by Linda Porter
He was the sovereign of a country that was, like him, neither inward-looking nor isolated. Scotland has a coastline longer than that of the eastern seaboard of the United States and much travel was done by sea because it was quicker and easier than trying to traverse appalling roads, where these existed at all. The Scots had long been determined to play a significant role in Europe and the sea routes naturally made them look outwards – westward to Ireland and, as well as this neighbour with whom there was much cultural and linguistic commonality, to the rest of Europe. Trade and diplomacy were vital. Denmark and Scandinavia were natural allies, through geographical proximity and the intermarriage of their royal families over the centuries. James IV was keenly aware of his Danish heritage and sought to exploit it for Scotland’s benefit. Also important were trade links with Flanders, making good relationships with the Habsburgs, soon to be the most prominent dynasty in Europe, vital. The Scottish court and elite watched Europe carefully (as did their English counterparts), copying its fashions, importing its manufactured and luxury goods, and above all in the case of France, drinking its wine. And for the major European powers there was an underlying truth about Scotland that had been voiced by Pope Martin V in 1421, when he remarked that ‘the Scots are an antidote to the English.’
Nowhere was this more self-evident than in Scotland’s relations with France. The origins of the Auld Alliance, as the Scots had dubbed it, were lost in the mists of time; tradition had it that they went back to Charlemagne. In the twentieth century, General de Gaulle called it the oldest alliance in the world.16 In essence, the alliance was a fluid military pact. It was not embodied in one overriding treaty, nor, of course, were its details identical from one period to the next. Pragmatic and adaptable, often renewed, it always had the same aim: to contain and control England’s position in north-west Europe, to the benefit of France and Scotland. As such, its theatres of war were confined to the Borders, to France and to the maritime routes that all three countries shared across the North Sea and the English Channel. Fuelled by the Hundred Years War, it had fallen into abeyance during the reign of James III, though by that time its deeper effect on Franco–Scottish relations was well established. The Scots were a restless people and the twin disruptions of the Black Death and the Hundred Years War caused them to settle in large numbers in France during the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, fifteen thousand arriving in the period 1419–24. They went predominantly to central France – to Berry, the Touraine and Anjou – offering their services as mercenaries. Many prospered, acquiring land, building fine homes and patronizing the arts. The Stewarts who settled around Aubigny in the Berry did especially well. But despite French becoming their first language and their livelihoods being dependent on the French kings, they never forgot Scotland. It was all the more ironic that some of their descendants should have helped Henry Tudor to the throne of England in 1485. This was not a pattern that James IV and his advisers wished to see continued. Firstly, though, they were compelled to deal with domestic problems, for in the early years of James’s reign, rebellion, as in England, was never far away.
It was not, however, aimed at deposing James himself. At stake initially was the survival of those who had put him on the throne. The victors of Sauchieburn were forsworn and uneasy. Having broken their oaths to the new king not to lay violent hands on his father, it was imperative to move on quickly. The question was, how to do this? James IV was undoubtedly affected by the manner in which he had come to the throne and his backers could not be sure how he would react in the coming months. Because of his age, he could not rule entirely by himself, yet neither could he be regarded as a mere figurehead. Financial and legal stability were the priorities and once the treasure of James III was located, there was no danger of lack of funds. Personal enrichment in the shortest possible time was a prime motivation for the Hepburn and Hume families, who now formed the core of advisers surrounding James IV. The Hepburn dominance of government offices was overwhelming: half a dozen of them filled key roles, many in the king’s household in positions such as master of the king’s stable, steward of the household and the quaint-sounding post of master of the royal larder. By early autumn, with his uncle John Hepburn, the prior of St Andrews, appointed as keeper of the privy seal, a role that gave him control of Crown patronage, Patrick Hepburn sealed the family’s rise to prominence by acquiring the keepership of Edinburgh Castle and the office of sheriff of Edinburgh. Even more importantly, as the newly created earl of Bothwell, he gained custody of the king and his brothers. This stranglehold of office and influence meant that Bothwell felt confident enough to call a parliament. It might have been a risky step, but the death of James III had shocked Scotland and the earl was a skilled political operator who knew that this must be put on the public record, or the ghost of the man who had died so mysteriously near the Bannockburn mill could yet undo his success. Casting the late king as the villain for having broken the agreement made at Aberdeen in April 1487, it was claimed that the rebellion was justified because Scotland had been ‘badly and confusedly governed’. As the Hepburns basically controlled the well-attended parliament, their explanation of events won the day.
It did not convince for long. Too many prominent families felt left out by the Hepburn and Hume ascendancy and there was widespread concern that no real effort had been made to bring the killers of James III to justice. At the same time, law and order began to break down, with local feuds growing unchecked in southern Scotland. The sense of personal grievance and social dislocation fuelled uprisings against the new regime, first in south-west Scotland, where the Lennox family seized Dumbarton Castle, and then in the north-east, where the powerful Huntlys also rebelled. By the autumn of 1489, both groups were working together, producing propaganda to justify their actions and preparing for further military action. In early October 1489, the rebels were ready to make their move. The Lennoxes marched out of Dumbarton towards Stirling, where the king was living, intending to seize James IV himself. ‘For the second time in seventeen months, James found himself the leader of a faction at Stirling, waiting to be assailed in an armed struggle, the outcome of which was far from certain.’17
Was his very survival as king at stake? It might have seemed so. He had younger brothers who could replace him and the duke of Ross, the nearest to him in age, was with him at Stirling. James seems to have got on well with his brothers, giving them both roles in government in due course, but the fact that his father had appeared to favour the duke of Ross could make this younger brother a viable alternative to his disaffected nobility now. The dangers of seeming to be controlled by an unpopular clique were amply demonstrated to James IV at this time. Yet no one could doubt his determination or physical courage. He had participated in the unsuccessful attempts to raise the siege of Dumbarton and now he took to the field again. On 11 October 1489, his forces clashed with the rebels at what is known as the Field of Gartloaning, a battle probably fought over a wide area in the hills to the west of Stirling and extending into the Trossachs. Here, in a beautiful area of the upper reaches of the river Forth, in fighting that went on over several days, the Lennoxes were betrayed by one of their own side and an assault on Stirling was averted.
James outfaced his opponents, but the conflict had been inconclusive. The Hepburn–Hume alliance did not give up so easily. Summoning a new parliament (the fourth in less than two years) for February 1490, they agreed reluctantly that the king’s Privy Council should be more broadly based, and appointed by parliament. But one man who still felt left out of the circle of power was Archibald Douglas, fifth earl of Angus, whose power base in south-east Scotland was given visible presence by the mighty fortress of Tantallon rising above the coast between Edinburgh and Berwick. For while Angus might often be about court, playing dice and cards with the king, this social interaction was no substitute for political power.
Angus did not have to wait too long for the political landscape to shift. In 1492 the Hepburns reconsidered their position,
and, looking to the long-term survival of their influence, relinquished a number of offices, including the privy seal, which went to William Elphinstone, a loyal supporter of James III and a man whom Bothwell seems to have always regarded with some confidence, since he had been permitted to accompany James IV on the justice circuits at the very start of the reign. Once returned to high office, Elphinstone proceeded to draw up the first Scottish land registry, an invaluable tool for the management of royal patronage. Elphinstone’s elevation indicated that the power base was broadening. Then, at the end of 1492, the death of the chancellor, the earl of Argyll, opened a key vacancy, which the earl of Angus was only too happy to fill.
Angus’s return to Scottish politics was important for Henry VII. The English king’s initial reaction to the overthrow of James III was a nervous one. Fearing for the security of his northern border, he ordered musters of men at the key fortresses. An attack did not materialize (the new Scottish regime was far too preoccupied to launch an offensive against England at this time) and clarification of the new relationship between the two countries was sought through diplomacy. The English wanted ‘perpetual peace’ but the Scots commissioners who met them at Coldstream in the early autumn of 1488 would agree only to a three-year truce. Patrick Hepburn and the young king himself were keen to move Scotland back towards France, believing that it was in the country’s best interests to restore goodwill with such a long-standing ally. Angus, like all of his family, was an Anglophile and his contacts with Henry VII were already established. This cynical and self-serving old rogue had already offered the English king the key Border castle known as the Hermitage in return for lands in England, if he did not succeed in changing the direction of Scottish foreign policy in Henry’s favour. There would inevitably be tension as the Scottish lords vied for power. Angus was by no means the only Scottish aristocrat who could turn to England when it suited. The heir to the earl of Huntly, the most prominent northern lord, had appealed for English help in the 1489 rebellion and in 1491 the earl of Buchan, the same scheming half-uncle of the king’s father, was loaned money by Henry VII in return for kidnapping James IV and his brother, the duke of Ross, and handing them over to England. The scheme sounds hare-brained, and it came to nothing, but it was indicative of Henry’s opportunism (and perhaps a greater level of concern about his relationship with Scotland at this time than has been supposed), as well as the continued duplicity of members of the Stewart royal family itself. Stability in Scotland, as in England, was elusive. The relationship of the two countries remained a shifting, sensitive issue, its evolution unclear. Meanwhile, as the last decade of the fifteenth century dawned, both kings watched each other carefully, their networks of spies and informers constantly busy. And it was not all politics and battles for James IV as he grew to manhood. The temptations and delights of love beckoned.
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DESPITE HIS STATUS as one of Europe’s more eligible unmarried kings, there was no rush to find a bride for James IV. The search for a wife could prove useful diplomatically and, meanwhile, there were other ways in which it could be helpful to politicians at home, since the young man himself seemed more interested in romantic liaisons with attractive young women of the court than in finding a queen. His parents married young and he had seen for himself that theirs was not the happiest of unions. The obligations of kingship were serious enough for a teenage king without the added responsibility of a wife. There was no shortage of ladies willing to share the king’s bed among the daughters of the Scottish nobility, eager to gain the favour of their monarch. James was to become an inveterate womanizer, his growing charisma and natural charm, allied to a rugged manliness and physicality, bringing him many conquests. He was also the centre of an increasingly cultured court, where poetry, plays, storytelling and music provided a focus for entertainment and the opportunity for dalliances to flourish. Nor were all of these with ladies of prominent families. James had broad tastes in women throughout his reign, as payments to one ‘Jane Bare Arse’ unashamedly illustrate.18
Most, like Jane, did not last long. The king’s first ‘official’ mistress, and certainly the first of any social standing, was Marion Boyd. We know little about her other than that she was the niece of the earl of Angus. This proximity to a man who wished for a greater role in government is unlikely to have been coincidental. As a gambling companion, Angus may well have noted James IV’s liking for a pretty face and made sure that Marion was brought to the king’s attention. Their affair began in the summer of 1492 and continued for three years. During that time, Marion bore James two children, Alexander and Katherine Stewart, but he had apparently tired of her by the end of 1495, when she was married off to John Muir of Rowallan. A new mistress, Margaret Drummond, was about to enter his life. Though theirs appears to have been a very intense relationship, and Margaret was, for some months, residing at Stirling Castle with the king, it was short-lived. He did, however, make proper provision for their daughter (also called Margaret), who was brought up at Stirling. James never neglected the illegitimate children of these liaisons, ensuring that his sons were well educated and his daughters raised as ladies who could expect to make good marriages.
The end of the affair with Marion Boyd may have been prompted by more than just ennui and the attractions of another lady. Angus’s influence was on the wane and the king finally decided in 1495 that he would take the reins of government himself. Over seven years, he had mastered the business of domestic administration and developed a keen interest in military and diplomatic matters. His move towards personal assumption of power was no doubt encouraged by his success in mounting an effective campaign to bring the Western Isles of Scotland firmly into line. This exercise, known as the ‘Daunting of the Isles’, was intended to break the local power of the highland chieftains, extend effective justice into the region and, eventually, bring the granting of lands and titles under royal patronage, as had been done with landowners in the Lowlands. It was a process not fully completed for almost another decade but this demonstration of power by a king who could himself speak Gaelic, the language of the Highlands, meant that he could now devote his attention to the wider international sphere.19 This would bring him into direct conflict with England, as both he and Henry VII sought to establish their credibility in Europe. It also led to one of the most extraordinary episodes of James’s reign, as he gave extravagant public support to a charlatan who bedevilled Henry Tudor’s life for eight years.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Impostor
‘By the craft, invention and devilish imagination of that pestiferous serpent lady Margaret, duchess of Burgundy, a new idol was set up in Flanders and called Richard Plantagenet, second son to king Edward IV, as though he had been resuscitated from death to life.’
Hall’s Chronicle
‘Cousin, our bounty, favours, gentleness,
Our benefits, the hazard of our person,
Our people’s lives, our land, hath evidenc’d
How much we have engaged on your behalf.’
King James IV in The Chronicle History of Perkin Warbeck by John Ford
THE YOUNG MAN who caused so much friction between Henry VII and James IV did not, however, first come to public attention in Flanders but in Ireland, that ‘backdoor’ to the Tudor realm that had long been uneasily subject to English government and would continue to cause problems throughout the entire Tudor period. And it was while strolling on the chilly streets of Cork, in November 1491, that a youth of about seventeen years of age, dressed to impress in a fine array of silks, caught the notice of the local populace. He was not, then – or so he later claimed – promoting himself. Instead, he was a walking advertisement for the wares of his master, the Breton merchant, Pregent Meno, whose ship was anchored in the harbour. The citizens of Cork remarked upon the young man’s bearing and appearance and their chattering gave rise to speculation that he must be no ordinary crewman. The boy seems to have possessed the instinctive talents of a model, the ability to invest
the clothing that he wore with something greater than the quality of the cloth itself. He had a presence and style that quickly attracted attention, and not just from the ordinary townspeople.
