Again, I speak through the portcullis, but this time there are no cheering spectators. I say that Stirling is my own castle, my husband the king gave it to me himself. I say that my son is in my own keeping, my royal husband made me his protector. I say I will not hand him over. I will not surrender the keys of the castle.
They call on Archibald, who is standing silently behind me, and they order him to advise me. Confidently, I turn and smile, but Archibald astounds me. Then and there, in the courtyard of Stirling Castle, where he used to count himself lucky if I let him lift me into the saddle, he says that his advice to me as my husband has always been that I should obey the governor, the Duke of Albany, who has been appointed by the parliament as regent. He says that this is the will of the lords of Scotland and we should all obey the earthly powers. I am completely silent, my eyes blazing at his pale face as he betrays me completely, politely, and in public. I say nothing at all until we have gone inside the castle and the door is closed on my privy chamber and we are alone. Then he stands with his hands behind his back, his head down, his face sulky as a child’s, waiting for the scolding that he knows is coming.
“How could you? How could you?”
He looks tired. He looks pale, like a boy who has been forced to take on troubles beyond his years. “So that they don’t charge me with treason like my grandfather,” he says.
“How could you betray me? You owe me everything. I have done everything for you. You are nothing more than Charles Brandon is to my sister. We both have honored husbands far below us, men who would be nothing without us.”
He shakes his head and it only makes me angrier.
“I will never forgive this,” I rail at him. “I have lost my throne for love of you. If I had not married you I would still be queen regent. All this is your fault, and yet when they call on you, you answer obediently! But you are not free to answer to them, you are bound to me! You are my husband, I am queen regent. You should not even speak when they address you!”
“I answer fair so that I keep my lands and goods,” he says slowly. There is no rage in his voice; unlike me, he speaks slowly and steadily. “I keep my castles and my tenants. I am going now, to raise troops to defend you. We have no one here in Stirling; we have no money to pay an army. But if I can get home and raise my tenantry and call on my friends and borrow money, then I can come back and get you out of here.”
“You are defending me?” My rage turns to astonishment. I feel the pulse of a complete change of heart.
“Of course. Of course.”
I grab his hands, tears pouring down my face, as anguished as I was angry. “You swear it? You’re not just leaving me? You’re not just saving your own skin and leaving me here?”
“Of course not.” He kisses my hands, he kisses my tearstained face. “What do you take me for? Of course I am going to raise an army to save you. I am your husband, I know what I must do.”
“I thought you had betrayed me. Before them all! I thought that you had gone over to their side and left me.”
“I knew you would. But you had to believe it, and they had to believe it, so that I can serve you.”
“Oh, Archibald, stay with me.”
“No, I shall go and get my men so I can save you. I shall go to my home.”
“And you won’t see her?” The words slip out before I can stop myself.
At once the tender look falls from his face and he looks as old as his grandfather and weary. “I will have to see her if I am trying to raise troops from her lands. She is a sweet loyal girl and has never failed in kindness towards me. Even now, she would do anything for me. I will have to meet with her family to plead your cause. But I am not leaving you for her. I don’t forget I am married to you. I know my duty, even though it is not what I thought it would be.”
“We will be happy again,” I promise him as if he is a child, like James, desperate to restore the love to his eyes. “Your duties will be merry again. We will break out of this, Harry will send an army. We will have our child and you will be glad. I will give you a son, I know I will. I will give you the next Earl of Angus. You will like that. And we will take power.”
He shows me a weary smile. “I am sure. I will go now and make all the speed I can to come back to you.”
“You will come back? You won’t run away to England like your brother George?”
He shakes his head. “I have given the word of a Douglas.”
I wait in the castle alone. Albany’s retinue and the lords who support him have invested the town of Stirling, and the castle is under siege. I have to guard my sons and defy the parliament, the lords, and the governor. I write to Harry. I tell him that I am alone, surrounded by my own parliament. They insist on taking my boys, his own nephews, his heirs. If he does not come to rescue me I cannot predict what will happen. I get no reply. Lord Dacre advises me in a secret letter that Harry and the new French king, Francis, have agreed together not to meddle in the affairs of Scotland. I know what this means: Harry has abandoned my cause; my brother has betrayed me.
I am sick at the thought of Harry agreeing to leave me to chance, but then I realize that the treaty cuts both ways. Albany, too, has no patron as he tries to rule Scotland; he will get no help from France. He and I are equally isolated, equally alone. He is camped in the town of Stirling, I am stuck in the castle. He has no king supporting his attempt to be governor, I have no brother helping me to be queen regent. I have no sisters pressing my case. We are to fight it out, like cocks in a ring, until one rips out the throat of the other.
I wait for Archibald to come back, but he does not. I play with the boys, I rest in the afternoon, I rack my brains to think who might come to rescue me since Harry has betrayed me and Archibald does not come; and I know that there is no one.
At the end of the week I can delay no longer and I agree to hand over the boys to the lords of my choosing. I nominate my husband, the Earl of Angus, and our friend Lord Hume. Albany does not even pretend to consider my proposals. He merely demands that I send out my boys. I answer him by keeping the drawbridge up and arming the guns. I know that we are moving towards a battle, I know that this can end only one way. I cannot win. I send a note to my husband by one of his menservants.
“If you don’t come I will lose my sons. Save me.”
I send the same letter to Harry.
Neither of them answers.
We are short of bread; we are short of the flour to make bread. The well is deep, there is always reliable water, so we will never go thirsty. But we are short of meat, and cheese. There are hens and cows inside the castle, grazing on the green, but we are short of hay. I order the horses to be driven out of the little gate, where Albany’s soldiers catch them and shout ironic thanks for the gift; but still we have only enough hay for a few weeks. When we kill the animals for meat we will have no milk or eggs. My sons need fresh food—they are children, they should not be starved in a siege. I don’t know what I can do.
I am sitting in my nightgown and robe, my hand on my swollen belly where the new baby is moving, when the doorway in my private chamber opens a crack. A lady-in-waiting gasps and points, her other hand over her mouth. “Your Grace?”
I get to my feet, my knees trembling. I am half expecting the Duke of Albany himself, entering through a secret door, having taken the castle by stealth, but instead it is Archibald.
“You’ve come! You’ve come.”
He tumbles into the room and catches me up and covers my face with kisses. “I promised. Did I not?”
“You did. My God! Thank heavens you have come! I have been so frightened. How many men do you have?”
“Not enough,” says his brother, coming through the door behind him. “Only sixty.”
“Oh, George! You’ve come back. I thought you were gone to England forever.”
He bows his dark head over my hand. “Just to gather news and get help,” he says. “Just to serve my brother and you.” His smile is quick.