Виктория Холт - The Thistle and the Rose

Yet even when the fever was at its height and she rambled incoherently, the incessant repetition of her son’s name was enough to indicate what was on her mind. She clung to the thought of that small boy as though he were a lifeline; and indeed it seemed as if he were and that Margaret would not leave this life while she believed her son needed her.

Outside the castle the bleak January winds came howling from across the Border; the bitter cold penetrated the castle.

Angus was impatient. His wife was dying, and if he waited for her death, Albany would say he had accepted his terms because there was no other way out for him. He dared not wait. He must show Albany that he deplored the conduct of his wife and that he wished to serve the Regent.

So on that bleak January day, when Margaret’s death was hourly expected, Angus with a few of his attendants quietly left Morpeth Castle and were soon galloping over the Border on their way to Edinburgh.

“Where is my husband?” asked the Queen. “Tell him to come to me.”

The woman went away to call him, but she did not return for a long time.

Margaret summoned another woman to her bedside. “Pray go and find the Earl of Angus and tell him that I wish to see him.”

The woman lowered her eyes and stood silent.

“What has happened?” demanded Margaret. “Why do you not do as I tell you?”

“Your Grace, the Earl of Angus is not in the castle.”

“Then where is he?”

“He returned to Scotland more than a week ago, when Your Grace lay nigh unto death.”

“Returned to Scotland!” she whispered as though to herself. Then: “I understand. Pray, leave me.”

She lay still, too numb with sorrow to weep or to rail against him.

She had lain near to death and he had deserted her; and this was the man for whom she had jeopardized the crown of Scotland.

Now she would no longer deceive herself. Her heart should accept him for what her mind had been telling her he was for so long. This is the end, she told herself. I shall never forget what he did to me in Morpeth Castle.

Her attendants were surprised at the calm with which she accepted his desertion. She rose from her bed shortly afterward and amazingly her health began to improve.

Through February and March letters were exchanged between Morpeth and the English Court; and with them came a warm invitation from Henry for his sister to come to London.

So with the coming of April Margaret began her journey south.

In spite of desertion by her husband and the loss of her younger son, Margaret felt excited during those April days in Morpeth when she was preparing for her journey south. Henry had written warmly; he was eagerly looking forward to seeing her at his Court, for it was good, he said, that sisters and brothers should meet even though their duties to their kingdoms must necessarily keep them apart for so much of their lives.

His wife, Katharine of Aragon, of whom Margaret had seen little during her childhood, was as eager to welcome her as Henry was. She had heard of Margaret’s difficult confinement, a matter regarding which she could offer the utmost sympathy, having suffered so much herself in that respect. The bond of motherhood united them, wrote Katharine, and she longed to see her sister’s little daughter, Margaret, who was but a few months older than her own dear Mary who, as Margaret would doubtless have heard, had been born in February.

“And as, my dear sister, you have a long journey to make, I am sending you by my equerry, Sir Thomas Parr, my favorite white palfrey with my own easy pillion which I trust will be of use to you on your way south.”

Margaret had heard that her sister-in-law was a gentle creature, deeply in love with her handsome husband, often sorrowful because as yet she had failed to give him the male heir for which he longed, yet filled with hope because, after several failures, she had produced healthy little Mary.

It would be comforting to talk with her sister-in-law, mused Margaret, for she knew that she was one who would understand full well her grief over the loss of Alexander and her great pride in little James.

She was beginning to believe that she had made a great mistake when she had allowed her infatuation for Angus to overcome her common sense. She had been lonely, she had craved that sexual excitement which had been so necessary to her; and therefore she had been prepared to rush into marriage with a handsome boy.

But experience made one wiser. If she could choose again she would not pick an impetuous boy; she would choose someone mature, a man, not a boy; someone like her first husband; for had he been faithful to her, had he treated her more as an intelligent companion, James would have been the perfect husband. She had not wanted to dominate; only to share.

She had lost James; she had failed to hold her place in Scotland. But it was no use looking back; she must go forward to Henry’s Court; she must have conferences with her brother and his ministers; she must, with their help, win back the Regency of Scotland and the right to have the care of the King, her son.

If she had not married Angus, and Albany had not a wife… that would have been a different story. She had raged against him, called him murderer; but she thought of him often, and she would have enjoyed more than anything meeting him and abusing him to his face. The thought excited her, but that might be for later.

Now there was nothing to be done but travel south to London.

There was great comfort on Katharine’s white palfrey, and Sir Thomas Parr was a pleasant companion, who told her that his mistress had instructed him to take good care of her sister.

Nor was that all; as a mark of his esteem, Henry had sent her, by one of his clerks of the spicery, many silver vessels for toilet and table use during the journey.

She was certain therefore of a good welcome, for Henry had also written a letter which accompanied the silverware to the effect that he was planning entertainments for his sister and her spouse when they reached his Court.

The countryside was beautiful in spring; the weather was clement; and Margaret, who was by nature strong, quickly regained her good health and with it her belief that she could win what she wanted.

They had passed through Newcastle and reached Durham, and she was resting in her bed one morning when the door of her apartment was opened and to her surprise Angus walked in.

Taken off her guard she gave a cry of great joy and held out her arms. He embraced her and she clung to him, hugging him in her delight.

Then she withdrew herself to look into his face. She laughed, for he had the look of a shamefaced boy.

“I heard,” he muttered, “that my absence grieved you.”

“And you came back because you did not wish to make me sad?”

“I never wished to make you sad.”

“Ah, my love,” she said, “how I have missed you! Do you not want to see your daughter?”

“In good time. First I wish to see my wife.”

She felt young again. It was spring and it was so long since she had seen him. They would make love and talk later, she indicated; and he was willing enough to obey.

The word went through the castle: The Queen is not to be disturbed. Young Angus has returned. They wish to be alone together for a while.

There were long faces among the Englishmen of the party. What did this mean? Was Angus going to try to persuade her to return to Scotland? Such an act would not please their master. They would not want to return to him and tell him what had taken place, for he had a kingly habit of blaming the bearers for the bad news they brought.

Angus was an ally of Albany; and Albany wanted to get the Queen back into Scotland, there to make her subservient to his rule which was, after all, the rule of France, the enemy of England.

They were right in their assumptions. Angus was saying: “Do you not see the folly of this journey to England? Come back to Scotland with me. Albany is ready to receive you.”

Her eyes flashed in anger. “Do you think I am eager to receive Albany!”

“Oh, come, what good can all this strife between you bring to anyone?”

“I have no wish to go back humbly to the murderer of my son.”

“Your son was not murdered. He died as young children do. It was no fault of Albany.”

“You plead too earnestly for your friend.”

“He will be your friend too.”

“Never. I hate him. But what is that to you? It seems you have his cause at heart rather than your wife’s.”

“Margaret, I beseech you… ”

“Do not be foolish. The only way in which I can hope to regain what I have lost is through my brother’s help. Albany is afraid of Henry… even as his master, the King of France, is, and with good reason. Stop being so foolish. We are going to England.”

“We?”

“You and I, my dear, for my brother is expecting you.”

Angus turned sullenly away, but Margaret went to him and slipped her arm through his.

“Come, my love, you are going to enjoy the English Court. Our own is a poor place compared with it, I do assure you. My brother loves to masque and dance. He will be fond of you. You will be his friend. He says in all his letters: ‘Commend me to my brother-in-law, your good husband.’ And he is eager to meet you.”

Angus did not answer. Go to England? When Albany was prepared to make good terms with him? When Jane had said she understood how he had been forced into marriage with the Queen and that it made no difference to them? Leave Jane… now that they had come together again?