’ve no need to worry. I am committed to you.”

  “Committed,” I echoed, sitting on the bed and dropping my head. “By God, Angus, I have been betrayed and humiliated enough in my life and I will not allow you to do the same. I married you at great risk to my sons and to myself; everything is in jeopardy because of that decision. I demand the respect as a wife and your queen that I deserve.”

  Angus sat bolt upright, swinging his legs over the bed and rising. He circled the bed and stood before me, arms folded across his broad chest. “You speak to me as if I am one of your subjects and not your husband,” he said in low tones. “My God, I believe you fancy yourself still married to the late king, and me . . . I dinna know what you think I am. Have I not defended your decisions before the council? Have I not raised sword and shield to protect your sons, children I love as if they were my own?”

  My shoulders slumped. Was I being unreasonable? I sank my forehead into my hand, sighing. It did no good to appear jealous; men hated that. Yet how else was I to express my displeasure and maintain respect?

  Angus sat beside me. “I have been good to you and to the children. Remember, you agreed quite willingly to marry me, and you did not have to. We canna go back, so either make the best of it or—”

  “Oh, Angus, dinna say that!” I cried as hot tears stung my eyes. I turned toward him, throwing myself against his chest. His arms wrapped about me in a loose embrace. “I am sorry I was cross with you. You have no idea what I have endured. I dinna want to go back there; I dinna want to be disrespected the way I once was; you must realize that.”

  “And you need to realize that I am not James IV,” he said. “Understand it and give me the respect that I deserve if you want my respect in turn.”

  I pulled away, nodding. “I will, Angus, I will,” I said, as eager as a child who had
been scolded and would do anything to please. I sniffled. “But that Traquair woman. I want her sent away. Please. I may be silly, but . . . please. For me.”

  Angus sighed once more. I decided he found the argument tedious; it could not be out of regret for sending that little harlot away. We needed no threats to our union; it was threatened enough without her help.

  “Very well,” he said. “Whatever Your Grace desires.”

  I wrapped my arms about his neck, ignoring the slight, and held him close, kissing his bearded cheek. He was right; I was married to him now and respect was due him as well.

  I would be better, I vowed. I would be the wife he wanted, the woman he wanted, and his head would turn for me alone.

  BOOK 4

  Jehan

  12

  The Regent

  The winter was as bitter and bleak as my prospects and we relocated from Stirling to Perth. There I awaited and anticipated word from my brother while I watched the children grow. Little Jamie was as agreeable as he had ever been and baby Alexander a blessing. I spent many hours cooing to him and holding him close, but he had begun to develop a mind of his own and wriggled in my lap, longing to crawl about and explore his world whenever he wasn’t in swaddling bands. It was a joy to watch him and his brother romp and play. They were my sanity, my strength, and my greatest hope.