The banquet she had ordered to be prepared was sumptuous; he sat at her right hand at the table on the dais, with his feet resting on the carpet. She noticed his gracious manners, his courteous smiles, the way in which he took his meat from the carvers, eating with a delicacy never seen in Scotland, so that he spilt no fat on his garments and only his fingers were greasy. These he delicately washed in the bowl halfway through the meal instead of waiting until the end.

French manners! thought Margaret. And I like them well when they are combined with manly strength.

He gave her his full attention; he behaved as though she and only she was of real importance to him. He told her that he had indeed been happy to come to Scotland when he received her letters of invitation.

“My lord,” she answered, “I see full well that since you are come we shall have peace in the land.”

“My one desire is to keep the King secure and happy.”

“Then we share the same desire.”

Margaret’s eyes were shining. He would allow her to be with her son; he would understand how important a mother could be to a growing boy. Oh, how glad she was that he had come! His proximity excited her.

She said in a low voice which was faintly hoarse with emotion: “I see that there will be friendship between us.”

“It is my earnest hope,” he answered.

The musicians played and they talked of music; they discovered similar tastes. Later he and she led the dancers and, although they talked no more of the purpose of his visit but gave themselves up to the joys of the dance and the masque, she believed that a bond had been established between them.

And when she retired that night she found it difficult to sleep. She was like a young girl who had been to her first ball.

What has happened to me? she asked herself. And she knew that she felt thus because hope had come back into her life.

They left Stirling together and set out for Linlithgow. Here Albany was entertained royally; there was more feasting, more dancing, and Margaret was like a young girl in her newly found happiness.

Albany was thinking: Why not? It would be a solution. Yet he was glad that as yet no decision could be reached. Neither of them was free. He had a wife who was sick and could certainly not live much longer; she had a husband from whom she was trying to obtain a divorce.

She was a beautiful woman; Albany was a lusty man. None would blame him for a little dalliance. He was fond of his wife, but he was far from home and even Anne was realist enough not to expect complete fidelity in the circumstances. All that she would ask was that he should never desert her while she lived; and that he would never do.

So he allowed himself to follow whither Margaret beckoned and if people were watching them and spies were taking an account of their conduct to the English Court, what did that matter? It was his duty to sow discord between the Scottish and English Courts.

As they danced in the hall of Linlithgow Palace he said to her: “We will go together to visit the King at Edinburgh. If I come with his mother he will know I come as his friend.”

“That will give me great pleasure.”

“Then I shall fulfill two desired objects at the same time… See the King and please his mother.”

She lowered her eyes that he might not see the desire for him which she could not hide. It was long since she had been so happy.

The next day they set out for Edinburgh and, as they rode into the city to the cheers of the people, their eyes fixed on the Castle rising ahead of them, Margaret said: “I wonder if James is at a window watching for us. He will be so excited, but not more so than I.”

“He must be yearning to see his mother.”

“I believe he is, but not more so than she is to see him.”

As they rode up to the Castle gates the Captain of the Castle came out and kneeling presented the keys to Albany.

He took them, and turning to Margaret, gave them to her.

This was a moment of great triumph because it was tantamount to saying: The freedom of the Castle is yours.

She did not know how to thank him; she wanted to tell him what a difference his coming had made to her; so she made the gesture which could imply her full trust in him. She shook her head and answered: “Nay, it is you who should hold the keys of the Castle.”

He took them and they entered.

Margaret stood by with tears in her eyes while Albany paid homage to her little son. Then she knelt down and embraced James and he put his arms about her hugging her, telling her that he had long waited for her coming.

“This is indeed a happy day,” said Margaret.

They danced late into the night.

Margaret said to him: “I fear we cause some comment.”

“There will always be comments directed against people who are placed as we are.”

“You understand that I cannot live with Angus.”

“I understand full well.”

“He has not been a good husband to me, and in some ways a traitor to Scotland.”

“We have a way of dealing with traitors. He is already under arrest.”

Margaret caught her breath. For an instant she had a picture of Angus going to his death. She shuddered; she would be haunted forevermore by his beautiful body stark and dead. There had been times, following Flodden, when she had had bad dreams of James. It was a divorce from Angus she wanted; not his death. She had always hated the thought of death, and she hoped never to have the death of any man or woman on her conscience.

She explained this to Albany who listened thoughtfully.

“I see you have a tender heart,” he said.

“I loved him once,” she answered. “He is a foolish, reckless boy… nothing more. He does not deserve death. I long to be free from him, but I should never rest in peace if I thought I had a hand in causing his death. Help me to divorce him and you will make me a happy woman.”

“Have I made it clear that I would do all in my power to make you a happy woman?”

She lifted her eyes to his. “I have longed to hear you say that.”

He realized that she was taking his compliments with the utmost seriousness. He shrugged his shoulders. Why not? The wine and the dance had excited him; she was a very beautiful woman, and who could say what the future held for them? When they were free, as he doubted not they must be erelong, a match between them would be a good political move, one which he knew would delight his master, François, and probably put her brother Henry in such a rage as he had rarely known before.

“We will send him to France as an exile,” he said. “Never fear. I will give orders that he is well treated there, but go he shall.”

“And you will help me in Rome?”

“You may depend upon it; I shall do all in my power to help you in that direction.”

“Oh, how I long to be free of that man!”

“You soon will be. I am sure of this. As for myself… ”

She moved nearer to him. “Soon we shall both be free,” she whispered. “But there is now… ”

It was an invitation which it would be churlish to refuse.

That night they were lovers.

Those were happy months. There was scandal concerning them, but she did not care. She wrote glowingly to her brother; she wanted to make peace between Henry and Albany, as she had once tried to reconcile the two countries during the lifetime of James.

Henry was furious when he read the letters. He growled that she was shameless and that it mortified him because he had a sister who could so forget all decent behavior.

He wanted to write to her, ordering her to abandon the Regent and return to Angus. Angus was his protégé and he was ready to make that young man the head of a faction working for England in Scotland. He was even more angry concerning the divorce than he had been when he had first heard of it. He was beginning to believe that he would never get sons from Katharine and that there was a curse on their marriage. As he could not imagine how he could have offended God, he looked for some fault in his Queen and was reminded that she had been his brother’s wife before she had been his. His conscience concerning his marriage began to worry him and he too was thinking of divorce.

A pretty state of affairs, he thought, for a brother and a sister to be asking Rome for a divorce at the same time. Therefore Margaret must stop her importuning; she must return to Angus.

That was the very thing Margaret was determined not to do.

Since her friendship with Albany had begun to bloom she was permitted to see a great deal of her son. James was affectionate by nature and fascinated by his lively mother; as she understood that he was as contented with their reunion as she was, her happiness was complete.

So each day she saw James; soon she would be divorced from Angus and she was constantly in Albany’s company. When she and Albany were free their union would be legalized to the glory of Scotland and the delight of its Queen.

Angus, having made his promise to leave for exile, was granted freedom to do so; but once free he snapped his fingers at Albany and continued to stay in Edinburgh.

There could be no peace while Angus was in Scotland, and Albany was certainly not the man to see his orders disobeyed.

When he was told that Angus still lingered in Edinburgh he took off his bonnet and threw it into the fire — a habit of his when enraged. No one ever made any attempt to withdraw the bonnet from the fire and Albany would stand glaring at it, watching flames curl about fine velvet. It was thus that he managed to curb his anger against those who offended him; and by the time the bonnet was consumed he was his equable self again. His friends had seen many a good bonnet destroyed in this way.