The English queen had been hurrying northward with her own army when Surrey had defeated and killed James IV at Flodden. She was again with child, but in imitation of her late mother, Isabella of Spain, she had been quite prepared to go into battle. She sent Henry the good news of Scotland’s defeat, even going so far as to enclose the bloodstained plaid tunic that James Stewart had been wearing when he was killed. With the influence of both England and Spain, James had been excommunicated by Pope Julius. His body was therefore denied a Christian burial and disappeared. Gone to hell, the English said. Not so, the Scots defended their beloved deceased monarch. James IV, like King Arthur, had disappeared, but he would return-Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus-the Once and Future King-when Scotland needed him the most. It was small comfort.

Henry Tudor returned in October from his French adventures. Katherine made certain he was greeted like the hero he believed himself to be. Henry was no longer the second son of that upstart Tudor family that had usurped a throne. He was Great Harry. The English king was flushed with his own victories even though they were now overshadowed by the victory at Flodden.

“It is your victory as well, my lord,” his queen told him, and the Earl of Surrey, the actual victor, nodded in agreement. “Scotland is crushed.” She carefully omitted the fact that while James IV was now dead, Scotland still had a king-her husband’s nephew, James V. But Henry’s pride in his military accomplishments was short-lived, for in December of that year his wife was delivered of a stillborn son.

“An eye for an eye,” Margaret, Queen of Scotland, said grimly upon hearing the news. She was not of a mind to be charitable now. Full with her second child, she was also filled with sorrow at James’ death and angry to have been left with all the responsibility of Scotland, its infant king, and the child soon to be born. Her husband’s will had named her tutrix, or guardian of the young king. Margaret Tudor was in effect the ruler of Scotland. Her regency was approved by the king’s council. But as the sister of England’s king, she would not be trusted entirely by the Scottish nobility. It mattered not that as James Stewart’s wife and queen her loyalties had always been to Scotland. She was a woman. She was English. Scotland’s nobles looked to France to John Stuart, the Duke of Albany. The duke was James III’s nephew and the king’s nearest legitimate male kinsman. In an age of political intrigue, dishonesty, and backbiting, John Stuart was known as an honest man. His ethics were above reproach.

The queen’s council consisted of Archbishop Beaton as her chancellor and the Earls of Angus, Huntley, and Home, who were appointed to aid the queen, but it was noted that the queen would be served by a rota of nobles who would function on her council, in turn, advising her in the daily affairs of her government. It was agreed that the queen would make no decision without first consulting six gentlemen, three of whom would be temporal and three who would belong to the clergy. Margaret was not quite the featherhead her husband had believed. That was a role she had played because that was the kind of woman James desired in his queen. She was, her council quickly discovered, hardheaded and shrewd when she put her mind to a problem.

Stirling Castle was chosen as the king’s chief residence. Lord Borthwick would be the castle’s commander with the title of captain. The arms that had been sent to James IV by King Louis were now brought to Stirling, which made it impregnable. The queen held the treasury, making her even more powerful. She sent out a call for parliament to meet come spring. The government secure, peace would be the next item on the agenda.

England suggested the peace first, and Queen Katherine sent one of her favorite priests to Queen Margaret to comfort her. But in the borders, Lord Dacre, on the king’s instructions, was still raiding the Scots, burning and looting. Scotland was now a land of widows and motherless children. Proclamations were issued in the new king’s name, forbidding their abuse or the abuse of their children. Still, rape, robbery, and other violence was being done to those widows and their offspring, and there were not enough men left to keep the peace, so many suffered though the queen and her council did their best to prevent it.

But many of the young men now come into their lordships were eager to continue a war against England. Eager for revenge, they saw no use in a peace with their ancient enemy. They wanted a strong military leader to confront Lord Dacre. They appealed to King Louis to send them the Duke of Albany. But the French king could not be cajoled into any actions that would threaten Margaret’s regency. He corresponded with the young widowed queen, assuring her that he would not send the Duke of Albany to her until she requested it. He would not make peace with England without her permission, for France was ever Scotland’s oldest and most faithful ally. He asked if he might send to her Le Chevalier Blanc, one Monsieur La Bastie, his most trusted diplomat, to help her. And, too, the Scottish ships that James IV had lent him were still in France. Would she like him to return them along with the king’s cousin the Earl of Arran and Lord Fleming?

The full Scottish council met in Perth in November. It was agreed that the queen’s regency of the young king would not be interfered with in any manner. The auld alliance with France was confirmed once more, and the Duke of Albany was requested of King Louis for the defense of Scotland. Bell-the-Cat Douglas, the Earl of Angus who favored an English alliance, was absent. Grieving the loss of his two sons, he had gone home to die.

In England, King Henry was furious and worried by turns. As the young king’s uncle, he saw himself as the boy’s natural guardian. He wrote to his sister telling her she must stop Albany from coming. He feared the strong duke might supplant Margaret by virtue of his sex and possibly spirit the little king to where he might be eliminated. Then he wrote to Louis asking him to delay Albany’s departure for Scotland until England had made its peace with its northern neighbor. Margaret did not like her loyalties being torn or compromised by any. Her sole duty, she said, was to her bairns.


Both Friarsgate and Claven’s Carn, by virtue of their locations, had been spared any border raids. Adam Leslie wrote to say the Leslies of Glenkirk had ignored the summons to war and had undoubtedly been overlooked in the resulting confusion that followed King James’ death at Flodden. Patrick’s health remained strong, but his memory of the past two years had not returned. Rosamund read the letter stone-faced. She had buried her grief deep in her heart now, allowing it to surface only in the darkest of night when she was alone in her bed. There had been no word from Claven’s Carn regarding Jeannie’s new child. Rosamund assumed that Logan had put his foot down firmly when his wife asked if his neighbor might be the child’s godmother. She was not disappointed. It would have been a very awkward situation, but then, sweet Jeannie did not know the relationship that her husband had attempted to forge between himself and the lady of Friarsgate.

The harvest had long been gathered in, and the St. Martin’s goose eaten. December was upon them. A messenger arrived from Margaret Tudor early in the month, even as it had two years previously. This was not an invitation, however. Meg wrote to tell her old friend of the great battle at Flodden in September at which her husband had been slain. Little Jamie was now Scotland’s king, she was enceinte with her late lord’s child to be born in the spring, and she was regent of Scotland according to her husband’s last will and testament.

“I am weary with all I must do,” she wrote, “but those lords not slain at Flodden with my husband have been most sympathetic and helpful to me. We will survive. My brother, Henry, the cause of my unhappiness, is of course blustering and blowing that he should be the guardian of my bairns. I should never allow such a thing, but if I even considered it, the ghosts of all the Stewart kings before my son would rise up to haunt me, and rightly so.”

“Aye, I imagine Hal would enjoy having Scotland in his custody,” Tom said when he learned the news. Then he chuckled. “He cannot get his own son so he would have James Stewart’s lad to father.”

Rosamund could not help but laugh herself. “Living in the north has caused you to become careless in your speech, cousin,” she said. “You should not dare say such a thing in London.”

“You never did answer the king’s summons, did you?” he said.

“Edmund answered it for me,” she replied. “Besides Henry Tudor has more important things to consider than a widow in Cumbria whom he once knew. He is a player now upon the world’s stage, Tom. Whatever he imagines I was doing with the Earl of Glenkirk has now been overlooked because of the great and terrible victory at Flodden.”

“What news from Claven’s Carn? Did the sweet Jeannie deliver her lord a second son, or a daughter?” Tom asked her.

Rosamund shook her head. “I have no idea. I have heard naught, but then, given the times, I am not in the least surprised. Besides, I can hardly believe that Logan Hepburn would have wanted me for that child’s godmother. Do you?”

“Perhaps I shall take a few of my men and ride over the border,” Tom said. “I am curious, and whatever you may say, cousin, so are you.”

“Go, then,” she told him. “The weather will hold for another few days. But beware of getting caught at Claven’s Carn for the winter, Tom. I do not believe that you would like it at all. Jeannie has certainly done her best, but it is still an uncivilized place.”

He laughed. “I remember you once said you should never get to wear your fine gowns if you inhabited such a place.”