The Thistle and the Rose (15 page)

His father had lived a colorful life, but surely happiness, peaceful pleasure, were more to be desired than adventure which had ambition as the spur.

His father, Alexander Stuart, Duke of Albany, had always been in the thick of intrigue, so it was natural that when his elder brother James came to the throne, he, Alexander, and his younger brother, the Earl of Mar, should begin seeking honors and glory. Scotland had been tortured by revolution, due to them; and when Albany and Mar had come into conflict with those Border barons, Home and Hepburn, James III had seized the opportunity to imprison his troublesome brothers. Mar had died mysteriously in prison; some said as the result of an accident when a physician had bled him; others that the King had ordered his veins to be cut that he might bleed to death. In any case that was the end of Mar.

Albany had determined that no such misadventure should befall him, and as he had allies in France, he planned his escape. This took place with a drama that characterized all his adventures. It was arranged that two casks should be sent to him in his prison
in Edinburgh Castle; these casks were presumed to contain Malmsey; one did, but the contents of the second were rope, which would make escape possible, and instruction as to where the French ship, which would carry him to France, was moored in the Forth.

Albany made plans with his chamber child, a young attendant who acted as valet during his imprisonment. First he invited the Captain of the Castle to come to his apartment and share the wine which had so generously been sent to him.

The Captain arrived and when he had taken rather more than he was accustomed to, Albany drew his sword and ran it through his body. Then he sent his chamber child to tell one of the guards that the Captain of the Castle was drunk and needed help; and as soon as the guard came into the apartment, Albany killed him. This was repeated twice and in a short time there were four dead men in Albany's apartment.

Albany then commanded the chamber child to descend by the rope, and he himself would follow immediately. The boy was lowered over the walls of the castle, but the rope was too short and he fell, breaking his thigh. Realizing what had happened, Albany drew in the rope, lengthened it and himself descended. Although in imminent danger of discovery he picked up the child, carried him to a house nearby, commanded the people there to have his wounds attended to, telling them that if any ill befell the child they would have to answer to Albany, and then made his way to the French ship which was waiting to carry him to France. His treatment of the child aroused the sympathy of the people and he was fast becoming a legend throughout the land. He made his way to the French ship and when he arrived in Paris was treated with respect by the King of France, given estates and a bride—a French heiress, Anne, daughter of the Comte d'Auvergne et de Boulogne.

He had had no wish to settle down in peace, and before long had returned to England where he had entered into an intrigue with Edward IV to oust his brother James III from the throne of Scotland and take the crown himself. The price Edward asked for his help was that Albany should, on gaining the throne, put away his wife and marry Edward's daughter Cecilia. Albany was not one to trouble himself with such details. He had already been married
before he left Scotland to his cousin, Catharine Sinclair, by whom he had had three sons and a daughter. He had divorced her on the grounds of propinquity, so legally the present Duke, his son by Anne de la Tour, was his heir.

What strife had been caused in Scotland by Albany's actions! There had been many nobles who were dissatisfied with the King, and they only needed Albany's banner to join in the revolt against James. Bell-the-Cat was at the head of this revolutionary faction and there had been perpetual strife.

Eventually Albany had found it necessary to escape from Scotland and once more sought refuge in France, where his death was as dramatic and unexpected as his life had been. Attending a tournament he was accidentally killed by a splinter from a lance when he was not even engaged in the joust but merely a spectator.

A life of adventure. Had he found it as satisfying as his son found his?

Perhaps it had contented him, for it was the life he had chosen.

“But this,” said his son, “is the life for me.”

De la Bastie was going to be disappointed in him. He knew what his friend wanted. He would like to accompany the new Regent to Scotland because he had undoubtedly become enamored of that strange, dour land.

Why not send de la Bastie to act as his proxy? It was a good idea. He would go at once to his friend and lay the proposition before him. It would be better than a blunt refusal. He would say: “My affairs make it impossible for me to leave France at this time, so I send you my friend who is also a friend of yours, to act for me until such time as I may come to you.”

Until such time as I may come to you?

He was faintly apprehensive and excited.

Was there something of his father in him? Did the thought of ruling a country excite him after all?

He had made up his mind. Not yet… but there might come a time when he would wish to go.

How different was that Christmas, spent within the Palace of Holyrood, compared with the last! Margaret had always suffered during her pregnancies, and this one was no exception; and eager
as she was to give her little James a brother, she wished that at such a time she could have felt energetic enough to deal with state affairs. She was well aware that there were many noblemen who looked askance at her Regency; she knew that letters had been sent to France and that, since Albany was there, it was logical to suppose certain of her counselors would wish to see him take over the Regency, or if not completely, to govern with her.

Her fears that this was the case were confirmed by letters from her brother Henry, who had now returned from France.

He was not pleased with the way matters were going in Scotland. There was a truce between the two countries, but he would have her and the Scots know that he agreed to this mainly because he did not wish to make war on a country of which his own sister was Regent. He knew that those about her were putting out feelers to France, and contemplating bringing Albany over. Why, the fellow was a Frenchman at heart and called the King of France his master. Therefore Henry of England would frown on such a man's holding the post of Regent in cooperation with his sister. It must be avoided at all costs. They might seek to marry her to the fellow. It was true he had a wife living, but Henry had heard that she was not strong and might not live long; in any case she was his cousin, so it would not be difficult to dissolve the marriage. He wanted this avoided at all cost.

Margaret sat down and wrote to “her dearest brother, the King.” She implored him to suppress his hostile feelings toward Scotland and begged him not to harm her little King, his nephew who was very small and tender, being only one year and five months old. She reminded him that she was soon to become the mother of a posthumous child. She could only be happy if she had his goodwill.

Henry replied that if the Scots wanted peace they should have it, and if they wanted war they should have it. As for Margaret's husband, he had fallen by his own indiscretion and rashness and foolish kindness to France. He added that, even so, as a relative, he regretted his death. He went on to say that he liked not to see French influence in Scotland and that if this should be strengthened he would be greatly displeased. He warned his sister of plans to marry her to Albany, repeating that she must avoid this at all costs.

Margaret brooded on this and when she saw young Archibald Douglas among the courtiers at the Palace an idea occurred to her—a wild idea. But was it so wild?

She sent for him and, when he arrived, she told him that she wanted to give him her sympathy, for she had heard that his young wife had recently died in childbed.

He thanked her and said it was a marvelous thing that his Queen, who had suffered so many sorrows, should remember those of her humble subjects.

“Nay,” she answered, “we have both been bereaved and in a similar manner. It would seem that we should sympathize with each other.”

Archibald bowed his head and she felt a surge of jealousy wondering how deeply he grieved for his young wife.

And when he had passed on, she thought: It might be possible for us to comfort each other.

But I must wait until after my child is born.

There was gloom in the priory of Whitehorn in Wigtownshire where the Douglas clan had assembled at the summons of the head of their house.

Old Bell-the-Cat lay on his deathbed; he had never recovered from the disaster of Flodden Field, that battle which, before it had begun, he had declared was foolish, unnecessary, and doomed to disaster.

He had lost two sons on that field with some of the bravest members of his clan. When it was over he had retired from public life and found that he had no longer any great wish to live. Now he knew that the end was near and he did not shrink from it.

He had summoned to his bedside his two remaining sons, the priest, Gavin Douglas and Sir Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie; there was also his grandson and heir, son of the Master of Douglas who had been killed at Flodden: the Archibald Douglas who had caught the Queen's fancy and who, when the old man died, would be Earl of Angus and head of the House of Douglas.

“Sons, grandson,” muttered the old Earl, “my time is running out. It is a sad time to go when the affairs of Scotland are in such confusion. There'll be work for you to do and I trust you'll do it in
the manner of the Douglases. Grandson, you'll shortly inherit a great title. How old are you now?”

“Nineteen, Grandfather.”

“Alas, 'tis over-young. You will need to heed the counsel of your uncles. My sons, look to your nephew, for very soon he will be the head of your clan. And you, Grandson, are recently widowed. You must marry again and soon. Now it is your duty to get sons for the House of Douglas.”

Young Archibald bent over the old man. “Be at peace, Grandfather,” he said. “I am courting a lady whom I hope to marry.”

“Who is this?” asked Bell-the-Cat.

“Lady Jane Stuart, daughter of the Lord of Traquair. She is young, beautiful, and of good birth. I knew I should have your approval of the match.”

“I know her well. A fitting bride, and I rejoice. Marry her soon, Grandson. Life is too short to spend overmuch time in mourning.”

“Give me your blessing, Grandfather.”

The old hand was laid on the young head, and the dying man looked to his sons.

“Let there be no strife in our house. Care for your nephew, as though he were your son.”

“We will, Father,” his sons answered.

“My blessing on you all. Long life and prosperity to the Douglases.”

He lay back on his pillows, exhausted, and the men exchanged glances. It could not be long now.

They were right. In a few days old Bell-the-Cat was dead and young Archibald had become Earl of Angus.

The new Earl of Angus lost no time in going to Traquair with the news, where Lady Jane was eagerly awaiting him for she guessed that his grandfather could not live long, and she knew what a change this would make in the fortunes of her lover.

They walked beside the Quair Water together and talked of the future.

“I have his blessing, Jane,” Angus told her. “He said that it was folly to waste time. We should marry without delay. Are you ready to do so?”

“I am ready,” answered Jane.

“As soon as a few more months have passed then. It would be a scandal to marry so soon after the death of my poor Margaret and my grandfather. It is useless to expect people to understand how I loved you from the moment I saw you. If we married now they would say we had intrigued during Margaret's lifetime. Who knows what else they might say? They are ready enough to blacken a man's character… and a woman's. I'd not care to subject you to that, Jane.”

“We can wait a few more months,” said Jane serenely. “The time will seem long, but I know that you will long for it to be over, even as I shall.”

“Oh, Jane…how long the waiting will be! We'll not make it too long.”

“No,” she answered. “When you have done mourning for your grandfather… when the summer comes perhaps.”

“Oh, how I sigh for the summer!”

From Traquair Angus went to Stobhall, as his maternal grandfather, Lord Drummond, had sent for him.

Lord Drummond, who had once hoped to take a large share in the government of Scotland when he had believed his daughter Margaret was going to marry James IV, had been deprived of his dearest ambition. He still mourned the death of his daughter—not so much for the loss of her person, but for the honors she might have brought her family had she become Queen of Scotland.

He had hoped for much from his family. His daughters had been recognized as among the most beautiful women in Scotland. But that fateful breakfast had carried off three of them—Margaret, Eupheme, and Sibylla. Elizabeth, who fortunately had not sat down to that meal with her sisters, had lived to marry the heir of Angus, eldest son of old Bell-the-Cat; she had had numerous children and the eldest was young Archibald, who as Earl of Angus would be a powerful man in Scotland, and because he was so young he would need advice. Who better to give that advice than his grandfather? Now that old Bell-the-Cat was out of the way, that other grandfather, himself, Lord Drummond, should be the one to guide the head of the Douglas clan.

So he sent for the boy in order to impress on him the sudden importance of his rank.

As soon as Angus came into his presence, Drummond was struck by his resemblance to his mother and aunts. His was a family with more than its share of good looks. Angus ought to go far.

“Now, my boy,” said Drummond, “I trust you are aware of the great importance of your new position.”

“Yes, Grandfather. I have had it impressed upon me, I do assure you.”

“And rightly so. You are now the head of one of the most important clans in Scotland, and it is no good thing that you should have been thrust into such a position so young. Alas for Flodden! Would that your father had lived to pass on the title to you in good time. But what is, must be. While you are here I want to talk to you on Court matters and then I shall wish you to accompany me to Court. There I hope to bring you to the notice of the Queen, and I have little doubt that if you are wise you will do well there. You have good looks and a great name.”