“I could have made friendship between you.”

“Never!”

“You would not let me try.” She sat up in bed and abused him for all that he had made her suffer. She taunted him with his infidelity — the lies and subterfuge during those first months of their married life when he had feigned to be occupied by state affairs and was in truth with his mistresses.

“What sort of marriage is this… for the daughter of a king!” demanded Margaret.

She was a little hysterical, because she was afraid. She had related a dream to him which had not occurred that night, but her sleep had been uneasy of late, and although her dreams had taken no definite shape they had been filled with foreboding.

She could not analyze her feelings for this man. There were times when she hated him, others when she loved him. She loved him for his virile body, for his graceful and expert lovemaking; but she could never forget that he, who had awakened her to the full sensuality of her own nature, had deceived her, had made her foolish in her own eyes. She had dreamed of an idyll; if he had only seemed a little less perfect during the first days of their marriage it would have been easier to bear. She would have come to a sense of reality before she had built a romantic ideal. She believed that as long as she lived she would feel cheated — and he had done this.

She wanted to tell him so now, because she had a notion that this was the time to tell him. Perhaps she hoped to make him relent toward her, to take her with him into battle. For suddenly she was terrified to let him go.

He had taken her trembling body in his arms and the intensity of her passion communicated itself to him. There could only be one climax for them in such a situation.

When they lay silent and exhausted side by side, Margaret stared into the darkness.

She was certain that that night she had conceived again.

The King was preparing for the march south. The Queen was subdued and silent.

She had taken the young prince to Linlithgow and James was with her; but he would not stay long. The country was ready for war.

She did not plead again to be allowed to accompany his army, because she knew it would be fruitless. He was particularly kind and gentle but adamant on that point.

“I feel our son will be safe with you,” he told her. “I shall make you Regent of my kingdom and guardian of our heir while I am away.”

She nodded sadly and lowered her eyes for fear he should see the resentment which she did not believe she would be able to hide.

He told her that he had called a council to be held in the Palace and that during it he hoped to complete his plans.

“It will not be long before I am back with you,” he said. “I pray you take counsel with English Cuddy and Scotch Dog. I shall expect good entertainment on my return.”

English Cuddy! Scotch Dog! As though she were a child to be amused with their trifles.

But she did not give up hope of persuading him.

Help came from an unexpected quarter, when the Earl of Angus, old Bell-the-Cat, presented himself to her.

Margaret felt stimulated at the sight of the old warrior because she was interested in the Douglas family for two reasons: one that this man was a rival with James for the affections of Janet Kennedy; and the other that he was a grandfather of his namesake,Archibald Douglas, who had so caught her fancy and whom she could not get out of her mind.

“Your Grace,” said Bell-the-Cat, “I have heard that you sought, most wisely, to turn the King from his intention to attack England, and I have come to ask your permission to work with you in this endeavor.”

Margaret flushed with pleasure. “You are very welcome, my lord,” she told him. “I am sure your experience and reputation should be of great help in changing the King’s mind.”

“That is what I wish to do, for I am of the opinion that this is not the moment to engage in war.”

“I will ask the King’s permission to go with you to him now that you may talk to him.”

The old man bowed his head, and Margaret called to one of her attendants to go to the King and ask if he would receive her and the Earl of Angus who had come on a mission of great importance.

James sent a reply immediately that he would be pleased to receive them in his apartment, and when the Queen presented the Earl, he regarded him with distaste.

He could not help picturing him with Janet, and he knew that Angus felt the same about him. They were rivals — and they always would be, for Janet was a woman whom it was difficult to forget.

Angus too suffered from tormenting jealousy. The Stuart was one of the handsomest fellows in Scotland. Such looks and charm, and a crown to go with them! No wonder Janet had been tempted,

“What is it you wish?” James asked.

“To add my pleas to those of the Queen on this matter of war,” Angus told him.

“My mind is made up,” replied the King coldly.

“Sire, the English have always been a formidable enemy.”

“I am well aware of the strength of my enemy, my lord. But as it happens the flower of the English army is at this moment engaged in attacking my friend and ally, the King of France. And this seems an opportune moment for me to wipe out old scores. As you doubtless know, I have already declared war on the King of England.”

“Sire, will you not call together your old counselors?”

“Your friends?”

“They will set their reasons before Your Grace, as I will do.”

The King shrugged his shoulders. “I am in no mood to listen to your advice, Angus. My plan shall go forward.”

“At least,” put in Margaret, “Your Grace should listen to what these tried and trusty men have to say.”

“Very well,” replied James. “I will hear you. Let there be a council meeting of those who share your views, and I will attend it; but I warn you, I shall not agree with your arguments and you are but wasting your time and mine.”

“Your Grace is good,” murmured Angus. “I will bring to the Palace certain members of my family and my friends who share my views, that we may parley with Your Grace.”

“As you will,” said James, but his lips were set in the obstinate lines which Margaret understood; and she knew that he had already made up his mind.

The Douglases came to Linlithgow in their strength. Margaret met the eldest son of Bell-the-Cat, George, Master of Douglas, who was the father of Archibald. She had a glimpse also of the younger Archibald himself, and there was an opportunity of exchanging a word with him.

“I rejoice to see your grandfather at Linlithgow,” she told him when she met him as if by chance on his way to the council meeting.

“I thank Your Grace,” murmured the young man, bowing over her hand.

“I pray that he will persuade the King from this enterprise.”

“I will add my prayers to those of Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” she said, and smiled at him in a manner which embarrassed him slightly because he was not sure of the meaning behind her looks.

It was said in the Palace that the Queen and old Bell-the-Cat were allies, more because of Janet Kennedy than the English.

But there was another thing which was said, and that was that there was a party in the country opposed to war; and this became known as the Queen’s and the Douglas faction.

James listened to the objections to war and swept them all aside. He had made up his mind. He was going to march against England.

The King had gone to the Abbey Church of St. Michael with some of his ministers to pray for a successful enterprise and was attending vespers in St. Katharine’s Chapel there when an extraordinary incident occurred.

James was kneeling in prayer when, out of the dimness of the chapel, a strange figure appeared. This seemed to be an aged man dressed in a blue gown, with a roll of white linen tied about his waist; his hair hung in yellow locks about his face and fell to his shoulders.

His voice rang through the chapel so that all could hear: “James, King of Scotland, listen to me and take heed. Sir King, I charge you — do not go where you plan to go. If you ignore this warning, you will not fare well — nor shall any that follow you. Beware. Follow not the counsel of women. Do this, Sir King, and you will be confounded and brought to shame.”

There was a brief silence and before any had time to detain the man he had disappeared.

James rose to his feet. “Who spoke then?” he cried.

His friends were clustering about him.

“Did you see a figure… a strange figure in blue and white?”

“I thought so.”

“Where is he now?”

“He was there one moment… and gone the next.”

Frightened glances were exchanged. None was as eager to go to war with England as the King was.

James said: “Bah! A madman.”

“Perhaps so, Sire, but where did he go?”

“We have other things with which to concern ourselves than the antics of madmen,” said the King.

Margaret awaited the return of her servant.

He was trembling, for he had feared he would not escape. He had planned what he would say if he were caught; he would tell the King that the Queen had commanded him to act as he had; and he knew the King well enough to believe that he would shrug his shoulders and laugh aside the incident.

But he had not been caught. The Queen had planned carefully. It had been possible to emerge from the shadows to say his piece; to step back; to slip behind the curtains and out through the little door at the side of the altar to the privy stairs which led to the Palace.

“Well done,” said Margaret.