Tudor Princess, The (42 page)

I would show Harry that I was not needy but needed as well.

Jamie was less than enthusiastic when he received me.

‘Mother, it isn’t prudent to meet with Henry at this time,’ he told me. ‘You need to come off these plans. We have come to an agreeable truce; be satisfied with that. You’ve endured so much lately,’ he added in gentler tones. ‘You need to stop and rest. You need to think less about me and more about yourself. Think of your own marriage.’

‘Do not advise me about marriage, Son, when you yourself are not yet wed,’ I urged him.

Jamie indulged me with a smile. ‘I hope to be wed soon, Mother, to Lady Erskine, whether you approve or not,’ he told me, in a tone that did not match his sweet smile.

‘Your council will not approve, let alone me,’ I said in hard tones. ‘We have been through too much to see you married to some common woman. She has nothing to offer you, Jamie! You are
king!
’

‘Yes, I am king!’ Jamie cried, pounding his fist on his writing table with a resounding thud that caused me to start. ‘
I
am king,’ he said again, his tone softer. ‘And I will decide whom I will meet and when, and whom I will marry and when.’

I rose. ‘Then you do not need me after all.’ I dipped into a low curtsy. ‘If I may be dismissed?’

Jamie nodded. ‘Go rest, Mother. Please,’ he urged as I made my retreat.

It was as if I were an old cow everyone wanted to put out to pasture.

What did I have to live for now?

I met with Lord William Howard to discuss Jamie’s stubbornness.

‘He will not bend to compromise!’ I cried in frustration. ‘He has his own ideas and canna be persuaded for the good of the Anglo-Scots alliance! Do you know I told him I would even go to York in his stead, but that would not do, either.’

‘It is unfortunate, Your Grace,’ Lord William agreed. ‘But he is young and the young do tend to have their own ideas, I am afraid.’

I sighed. ‘Oh, Lord William … sometimes I feel it best for me to leave him to them. Perhaps Henry would have me back in England and I could be with my daughter again. She could do with a mother’s guidance. King James is a man now. He will make his own fate. I am so weary.’ I swallowed tears. I was quicker to them than ever now. ‘I am weary of my lot in life. I am weary of Scotland.’

Lord William said nothing. I was grateful to him for that.

We both knew there was nothing to be done.

Robin Barton interrupted my woe by calling on me at Edinburgh. Upon seeing him, I dismissed my staff, abandoning ceremony to throw myself into my old friend’s arms.

Dignified as always, Robin suffered my embrace with his own arms awkwardly about me as he patted my back. He pulled away to guide me to my chair as if I were the guest and he the host.

‘Ellen …?’ I began, recovering myself enough to speak. It was the first time since the day she died that I said her name aloud.

‘Aye,’ he said, intuiting my thought. ‘She has been interred.’

‘Was she buried well?’ I asked. I did not inquire as to the arrangements after Harry humbled me. I was afraid to intrude now. It was clear Ellen was as much a stranger to me as my own daughter. I denied myself, therefore, any rights those more intimate with her were allowed to enjoy.

‘Aye,’ Robin told me. ‘She has been laid to rest at Over Barnton. And there is no more to be said of it.’

I nodded in understanding. ‘I am glad you came, Robin,’ I told him then.

‘I am worried about you, Your Grace,’ he confessed to my surprise.

‘Why are you worried about me, Robin?’ I asked in an indulgent tone.

‘Albany is gone; Ellen is gone,’ he added in a softer tone. ‘And your husband …’

I offered a wry chuckle. ‘What of my husband?’

‘Do you know where your husband is, Your Grace?’ he asked, with a deliberate tilt of his dark brow.

‘Do I care?’ I spat before I could help myself. I offered a bitter smirk, shaking my head. ‘Well … Where is he, then?’

‘Living on your lands, off your rents, with Janet Stewart and the child he got on her,’ he said.

I drew in a breath, closing my eyes a long moment. ‘It is no more than I would expect,’ I told him then. I almost laughed, so reminiscent it was of the time he imparted similar news of Angus. ‘Well. You always seem to know the whereabouts of my husbands, poor man, and are always in the undesirable position of having to tell me,’ I observed with a chuckle devoid of amusement. ‘I have too much to worry about now to think on that overmuch, Robin. I expect after divorcing Angus, a second one shouldn’t be as difficult. I will set to suing for it directly, with the king’s help.’

‘The king, Your Grace, left for France,’ he said then, his gruff voice low. I suppose, in his sailor’s way, he was trying to be gentle.

‘What?’ I breathed. ‘What do you mean, France?’ My voice rose in panic.

‘He learned that Lady Erskine was married to Lord Lochleven and his hopes for a Scottish marriage were dashed,’ he informed me. ‘He goes to France seeking a bride. He didna want you to know; he was afraid you would upset yourself. He wants to leave you regent while he is gone,’ he added, as if that was supposed to soothe me.

‘So you came here to tell me all this,’ I said, my tone hard. ‘I thought we would discuss Ellen and the old days, but no, you came on my son’s bidding. You are my son’s man.’

‘Of course I am, as you are his subject as well. And there’s no use revisiting the old days; they are gone. Those who trap themselves in nostalgia may as well bury themselves with the dead.’ Robin’s tone was matter-of-fact but still kind. ‘I came, Your Grace, to help you however I can. Because I am your friend.’

At once no words were ever sweeter. ‘Well,’ I said with a rueful smile. ‘I suppose I am in need of that. Thank you, Robin.’

He smiled then, a pirate’s smile, and it warmed my heart.

He had always been my most loyal friend, never swerving from my cause.

No wonder Ellen loved him so.

With the setback of a storm that sent me in a panic over the possibility of losing my son at sea, Jamie’s travels did not go as planned, but he was able to venture forth again in September, determined to procure a French bride. While he was gone, I set to pursuing my divorce. I hoped the fortune that smiled upon my brother would also favour me and proceeded to gather the opinions of forty learned gentlemen regarding the validity of my marriage. If my brother could have a marriage of twenty years declared invalid by university men, then there was no reason I could not do the same with a shaky marriage of less than ten.

Jamie married a Frenchwoman on New Year’s Day, the daughter of King Francois, Princess Madeleine. While I attempted to keep my son’s realm secure, Jamie and his fair bride were toasted at the French court, enjoying every luxury life had to offer. They did not return till the spring. It was none too soon; I missed Jamie and was eager to put our differences aside now that he had found a wife. Besides, I needed his support in my divorce.

I met them at Leith with the rest of the court and watched with my breath caught in my throat as the slim, tall young maid stooped over to grab two fistfuls of earth in a gesture I found haughty and pretentious but the crowd loved. It was a blatant statement signifying who was now Queen of Scotland. I suppose it was her right. More and more, I heard it whispered in the galleries and the gardens, ‘Here comes the Old Queen,’ whenever I passed by. After all I had done for Scotland, this was what I was reduced to: the Old Queen. Scotland, it seemed, was ready for the beauty and vibrancy of a young queen.

She might have been fair, but I could not say young Madeleine was especially vibrant. She had a fragile look about her that frightened me.

‘Jamie, she’s consumptive,’ I told my son when at last we were afforded some privacy amidst the happy chaos of their arrival. ‘Did Francois not tell you? Surely he must have known. Her lips are bluish and she has a dreadful cough. She’s terribly thin, Jamie. I would fear getting a child on her; she may not live through it.’

‘He did worry after her health here,’ Jamie confessed, referring to the King of France. ‘But, Mother, you must tell me you remember what it is to be in love. I loved her from the moment I set eyes upon her. It is our love that I pray will keep her strong, despite the harshness of Scotland. If we keep her warm and well fed, she will be all right. She must be,’ he added, his voice taut with desperation.

Whenever love was mentioned in any conversation, there was no use imposing reason, so I let Jamie believe as he would.

‘I wish you both well, of course,’ I told him in sincerity. ‘Davie is preparing a lovely coronation for her,’ I said, referring to David Lindsay, now Lyon King of Arms, who was relishing his new role and had been planning a magnificent coronation since learning of the wedding. ‘I hope she will be well enough to enjoy it.’

Jamie nodded, but it was clear to see he was distracted. ‘And you, will you be well enough for the coronation?’ he asked me then. ‘Can I trust you will conduct yourself accordingly and stand beside your lord husband, my beloved stepfather, and desist from making a fool of yourself with these divorce proceedings?’

‘Jamie!’ I cried, scandalised. ‘Surely you have heard what Methven has done to me! Stealing my lands and my rents, living with that Janet Stewart and their son! He gave her a son,’ I added in wistful tones as an image of Dorothea presented itself in the mists of my mind. ‘How could you allow me to suffer it? I have the opinions of forty learned men, Jamie, forty of them! They seem to favour the idea of a divorce.’

‘Well, I, Mother, do not,’ Jamie told me, his tone hard. ‘Is there someone else again, Mother? Is it Angus?’

‘Angus!’ I cried. ‘What on earth could you mean by that?’

‘I have heard you speak fondly of him; the years have corrupted your memory against all the wrongs he committed against us. In that, nostalgia proves to be a fiercer enemy than any border warrior,’ he said, echoing the words of Robin Barton. ‘I thought it relevant to ask.’

‘Of course it isn’t Angus,’ I assured him. ‘I will always be fond of him, I canna help myself. He is the father of my daughter and I loved him once. I will always be sorry for what passed between us; we were both the victims of bigger ambitions. I would be a fool to harbour a grudge against him. It is high time you forgive him as well.’

‘Dinna even suggest it,’ Jamie snapped. ‘After everything he put me through, I am appalled at the thought. I will hear no more of Angus, except to say that I am glad you are not planning to reunite with him. So. We have established there is no one else. Then what purpose could a divorce serve, other than put your own soul at peril?’

I furrowed my brow, disgusted with talk of my soul, disgusted that I had revealed my vulnerability regarding Angus, a man I should hate but could not.

‘Jamie, I have my pride,’ I argued then. ‘Harry humiliated me; he’s stolen from me. He is no better than Angus, no matter how kind he is to you.’

‘Pride is not enough, Mother,’ Jamie said. ‘Otherwise I’d have been to war a thousand times on matters of pride. I am stopping the proceedings, Mother, and it is in your best interests that I do.’

‘Jamie!’ I cried, shaking my head. My cheeks flushed hot with anger. ‘How can you do this to me? I deserve to be treated with respect; I deserve some happiness in my old age, especially after all I have done for you, after all the fighting and scheming and planning so you could keep your crown!’

‘It is because of that that I am stopping these proceedings,’ Jamie told me, his tone gentle. He reached across his writing table to take my hands in his. ‘It is because of your fighting, your scheming, and how you tirelessly have sacrificed through the years to preserve my crown. Dinna think I am not appreciative of your toils on my account. But, Mother … I will not have you regarded as some kind of farce. You are better than that. Live quietly, take enjoyment from what you have, but
please
stop making a spectacle of yourself! I want you to be respected and remembered for all you have done for me and for Scotland. I will speak to Harry and make sure he does right by you; I of course dinna sanction his behaviour. But, I pray you, by carrying on as you are, you are humiliating yourself far more than Harry Stewart ever could. For me, for Madeleine, and your future grandchildren, please stop humiliating yourself. I will not have my children’s grandmother thought of as a fool.’

Tears seized my throat. ‘Harry has encouraged this, has he not? He has bribed you! He made you think I was leaving him for Angus and bribed you to stop the proceedings so he could continue to use me!’

Jamie shook his head, his eyes wide and lit with something that could have been tears. I chose to ignore them and looked down at my hands, which kneaded and wrung my gown in frustration.

‘Mother … I love you. I am worried about you,’ Jamie told me then.

‘I am a grown woman!’ I cried, rising. ‘I do not need anyone worrying after me! I am so weary of everyone’s worry!’

And with a whirl of skirts, I quit my son the king’s apartments without waiting to be dismissed.

If Jamie would not grant my divorce, my brother would. I would go through him. I was through with Scotland, through with this ‘farce’ of a life my son insisted I maintain. I had written my brother informing him of my plight. My only desire was to live as a princess, in the manner our father ordained, and not be made to follow my son around as some common gentlewoman, living a quiet, subtle life so as not to embarrass him. Surely my brother would understand, and I his only living sister. Surely he would want to protect me.

Letters to Henry were not enough; they often went unanswered as it were, as distracted as he was by his new bride, Jane Seymour, and his fervent desire for an heir. I would take my appeal to him in person. I was still strong; I was still robust with Tudor health. I would make for England. It was the old days again, the days of night flights to the Border. I readied myself and had my most trusted servants procure a Galloway for me, one of the sturdy border ponies. I would only need one armed man, and silenced with a few jewels, he was easy enough to come by.

So began my ride. I rode as if I were a girl again, as if not plagued by pain in my joints, migraines, and shortness of breath. It was exhilarating feeling the wind against my face again, feeling the muscles of the horse work beneath me as he brought me closer and closer toward my refuge. I was happier than I had been in a long time, on that night ride.