The Thistle and the Rose (16 page)

“Thank you, Grandfather. I am ready to go when you wish.”

“That is well.”

“There is one matter of which I would wish to speak to you. My paternal grandfather advised me that I should marry soon, and that I wish to do.”

“Whom have you in mind?”

“Lady Jane Stuart.”

“Daughter of the Traquair,” mused Drummond. “Hmm. If you are wise you will shelve that little matter for a while. There are affairs of more pressing urgency afoot, I do assure you.”

Angus felt faintly alarmed. He had a notion that his ambitious grandfather was not quite sure whether Jane was a worthy enough match for the Earl of Angus.

Not that I shall be influenced! Angus told himself. I shall choose my own wife, and that will be Jane.

It was April when Margaret's baby was born. She christened him Alexander, and he was given the title of Duke of Ross. He was a beautiful baby, promising to be as healthy as her little James, and she was delighted with him.

Although she felt weak after his birth, this pregnancy had been slightly less arduous than those she had previously suffered; she was glad of this for she was uncomfortably aware of the strife which was going on about her. There were certain members of the nobility who were determined to bring Albany over from France. His deputy, de la Bastie, had already arrived; and her brother Henry was urging that on no account must Albany be brought to Scotland, for he would not tolerate a French influence there. There was another scheme forming in the minds of the pro-French party and that was to marry her to Louis XII of France. Margaret shuddered at the prospect. Aging Louis did not appeal to her as a husband; but there was a grim amusement in thinking of marrying the widower of that Anne of Brittany who had once caused her so much jealousy.

When I marry, thought Margaret, it will be someone young and handsome, someone like young Archibald Douglas. He was the Earl of Angus now—quite a considerable title. Perhaps it would be less incongruous for the Queen to marry the Earl of Angus than young Archibald Douglas.

Lord Drummond, who held the office of Lord-Justiciary of Scotland, had written to her begging leave to present himself. He wished to bring his young grandson to her notice. The boy had recently acquired the title of Earl of Angus; he was still in mourning for his grandfather—and alas, he had been doubly stricken, for he had not long since become a widower—but he was a young man of spirit and yearned to be at Court that he might more assiduously serve his Queen.

Margaret replied graciously. Lord Drummond must come to Court at once. She had heard of the sorrows of the young Earl and the new responsibilities which had been thrust upon him. She wished to give him her personal sympathy.

Lord Drummond had not felt so excited since those days when he had believed his daughter Margaret had so enslaved the King of Scotland that he would marry her. He was certain that he had discovered a passion as intense, and for another member of his family.

Why did the Queen keep young Angus at her side? Why did she unsuccessfully endeavor to hide the pleasure his company gave
her? Why did her eyes gleam with excitement when he stood beside her? Lord Drummond knew the answers to all these questions.

What a handsome pair they were! Margaret a young and lusty widow. Angus even younger, a widower in need of a new wife. The trouble was that Angus seemed to be willfully blind to the portents. That was because he was mooning about Traquair's daughter.

By all the saints, Drummond said to himself, what this could mean to our family!

He smiled. Life was ironical. Once it had offered him a similar opportunity. A daughter of his to marry a king. That had failed, through some foul murderer; but now his grandson might be the husband of the Queen.

He considered the matter. Should he talk to Angus? The boy was only nineteen and foolish without doubt, imagining himself in love with Jane Stuart. This had to be handled with the utmost care.

He invited the boy's uncles to call on him, letting them know that he had vital family matters to discuss with them; and when Gavin Douglas, the poet and priest, came to Drummond's apartments accompanied by his brother, Sir Archibald of Kilspindie, Drummond lost no time in telling them what he suspected.

“The Queen is enamored of young Angus, and this is no surprise to me. I believe him to be the most handsome man at Court.”

“You mean she is his mistress?” asked Sir Archibald.

“Nay, nay. You go too fast. She is deeply conscious of her royalty. The pride of these Tudors is greater than that of the Stuarts, my friends. She is in love with him but I doubt she would be his mistress. Nor do we wish her to. But I see no reason why she should not become his wife.”

The Douglases were too startled to speak. “Why not? Angus has a great title. Why should not a Douglas share the throne? Have you two so little regard for your family's honor that you would raise objections to this?”

“Why no, indeed,” said Gavin quickly, “but is it possible?”

“Why not? Providing we act with discretion.”

“How so?” demanded Sir Archibald.

“The Queen is a young woman. She has been without a husband since Flodden. She sees our young Angus and is enflamed
with desire for him. Can you wonder? He is a fine figure of a man. I have watched her. I have seen the signs.”

“The Council would never permit a marriage.”

Drummond snapped his fingers. “Who cares for the Council! If there was a marriage between these two it would have to be made first and the Council told afterward.”

“It is not a year since the death of the King.”

“We cannot afford to waste time, or they will find a husband for her. They tried to marry her to Louis XII.”

“They cannot do that now.”

“Assuredly not, since the King of England, determined to have no union between Scotland and France, has married his younger sister Mary to Louis.”

“That we know,” put in Drummond testily, “but the Council would find what they deem a suitable husband for the Queen… and that husband would not be Angus. Imagine Arran, for one, allowing a Douglas to be put above him. Nay, if there is to be a marriage it must be done with all speed, while the Queen's feelings are hot toward our Angus, and before the Council can intervene.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“That we summon our handsome young man and impress upon him the need to do his duty by his family.”

“I believe the boy to have betrothed himself to Jane Stuart.”

“Then he must un-betroth himself,” cried Drummond. “Nothing must stand in the way of this match. Have you thought what it would mean to the family? A bishopric at least for you, Gavin Douglas, a fine place at Court for your brother here.”

“And for my Lord Drummond?” inquired Gavin not without sarcasm.

“My dear fellow, all the family could expect to prosper. I want your support when I explain to Angus where his duty lies. He must act with speed and caution. He must let the Queen know that he returns her passion.”

“Which he does not?” questioned Archibald.

“Then he must learn to,” retorted Angus's ambitious grandfather. “I was once cheated of seeing my daughter share the throne of Scotland; I'll not stand by and see my grandson kept from it.”

“What do you propose to do?” asked Gavin.

“Summon Angus and, with your support, tell him what he must do. Do you stand with me?”

The Douglases eyed each other. They were ambitious men.

“We'd be fools not to,” replied Gavin speaking for them both.

Drummond clapped them both on the back.

“I knew I could rely on you,” he said. “Now … for young Angus.”

Angus was bewildered. He looked in anguish from his uncles to his grandfather.

“You see,” he explained laboriously, “Jane and I have plighted our troth.”

“Plighted your fiddlesticks!” snapped Drummond. “I never heard such nonsense. Marry that girl and you are finished at Court, I tell you. Margaret will see that all you hope for is denied you.”

“All I hope for,” replied Angus, “is to live peacefully with Jane. I don't mind not being at Court. We'll be perfectly happy at Whitehorn or Tantallan.”

“Whitehorn and Tantallan! You forget you are the head of the house of Douglas, my boy, and whether you like it or not your clan looks to you to act accordingly. It is your solemn duty to put honors in the way of your family, and how could you do this better than by becoming the Queen's husband?”

“But she has not said she would marry me.”

“What a young fool you are! It is for you to sigh and simper and show how you would if you dared. She'll be ready and willing enough. If you were half a man you would have read the signs in her eyes.”

“B-But what of Jane?” stammered Angus.

“If she's a sensible girl she'll understand and call you a fool if you missed your opportunity.”

“I have sworn…”

“As a Douglas you are pledged to your family, my boy. Now, no more nonsense. How many men do you think there are at Court who wouldn't give ten years of their lives to be in your position? The Queen desiring you! Go to it. You're not a simpering boy now, you know. You're a man.”

“I will not…”

“God help us,” murmured Drummond; then his voice rose in a crescendo. “We are cursed with a Douglas who's naught but a simpering ninny!”

“Grandfather,” began Angus helplessly.

Drummond took him by the arm. “I see,” he said, “that your uncles and I have to talk to you very seriously.”

Angus believed himself to be the most unhappy man at Court. Why, he kept asking, did his grandfather have to die? Why was he thrust into this position? How much better it would have been to have remained plain Archibald Douglas than become Earl of Angus. Then everyone would have said the match with Jane was a good one. Why had the Queen picked
him
out!

If he went to Jane and married her he would be continually reproached by his family; if he obeyed his family he would be forever reproached by Jane.

All his life he had been brought up to recognize the importance of belonging to a great family. In his family's mansions like Whitehorn and Tantallan there were the Douglas arms and emblems in every room. Old Bell-the-Cat had played a big part in the history of Scotland; as it was deemed fitting that every head of the House of Douglas should do.

What can I do? he asked himself again and again.

He was in private audience with the Queen. His grandfather had arranged it, telling the Queen that his grandson Angus had asked it.

It was untrue; but now that he was alone with her he looked at her with a new interest.

There was no denying that she was beautiful. She looked particularly so today… eager and expectant, her eyes brilliant, her long golden hair flowing over her shoulders in a careless fashion that was very becoming. It was so long that she could have sat on it, and he was fascinated by its shining splendor.

She did not seem like a queen; indeed he fancied that she was trying to cast aside her royalty that they might appear as equals.

“My lord,” she said, “I hear you have something to say to me.”

“Your Grace…,” he murmured and did not look at her.

She held out her hand, which he took because there was nothing else he could have done; she drew him toward her so that he was standing close to her seductive body; he could see by the rise and fall of her breast that she was a little agitated.

“You are thinking that I am the Queen,” she said. “Pray, my lord, forget that.”

“It is impossible to forget,” he said quietly.

“Nay. I am a woman and you are a man.” She took his other hand and drew him closer. She lifted her face to his and there was nothing else to do but kiss her. The passion which he met overwhelmed him. She clung to him, her body pressed against his, her kisses fierce, demanding.

She was beautiful; she was desirable, and they were both young; it was not difficult to respond.

At last she withdrew herself, her eyes half closed; she looked as though she were fainting with ecstasy.

“Angus…,” she murmured. “My dearest Angus. Nothing shall keep us apart, I swear it.”

“Your Grace…”

She held up a hand. “I have sworn it. I have thought of this matter for a long time. They will attempt to stop us, of course, but we'll not allow it. My dearest love, you must not think of me as your Queen. There shall be no formality between us two. How I long for you! The marriage must take place at once.”

“Your Grace, there is something I must tell you.”

“Not ‘Your Grace.' Say ‘Margaret.' I am Margaret to you now and henceforth. There will be opposition, but I have spoken to Lord Drummond who will arrange this matter for us. He is shrewd and wise. There is going to be no delay. Soon, my love, you and I shall be in each other's arms.” She laughed. “How you deceived me! There were times when you convinced me that you did not care for me at all. Oh, how wretched you made me! But it is all over now.”

She threw herself into his arms again; the passionate embrace was repeated. And what could Angus do but respond? A man would have to be an eunuch not to, he told himself. She was so beautiful, so eager, and a queen withal! The situation had a piquancy to tempt any man's fidelity.

She would not let him speak; she stopped his lips with her kisses; and who would dare explain his feeling for another woman when the Queen's lips were on his? And afterward he dared not make an attempt. How could he tell her, when she had made such a confession of her own feelings, that he did not share them? How could he so insult a queen?

Margaret was grateful to the grandfather and uncles of her beloved. Lord Drummond had told her that he would arrange for the wedding ceremony to take place, and she could safely leave such matters to him. His nephew, Walter Drummond, was Dean of Dunblane and parson of Kinnoul, so the pair could be married in the utmost secrecy in his church at Kinnoul.

Margaret wanted to show her gratitude to these accommodating gentlemen, and she began by nominating Gavin Douglas as Bishop of Dunkeld. He overwhelmed her with thanks, and she replied that she would never forget his goodness and could wish to have bestowed an even greater reward. She hinted that when it was possible the Primacy of Scotland should be his.