“The Earl of Surrey is a friend of mine. You forget, it was he who escorted the Queen to Scotland.”
“He is now Your Grace’s enemy, and he serves his King well.”
“The King of England is fortunate to have such good servants.”
“If Your Grace will either go on to attack or return to Scotland, you will find as good servants as those of the King of England.”
“You forget, Angus, that I am the commander of my own armies.”
“I’ll not stand by and see the crown of Scotland placed in jeopardy.”
James’s eyes blazed with an anger rare to him. Then he looked at Angus and saw before him an old man. Was he a little jealous of the pleasures shared by the King and the Lady of the castle? Did this remind him of what the King had taken from him when he had taken Janet Kennedy?
James shrugged aside his anger.
“If old Bell-the-Cat is afraid of the English, then let him return to Scotland. I doubt not that we will win victory without him.”
“Bell-the-Cat was never afraid of the English, but he’ll not stand by and let them take the time they need.”
“Then… goodbye.”
The old soldier bowed and retired.
Next morning he set out for Scotland; but he left behind his two sons so that, when the King went into battle, there should be Douglases to fight for Scotland.
Surrey’s herald had arrived at the castle.
Lady Heron, seeing him come, knew that the brief love affair between her and the King of Scotland was coming to its end. She had done her duty. Surrey had gathered his army and was waiting.
The herald was taken to the King and there gave him greeting from the Earl of Surrey, together with the request that he would name a day for the battle.
This James declared himself delighted to do; and although his generals assured him that it was important they should surprise the English and mow them down with Thraw-mouthed Meg — which was another name they had given to their “Seven Sisters” cannon — James would have none of this. He was determined to go into battle as he went into the joust. He was the Wild Knight, who must conquer through fair play.
On the morning of the ninth of September the armies prepared to meet at Flodden.
James was exultant. Beside him — on foot as he was — stood his son Alexander. “Keep close to my side,” he warned. “And if you are in difficulty remember I am nearby.”
“Yes, Father,” was the answer.
James loved the boy — loved his shining youth, his vitality.
Oh, he thought, if I had but stood beside my father as this son of mine now stands beside me, there would have been a different story to tell of Sauchieburn.
He could see the English banner fluttering in the breeze. It would soon be over, this decisive battle which would mean the end of strife between England and Scotland forevermore. Henry would return from France to find his country lost.
He heard the roar of the cannon as the two armies met at the foot of Brankston Hill.
The Scottish army was divided into five divisions with Home and Huntley leading the vanguard; in the rear were Lennox and Argyle; while James, with Alexander, was in the center; in the rear was the reserve under the command of the Earl of Bothwell.
At four o’clock in the afternoon the battle started and at first it seemed that the English were losing ground, when Sir Edmund Howard, who led the English, lost his banner and his men were quickly in confusion; but Surrey had, on account of the time which had been allowed him, gathered together a strong army, and others were ready to step into the breach and take the place of Howard’s men.
James was in direct conflict with Surrey’s section where the fighting was at its most fierce. All about them was the noise of battle; the clash of spears, the roar of the cannon and cries of wounded men and horses.
James was conscious of Alexander beside him and for the first time wished that he had commanded him to stay at home, for he had caught a look of startled horror on the face of the boy who had so far experienced nothing but light skirmishes and had dreamed of war which had not been like the reality.
This was no joust. This was war to the death. The enemy was determined to drive the Scots back beyond the Tweed and the Cheviots; and the Scots were determined to go forward.
“Alexander, my son… ”
James felt a sob in his throat for his beautiful Alexander had fallen and there was blood where there had but a moment before been the freshness of youth.
“Oh, my son… my son… ”
Mercifully there was little time for remorse. He did not see the man who struck him. James was dressed as an ordinary soldier for he had determined to go into battle as one of his men; he had wanted no special treatment. He was a soldier just as they were.
So he fell, as men were falling all about him.
The battle raged; and it was only later when the fighting was done that the terrible truth was known. On that day of glorious victory for the English and bitter defeat for the Scots, ten thousand Scotsmen lay dead or dying on Flodden Field and among them was their King.
The Reckless Marriage
The Queen had shut herself in that turret of Linlithgow Palace which was known as Queen Margaret’s Bower. She sat alone on the stone bench which surrounded it and looked out of the window hoping and praying for the coming of the messenger.
When she had heard that James was dallying at Ford Castle with Lady Heron her anger was greater than her fear. Each night she was tormented by vague dreams; each day she came to her bower to watch and wait.
There she relived so much of her life with James. This very bower itself had been created by him for her pleasure. It was reached from his dressing room by means of a staircase, and James had had a stone table erected in the center. She remembered so well the day he had shown it to her. How charming he was, how tender! And how difficult it was to remind oneself that he had been as charming and tender to other women perhaps the day before he was showing so much solicitude to her.
News was brought to her frequently. She had learned of all the successes, until they had come to Ford Castle. She knew that Old Bell-the-Cat had left the army in disgust; and she trembled. But then she remembered James, the Wild Knight at the joust. He could not fail. Yet his success would mean disaster for her brother, and she had not known until this time how strong were the ties of blood.
What did she want? Peace, she answered. That is what I want. Peace between our two countries, and my husband at my side.
She had known before the messenger spoke that he had brought disastrous news; and as she had listened to his words a numbness took possession of her body. Dead! On Flodden Field.
She thought: So I shall never seen his handsome face again, never listen to his voice; never again shall I ask myself with what woman he is spending his time now. His beauty has gone; his virile body is but a corpse; and I, his wife, have become his widow.
She went to the nursery, where her little son, who was riding on David Lindsay’s shoulders, shouted with joy to see her.
David Lindsay lifted the boy from his shoulders and stood him down; he saw from the Queen’s expression that she had had bad news and, because he knew that the messenger had come from Flodden Field, he guessed the nature of that news. He was filled with horror and his first thoughts were of what this would mean to his young charge.
“Davie,” said Margaret, “this is a woeful day for Scotland.”
“Your Grace… Your Grace… ”
She knelt down and with tears in her eyes embraced her son.
“He is now your King, Davie.”