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.
All the same he had no intention of allowing Angus to flout his authority.
Knowing that Angus frequented a certain wine shop, he sent for the owner of the shop, and said to him: “My Lord Angus is a patron of your shop, I believe.”
“That is so, my lord. When his lordship is in Edinburgh he often comes in with a member of his clan. They’re fond of the wine, my lord.”
“Hmm,” said Albany. “Now listen carefully. When next he comes in, I want you to send a message to my guards. Then you are to slip a potion which will be given to you into the wine of my Lord Angus and any companions he may have with him. Is that clear?”
The man said he understood full well and the Regent’s orders should be carried out.
It was some nights later when Angus entered the wine shop in the company of his brother George, and called imperiously for wine which was immediately brought to him — but not before the potion had been slipped into it and a message sent to the guards.
While Angus and George sat drinking, Angus was boasting that neither his wife nor the Regent would get him to leave Edinburgh. He had as much right in Edinburgh as they had — and more so, for Albany was half French and Margaret was an Englishwoman.
George applauded his brother. George was faithful, although the more sober members of the family had deplored the conduct of the head of their House. Gavin Douglas had called him “a witless fool, running on his own mischief by the persuasion of wily and subtle men.”
Their uncle, who had died of the plague in London, had been an old man, Angus told George now. Such men were well enough in their day, but times changed and it was young men who knew how best to live in modern times.
George agreed with his brother, as always; and they drank freely of the drugged wine.
“Why, George,” said Angus at length, “you seem to have grown witless indeed. I declare you have drunk too well.”
George nodded slowly as he slumped forward over the table.
Angus tried to rise, but his legs had become woolly.
“Landlord,” he began, “this wine of yours is potent stuff… ” Then he too fell back.