by Jean Plaidy
Why not send de la Bastie to act as his proxy? It was a good idea. He would go at once to his friend and lay the proposition before him. It would be better than a blunt refusal. He would say: “My affairs make it impossible for me to leave France at this time, so I send you my friend who is also a friend of yours, to act for me until such time as I may come to you.”
Until such time as I may come to you?
He was faintly apprehensive and excited.
Was there something of his father in him? Did the thought of ruling a country excite him after all?
He had made up his mind. Not yet…but there might come a time when he would wish to go.
How different was that Christmas, spent within the Palace of Holyrood, compared with the last! Margaret had always suffered during her pregnancies, and this one was no exception; and eager as she was to give her little James a brother, she wished that at such a time she could have felt energetic enough to deal with state affairs. She was well aware that there were many noblemen who looked askance at her Regency; she knew that letters had been sent to France and that, since Albany was there, it was logical to suppose certain of her counselors would wish to see him take over the Regency, or if not completely, to govern with her.
Her fears that this was the case were confirmed by letters from her brother Henry, who had now returned from France.
He was not pleased with the way matters were going in Scotland. There was a truce between the two countries, but he would have her and the Scots know that he agreed to this mainly because he did not wish to make war on a country of which his own sister was Regent. He knew that those about her were putting out feelers to France, and contemplating bringing Albany over. Why, the fellow was a Frenchman at heart and called the King of France his master. Therefore Henry of England would frown on such a man’s holding the post of Regent in cooperation with his sister. It must be avoided at all costs. They might seek to marry her to the fellow. It was true he had a wife living, but Henry had heard that she was not strong and might not live long; in any case she was his cousin, so it would not be difficult to dissolve the marriage. He wanted this avoided at all cost.
Margaret sat down and wrote to “her dearest brother, the King.” She implored him to suppress his hostile feelings toward Scotland and begged him not to harm her little King, his nephew who was very small and tender, being only one year and five months old. She reminded him that she was soon to become the mother of a posthumous child. She could only be happy if she had his goodwill.
Henry replied that if the Scots wanted peace they should have it, and if they wanted war they should have it. As for Margaret’s husband, he had fallen by his own indiscretion and rashness and foolish kindness to France. He added that, even so, as a relative, he regretted his death. He went on to say that he liked not to see French influence in Scotland and that if this should be strengthened he would be greatly displeased. He warned his sister of plans to marry her to Albany, repeating that she must avoid this at all costs.
Margaret brooded on this and when she saw young Archibald Douglas among the courtiers at the Palace an idea occurred to her—a wild idea. But was it so wild?
She sent for him and, when he arrived, she told him that she wanted to give him her sympathy, for she had heard that his young wife had recently died in childbed.
He thanked her and said it was a marvelous thing that his Queen, who had suffered so many sorrows, should remember those of her humble subjects.
“Nay,” she answered, “we have both been bereaved and in a similar manner. It would seem that we should sympathize with each other.”
Archibald bowed his head and she felt a surge of jealousy wondering how deeply he grieved for his young wife.
And when he had passed on, she thought: It might be possible for us to comfort each other.
But I must wait until after my child is born.
There was gloom in the priory of Whitehorn in Wigtownshire where the Douglas clan had assembled at the summons of the head of their house.
Old Bell-the-Cat lay on his deathbed; he had never recovered from the disaster of Flodden Field, that battle which, before it had begun, he had declared was foolish, unnecessary, and doomed to disaster.
He had lost two sons on that field with some of the bravest members of his clan. When it was over he had retired from public life and found that he had no longer any great wish to live. Now he knew that the end was near and he did not shrink from it.
He had summoned to his bedside his two remaining sons, the priest, Gavin Douglas and Sir Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie; there was also his grandson and heir, son of the Master of Douglas who had been killed at Flodden: the Archibald Douglas who had caught the Queen’s fancy and who, when the old man died, would be Earl of Angus and head of the House of Douglas.
“Sons, grandson,” muttered the old Earl, “my time is running out. It is a sad time to go when the affairs of Scotland are in such confusion. There’ll be work for you to do and I trust you’ll do it in the manner of the Douglases. Grandson, you’ll shortly inherit a great title. How old are you now?”
“Nineteen, Grandfather.”
“Alas, ’tis over-young. You will need to heed the counsel of your uncles. My sons, look to your nephew, for very soon he will be the head of your clan. And you, Grandson, are recently widowed. You must marry again and soon. Now it is your duty to get sons for the House of Douglas.”
Young Archibald bent over the old man. “Be at peace, Grandfather,” he said. “I am courting a lady whom I hope to marry.”
“Who is this?” asked Bell-the-Cat.
“Lady Jane Stuart, daughter of the Lord of Traquair. She is young, beautiful, and of good birth. I knew I should have your approval of the match.”
“I know her well. A fitting bride, and I rejoice. Marry her soon, Grandson. Life is too short to spend overmuch time in mourning.”
“Give me your blessing, Grandfather.”
The old hand was laid on the young head, and the dying man looked to his sons.
“Let there be no strife in our house. Care for your nephew, as though he were your son.”
“We will, Father,” his sons answered.
“My blessing on you all. Long life and prosperity to the Douglases.”
He lay back on his pillows, exhausted, and the men exchanged glances. It could not be long now.
They were right. In a few days old Bell-the-Cat was dead and young Archibald had become Earl of Angus.
The new Earl of Angus lost no time in going to Traquair with the news, where Lady Jane was eagerly awaiting him for she guessed that his grandfather could not live long, and she knew what a change this would make in the fortunes of her lover.
They walked beside the Quair Water together and talked of the future.
“I have his blessing, Jane,” Angus told her. “He said that it was folly to waste time. We should marry without delay. Are you ready to do so?”
“I am ready,” answered Jane.
“As soon as a few more months have passed then. It would be a scandal to marry so soon after the death of my poor Margaret and my grandfather. It is useless to expect people to understand how I loved you from the moment I saw you. If we married now they would say we had intrigued during Margaret’s lifetime. Who knows what else they might say? They are ready enough to blacken a man’s character…and a woman’s. I’d not care to subject you to that, Jane.”
“We can wait a few more months,” said Jane serenely. “The time will seem long, but I know that you will long for it to be over, even as I shall.”
“Oh, Jane…how long the waiting will be! We’ll not make it too long.”
“No,” she answered. “When you have done mourning for your grandfather…when the summer comes perhaps.”
“Oh, how I sigh for the summer!”
From Traquair Angus went to Stobhall, as his maternal grandfather, Lord Drummond, had sent for him.
Lord Drummond, who had once hoped to take a large share in the gove
rnment of Scotland when he had believed his daughter Margaret was going to marry James IV, had been deprived of his dearest ambition. He still mourned the death of his daughter—not so much for the loss of her person, but for the honors she might have brought her family had she become Queen of Scotland.
He had hoped for much from his family. His daughters had been recognized as among the most beautiful women in Scotland. But that fateful breakfast had carried off three of them—Margaret, Eupheme, and Sibylla. Elizabeth, who fortunately had not sat down to that meal with her sisters, had lived to marry the heir of Angus, eldest son of old Bell-the-Cat; she had had numerous children and the eldest was young Archibald, who as Earl of Angus would be a powerful man in Scotland, and because he was so young he would need advice. Who better to give that advice than his grandfather? Now that old Bell-the-Cat was out of the way, that other grandfather, himself, Lord Drummond, should be the one to guide the head of the Douglas clan.
So he sent for the boy in order to impress on him the sudden importance of his rank.
As soon as Angus came into his presence, Drummond was struck by his resemblance to his mother and aunts. His was a family with more than its share of good looks. Angus ought to go far.
“Now, my boy,” said Drummond, “I trust you are aware of the great importance of your new position.”
“Yes, Grandfather. I have had it impressed upon me, I do assure you.”
“And rightly so. You are now the head of one of the most important clans in Scotland, and it is no good thing that you should have been thrust into such a position so young. Alas for Flodden! Would that your father had lived to pass on the title to you in good time. But what is, must be. While you are here I want to talk to you on Court matters and then I shall wish you to accompany me to Court. There I hope to bring you to the notice of the Queen, and I have little doubt that if you are wise you will do well there. You have good looks and a great name.”
“Thank you, Grandfather. I am ready to go when you wish.”
“That is well.”
“There is one matter of which I would wish to speak to you. My paternal grandfather advised me that I should marry soon, and that I wish to do.”
“Whom have you in mind?”
“Lady Jane Stuart.”
“Daughter of the Traquair,” mused Drummond. “Hmm. If you are wise you will shelve that little matter for a while. There are affairs of more pressing urgency afoot, I do assure you.”
Angus felt faintly alarmed. He had a notion that his ambitious grandfather was not quite sure whether Jane was a worthy enough match for the Earl of Angus.
Not that I shall be influenced! Angus told himself. I shall choose my own wife, and that will be Jane.
It was April when Margaret’s baby was born. She christened him Alexander, and he was given the title of Duke of Ross. He was a beautiful baby, promising to be as healthy as her little James, and she was delighted with him.
Although she felt weak after his birth, this pregnancy had been slightly less arduous than those she had previously suffered; she was glad of this for she was uncomfortably aware of the strife which was going on about her. There were certain members of the nobility who were determined to bring Albany over from France. His deputy, de la Bastie, had already arrived; and her brother Henry was urging that on no account must Albany be brought to Scotland, for he would not tolerate a French influence there. There was another scheme forming in the minds of the pro-French party and that was to marry her to Louis XII of France. Margaret shuddered at the prospect. Aging Louis did not appeal to her as a husband; but there was a grim amusement in thinking of marrying the widower of that Anne of Brittany who had once caused her so much jealousy.
When I marry, thought Margaret, it will be someone young and handsome, someone like young Archibald Douglas. He was the Earl of Angus now—quite a considerable title. Perhaps it would be less incongruous for the Queen to marry the Earl of Angus than young Archibald Douglas.
Lord Drummond, who held the office of Lord-Justiciary of Scotland, had written to her begging leave to present himself. He wished to bring his young grandson to her notice. The boy had recently acquired the title of Earl of Angus; he was still in mourning for his grandfather—and alas, he had been doubly stricken, for he had not long since become a widower—but he was a young man of spirit and yearned to be at Court that he might more assiduously serve his Queen.
Margaret replied graciously. Lord Drummond must come to Court at once. She had heard of the sorrows of the young Earl and the new responsibilities which had been thrust upon him. She wished to give him her personal sympathy.
Lord Drummond had not felt so excited since those days when he had believed his daughter Margaret had so enslaved the King of Scotland that he would marry her. He was certain that he had discovered a passion as intense, and for another member of his family.
Why did the Queen keep young Angus at her side? Why did she unsuccessfully endeavor to hide the pleasure his company gave her? Why did her eyes gleam with excitement when he stood beside her? Lord Drummond knew the answers to all these questions.
What a handsome pair they were! Margaret a young and lusty widow. Angus even younger, a widower in need of a new wife. The trouble was that Angus seemed to be willfully blind to the portents. That was because he was mooning about Traquair’s daughter.
By all the saints, Drummond said to himself, what this could mean to our family!
He smiled. Life was ironical. Once it had offered him a similar opportunity. A daughter of his to marry a king. That had failed, through some foul murderer; but now his grandson might be the husband of the Queen.
He considered the matter. Should he talk to Angus? The boy was only nineteen and foolish without doubt, imagining himself in love with Jane Stuart. This had to be handled with the utmost care.
He invited the boy’s uncles to call on him, letting them know that he had vital family matters to discuss with them; and when Gavin Douglas, the poet and priest, came to Drummond’s apartments accompanied by his brother, Sir Archibald of Kilspindie, Drummond lost no time in telling them what he suspected.
“The Queen is enamored of young Angus, and this is no surprise to me. I believe him to be the most handsome man at Court.”
“You mean she is his mistress?” asked Sir Archibald.
“Nay, nay. You go too fast. She is deeply conscious of her royalty. The pride of these Tudors is greater than that of the Stuarts, my friends. She is in love with him but I doubt she would be his mistress. Nor do we wish her to. But I see no reason why she should not become his wife.”
The Douglases were too startled to speak. “Why not? Angus has a great title. Why should not a Douglas share the throne? Have you two so little regard for your family’s honor that you would raise objections to this?”
“Why no, indeed,” said Gavin quickly, “but is it possible?”
“Why not? Providing we act with discretion.”
“How so?” demanded Sir Archibald.
“The Queen is a young woman. She has been without a husband since Flodden. She sees our young Angus and is enflamed with desire for him. Can you wonder? He is a fine figure of a man. I have watched her. I have seen the signs.”
“The Council would never permit a marriage.”
Drummond snapped his fingers. “Who cares for the Council! If there was a marriage between these two it would have to be made first and the Council told afterward.”
“It is not a year since the death of the King.”
“We cannot afford to waste time, or they will find a husband for her. They tried to marry her to Louis XII.”
“They cannot do that now.”
“Assuredly not, since the King of England, determined to have no union between Scotland and France, has married his younger sister Mary to Louis.”
“That we know,” put in Drummond testily, “but the Council would find what they deem a suitable husband for the Queen…and that husband would not be Angus. Imagine Arran, for one, all
owing a Douglas to be put above him. Nay, if there is to be a marriage it must be done with all speed, while the Queen’s feelings are hot toward our Angus, and before the Council can intervene.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“That we summon our handsome young man and impress upon him the need to do his duty by his family.”
“I believe the boy to have betrothed himself to Jane Stuart.”
“Then he must un-betroth himself,” cried Drummond. “Nothing must stand in the way of this match. Have you thought what it would mean to the family? A bishopric at least for you, Gavin Douglas, a fine place at Court for your brother here.”
“And for my Lord Drummond?” inquired Gavin not without sarcasm.
“My dear fellow, all the family could expect to prosper. I want your support when I explain to Angus where his duty lies. He must act with speed and caution. He must let the Queen know that he returns her passion.”
“Which he does not?” questioned Archibald.
“Then he must learn to,” retorted Angus’s ambitious grandfather. “I was once cheated of seeing my daughter share the throne of Scotland; I’ll not stand by and see my grandson kept from it.”
“What do you propose to do?” asked Gavin.
“Summon Angus and, with your support, tell him what he must do. Do you stand with me?”
The Douglases eyed each other. They were ambitious men.
“We’d be fools not to,” replied Gavin speaking for them both.
Drummond clapped them both on the back.
“I knew I could rely on you,” he said. “Now…for young Angus.”
Angus was bewildered. He looked in anguish from his uncles to his grandfather.
“You see,” he explained laboriously, “Jane and I have plighted our troth.”
“Plighted your fiddlesticks!” snapped Drummond. “I never heard such nonsense. Marry that girl and you are finished at Court, I tell you. Margaret will see that all you hope for is denied you.”
