Tudor Princess, The (31 page)

I nodded. ‘I am. God forgive me, but it is the only way. We canna live like this. And it is the height of injustice that he should be allowed my rents and my lands. I could afford to give him one residence; I won’t begrudge him that. But everything? No,’ I added with an emphatic shake of the head.

‘I am here for you,’ Albany assured me, and no words were sweeter. ‘I regard it as a debt,’ he explained, assuaging my anxiety over a possible betrayal. ‘You need to understand that Scotland has always been my first priority since taking on the regency. It is to maintain the peace that I have been compelled to the decisions I have, not as any personal offence to you or your right as mother to your children.’

‘I do understand,’ I admitted. ‘I have not always agreed and I have not always liked it. But we are statesmen. And I do understand the sacrifices and agonizing decisions that such a role entails.’

‘More than most, I imagine,’ Albany ventured, his eyes soft. ‘As to our current situation, you should be informed that I have removed Gavin Douglas from Dunkeld.’

‘He has done nothing but abuse the generosity and endorsements I gave him in such good faith,’ I muttered, irritated that the man I had admired and called friend also served to be as much a traitor as his nephew Angus.

Albany nodded in agreement. ‘He has sought refuge at the court of your brother.’

I sighed in exasperation. ‘Of course he would.’

‘The Douglases have been removed from their posts. And for the moment you may not have to worry about your lands and rents,’ Albany went on with a note of languid cheer. ‘Angus is in exile. He has fled to France.’

‘Ironic,’ I observed with a smile, marvelling at all Albany had accomplished in such a short time. ‘You have switched places, it seems.’

Albany lowered his eyes at this, and I flushed. I had not meant it to be interpreted in a flirtatious manner … yet I wouldn’t
not
let his mind wander in such vein either. What was I thinking? Albany was my friend; I could see that now. I was not about to lose a friend for sake of attraction, not ever again. And yet, for whatever my womanly wiles were worth, dull and dowdy though they may be now, I was not averse to utilising them for whatever favour I could gain.

‘Thank you for all you have done,’ I said in sincerity, hoping to offset the awkward moment.

‘Do not thank me yet,’ Albany cautioned with a smile. ‘Your brother is far from pleased. I have received a letter from him; he accuses me of pretending to the throne, of abusing and manipulating you, and, of course, of unlawfully gaining custody of His Grace. He has all but declared war, madam.’

I shielded my mouth with my hand a moment, repressing a gasp. ‘I should have known. He sent Clarencieux King of Arms to scold me. There are the most wicked rumours …’ I was ashamed to name them. It was being said that Albany and I were lovers. Part of me found I was disappointed that, for once, the rumours were not true. But being thus, I was indignant. I never liked rumours even when based on truth. That my dignity and honour should be so besmirched without any right was infuriating.

‘I have heard the rumours,’ Albany said. ‘Let them think what they will; they will find enough fuel for their hatred regardless of what we do. Keep pressing forth, doing what you feel God is steering you to do. I truly believe that right always wins out in the end. It may take a while. Sometimes the end isn’t even in our lifetime. But I do believe that.’ His eyes revealed the conviction of his words and I admired him more for it.

‘I wish I had your optimism,’ I confessed. ‘It always amazes me how people regard matters of faith and life. We all endure the same tragedies, yet some of us turn to coldness, to doubt, while others, like you, retain a kindness and purity of heart that I envy.’

‘I would not say you are cold,’ Albany assured me.

‘I dinna know what I am now,’ I admitted, bowing my head, amazed to be revealing my soul to this man. ‘I find myself swinging on the pendulum of extremes. Some days I hate the world and the people in it; other days I am filled with hope and charity.’

‘Be assured, madam, whatever you are,’ Albany said, ‘I would not have you any other way.’

My eyes stung with tears at the simple sweetness of the sentiment. I met his soft gaze and in it found no sense of regret or unease in his confession.

And I loved him for it.

Whatever I may have felt for Albany, there would be no addressing it. I would be chaste and honourable; I would never fall to the side of the rumours and give my brother and those who spread such wickedness the satisfaction of seeing them made true. The fondness I bore Albany was pure; he would be one of the only men in my life who could in truth be described as noble. And I wanted to keep it that way.

We had enough to worry about without complicating our friendship with the joys of the flesh. And yet there were days when we would stroll the grounds together, arm in arm, and I found myself stumbling just so he would help me right myself. It was these small things that sustained me – his touch, his voice, his low, subtle laughter, his company. And when we weren’t caught up in the tensions of the realm, which was rare, we took time to take in a few of the things we both enjoyed: music, hawking, riding. Albany was competent at all three and especially gifted in music.

If I close my eyes now, I can still see Albany standing straight and rigid before the window, hands linked behind his back as he sang a French ballad, his low baritone resonating through my body like the hum of a bell. I would watch him, how he closed his eyes, feeling the music, letting it carry him away from this wretched place. No part of him would move, save his lips and his eyes when he sang, and yet never had I witnessed a performance more filled with conviction and emotion than his. Not even my talented Jamie or brother, Henry, was as gifted as this duke. Even I, with my appreciation for music and performing, would not dare to sing when Albany did. It would seem, somehow, disrespectful and intrusive on a moment too beautiful to last. It was almost holy.

Albany did not sing often; in truth, in those days we did not have much to sing about, but I would sit, enthralled, during those times when he did treat me to his songs.

Albany may have been the only person I had ever known to make me appreciate anything around me. I had been rushing through life, just trying to get to the next day, hoping things would be better, and had never slowed to dwell in the moments I did have.

One afternoon when we took rare bits of leisure, I was impatient with my hawk. We were hoping to hunt for some small game and it seemed to me my hawk was taking its sweet time. I stamped my foot and clicked my tongue in exasperation.

‘Madam. Stop,’ Albany said, coming behind me and resting his hands gently on my shoulders. ‘Look up. Enjoy this moment. Watch how graceful the bird flies; look at his command over the wind. Look at the trees, at their majestic stillness. Listen to the sounds of the forest. Take it in.’

‘My seventh day,’ I murmured, thinking of Henry and that day long ago when we bid each other farewell when first I came to Scotland, the parting he no longer recalled but that was forever etched in my memory. ‘When I was little, my brother told me that whenever being queen was too much, I should close my eyes and be still, and take a seventh day, where we would be waiting for each other to lend comfort and strength.’

‘A lovely sentiment,’ Albany observed. ‘There are seventh days all around, those moments of calm and tranquility we must seize because there are very few times when life is not too much.’

I leaned back against his chest. The world seemed to pause. The trees indeed were silent giants standing guard over their woodland subjects. The hawk soaring above glided across the sky with no effort at all. Then all at once I could not take any of those things in any more. All I could appreciate was the beating of his heart, his hands on my shoulders, his warm breath against my neck.

Oh, Albany, Albany, had things only been different …

My brother meant for war. Gavin Douglas wasted no time in fuelling his anger, telling Henry that among Albany’s infamous offences, he manipulated me into my desire to divorce Angus, stole from the treasury, sold off religious offices, and dressed Little Jamie shabbily, to boot! It would have been laughable had Scotland not been in such danger.

As winter progressed, Clarencieux King of Arms spent his time between the courts of my brother and me, relaying our mutual displeasure to each other. Henry also accused Albany of coercing me to respond to his letters in the sure, strong tone I had adopted in my correspondence with him. I assured him, through the poor messenger, that this was not the case, but I knew Henry would believe whatever suited his purposes at the time, and the affair became tedious and exhausting.

Even the Estates of Scotland had assured Clarencieux in a formal declaration that Albany was the lawful governor and tutor to Little Jamie. It was good to have them on my side once again. My side was the king’s side and it was he who was most important, he who must not lose himself in these delicate dances of power.

The steps of the dance grew more complex by the hour.

‘Ellen, I am confused,’ I confessed to my most faithful maid, who kept me company in my apartments. I was too anxious to sew, but Ellen, with her calm elegance, worked on a tapestry that would feature a scene of birds – doves, hawks, and eagles, all flying together, as if to achieve one aim. It captured all of my hopes for England and Scotland, to fly their banners together in peace.

‘Why are you confused, Your Grace?’ Ellen asked, her musical voice calming as a ballad.

‘I am torn between my brother and Albany,’ I told her. ‘For the sake of the king, England and Scotland
must
be at peace, and it is to that aim I am loyal, more so than to any one man. They may interpret things differently,’ I added with a sigh. ‘But my goal is peace, however I can attain it, for a stable realm for my son.’

‘It is a worthy goal,’ Ellen assured me.

‘But how to achieve it without seeming to betray everyone I lo – I am bound to?’ I shook my head. ‘I rode to Carlisle with Albany; I appealed to Lord Dacre myself. Our army was too afraid of another Flodden to attack and Dacre called for a truce. I believe he thought our forces larger than they were. I urged my brother Henry to offer a five-year peace and he did – can you imagine, five years of peace? In that five years so much good could be accomplished! It could have led to another five years, and another after that!’ I smiled at the thought, now lost to me as all my other dreams had been. ‘But the lairds of Scotland renewed the Auld Alliance with France and will have no peace with England. And I am the sister of Henry, so I am the enemy. The Borders are ravaged and I am to blame. I report to Henry and to Albany; I betray both in the hopes that peace might be gained for all. There are times when I am unfair to both; I make Albany sound worse than he is to Henry, and the same of Henry to Albany. I feel if I please everyone, if I tell them what they want to hear, then both will strive for peace more ardently.’

‘Who, then, are you loyal to?’ Ellen asked. The question startled me.

‘The king, to Little Jamie,’ I answered, as if it were obvious. ‘And I will do whatever it takes to secure his realm. Let them call me fickle and changeable. They do not know what it’s like to be mother of a king. They do not know what it is like to be me.’

‘Are you not afraid that if you continue to play both sides all will turn against you in the end?’ Ellen asked. She was by far the only person who could afford such audacity; she knew I would forgive her anything. She, more than any adviser or counselor, gave my conscience a voice and, with her quiet prompting, forced me to examine my innermost heart.

‘Yes,’ I told her in truth. ‘I am afraid of that.’

‘But if all you say is true, and I do not doubt your word, Your Grace, then you are sure of your course and are not in truth confused at all,’ Ellen pointed out.

I laughed at her reasoning. It was true. ‘I suppose I’m not,’ I agreed. I offered another long-suffering sigh. ‘Perhaps then it is approval I seek.’ My tone was wistful.

‘Whose?’ Ellen prodded. ‘Surely not mine. With what little influence I have, you canna expect to gain anything by my endorsement.’

‘Maybe that is exactly why I seek it,’ I said. ‘Because you have nothing to lose and nothing to gain. You simply know what is right and what is not. And I need to know from you, from someone who isn’t in the thick of it, if what I am doing is right.’ My heart pounded. I realised I put more store in her opinion than anyone else’s in my life. ‘Do you … do you think that I am right in what I do, Ellen?’

‘You want the truth.’ It was not a question. I nodded, urging her to speak. To my anguish, Ellen shook her head. ‘I do not think it is right, Your Grace, if you will forgive me. I think someday you will have to choose a side, or you will lose the respect of both.’

I nodded again, taking in her words, knowing she was right and knowing with as much certainty that what she was asking me to do was impossible.

Ultimately, her opinion, as I knew it would, changed nothing.

Maybe that, too, is why I sought it.

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