When she reached the city of York which greeted her with as much pomp on her return from the English Court as it had when she had passed through on her journey toward it, she found that a servant of Albany’s was staying there. This was Gaultier de Malines, and Margaret sent for him and asked him if he had news of his master.
“Yes, Your Grace, my master has departed for France after a long delay. He sailed from Dumbarton on the eighth day of June.”
“And my son the King?”
“He is well and happy, Your Grace; and since it was known that you were returning to Scotland he has been moved from Stirling to Edinburgh where he has his apartments in David Tower.”
“Ah! So he is well and happy. I rejoice. I hope soon to see him.”
It was good news; but she was a little sorry that Albany had returned to France. Not that she would betray this to anyone, for indeed, she only half admitted it to herself.
She learned that, before leaving, Albany had appointed a Regency which consisted of the Archbishops of St. Andrews and Glasgow and the Earls of Angus, Arran, Huntley, and Argyle with the Sieur de la Bastie who would of course guard his, Albany’s, interests.
Margaret was glad that Angus formed part of that company although it did mean that after her departure to England he had thrown in his lot with Albany. Perhaps it would have been foolish of him to have accompanied her to England; perhaps he was growing up to wisdom. But how much more contented she would have been if he had thrown aside everything to be with her, as she had when she had chosen to marry him.
And when she passed over the Border, there was Angus waiting to greet her — as he had been ordered to do by the Council — and when she saw him she forgot her disappointment. He was as handsome as ever, although he had aged a little. He was no longer a boy, having lost some of his innocent looks, but he was her Angus and still the most handsome man in Scotland.
Impulsive and warmhearted as she was, she thrust aside all rancor. Let them have done with the past. There he was, come to meet her, to welcome her back to Scotland.
He rode away from his men toward her, and she too advanced ahead of her party.
“Margaret — ” he began.
But she interrupted: “Oh, my dearest, how long it has seemed without you!”
The smile that touched his lips was one of relief, but she did not notice this; she only saw that he was smiling at her, that his eyes were warm with admiration, for the year of luxury had restored all her vitality and she was young and beautiful again.
She held out her hand; he took it and his lips were warm against her skin.
“You are pleased to see me?” she asked.
He lifted his eyes to her face and it seemed to her that words were unnecessary.
So together they began the journey to the capital, and in those first days of reunion she did not notice that there was something sheepish in his manner; that often he failed to meet her eye.
She was happy to be back, for soon, she promised herself, she would see her little son. Angus was with her, her dear husband who had made his mistakes and was sorry for them.
Her friends wondered how long it would be before she discovered Angus’s secret; and those who loved her, trembled for her, because they knew how great her grief would be.
The Unfaithful Husband
It was of paramount importance to Margaret that she should see her son as soon as possible, and she lost no time in making her intentions clear.
This had been expected and the lords of the Council had prepared themselves for it. It had been arranged that young James should be well guarded in Edinburgh Castle and that three Lords — Erskine, Ruthven, and Borthwick — were to take it in turns to live with him there as his guardian, each doing this service for four months of the year. The castellan, Sir Patrick Crichton, ordered twelve guards to watch each night outside the King’s bedchamber; and there were guards placed at all salient points, while a master gunner with six cannons was stationed on the walls. The Abbot of Holyrood had his quarters in the outer castle as an added precaution; and before anyone was allowed to enter the King’s apartments he or she had first to receive permission from the castellan to do so.
Thus when Margaret arrived at Edinburgh she was at first denied admittance. This infuriated her but, longing as she did to see her son, she restrained her anger and pleaded with his guardians that she was his mother and had been long without a sight of him.
“Take me at once to the castellan,” she pleaded.
She was taken to Sir Patrick Crichton, who was very uneasy.
“Your Grace,” he said, “I have my orders. I regret that they must be enforced even against you, but I fear I must do my duty.”
“I am the King’s mother,” Margaret retorted, “and I demand to see him.”
“Your Grace, I cannot allow you to enter the castle accompanied by so many attendants. Only twelve may enter and only four of those accompany you to the King’s apartments.”
Margaret flushed with anger but, determined to see her son, she again forced herself to control her feelings.
“Very well then,” she said, “it shall be as you say. Now, I pray you, take me to my son.”
She stood on the threshold of the apartment looking at him. He was sitting with David Lindsay and David was instructing him in playing the lute.
James stared at her for a few moments while David Lindsay rose to his feet.
“Your Grace… ,” he began.
But James had dashed at her. “Davie,” he cried, “it is my mother. At last she has come.”
Then he threw himself into her arms.
She embraced him, kissing and holding him as though she would never let him go, while the tears fell from her eyes onto his tawny curls.
She saw David Lindsay wipe a tear from his eye and she smiled up at him.
“Oh, Davie,” she cried, “it is good to be here.”
Although Margaret was allowed to see her son, she was not permitted to spend a night in the castle. These were uneasy days made pleasant only by the company of her son and little daughter. She was beginning to notice a change in Angus and, guessing that his conscience troubled him for some reason, she believed this to be due to the friendship he had shown to Albany during her absence. Of course that created a rift between them; how could it be otherwise?
But the days spent at the castle brought her great contentment. James was a son of whom any mother would be proud. Every day she saw his father in him. There was intelligence in the blue-gray eyes; his abundant hair with more than a dash of red in it framed a face that was pleasant to look at; his nose would be aquiline when he grew up, Margaret decided, and it seemed likely that he would be another such as his father. She smiled to think of the jealousy his wife would feel; she would sympathize with her when the time came. Who could understand more than one who had suffered it all before? His tutors were delighted with his sharp wits; and besides David Lindsay, Gavin Dunbar, John Bellenden, and James Inglis all supervised his education.
But it was David Lindsay whom the young King loved more than any of his other tutors; this was probably because David was more of a playfellow than a tutor. David made himself the most exciting of companions; and to see them together was to be given the illusion that they were of an age.
David’s one idea was to make a man of the King and, even when James had been little more than a baby, he had dressed up as a grisly ghost to teach him never to be afraid, but to investigate any strange phenomenon and so discover the truth beneath it.
David was succeeding admirably.