The Danish Queen

by Lynda M Andrews

  Anne sighed. “I had hoped for a carefree life in England but now I see that all will not be so peaceful.”

  “I’ll go alone. Yoursel’ an’ the bairns can follow, when I hae spied out the land.”

  Anne was still apprehensive. “You will take care, James?”

  “Annie, ma Royal person is vera precious t’ mysel’ as well as t’ ma loyal subjects … now stop mithering and count yon blessings!”

  On the Sunday before his departure James, accompanied by Anne, attended a service in St. Giles. The church was crowded with the citizens of Edinburgh and when David Lindsay had concluded his sermon James ascended the steps of the pulpit. He bade his subjects such an affectionate farewell, rendered in tones of grave sincerity, that it had the effect of reducing the entire congregation to tears. Grown men stood weeping unashamedly, realising that their odd monarch was leaving them and that despite his faults, he had been a good king.

  As time was short and preparations chaotic, James was unable to visit his son, Prince Henry-Frederick, Duke of Rothsay. Instead he sent him a formidable but affectionate letter instructing him to be merry but not insolent, be resolute but not wilful, be kind but in honourable sort and to look upon the Englishmen who would come to visit him as loving subjects not strangers, but with that heartiness which at this time they deserve and concluding with the words:

  Be obedient to your master for your own weal, and to procure my thanks; for in reverencing him, ye obey me and honour yourself.

  Farewell,

  Your loving father,

  James R.

  At last everything was ready and James bade farewell to his wife in the High Street at Edinburgh on the 5th April, 1603. Fearing for his safety Anne was in tears.

  “Come now, Annie, dinna blather in front o’ all these folks! I’ll manage right well ye’ll see, an’ ye shall be followin’ me in twenty days, it’s no’ lang!”

  Anne dried her eyes. “It is the end of an era, James.”

  “It is that, but the future is brighter than the past, Annie, ye’ll hae to agree t’ that! Gi’ me a kiss an’ dry your eyes.”

  James kissed her fondly and she clung to him for a brief instant before recollecting where she was.

  “That’s a mite better. Well, I’ll be away. Twenty days, Annie, mind! No’ a day longer!”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes again, watching him as he mounted his horse. She was fond of him and she did fear for his safety. “God preserve you, James!” she called, raising her hand in a final farewell.

  With a gallant gesture (greatly at odds with his outlandish clothes and slouched posture) he pulled off his hat and bowed to her. The tears started again in her eyes. Whatever else he was and whatever the differences were between them, he was her husband and now he was leaving her and she might never see him again. She pressed the kerchief to her mouth to stifle her sobs, trying to maintain her dignity before the multitude that had gathered to see their King depart, but as she stared helplessly about her she realised that there were very few dry eyes in that entire crowd.

  At last she turned away, smiling tearfully in reply to the comforting cries of the people.

  “Guid bless ye, lady! He’ll no’ come ta any harm, lassie, fer if he do yon English will hae the hail o’ Scotland t’ answer to! Death t’ anyone who harms our Jamie!” “Guid preserve ye an’ the bairns, Madam!” These were the cries that echoed in her ears as she made her way back to the palace of Holyrood that fine spring day and the knowledge that she was again pregnant did nothing to alleviate her fears for her husband’s safety.

  Once she had recovered from the pangs of their initial parting, Anne turned her energies to the subject most dear to her heart—her son Prince Henry-Frederick. With James safely out of the way she determined to travel to Stirling and demand that her son be restored to her, and the precipitous command from James that Johnnie Marr should follow him forthwith to London seemed like a heaven sent opportunity.

  With a large party which included many armed men and prominent Lords, she set out for Stirling heedless of her advancing pregnancy. They reached the town a few days later, only to find the gates barred. Obviously Lady Marr had been forewarned of her intentions, Anne thought with increasing anger.

  “Inform the fools that it is I, Anne of Scotland, who demands entrance!” she commanded the Earl of Linlithgow, quite forgetting in the heat of the moment her newly acquired status.

  “Inform your mistress that it is the Queen who demands admittance!” Linlithgow shouted to the Captain of the Guard.

  The man disappeared from his post and returned with the stooped form of the old Countess.

  “Open to me, Anne of Scotland!” she cried.

  Annabelle Marr peered intently into the crowd. “I’ll no’ hae yon troopers wi’in ma gates!” she shouted.

  Two bright spots of colour burned on Anne’s cheeks but she managed to control herself. “I will see my son, the Prince Henry-Frederick!”

  “I canna deny ye that, but I’ll no’ hae them!” the old woman cried, pointing a scrawny finger in the direction of the soldiers.

  “Madam, perhaps we should humour her?” Sir Harry Lindsay advised.

  Anne nodded slowly.

  “Very well, Lady Marr, they shall remain here. Now open, I pray you, in the name of the Queen!” Linlithgow shouted.

  The massive, iron-studded gate of Stirling was slowly opened and after bidding her soldiers to remain, Anne passed into the courtyard followed by the Duchess of Lennox, the Marchioness of Huntley, Linlithgow, Lindsay and the rest of the company.

  “So ye hae come to see the Duke o’ Rothsay?” Lady Marr greeted her.

  Anne glared at her. “I have come not only to see my son, but to take him back with me to where he rightfully belongs—at my side!”

  Lady Marr’s face became a picture of grim determination. “Ye hae the King’s written authority?”

  Anne exploded. “Don’t you question me, Annabelle Marr! I am Queen of Scotland and I will have my son!”

  “No’ wi’out Jamie Stuart’s authority!”

  Anne turned to her ladies. “You see how this old she-devil defies me?” she cried, her voice rising almost to a scream.

  “Madam, pray have a care for your condition!” Jeanne Lennox pleaded.

  “If I gi’ the laddie t’ ye, I’ll be defying Jamie, so until I hae his Royal consent, the laddie stays here!”

  Anne was quickly reaching a state which bordered on the hysterical. “He is my son! You have no right to deny me!”

  “I hae every right, I’ll no’ gi’ him up t’ ye, Anne o’ Holstein!”

  “You… you… old fiend!” Anne screamed.

  “Madam, Madam, please!” Lady Huntley cried.

  “Countess Annabelle, you see how this distresses the Queen, do you still refuse to yield up the Prince?” Jeanne Lennox implored.

  Annabelle Marr glowered at her. “I canna see that it is any o’ your affair, Jeannie Lennox!”

  The Duchess fumed. “It is my affair should anything happen to the Queen, and it will be your affair, too, Annabelle Marr, if you persist in this obstinacy!”

  “I hae my instructions from the King hi’self, no’ from Anne o’ Holstein, and I’ll bide by them!” Lady Marr concluded firmly, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m no’ denying yon Majesty the right t’ see the laddie.”

  “It’s no use, Madam, the old fool will not budge,” Jeanne Lennox whispered to Anne who was now reduced to a state of hysteria and was being supported by Lady Huntley and Katrine Skinkell.

  “Her Majesty will remove to the royal apartments and you will bring the Prince Henry-Frederick to her as soon as she is sufficiently recovered,” Jeanne stonily informed the old woman.

  Anne continued to alternate between passionate weeping and angry remonstrances until at last the young Prince was brought to her.

  “My boy, my poor boy! They are determined to keep you from me!” she cried, clasping the ten-year-old Prince to her in a tearful embrac
e. “Do they treat you well? Are you kept at your books too long?”

  “I am well, mother, and no, I dinna study ower lang!” he replied.

  Anne raised her eyes to heaven. “Listen to the child! The heir to the crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland and he speaks like a wild highlander! This is her doing! I shall have you back at Holyrood with me, Henry, you shall not stay here a minute longer!”

  “But it is my father’s wish that I stay here.”

  Anne brushed aside his statement. “I will attend to your father, Henry, and Lady Marr! Now return to your studies, I must rest but you shall come back later and then we will discuss your removal to Holyrood.”

  Henry-Frederick retired and Anne sank back upon her pillows. She felt drained and soon she felt the sharp pains which heralded premature labour.

  The child, a boy, was born dead and Anne was so ill that her life was despaired of. Waves of pain washed over her and she was too weak and afraid to try to combat them but lay hovering between consciousness and oblivion, drenched in sweat, burning with fever. Letters were despatched immediately to James informing him of the Queen’s illness, the death of the child, and the circumstances which had precipitated her condition. James had just arrived at Windsor to a tumultuous welcome and fearing for the Queen’s life, he instantly despatched Ludovick Stuart to Scotland. As the Earl of Marr had not yet arrived James instructed Lennox to ‘meet Marr on the road and when he had met him, to beg of him to return to Stirling in his company to pacify the Queen as well as he could’.

  This proved to be a difficult commission for Lennox who cordially disliked Marr—a feeling which Marr reciprocated—but fearing for Anne’s very life, James capitulated and sent the royal authority for the Prince Henry-Frederick to be given over to his mother, adding the fatal words ‘at Holyrood’, little thinking these words would cause so much trouble.

  Lennox met up with Marr at York and together they travelled to Stirling to find Anne recovering but still very weak.

  “Madam, we feared for your life,” Lennox greeted her.

  “I shall live, Vicky. What news have you for me? How is James?”

  “He is well but greatly concerned for you. He has received a royal welcome throughout England, so you see there was no need to distress yourself upon that count.”

  “That at least is good news.”

  “There is more. I have here a letter from James giving you custody of your son!”

  Anne struggled to rise. “Thank God! At last he has come to his senses!”

  “I have returned for that express purpose, obviously James realised that it would speed your recovery, Johnnie Marr and I have ridden hard…”

  “Johnnie Marr!” Anne cried. “I’ll not see that man, is he here? Send him away, Vicky, do you hear me? I’ll not see him!”

  “Madam, I am afraid I cannot do that. James specifies that the Prince is to be handed over to your care by Marr at Holyrood.”

  “I’ll not have that iniquitous creature near me, nor will I see my son if he is to be delivered to me by that… that son of Satan! You do not know the insults I have had to bear from his mother!”

  Ludovick Stuart was at a loss what to do and after calling Anne’s ladies and bidding them try to calm her, he left.

  Letters were again despatched to James. Letters from Anne complaining bitterly of her treatment at the hands of the Countess of Marr and indeed the whole tribe of Erskines, and refusing to take custody of her son from the hands of the Earl. The Erskines also wrote complaining that they had been slandered, and despairing letters from Ludovick Stuart, Lord Montrose, Lord Fife and sundry others were also delivered to James. They all served to send him into a towering rage and he wrote to all the parties concerned most scathingly upon the matter.

  Anne remained far from penitent and demanded that Marr should make a public apology for his behaviour and that of his mother but this the Earl refused to do and James wrote another letter to his wife informing her ‘that she would do wisely to forget all her grudges to the Earl of Marr and think of nothing but thanking God for the peaceable possession they had got of England, which, next under God, might be ascribed to the wise negotiations of the Earl of Marr’. Anne still remained obdurate and wrote in reply, “I would rather never see England than be in any sort beholden to the Earl of Marr!”

  James was perplexed; knowing that Anne would continue to defy him, being in a safe position to do so there being a considerable distance between them, he once more despatched Ludovick Stuart north endowed with full powers of regency to consign, with all due ceremony, the Prince Henry-Frederick to his mother and to bring them, plus the Princess Elizabeth and Prince Charles, to England where he could keep them all firmly under control.

  This arrangement at last pacified the irate Queen for she had won half the battle, which was better than nothing, and with her son restored to her she occupied herself with the preparations for the journey.

  Six

  On the 2nd June, 1603, Anne set out to join James. With her rode her entire household which included her son and the Princess Elizabeth, accompanied by her new guardian Lord Harrington, but little Charles had been left at Dunfermline with Lord Fife suffering from one of his recurrent ailments.

  All went well until they reached Berwick for here awaited the Countesses of Worcester and Kildare and the Ladies Rich, Walsingham and Scrope, the Earls of Sussex and Lincoln and Sir George Carew. At the sight of the notable party Anne froze. She had already accepted Lady Harrington and Lady Bedford into her service—they having travelled to Edinburgh at their own expense to present themselves—but now she took violent exception to James’ appointment of these persons to her household.

  The two Earls bowed low and Sussex cleared his throat. “Madam, we welcome you to this realm of England…”

  He got no further.

  “Who are all these people, My Lord?” Anne enquired coldly.

  Sussex was clearly put out. “Why… Madam, they are the members of your household… appointed by His Majesty!”

  “I make my own appointments, sir, and at present I find that I am quite adequately attended!”

  Sussex was astounded. “Madam, at the King’s request…”

  Anne cut him short with an imperious gesture.

  “Madam, at the King’s command we have brought with us nearly a thousand of her late Majesty’s gowns, many encrusted with costly jewels,” Penelope Rich intervened.

  “I take it your late mistress’ parsimony did not extend to herself?” Anne replied cuttingly. She had previously been informed that James had commandeered these gowns for her and by all accounts they were indeed very rich and most of them had never even been worn, for Elizabeth had been in the habit of ordering two or three dresses exactly the same.

  Sir George Carew stepped forward.

  “May we enquire as to your identity, sir?” Anne asked.

  “I am Sir George Carew, Madam, your chamberlain… as appointed by the King.”

  “Indeed! Have I not just informed you that I appoint my own attendants, including my chamberlain! Besides, sir, that post is already filled by Sir John Kennedy.”

  George Carew’s face was scarlet. “But… Your Majesty, I do not understand?” he stammered.

  “Then obviously you are exceedingly dim-witted, sir! I have no need of your services! We shall proceed, my head is beginning to ache with the heat and the Princess Elizabeth is looking peaked. Lead the way, Vicky!” she commanded and the Scots party started forward leaving the assembled nobility of England to follow as best they could.

  The Queen and her train arrived at York to be greeted by the Mayor and the civic dignitaries and Anne was presented with silver cups brimming with gold angels, a sight which brought a smile to her lips for since she had arrived in Scotland she had always been short of funds and was deeply in debt to her jeweller and banker Jingling Geordie Herriot.

  From York they travelled slowly through Worksop, Newark and Nottingham being greeted at each stop by multitudes of
cheering citizens. Anne was thoroughly enjoying herself and free from the restraining hand of her husband, beamed upon her new subjects with affection, bestowing kisses upon the children and discussing their well being with their overawed mothers—which served to immediately endear her to the female population at least.

  At Dingley, near Leicester, the home of Sir Thomas Griffin, she was magnificently entertained and finding herself in such pleasant surroundings and congenial company (except for the English notables who had tagged along since Berwick) she stayed longer than she had anticipated, quite forgetting James’ instructions. Here Anne Clifford, heiress to the Earldom of Cumberland, came to pay her respects and Anne took an instant liking to her, installing her as one of her ladies.

  On the 25th June, Anne bade farewell to her daughter who was to reside at Combe-abbey to complete her education, under the guidance of the ladies Kildare and Harrington, and Anne journeyed on to Rockingham castle where awaited Lucy Russell, great niece of Sir Philip Sidney and a lady of wit and charm, and once again Anne increased her entourage which was by now reaching prodigious proportions.

  At this stage of her journey she wrote to James informing him of the entertainments presented for her pleasure.

  My Heart,

  I am glad that Haddington hath told me of your Majesty’s good health which I wish to continue. As for the blame you charge me with of lazy writing, I think it rather rests on yourself, because you be as slow in writing as myself. I can write of no mirth but of practice of tilting, or riding, of drumming and of music which is all wherewith I am not a little pleased.

  So wishing your Majesty perpetual happiness, I kiss your Majesty’s hand and rest,

  Your

  Anne R.

  Her next stop was Althorp where a masque was presented for her entertainment, set amidst the parklands and entitled ‘The Masque of the Fairies’ which was the first production of Ben Jonson and so delighted was she by this piece of mummery that she immediately appointed Jonson her poet laureate.