“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?
But he dared not tell Margaret all this. He stood silent, a little sullen, as though agreeing that she was right.
She gave him a little push. “Go now. It is time for my women to come and help me dress. I will join you soon; I shall so enjoy your company, my love, on the way to London.”
Angus was afraid. He would have to be very cautious or he would indeed find himself riding south in the Queen’s cavalcade, instead of north to Jane Stuart.
He nodded, kissed her and, when she murmured, “Soon I shall be with you,” he did not deny it.
He went straight from her apartment to the stables where his servants were waiting for him.
He did not speak until he was in the saddle; then he said: “It was a mistake to come. Now… let us ride… with all speed to the Border and into Scotland.”
Into Stony Stratford passed the Queen’s party, and all through England the people came from their houses to watch the cavalcade. They cheered the Queen of Scots because she was their good King’s sister and they knew that it was at his wish that she traveled south.
It was May by the time she reached Enfield, and there she was welcomed to the mansion occupied by Sir William Lovel, who was her brother’s Lord Treasurer.
She was now very close to London and she believed that in a short time she would see her brother.
It was a glorious morning when she left Enfield and, as she was coming to Tottenham Cross, she saw in the distance a brilliant cavalcade making its way toward her. Her heart leaped with pleasure for she guessed who this was and, as the party approached hers, she recognized him riding at the head of it. He was a larger, more glorious version of that young boy whom she had known. His doublet was of purple velvet; jewels flashed on his hands and garments, and there were rubies and diamonds in his feathered bonnet. He had grown so much that he appeared to be far taller than any of his companions. On his face was the flush of good health and his blue eyes were as sparkling as water in sunshine and as brilliant as flames.
This was her brother. There was no doubt about that.
And as she recognized him, so did he her, for the resemblance between them had not grown less with maturity.
He rode up to her, smiling.
“My King and dearest brother.”
He sprang graciously from his horse which his groom hastily seized. He came to her and, taking her hand, kissed it.
“This is a great joy,” he told her.
“Henry! How happy I am to be here.”
“We have long looked forward to your coming. But where is my Lord Angus?”
Margaret’s expression clouded. “He returned to Scotland.”
“Returned to Scotland! Why so? Did he not receive my letters of invitation?”
“He thought it wiser to make terms with Albany, I fear.”
The pleasure faded from Henry’s plump square face. His eyes narrowed, so that blue chinks shone through the folded flesh. He turned to his sister and gazed at her speculatively, and she knew that he understood full well that Angus had deserted her.
Then he gave a loud laugh. “Done like a Scot!” he cried. “He could do without us, eh? Then, sister, I tell you we shall do very happily without him.”
He remounted and brought his horse beside his sister’s.
“We will rest awhile at Compton’s house on Tottenham Hill,” he said. “Then we will ride into my capital.”
In the afternoon they started out from Tottenham Hill, Henry on his fine horse with its glittering trappings, a dazzling figure; and beside him Margaret rode pillion with Sir Thomas Parr on Katharine’s white palfrey.
The people now crowded the roads. Henry beamed on them, graciously and delightedly acknowledging their cheers.
How he revels in his new state! thought Margaret. He always said that things would be different when he became King, and so they are. And how the people love this merry England he has given them. What a king! How different from our father who was also a good king. And yet it is due to Henry VII that Henry VIII is possessed of the riches which make it possible for him to live in such style.
“To Baynard’s Castle,” cried Henry, “which I have set aside for your private residence, sister. But we shall not stay there. The Queen and our good sister are waiting to see you at Greenwich.”
So the cavalcade paused awhile at Baynard’s Castle on the north bank of the Thames below St. Paul’s; and Margaret, looking at those Norman towers and ramparts, was well pleased with the dwelling Henry had chosen for her.
Here she rested and changed her costume, for Henry had arranged that they should travel the rest of the way to Greenwich by barge.
Margaret looked about her eagerly; now and then her memory stirred. It was so many years since she had passed down this river on the way to Greenwich, and how wonderful it was to see and hear the people on the banks cheering the royal barge, to listen to the sweet music of the minstrels who played as they went along.
Now she saw the Palace with the brick front facing the river; she saw the tower in the park and the convent which adjoined the Palace.
“We have arranged good sport for you here at Greenwich, sister,” Henry told her gleefully; and she was conscious that all the time he was watching her to see how she marveled at the splendor of his realm.
They alighted at the stairs, and at the gates of the Palace the Queen was waiting to greet them.
Margaret was warmly embraced by her sister-in-law and the first questions Katharine asked, when she had ascertained that Margaret was well and had suffered no harm from her journey, were concerning the welfare of the little Margaret.
But there was another who came forward to embrace Margaret; this was a dazzling, beautiful young woman who was so like Henry that Margaret knew at once that this was her young sister, Mary, now grown to womanhood.
Margaret kissed her warmly; then drew away from her and looked into that radiant, laughing face.
“Mary! Why, can it be possible?”
“Would you have me remain a baby forever?” demanded Mary.
“How old were you when I went away? Was it six?”
“Well,” replied Mary, “you were about thirteen. None of us stand still.”
“And you have had adventures.”
Mary grimaced. “You too, sister,” she murmured.
Henry was impatient. He liked to see his family in amicable friendship, but he wanted them to remember that, no matter who came, or who met whom after how long an absence, there was one person who must be the center of every gathering: the dazzling King of England.
If she could have had her son James with her, if little Alexander were still alive, if Angus had been the husband she longed for, those would have been happy days for Margaret.