Tudor Princess, The (34 page)

When Jamie presided over his first council, it was decided that Albany’s regency would officially draw to an end. Only Lord Chancellor Beaton, the Archbishop of St Andrews, objected, for which he was imprisoned. I would not have anyone threaten my son’s power. He was king now; no one would rule over him, not even my dear Albany. Jamie’s power must be felt and respected; if the only way was out of fear, then so be it.

Henry showered Jamie with gifts for his elevation to power, creating him a member of the elite Order of the Garter. He sent Archdeacon Thomas Magnus with five cartloads of treasure. In my apartments we ogled the fine gifts – beautiful lengths of cloth of gold and Jamie’s favourite, a sword inlaid with the finest jewels and gems.

‘Look, Mother! En garde!’ Jamie cried as he pretended to wield the sword, slicing it through the air with a great
whooshing
sound. I laughed at the sparkle lighting Jamie’s often earnest eyes. He had seen so much in his short life; to watch him play with a sword as a young lad should clenched my throat with tears.

‘Your uncle Henry thinks very highly of you,’ I told Jamie. ‘Do you like your presents, darling?’

‘Very much,’ Jamie said, still gawking at his sword, turning it over and over in his hands to watch the light catch the shimmering rubies and emeralds flashing from its hilt.

‘Why not take your sword and show Davie?’ I suggested, referring to his tutor David Lindsay.

‘I will accompany him,’ Harry offered, and I nodded my gratitude, watching my two favourite people retreat companionably, leaving me alone with Magnus.

‘Our brother is very generous,’ I said to the archdeacon. ‘What news have you brought with these fine gifts?’

‘His Majesty wishes to remind Your Grace of the proposal of marriage he has offered between the Princess Mary and His Young Grace,’ Magnus informed me.

‘His Majesty!’ I laughed. I had forgotten that Henry fancied such glorified styling. I rather liked it and noted to call Jamie the same.

As to the marriage proposal, I began to reconsider. It would not be unfavourable, though it threatened to present obstacles in the future. Yet the peace it could create with England, which was my purpose in life other than being Jamie’s mother, was a tantalising prospect. Jamie and Mary’s children would be heirs to both thrones … A united England and Scotland. Was it possible? Would my father’s prophecy come true through them?

‘Thank Our brother for his generous offer,’ I told Magnus. ‘It will be considered. Though it also must be considered the great barrier it could cause with France.’

‘A worthy deliberation, Your Grace,’ the archdeacon said in even tones. ‘His Majesty also wishes you to consider reconciling with your lord husband. He has a sincere desire to serve Your Grace and the king.’

My cheeks flushed at the thought. How long would my brother push this most vile plot? ‘That will not happen,’ I said, hoping to put an end to it. ‘We have more immediate concerns, sir. First, that Lord Albany will not be sent back; Lord Arran and I have exposed ourselves to great danger by ending King James’s regency. We should like Our son to have a guard of two hundred men who will protect him at all times, not only from that but from Angus’s designs. If you do not think that he will threaten Our son’s power, you are wrong. We urge you to convey to His Majesty that the return of Lord Angus will be a great impediment to peace. He should be kept in prison.’

Magnus’s eyes widened at this. I detected a trace of mockery in them, as if he did not believe my fears rational but he was intelligent enough to keep such a conclusion to himself.

Magnus was dismissed and I sat pondering how to keep Angus at bay and how to convince my brother that the threat he presented was very real.

Once again, when there was no one I trusted to consult, I turned to my Ellen, who remained faithful and steadfast at my side. Alone in my apartments, the other ladies who drifted in and out of my life dismissed, we sipped mulled wine on my plush velvet settee before the fire, not even indulging in the charade of sewing. I almost felt naughty, giggling and talking with her as if we were girls again and plotting our matching gowns for the next entertainment.

‘Not only Henry is badgering me,’ I huffed. ‘He has Lord Dacre, Cardinal Wolsey, and Norfolk haranguing me with their interpretations of morality as well. It is quite taxing listening to their opinions when three of the four of them consort with mistresses regularly.’

Ellen laughed at this, but the laughter was interrupted by a cough that quaked her shoulders and brought tears to her eyes. Alarmed, I leaned forward.

‘Ellen, that does not sound good; shall I have my physician sent for?’ I asked. I could bear much but not the thought of my dearest friend in any discomfort.

Ellen waved a hand. ‘Do not worry; Robin has sent me his. He takes good care of me.’

Robin … why, yes, Robin Barton. I did not acknowledge what this could imply; Ellen deserved whatever happiness her unusual position could grant. That it should lie with Robin, the man who saved her from a life of slavery in Portugal, seemed fitting to me, perhaps even ordained.

‘I am grateful to him,’ I said, reaching out to take her hand.

‘Enough about me,’ Ellen urged, her voice husky. ‘You were speaking of your brother and the lairds harassing you.’

‘Oh, yes, that,’ I returned, eager to distract myself from the thought of a sick Ellen and get back to the topic at hand. I sighed. ‘Angus is coming. Norfolk detained him at Newcastle, but of course he is for our reconciliation as well and could only keep him for so long. He is on his way. And if he thinks he will get the best of me this time, he is wrong.’

‘What will you do, Your Grace?’ Ellen asked. As always, she questioned me more so I could puzzle things out aloud. I suspected it didn’t much matter to her what I did, so long as she had my friendship. I was grateful to her for that.

‘Whatever I can,’ I said. ‘Albany, bless him, is still pushing my suit in Rome, that the Pope might grant our divorce. Angus must learn his place. It is not in my heart, or, for that matter, this realm.’

‘What of your daughter?’ Ellen’s eyes were soft.

I lowered my gaze. Even to Ellen I could not reveal my guilt over young Margaret, who grew up with her nurses and tutors and had very little interaction with me, save for a random petting and fussing here and there, while I worked to secure her brother’s realm. I hoped she wouldn’t hate me for it someday, but were there a different way to pursue matters, I was hard pressed to find it. I loved my daughter, of course; she was a beautiful little girl with her Tudor red hair and willowy build, so reminiscent of my sister, Mary. But I did not want to be reminded of her, how she could suffer for the malice borne between her father and me as surely as if it were another sibling, filled with a life of its own.

‘Margaret loves her father,’ I told Ellen. ‘I of course will not discourage it. But I will try as best I can to protect her from his influence, as I must protect Jamie. It will be Jamie whom Angus goes after; a girl is of little consequence in the grand scheme.’

Ellen flinched at this. Again I found I could not meet her eyes.

Yet I had proved, had I not, even as a queen, that I was of little consequence in the face of the ambitions of men? Station was not discriminated against in this; it was fact.

The world did not belong to women, except for what they could do to further their men. In this, my lot had to be cast with Jamie, as it always had. Such is the only fate for the mothers of kings.

When Parliament opened, my wrath was unleashed upon my brother’s envoys, Roger Radcliffe and Thomas Magnus, while I prepared to send three ambassadors of my choosing to England. I was mad with rage over the fact that Angus had made his way into Scotland, that my brother’s realm had encouraged it. Could no one see that reconciliation was beyond possible? Letters from Angus, hopes to manipulate me, were sent back to him unread. I would not indulge my brother or Angus’s fantasy that we could rule alongside Jamie as man and wife. Those days were over; Angus’s chance to make things right had long since passed.

Jamie and I were at Holyrood House when we learned of Angus’s arrival.

‘He has scaled the walls of Edinburgh,’ Magnus informed us. ‘His only wish is to sit in Parliament as his ancestors before him had, and, of course, to reconcile with Your Grace, if you would open your heart to him. He has,’ he added, raising his brow, ‘four hundred followers with him.’

‘You think to intimidate Us with this, Magnus?’ I cried, enraged that such tactics be used. ‘We may have been foolish in Our younger days, but no more. We will not be bullied into subjugating Ourselves to Angus’s ambition!’

‘I am certain he longs to be reunited with his daughter as well; he has not seen her in a great while,’ Magnus returned.

I shook my head, beyond irritated that he should dare play that card. Margaret was my business; I would not have her used against me as another manipulation ploy.

I was distracted from Magnus’s impotent pleas by the ruckus of horses’ hooves and men clanking in their armour beyond the castle walls; it was Angus, no doubt, hoping to impose his force upon us and take what he considered his.

‘We want as much guard assembled as is at Our disposal,’ I ordered.

‘We’ve less than five hundred,’ Harry told me. ‘I am afraid this castle is not as well armed as others,’ he added, his handsome face drawn with concern.

‘It matters not; We will do what We can,’ I assured him. ‘Turn what cannon We do have on him and his men.’

If Angus wanted to know my true feelings on matters, I could think of no surer way to communicate them than with cannon.

‘Your Grace!’ Magnus cried, scandalised. ‘To turn the cannon on your own lawful husband? Surely this is not advised!’

‘By God, man, will you go home and quit meddling in Scottish matters?’ I cried, whirling on Magnus in a flurry of orange velvet skirts. ‘Fire one of them, at least,’ I ordered my men, who rushed to do my bidding.

One great booming round was shot, resonating through my body and causing the floor to tremble beneath my feet. My heart thudded at the sound. I truly did not want to cause carnage, but what had Angus driven me to? He could hardly be said to listen to reason. At times the force of warfare was the only language men of such passions understood.

To my regret, the cannon served to end the lives of a woman, a priest, and two merchants. All innocents, and all dead for a message that was lost upon proud Angus, who retreated with his party on the king’s orders later that afternoon.

I readied Jamie, who was by now used to fleeing in the night, and we rode in a procession illuminated by torchlight to the safety of Edinburgh Castle. As we rode I composed a defiant letter in my mind to my brother.

He would no longer assist any Scottish subject, unless by the express orders of my son, the king. I was through asking for Henry’s help, only to be betrayed and manipulated for his own ends.

I was the Queen of Scots, was I not?

I laughed as a new thought occurred to me. Ellen was right.

I had at last chosen a side.

Whether it was due to my display against Angus, which scandalised the rest of Europe and I am certain sent Henry and Catherine into a fit of shock, or if it was because I was simply too stubborn to fade into the background as other lesser women had done, Parliament backed me in my suit for the regency. I was the Queen of Scots, acknowledged and respected at long last.

Perhaps I had been wrong. Perhaps if they fought long enough and hard enough, there was a place for women in this world.

I took to wielding my new power with certain exactness. Harry was promoted to Captain of the Guard and I courted Rome about my divorce with renewed vigour. I perpetuated an old rumour that would invalidate my marriage to Angus, that my Jamie had lived through Flodden for a time and I hadn’t learned about it till it was too late. I regretted espousing such a lie; I knew in my heart the moment Jamie had died, with a sickening, all-consuming knowledge that eclipsed all doubt. But His Holiness did not have to know that. It was a divorce I wanted and I would get it, whatever had to be said or done. To my good fortune, I could still call Albany my friend and he did all he could to promote my suit as well.

Meantime it was learned that King Francois of France was now being held prisoner in Italy after the Battle of Pavia. His mother, Louise, wrote to me, offering me the pick of her granddaughters for Jamie and a restoration of the Auld Alliance. She pointed out my brother’s fickle nature, his numerous betrayals to both France and Scotland, and the breaking of his daughter Princess Mary’s betrothals to both the Dauphin and the Emperor. I admired Louise’s shrewdness. It was true my brother had a pattern of breaking promises, and she assured he would break them to the Scots as well. Though I was mildly offended that it was my family she was insulting, her reasoning was not beyond my imaginings, especially after the scathing letter I had received from Henry chastising me for my treatment of Angus. The letter sent me into a fit of tears for an hour; that Henry could talk to a fellow monarch, sister or not, with such judgment and disrespect was appalling. My embassy in England had come to nothing, but here France was prostrating itself at my doorstep. It was a worthy consideration.

Albany, by the provisions in the Treaty of the More between France and England, was forbidden to enter Scotland during Jamie’s minority, though I could not imagine that Albany would ever wish to return. I was glad that we were no longer beholden to the French; if we were to consort with them, it was of our choosing, not our obligation.

However, despite strides being made in my cause, and allies both in Scotland and abroad, the threat Angus posed to my son was still imminent. In order to preserve the peace of his realm, I was forced to thoughts of reconciliation once again.

‘It would be in name only,’ I assured Harry, who was wild-eyed at the suggestion. ‘Harry, it is for the sake of Jamie, for the sake of peace. You must understand that he comes before anything, before my happiness, before us, before everything. The divorce, believe me, is just a matter of time. But in the meantime, is it not better to keep one’s enemies closest?’