Tudor Princess, The (21 page)

Ellen could only shake her head. I knew there was nothing she could say to reassure me; my fears were real and Ellen was too wise to try to dismiss them.

At once I heard the doors to my antechamber burst open. I started, gasping. They had come for me! They had come to take my children and perhaps worse.

But as I collected myself, I saw to my delight that it was Angus entering my innermost rooms, Angus and not the enemy. I breathed a sigh, smiling at the rugged soldier making his way to me in long, confident strides.

My heart began to race – how handsome he was! I threw myself in his arms. ‘Angus, my darling!’ I cried. ‘You’ve come to save me.’

He held me tight a brief moment before disengaging. ‘I have. Come, there is no time to waste. We are taking the boys and going to Stirling. We will be safe there.’

I held my tears of relief at bay as we rushed to collect the children. All the while I could not help but thank God that Angus had come, that I was not all alone.

That must have meant that he loved me, it must have …

Snow was beginning to fall that November night as we made our way to Stirling and Little Jamie delighted in the sparkling white flakes that fell from the heavens. Through his eyes it was a magical adventure, something else I thanked God for. The little boy had no awareness of the idea that he was the centre of such conflict and that as many wished to help him, as many wished him harm. I held him close in a moment of wild fear and he squirmed against my embrace.

‘I canna see the snow, Mama!’ he cried as he wriggled out of my arms to look out the window of the carriage.

I laughed. ‘We will have plenty enough snow for you to play in at Stirling,’ I assured him. ‘You can play all day if you like, when you aren’t in your lessons.’

Little Jamie’s eyes brightened at this as he thrust his arm out of the curtain to catch the soft snowflakes on his fingertips. He giggled.

It was such an innocent moment, and watching him, I somehow knew I would always remember it. How I wished it could last.

Stirling Castle was a safe, strategic spot in the Midland Valley along the Forth, well fortified and well supplied, and my servants there were loyal to me, a hard enough asset to find in anyone. We could hold out there a long while and I could be assured of the safety of my children. Once we arrived, I ordered the portcullis dropped while I wrote my brother once more, briefing him on the situation and begging once more for his help.

There we passed Christmastide and I made the occasion merry for my children, who did not find anything out of the ordinary. I donned a lovely red gown of heavy velvet with gold undersleeves and a matching gold stomacher embroidered with seed pearls, with a matching gown for my faithful Ellen. She was able to accompany me along with some of my ladies who remained out of obligation if nothing else. I trusted none of them beyond Ellen. I was ever grateful for her company and we feasted with music and dancing, a modest entertainment, but it would not do for a queen to pass Christmas by with nothing. I was still a civilised woman despite the fact that I was in Scotland.

Angus seemed to enjoy the festivities; he was boisterous and held a bit of a court of his own.

‘He’s taken in quite a bit of wine,’ Ellen observed from where we sat at the high table. Her eyes followed Angus as he leaned in over another lady’s plate, laughing as his eyes travelled to her bosom. My jaw clenched.

‘He has had a great deal to worry about,’ I told Ellen. ‘It is good to see him enjoy himself; we’ve had little enough to celebrate since our wedding.’

I watched the woman tip back her lovely head, offering throaty titters of laughter that I knew were for his benefit, and my cheeks began to burn.

‘Who is that woman?’ I asked Ellen.

‘That is Jane Stewart,’ she informed me. ‘Of Traquair. Do you … do you know of her, Your Grace?’

‘What is there to know?’ I asked, offering an open stare toward them that I hoped revealed my displeasure.

Ellen was silent.

I turned toward her. ‘What do you know of her that I do not?’

Ellen lowered her eyes. ‘It may be just a rumour.’

I drew in a breath, expelling it slowly. ‘Ellen, by God if you know something of this woman, I should know, too!’

Ellen raised her gaze toward me, sighing. ‘Only that it is said that my Lord Angus held her in some esteem before he knew Your Grace.’

‘What kind of esteem?’ I asked as my heart began to thud in my chest.

Ellen hesitated once more. ‘It is said they spoke of marriage.’

I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair. The great hall became warm at once and I longed to shed myself of the burden of my gown, the gown I had thought to be so fetching, which Angus hadn’t bothered to compliment once.

Angus, in fact, did not say anything at all to me that night.

‘Well, didn’t you have a merry evening,’ I said to Angus when we had retreated to our bedchambers after the festivities. I sat at my vanity brushing my long tawny tresses while Angus lay across the bed, one arm thrown across his forehead, which ached from his enthusiastic intake of wine, I imagined.

‘I did,’ he said, rolling to his side and leaning on his elbow. ‘It was good to be surrounded with people we care about and who care about us instead of having to look over our shoulders.’

‘Aye, there were some who cared for you a bit more than others, were there not?’ I retorted, attempting to keep my anger in check and remain calm.

Angus offered a wide smile. ‘Whatever do you mean, my dear?’

‘I suddenly become “your dear” whenever you know you’ve displeased me,’ I snapped, slamming down my hairbrush and rising from the vanity. ‘Who is Lady Jane of Traquair and what is she doing at Stirling Castle?’

Angus averted his eyes. ‘She is of no import, Margaret,’ he told me. ‘Just a lovely young girl who is loyal to you and your cause, I might add.’

‘Your lover?’

‘For God’s sake, Margaret, no,’ Angus said, flopping on his back once more and staring up at the canopy.

‘But she was your lover … wasn’t she?’ I hissed.

Angus drew in a breath. ‘We were fond of one another once. But you’ve no need to worry. I am committed to you.’

‘Committed,’ I echoed, sitting on the bed and dropping my head. ‘By God, Angus, I have been betrayed and humiliated enough in my life and I will not allow you to do the same. I married you at great risk to my sons and to myself; everything is in jeopardy because of that decision. I demand the respect as a wife and your queen that I deserve.’

Angus sat bolt upright, swinging his legs over the bed and rising. He circled the bed and stood before me, arms folded across his broad chest. ‘You speak to me as if I am one of your subjects and not your husband,’ he said in low tones. ‘My God, I believe you fancy yourself still married to the late king, and me … I dinna know what you think I am. Have I not defended your decisions before the council? Have I not raised sword and shield to protect your sons, children I love as if they were my own?’

My shoulders slumped. Was I being unreasonable? I sank my forehead into my hand, sighing. It did no good to appear jealous; men hated that. Yet how else was I to express my displeasure and maintain respect?

Angus sat beside me. ‘I have been good to you and to the children. Remember, you agreed quite willingly to marry me, and you did not have to. We canna go back, so either make the best of it or—’

‘Oh, Angus, dinna say that!’ I cried as hot tears stung my eyes. I turned toward him, throwing myself against his chest. His arms wrapped about me in a loose embrace. ‘I am sorry I was cross with you. You have no idea what I have endured. I dinna want to go back there; I dinna want to be disrespected the way I once was; you must realise that.’

‘And you need to realise that
I
am not James IV,’ he said. ‘Understand it and give me the respect that I deserve if you want my respect in turn.’

I pulled away, nodding. ‘I will, Angus, I will,’ I said, as eager as a child who had been scolded and would do anything to please. I sniffled. ‘But that Traquair woman. I want her sent away. Please. I may be silly, but … please. For me.’

Angus sighed once more. I decided he found the argument tedious; it could not be out of regret for sending that little harlot away. We needed no threats to our union; it was threatened enough without her help.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Whatever Your Grace desires.’

I wrapped my arms about his neck, ignoring the slight, and held him close, kissing his bearded cheek. He was right; I was married to him now and respect was due him as well.

I would be better, I vowed. I would be the wife he wanted, the woman he wanted, and his head would turn for me alone.

BOOK 4

12

T
he winter was as bitter and bleak as my prospects and we relocated from Stirling to Perth. There I awaited and anticipated word from my brother while I watched the children grow. Little Jamie was as agreeable as he had ever been and baby Alexander was a blessing. I spent many hours cooing to him and holding him close, but he had begun to develop a mind of his own and wriggled in my lap, longing to crawl about and explore his world whenever he wasn’t in swaddling bands. It was a joy to watch him and his brother romp and play. They were my sanity, my strength, and my greatest hope.

In the midst of our routine, word from my brother arrived from Sir James English, my trusted secretary.

‘His Majesty your brother has a plan,’ he told me. ‘A plan for your escape to the borderlands.’

‘The Border …’ I breathed. It would be a perilous journey, and with the children in winter; I could be risking their very lives, and then where would we be? I shuddered. ‘What shall we do, Sir James? Of course I must go, but how?’

Sir James pursed his lips at this. ‘I know not, in truth, Your Grace. ’Tis dangerous all over. Why, Williamson was just accosted by ruffians himself. Lord Dacre sent his brother to deal with them, but they are a few of many. Thieves and bandits thrive on the Border …’

That they did; the situation on the Border was volatile and my brother did not help it, encouraging raids. I wondered if we would ever know peace …

Everything seemed to be working against us. The next missive from Williamson dealt a harsher blow. Old King Louis of France was dead, my sister a widow held up in Cluny until it would be revealed if she carried a child, and King Francois now sat on the throne. God only knew what his plans were for peace with England or Scotland. Would he send Albany after all? Would my children be taken from me then?