The Complete Tudors: Nine Historical Novels

by Jean Plaidy

  Margaret’s health began to improve—so it was said—from the moment James had reached the shrine of St. Ninian, so she owed her recovery to that saint, and when she was well enough must pay him the homage he would look for.

  As the baby had been baptized with great pomp and christened James, Margaret left him to the care of his nurses while she traveled along the coast of Galloway to the shrine of St. Ninian. Her husband accompanied her, riding on horseback beside her litter; she must travel thus for, although she was no longer in danger, she had not yet regained her good health.

  She found the journey trying, and when she returned to Stirling, continued to feel weak; this was particularly alarming because James hated to see her sick and went even more often on his travels. He was seeing Janet Kennedy very frequently now as well as the Lady of A; and Margaret had learned that another woman, Isabel Stuart, daughter of Lord Buchan, had borne him a daughter whose name was Jean.

  It was true that she had her own little James now, and it was a matter of great contentment to her to remind herself that of all the King’s children, her little James in whom his father delighted was the one who was of real importance.

  But the rude health which Margaret had hitherto enjoyed seemed to have deserted her. There were days when she was obliged to keep to her bed; she felt resentful of this, but Lady Guildford assured her that the ordeal of childbirth had been so great that she must expect to take a few months to recover.

  She could not of course prevent James from taking mistresses; but Margaret was becoming wily; she was not sorry that there were several mistresses; if there were one only she would need to feel anxiety.

  Christmas came and was celebrated with music and dancing at Holyrood House; and if the Queen was less energetic than before, the King was more assiduous in his desire for her comfort. Wantonness, Gray Steil, English Cuddy and Scotch Dog were at their best, and the King’s fool, Currie, with his wife Daft Ann, set the King and Queen laughing uproariously.

  Thus time passed until that February when the little Prince James was one year old.

  The Court was at Linlithgow Palace. James had returned from hawking and was ready for the feast which lay waiting for him in the great hall.

  Margaret, with her women, greeting him and his companions on their return, was a little sad because she no longer felt well enough to accompany him on such expeditions.

  The great hall looked magnificent, prepared as it was for the evening’s entertainment. Tapestries from Holyrood had been hung on the walls, and the logs blazing in the huge fireplace crackled and spat comfortingly. The silver platters, the goblets and bowls on the table shone in the firelight, and in the minstrels’ gallery sweet music—which was never lacking in the King’s presence—was being softly played by his favorite minstrels.

  The table was placed on a dais at one end of the hall exactly opposite the minstrels’ gallery, and under the place where the King and Queen would sit was a carpet, although the rest of the hall was strewn with rushes. Servants were scurrying in and out of that door which led to the kitchens and butteries, and the smell of appetizing foods was everywhere.

  James looked with appreciation at the Queen, who greeted him so warmly and asked him how he had fared at the hunt. He took her hand and led her to the table where one of his servants was waiting with a bowl that he might wash his hands.

  Margaret and he seated themselves and the feast began.

  One of the noblest of James’s courtiers carved for the royal pair. Margaret ate heartily but James, sitting there taking the pieces of meat in his fingers as his carver handed them to him seemed more interested in the minstrels’ music than in food.

  It was always thus at table; James was no great trencherman; nor did he show much interest in the wine which was placed before him.

  Wantonness began to sing, and it was clear that her song charmed him; he turned to Margaret and asked her opinion.

  Margaret replied that Wantonness never failed to please; she was wondering whether during the hunt he had paid a visit to one of his women.

  They were washing their hands after the meal when a messenger from Stirling Castle, where the little Prince was staying, came into the hall and made his way immediately to the King and Queen.

  Margaret and James grew immediately grave when they heard what he had to say. The little boy had become fretful and his nurses could not comfort him. Now it seemed that he had a fever.

  James said: “We will leave at once for Stirling.” Within an hour they were on the road.

  Margaret was brokenhearted.

  “Why,” she demanded angrily, “should this happen to me! His bastards flourish and my son must die. Why should I be unfortunate?”

  Lady Guildford tried to soothe her. “Your Grace, many children die in Scotland and England. The little Prince had every care. And you are young. You will have other children.”

  During the weeks that followed the death of the little heir of Scotland, Margaret refused to be comforted. It was so unfair, she kept proclaiming. The children of his mistresses were full of health and vigor, and the thought of them was a continual torment to her; and when her own son had been born she had found some comfort…but that was no more.

  James mourned the loss of his son with her, but reminded her that no railing against fate could bring him back to them. They would have more children and in time they would forget this unhappiness.

  He sought to comfort her in every way he could; he spent time in her company; he suggested that she should arrange entertainments to divert her. Let her call together Cuddy and Dog; let Gray Steil write a new song for Wantonness to sing.

  Margaret could only shake her head and mourn; but she clung to him and within her was a faint exultation. At least she was keeping him away from his women.

  Political affairs were taking up a great deal of the King’s attention. The King of France was anxious for his friendship and, since the marriage between Scotland and England, had tried to woo James with prophecies of the advantages a friendship between their two countries could mean. James knew that Louis was eager to break the Scottish alliance with England; and, because France and England were perennial enemies, that put Scotland in the enviable position of being of great importance to both these countries.

  Louis had written that he was sending an embassy to Scotland which would bring certain plans to lay before the King.

  James had left the Court to go on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Ninian; this was becoming a habit and, although it was known that St. Ninian was the King’s favorite saint, it was also known that he made a habit of combining this practice with a visit to Janet Kennedy.

  Margaret was delighted to find that she was pregnant again; at the same time her being in such a state meant that she saw less of the King, which did not please her.

  It was while she was with her women, listening to their chatter but picturing all the time what James and Janet Kennedy were doing, that a messenger came to tell her a certain English gentleman, who had come from her father, was below and asking if he might have audience with her.

  Margaret, always eager to have news from home, commanded that the man be brought to her without delay.

  The Englishman accordingly appeared, and Margaret dismissed her attendants because she felt that what he had to tell her might be of some secrecy.

  “I am Dr. Nicholas West, Your Grace,” she was told when they were alone. “I come on instructions from your most noble father.”

  “To see me?”

  “To see Your Grace and the King. Alas, I have been waiting long at Berwick for a safe conduct, but since this was not granted me I have taken the risk of coming to Edinburgh and presenting myself to you.”

  “The King has had much to occupy him,” said Margaret. “It may be that your plea has not reached him.”

  Dr. West bowed his head. He did not believe that. He knew that the French were sending an embassy to Scotland and that the King of Scotland was eager to welcome it.

&nb
sp; “My master, your most noble father, is not pleased with the way in which matters stand between this country and his.”

  “Is that so?” said Margaret, who had never bothered herself with political matters.

  “Your Grace will know that His Grace, your royal father, arrested the Earl of Arran and his brother, Sir Patrick Hamilton, when they attempted to pass through England on their way to France without first having obtained a safe conduct.”

  “I did not know,” said Margaret.

  “This matter has incensed the King of Scotland.”

  Margaret thought resentfully: He never tells me anything. Am I not the Queen? He treats me as he does one of his mistresses. He forgets that I am the daughter of the King of England.

  “But,” went on Dr. West, “there was naught else to be done. When these gentlemen passed through our country without first having asked for a safe conduct, and we knew they were on their way to France, naturally we arrested them. If I could have an audience with the King and explain this matter to him, I feel sure I could make him see the justice of what we have done.”

  “I am sure the King would understand.”

  “But, Your Grace, I cannot obtain an audience with the King. I come to ask you to plead my cause—and that of your royal father—for me. Your father has asked me to tell you that he knows you will remember you are his daughter and do all in your power to work for the good of your native land, and seek to dissuade your husband from accepting the friendship of your father’s enemies.”

  This was a new role for Margaret—political adviser to the King. Why not? She was after all the Queen. She must show James that she was not as one of his light-o’-loves—there to enjoy a night or two of passion. She was the Queen.

  She said: “You may tell my father when you see him that he can trust me to remember that I am an English Princess and the daughter of the King of England.”

  Dr. West looked about him a little uneasily.

  “Speak low,” said Margaret. “I understand what you have to say is for my ears alone.”

  “It is important, Your Grace, that the embassy which the King of France is sending, should not succeed. I come to ask you to use your influence in every way in order to make it fail.”

  Margaret nodded slowly.

  James came riding back to Edinburgh. Exuberantly he came to his Queen. He had brought velvet and damask for new gowns, and jewels for her to wear with them.

  Margaret expressed her delight, while the King gently stroked her swollen body.

  “And how is my Queen and her little bairn?”

  “Your Queen has been a little sick and very lonely.”

  James embraced her, determined to banish self-pity. “Then she shall be so no longer. I want you to help me plan entertainments such as we have never had before. We have visitors coming to see us and they pride themselves on their skill at the joust. We shall have to show them that in Scotland we are no mean performers.”

  “The French?” she asked.

  “The French. You will be amused. Such handsome men; and such charming manners!”

  “Is it fitting that you should receive the French,” asked Margaret, “when my father’s ambassador has been waiting a long time for an audience with you?”

  James raised his brows in a puzzled way. “Do not tell me that my Queen is turning her attention to politics!”

  “Why should she not?”

  “For many reasons, one of which is that dancing and music and showing my Court how elegant and beautiful she is, becomes her better.”

  “I am no longer a child, James.”

  He laughed. “You grow old. Eighteen, is it?”

  She shrugged impatiently. “You must realize that I am not merely a woman with whom you may amuse yourself, and who has the privilege of giving you legitimate children. I am the Queen.”

  He rubbed his finger along her cheek. “A charming queen of whom any king would be proud.”

  “Therefore you should talk to me of more serious matters than the plays Cuddy and Dog devise.”

  “But are these not serious matters?”

  “James, you know they are not. Why cannot you receive my father’s ambassador and mend this silly quarrel with England?”

  He was at once withdrawn and the obstinacy showed in his face. He would be gentle and kind, he seemed to imply, but always he would be the ruler. She must understand that.

  “My dear Margaret, this pretty head of yours must not be troubled with such tiresome matters. I have no wish to see Dr. West.”

  “Why?”

  “Other matters occupy me.”

  “You are ready to dance and joust, to hunt and hawk. Why cannot you meet the ambassador sent by the King of England?”

  His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. “I do not care that my subjects should be arrested and made prisoner. It is an unfriendly action.”

  “Dr. West wishes to explain this matter to you.”

  “I will tell you this much,” he said. “Sir Patrick Hamilton has escaped out of England, though his brother Arran remains there. They have not been well treated in your father’s domains. That does not please me. And if your Dr. West is here to attempt to persuade me not to receive the French embassy, you may tell him he is wasting his time. I understand he has seen you. Now let him return to his master and tell him that in Scotland it is the King who decides what shall be done; and when his subjects have been maltreated he is not to be won over with soft words.”

  “You are cruel to me,” cried Margaret. “And I in my present condition!”

  James laughed softly. “Nay, when was I ever cruel to you? Everything in reason that you ask for is yours. You shall have pleasure, fine clothes, precious jewels. But you must not meddle, my love, in matters which do not concern you.”

  He left her then, and when he had gone she stared sullenly before her. Again she had been insulted. In England, they would know that not only was her husband unfaithful to her, but he would not discuss matters of state with her. She was nothing more than a doll to be played with and set aside—she was there merely to become pregnant as soon as possible so that he might dally, in good conscience, with his mistresses.

  Some might be content to accept such a position; not so a proud Tudor.

  James was always remorseful when he disappointed his Queen. She was so much younger than he was that he forgot she had left childhood behind. He always saw her as the girl of thirteen she had been when she first came to him.

  He sought therefore to placate her with childish amusements. He spent a great deal of time with her discussing the entertainments, but she was listless because it seemed wrong to her that these pleasures should be planned for the visiting French embassy who were enemies of her father.

  To please her, James brought two Moorish girls to her who had come to Scotland from Portugal. They were very beautiful girls and their dark skins and flashing eyes attracted a great deal of attention among the Scots.

  “They wish to become Christians,” James told her. “I am going to give them into your care.”

  For a while Margaret was interested in the girls. She took them into her household and they were baptized—one as Margaret and the other as Ellen. Margaret grew fond of them—particularly of Ellen who became generally known as the Queen’s Black Ellen. They appeared at the jousts, where they attracted attention, and the Queen took great pleasure in dressing them in gold and scarlet to show off their extraordinary dark beauty. No tournament was complete without the Moorish girls; they would be placed near the Queen, and their desire to serve her was apparent to all.

  But Margaret could not be long content with the services of these two lovely girls; she wanted power, the first place in her husband’s affections and councils.

  James, watching her, began to wonder whether he knew his Margaret after all, and to placate her he did see Dr. West, and he allowed the Queen to attend a meeting at which Sir Patrick Hamilton was present and at which he declared on oath that his brother Arran had bee
n ill-treated in England.

  After the meeting, James took his Queen by the hand and led her to her apartments; when they reached them he kissed her gently on the brow.

  He said little but his meaning was clear. There, he was saying, you see, you should not meddle in politics if you are wise. What can a young girl—albeit she is a queen—know of what is happening at the courts and in the countries of her husband’s enemies?

  When my child is born, thought Margaret, when I hold my little son in my arms, then everything is going to be different.

  The people of Edinburgh had rarely seen such splendor as they did that June when the French embassy was welcomed to Scotland.

  The Castle and Holyrood House were the scenes of banquets, masques and plays; in the courtyards of Holyrood House a play, written by English Cuddy, was performed; but what delighted the people more than anything were the brilliant jousts in which Scotsmen tested their skill against the French. These took place during the warm summer days and they were accompanied by all the pageantry and color that could be devised.

  To the tournament came the Queen’s Black Ellen, in a litter carried on the shoulders of fourteen men, from the Castle to the scene of the tournament. The people applauded her and marveled at her exotic beauty; the strangeness of the French delighted them also and the people declared their loyalty to a king and queen who could give them such pleasure.

  Margaret was especially cheered whenever she made her appearance. Her pregnancy was very noticeable now, for her time was near and the people were sure that she carried the heir of Scotland. She had lost her firstborn but that sorrow was forgotten now that she showed signs of giving Scotland the heir.

  All through the day it seemed the minstrels played and the trumpets sounded. The French knights acquitted themselves well and it was all the Scotsmen could do to hold their own against them. This was disconcerting because they had been inclined to underestimate the skill of these lithe Frenchmen whose clothes were far more dandified than their own, and whose manners were almost effeminate by Scottish standards.

  The Scotsmen would have been defeated but for the sudden appearance of a stranger in their midst. They did not know who he was, but he wore the Scottish emblems and he defeated the first of the French champions with an ease which set the crowd roaring with delight.