Margaret
She does not even reply. She persists in encouraging war with France, and I don’t even know if Mary has had her jewels. Only when our ambassador tells us that the invading army has actually left England for France do I understand why Katherine has behaved so badly; only now do I see her reward.
Henry sets sail, and leaves Katherine in command of England. All of England! Given to the woman who once could not afford fresh apples from Kent. He names her as regent. I cannot believe it, even though I predicted that she wanted this, she would be like this. I am so furious with her that I raise no objection when James tells me that he is honor bound, by his alliance with France. He will invade the Northern lands of England.
“I shall probably have to face your old friend Thomas Howard,” James says when he comes into my rooms to lead me and my ladies in to dinner. I can tell from the smell of gunpowder in his hair that he has been at the powder mill.
“He was no friend of mine,” I reply. “It was you he talked to all the time. He was overproud, I was delighted when he went home.”
“Well, now he has been left to guard England,” James says. “Your brother has taken his best men and all his army to France and left no one but old Howard and his son and the queen to defend England. I will meet him on the field of battle once again.”
“Will he be short of men? Has Harry taken everyone?”
James takes my hand and comes close, so that no one can hear but me.
“He has enough, but if the clans will come out for me, then I will have more. And they will come out for me, for I have been a true king to them and an honorable leader and never led them astray.”
Ahead of us, in the great hall, I can hear the rumble of voices and the scrape of the benches on the floor as people take their seats. I can hear the ripple of music and the slow chant of the choir from the gallery.
“I won’t fail them,” James says quietly. “I am the true-born King of Scots and the English are led by a man new-come to his throne and terribly inexperienced. I have served them for years and they have served me, and the English king is just a boy.”
He glances at me and says the thing that he knows I will want to hear the most: “And I have a queen, a young woman but a great queen, at my side, and he has nothing but a Spanish princess, the widow of his brother, the cat’s paw of her father. How can we fail?”
“And Thomas Howard is so very old,” I say. “Surely his fighting years are over?”
James frowns. “He is out of favor with your brother the king,” he says thoughtfully. “And he has lost a son, who drowned at sea and lost Harry’s ships. Your brother blames the Howards for failing him, he has turned against them. Howard is the only earl not taken to France in Henry’s great army. I think he will fight like a cornered rat when he faces me. He knows it is his last chance to win back the king’s favor. He will be a desperate man—I don’t mind admitting that I would rather not face a man who has nothing to lose.”
“Perhaps you had better not fight?” I suggest nervously. “Perhaps we had better not invade England?”
“This is our chance,” my husband rules. “And we haven’t had a better chance for decades.” He smiles, knowing how to tempt me. “Your sister-in-law and your greatest rival is the English regent. Don’t you want me to march against her army? Don’t you want to see her completely defeated?”
LINLITHGOW PALACE, SCOTLAND, SUMMER 1513
We visit Linlithgow to see James, our son. The ride is beautiful in the warm summer weather. We go cross-country until we reach the broad banks of the Forth and the water meadows that stretch for miles. As it is midsummer the milkmaids go out every morning and evening and call the cows who are hock deep in lush grass, and at dinner we eat possets and milk puddings, creamy toppings and the rich cheese of the area.
We approach the castle up the sloping ride from the loch and as we enter through the broad gateway, I can see my son James in the arms of his wet nurse in the pretty inner courtyard. Thank God he is growing and strong, past the dangerous date of his first birthday, settled with his Irish nurse, giggly and waving his little clenched fists at his father, screaming with delight when he is pursued, toddling off on fat little feet.
We have easy days at this most comfortable palace. I take the baby down to the loch every day and sometimes we take a boat out, and I let him paddle his toes in the water. The lake is teeming with fish: trout and even salmon. His father wades into the cold deeps with a rod and line and promises me that I will have salmon for my dinner. The gillies go out with him and together they bring back a string of fish, scales like silver, too heavy for one man to carry.
In the evenings I summon James to drink wine with me at the top of the tower on the queen’s side, where the stairs go up and up and at the very head there is the tiny room, roofed against the rain, which looks all over Lothian. When the sun sets I can see the sky all around me as if I am an eagle in an eyrie, the clouds like lace lying over silk. When it rains or when the clouds roll down from the hills I can see huge rainbows, arching up as if they are pointing the way to heaven.
“I knew you would like this,” James says with satisfaction. “When I planned it and had it built for you I imagined you, like this, at the very top of your own palace, looking around. Tell me it is as fine as Greenwich!”
“Oh, it’s so different,” I caution him. “Greenwich is a palace set flat on a tidal river, built for peace. Here you have a palace but still you have a hill and a moat and a drawbridge. Greenwich has a long marble quay before it, modeled after the Venetians, where anyone may land, and doors stand open all the summer. This is more like a castle than a palace.”
I see the disappointment in his face. “But there is no comparison,” I reassure him. “Here we have the most beautiful rooms which lead into one another, the most beautiful great hall. People all around are amazed by it. And here I can ride out around the loch, sail in a boat—look at the quay you have built for the royal sailing boat! And if I want to hunt, there is a park filled with game for me. It is a beautiful palace, perhaps the loveliest in Scotland. And this, at the top of the tower you built for me, is the prettiest room I have ever been in.”
“I am glad that you have come to love it.”
“I have. Nobody could fail to love it.”
“That’s good, because here I have to leave you. I have to go to Edinburgh tomorrow,” James says, as if it is nothing but an errand to fetch something. “And then I will meet with my lords and march on England.”
I feel a sick heave in my belly. “What? So soon? Do you mean to go to war?”
“As I must.”
“But the peace . . .”
“Has to be broken.”
“The treaty . . .”
“It’s void. Henry voided it whenever he arrested my men on the seas, and whenever he let his Northern lords raid our lands. If my fleet had caught him as he sailed for France we would have been at war already. As it is, they will wait off the French coast and catch him on his return. In the meantime, we will strike hard and quickly into England.”
I put my hands over my eyes. I am an English princess. I came here to prevent this. “Husband, is there no way that you can find peace?”
“No. Your brother wants a fight. He is a young man, and a fool, and I can lead this campaign, paid for by the French, to regain our lands, and establish ourselves as a mighty neighbor.”
“I am so afraid for you.”
“Thank you. I imagine you are afraid for yourself.”
“That too,” I say honestly. “And for our boy.”
“I have provided for him.” He speaks as if this is merely careful housekeeping, not a preparation for his death. “His tutor will be William Elphinstone, the Bishop of Aberdeen.”
“You don’t even like him!”