The Thistle and the Rose

by Jean Plaidy

  When an opportunity came to speak to Lennox of his feelings he did so; and although Lennox was cautious there was a tacit agreement between them that when the time was ripe the King should escape from Angus's care.

  Angus made a habit of taking the King about the country with him; and on one occasion when they had traveled to the Border in order to suppress the robbers there, they were intercepted by two thousand men who, under a certain Scott of Branxton, made an attempt to kidnap the King and free him from Angus. This attempt was defeated.

  Lennox was present when it took place, but he made no effort to ward off the kidnappers; and it was not due to him that they were repulsed.

  Shortly afterward Lennox joined the Queen, who was always ready with plans for escape. They decided that next time an attempt to free the King should not fail, and they began to plan.

  It was agreed that Lennox should ride to Borough Moor near Edinburgh with only a few horsemen, and take with him eight spare horses which would be for the King and seven of his trusty servants who would escape with him. It should not be difficult for a message to be conveyed to the King at Holyrood, and with the help of certain members of his suite, who were in league with Lennox, for James to make his way out of the Palace.

  Margaret, with Harry, waited impatiently at Stirling to receive James.

  “And once he is with us and we have raised the lords against Angus, the power of the Douglases will be no more,” she announced confidently.

  James was at the window ruefully looking out at Arthur's Seat. Each day he grew more restive. He often told his attendants that he would like to have Angus hanged on the nearest tree. How much longer was the Douglas going to be allowed to rule Scotland? Was there no one in the land who had enough love of his King to set him free?

  He knew some who loved him enough to attempt it. There was his mother for one. There was Lennox for another. He knew now that Lennox was his friend. He could not long remain a prisoner. Then let Angus beware. He would hound him from Scotland. For, he thought, there will not be room in this country for Scotland's King and the Earl of Angus.

  One of his pages was plucking at his sleeve.

  “Your Grace. there is someone at the door.”

  James started up and said: “Who?”

  But before the page could answer, the door was opened and a man burst unceremoniously into the room. His eyes were wild and, seeing the King, he came straight to him.

  “Your Grace,” he said, “forgive this intrusion. I am the Master of Kilmorris and I come from my lord Lennox.”

  “Speak on,” said James eagerly.

  “My lord Lennox is at Borough Moor; he has horses waiting. If, under cover of darkness, you can leave the Palace and find your way to him, he will conduct you to safety and the Queen.”

  “This is good news,” cried James. “Kilmorris, my friend, I shall remember this when I am free of Angus.”

  “Your Grace, I serve you with my life.”

  “I thank you. Now tell me of the whereabouts of Lennox, and I will summon those whom I can trust to help me.”

  There was a commotion at the door and another of the King's pages ran into the apartment.

  “Your Grace,” he cried, “it is known that a stranger has entered the Palace. The guards are being called out. They are coming now.”

  Kilmorris turned pale, guessing what his fate would be if he were discovered. James looked at him with horror, for he also knew. It was clear to them both that there could be little chance of escape now, but James was not going to allow the faithful Kilmorris to be taken if he could help it.

  He looked about him eagerly and said: “Quick! Follow me.”

  He ran from the apartment with Kilmorris at his heels; he slipped through a door and they ran down a spiral staircase. They were both breathless when they came to a door which the King pushed open. “This is the coining house,” said James. “You can get away through here. They will not think you could go this way. Go at once and I will return to my apartment.”

  Kilmorris thanked his King and James hurried back to his apartment to find that Angus had already arrived with some of the guards. When the Earl saw the King he gave a shout of relief.

  “Your Grace,” he cried, “thank God you are safe. I heard that our enemies had invaded the Palace.”

  “Is that so?” answered James coolly.

  “It was doubtless a false alarm. So eager are my men to preserve Your Grace's safety that they are sometimes overzealous.”

  James inclined his head and walked somewhat haughtily to the window.

  He stood there looking out, glad that Angus could not hear how loudly his heart was beating.

  He will have left the Palace by now, James was thinking. Now he will be safe.

  But although Kilmorris escaped, Angus did not believe that it had been a false alarm. He doubled the guards about the King, and the result of that little escapade was that James was more of a prisoner than ever.

  But James was not going to endure such conditions. Hearing that his mother had come to Linlithgow, he sent for Angus and told him that it was long since he had seen the Queen and he wished to do so.

  Angus, realizing that his enemies were gathering against him and that Arran was only with him because he was the enemy of Lennox, decided that the King must be humored; and he gathered together a small army to accompany the King to Linlithgow.

  On the road between Edinburgh and Linlithgow Angus's army met Lennox and his, and a skirmish ensued. Lennox and his men were determined to take possession of the King; Angus and his were equally determined not to let James go.

  “Keep the King in the rear,” Angus ordered, and the bridle of James's horse was taken by George Douglas, whom Angus could trust as he could few others.

  James, watching the battle, was looking for the opportunity to slip out of George Douglas's grasp and make his way to the other side, when George, realizing this, laughed grimly.

  “You should bide where you are, sir,” he warned. “For if they get a hold of you, be it by one of your arms, we will seize you by the leg; and we'll pull you into two pieces rather than part with you.”

  “I'll not forget that, George Douglas,” said James.

  “‘Twill be well if you'll remember it, sir,” was the answer.

  Rarely had the young King known such fury as that which now gripped him. He, the King, to be so treated, to be told they would rather see him dead than in the possession of their enemy. Indeed he would remember this. As long as he lived there would be no place in his kingdom for a Douglas.

  But when he heard that Lennox had fallen, his anger changed to sorrow. Lennox, the guardian he had loved, the man who he had believed would rescue him from the hated Douglases.

  Angus, triumphant with victory, was riding toward him. The battle was over, and James was a prisoner still.

  Margaret was in despair. The power of the Douglases was as great as ever, James remained in the custody of his stepfather, and the Douglases were in all the important posts of Scotland.

  She hated the cold of December in Stirling Castle, and she was beginning to despair of ever attaining her freedom, proclaiming Harry as her husband and enjoying the company of her son.

  Then the miracle happened, when dispatches from Rome arrived for the Queen.

  From Rome!

  Margaret cried out that the messengers should be brought to her without a moment's delay.

  She read the documents and felt the hysterical laughter rising within her.

  It had happened at last. The Cardinal of Ancona, whom Clement VII had appointed to judge her case, had given judgment in her favor.

  She had her divorce.

  She was no longer married to Angus.

  Those were wonderful weeks which followed. Harry was constantly in her company; they planned their future and her first act was to redeem her promise.

  She and Harry were married.

  But, she reminded him, there would be opposition to the marriage, for there was bou
nd to be jealousy among the lords, and they must act cautiously. She remembered how disastrous life had become when she had secretly married Angus, and they agreed that they must be more cautious this time.

  Her divorce was being discussed above and below the Border. Her brother Henry wrote of how the news had shocked him. He wanted her to remember that the divine ordinance of inseparable matrimony was first instituted in Paradise, and he could only protest against this shameful verdict which had been sent from Rome.

  Margaret laughed hilariously.

  “Do you know, Harry,” she said, “my brother Henry is the biggest hypocrite living. He is seriously thinking of ridding himself of poor Katharine. Of course he is going to say that he was never truly married to Katharine. Well, nor was I to Angus. He was betrothed previously to that woman of his. Henry should remember that.”

  But she and Harry were too happy to care. The glorious thing had happened. She was free and she had married the man she would love as long as she lived.

  Of course they could not keep the marriage a secret forever.

  The news that her divorce had been granted reached her in December. In March she made a declaration to the country: “Now that I am free I have married again; and my husband is Henry Stuart.”

  Angus was furious when he heard that Margaret had been granted the divorce, but when he learned of her marriage to Henry Stuart he could not control his rage.

  “How dare she so demean herself!” he shouted. “She shall be sorry for this. It is an insult to me and to Scotland.”

  He went to the King and asked him what he thought of his mother's action.

  “I do not presume to judge the Queen,” answered James coldly.

  “Your Grace, she has lost all hope of keeping her place in the Regency.”

  “Has it occurred to you that soon there will be no need of a Regency?”

  “Indeed that is so, but just now there is need for a Regency, and we are going to Stirling to see that this upstart, Henry Stuart, receives his just deserts.”

  “And what are those?”

  “Your Grace jokes. He shall be thrown into prison. He has no right to marry the Queen.”

  “But she gave him that right which was hers to give.”

  “Your Grace is too young to understand the implications of this.”

  “Ah,” retorted James. “It is the old story. I am always too young.”

  Angus was so disturbed that he did not notice the King's coolness. They must set out at once for Stirling, he said, and the King must accompany the party which should go, because it was in his name that Harry Stuart should be arrested.

  How angry was young James as he rode toward Stirling. He thought of Lennox, dying from wounds inflicted by the hated Douglases. He thought of his beloved mother and his friend Harry Stuart. They loved and married; and because the Douglas had not wished them to do so they were to be parted.

  If he were but King in truth!

  He thought of all the things he would do. He would embrace his mother first, then Harry, and tell them he hoped for their happiness. And then he would cry: Throw that man in prison. And he would laugh aloud to see the astonishment on the face of Angus.

  “I hate the Douglases,” he muttered as he rode along.

  But power was still in the hands of the Douglases.

  Angus strode into Stirling Castle and demanded to see the Queen.

  She faced him defiantly, but when she heard his demand that Harry be brought forth, and when she saw his guards lay their hands on her husband, she was alarmed.

  She cried out: “James, you are the King…”

  James wanted to intervene but he knew it was useless; there was nothing he could do, and he could only stand by, black hatred of the Douglases in his heart.

  So they took Harry Stuart and threw him into a dungeon.

  And they left Margaret weeping for her newly married husband.

  It seemed now that the country was completely in the control of Angus. He was the uncrowned King. The Queen, who had retreated to Edinburgh, was forced by him to give up the Castle. She so feared for her life that she hid herself on the moors and lived the life of a shepherdess, surrounded by a few faithful friends who adopted the same disguise.

  Harry escaped from his dungeon and, when she received a communication from him, she joined him at Stirling and they made the Castle their refuge.

  James was scarcely a boy now, for he would soon be seventeen. Time enough, he believed, for him to throw off the yoke.

  The lords surrounding him watched his hatred of Angus growing and, ever ready to change sides, they believed that it would be wise to do so now.

  Margaret with Harry and his brother James made a new plot, and messages were smuggled in to the King. Margaret let him know that she was taking the precaution of fortifying Stirling Castle so that very shortly it would be completely garrisoned; a good place for the King to come to and make a stand against his enemies.

  She wanted him to know that there was none who worked more zealously for him than his mother and his stepfather, Harry Stuart; she hoped that when it was in his power to do so he would remember all Harry had done, and reward him. The Lordship of Methven, she suggested, would be a suitable honor. James should think of it.

  James did think of it. He would be very ready to reward Harry, or anyone who could help him escape from his hated position.

  Angus had moved him to Falkland Palace, and one by one James was winning over the servants to his side. He knew whom he could trust, and it would be a simple matter to slip out with the help of guards who had ceased to be the servants of Angus and wished to serve their King. Horses would be waiting for him; then away to Stirling.

  It proved to be as simple as he had thought it would because he had been right when he had believed that there were few now who wanted to disobey the King.

  So one night James walked out of Falkland, mounted the waiting horse and rode full speed to Stirling, where he was received with great rejoicing by his mother and her husband.

  Next day the royal standard flew high over Stirling Castle. The King was a boy no longer; he had come into his own. He was ready now to rule Scotland. He was going to reward his friends—and woe betide his enemies!

  How happy Margaret was now.

  James, her son, was King in truth, and there would be no more separations; Harry had been rewarded and was now Lord Methven and Master of the Royal Ordnance; men were deserting the Douglases and rallying to the King; there was nothing to do but rejoice.

  James, who would never forgive Angus for the years he had spent as his captive, declared his intention of throwing him into prison. But Angus was not easily captured, though he was put to the horn and declared a traitor in every town in Scotland and a prize of a hundred marks was offered to any who could bring him, dead or alive, to the King. His estates were seized and divided among the loyal nobles who were only too eager to receive them.

  Yet none caught Angus, and news eventually came to Margaret that he had escaped into England. This was good news, except for one thing. He had taken their daughter, the Lady Margaret Douglas, with him, and Margaret's hopes of regaining the guardianship of the girl were frustrated.

  She was very anxious about her daughter until she heard that the Princess Mary had taken her into her household. Then she consoled herself that, as cousin to the Princess, she would be well treated. As for Angus he would be received well at Henry's Court for Henry had always been his friend.

  Well, she had lost her daughter, but she had her son, who showed in a hundred ways his regard for her; she had Lord Methven, her dear Harry; and there was no longer the need to plan James's rescue because James was free and in his rightful place.

  She had enjoyed intrigue, but she was growing too old for it. Perhaps now she would settle down happily to the life of wife and mother, for she was young enough to bear children. She would retire from the glare of public life and be content to shelter in the brilliance of her son.

  She was no
longer Margaret the Queen, fighting to retain an untenable position; she was Harry's wife, contented and at peace.

  THE YEARS OF RETIREMENT PASSED IN HAPPINESS as Margaret had known they would. She bore Harry a son and a daughter; and her only sadness was that her daughter Margaret was far away and becoming more and more a stranger to her mother as the years passed.

  Yet young Margaret was well cared for, the friend of Princess Mary, and a favorite, it was said, of her uncle. She was by all accounts a rare beauty, and Margaret would have given a great deal to see her again.

  But it was not possible to have all one wished in life and she must learn to be content with what was hers.

  Harry was a devoted husband; she was very fond of his brother James who was so like him in every way. The King was an affectionate son; he was loving by nature as many young women had discovered. Ah well, thought Margaret, it was hardly to be expected that a son of James IV and herself would be otherwise.

  There were few shadows in life up to that time when news came to Scotland that the King of England had married again and was asking acknowledgment of Queen Anne Boleyn.

  James came to see Margaret to discuss the matter with her.

  As usual when she saw him after a brief absence she was filled with pride as he entered her room at Methven Castle. He was startlingly like his father and every bit as handsome. His hair had never lost the reddish tinge; his eyes were bluish gray, long and alert; his aquiline nose gave dignity and manliness to a face which otherwise would have been almost feminine in its beauty. He was of medium height, slender and well-shaped—a son to be proud of.

  He kissed her hand—so gracious and courtly—another reminder of his father.

  “So my brother has at last freed himself of poor Katharine and married the Boleyn woman,” she said.

  James laughed. “Well, you must admit he has been patient.”

  “Patient! 'Tis something Henry could never be. He must have suffered torment. I pity those about him.”

  James nodded. “He wishes us to acknowledge her as Queen of England.”