“She was sent to me as a gift,” James chattered. “Is she not beautiful? Have you ever seen such a bird? And Davie says that she may even learn to speak. He is teaching her to whistle.”
“Which she does very well,” added David, as excited as the King.
Margaret’s mind was full of her plan, but her interest was caught by the parrot, for she had never seen such a bird before and the idea of its being able to whistle seemed to her fantastic.
When she had marveled at its oddities and listened to James accompanying David’s singing on the lute, she intimated that she would like to be alone with her son, and David retired.
“Why, Jamie,” she said, when they were alone, “what a strange life it is that you live, and you a king!”
“Strange, Mother?”
“Why, here you are almost a prisoner. Had your father lived, how different it would have been!”
“Then I should not be King.”
“Oh, Jamie, how sad it was that your father should die and you become a prisoner of ambitious men.”
“Yes,” said James slowly, “I suppose I am a prisoner… of a sort.”
“Indeed you are, for if you wished to leave Stirling Castle you would be prevented from doing so. Poor James, you remember little else, so how can you guess what freedom means? And you a king. There are times when I feel very angry with those who cause you to live as you do. The King should be free and, although you are of no great age, still you are a king.”
James was thoughtful. Then he said: “Who is it who insists on my being kept a prisoner?”
“The Parliament — and the Parliament is led by the Regent.”
“The Duke of Albany? I liked him well. I thought he was my friend.”
“Your friend?” Margaret laughed. “He has a charming manner, has he not? Such manners are cultivated by those who plan to deceive us.”
“So he has deceived us?”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed, and James stared at her wide-eyed.
“He is the most deceitful man on Earth!” she muttered.
“Indeed he must be,” answered James, “for he had led me to believe he was my friend.”
“It is necessary to be cautious with men such as he is. But, James, I have made up my mind that you shall not be treated in this way much longer. It is my wish that you should leave this prison and take your place in the country of which you are King.”
James’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “How so, Mother?”
“As yet I am unsure. I believe your uncle would help us — now that I have discovered the perfidy of Albany. It might be necessary for us to escape over the Border and throw ourselves on his mercy for a while. Then he would send an army and overthrow the Regent Albany and all he stands for.”
“When, Mother?”
“Oh, there is nothing settled yet, but it is as well to be prepared.”
“Then one day I shall escape. I shall go to my uncle’s Court, and then we will gather together an army and I shall be in truth King.”
Margaret looked into his eager young face. “How I wish you were older,” she sighed. “But we will be patient. Say nothing to anyone of this — not even David. It is our secret. I want you to remember though that you are the King and that it is not right that you should be treated as you are.”
“I will remember it,” replied the King.
The parrot began to whistle suddenly, and his earnest look left him as he broke into a smile.
“Listen, Mother,” he cried. “You see how clever she is! Is she not a wonderful papingo?”
He was a child at heart, thought Margaret. But he should not remain so. He was, before all, the King; and she was determined to set him up, that she might the better rid Scotland of one who had poisoned the love she had given him so that it was fast turning to bitter hatred.
The only way in which she could live through those months of bitter disappointment was by making wild plans. She must be in the thick of intrigue to stop herself brooding; so she retired to Perth, where she felt she could act more secretly, and immediately renewed her correspondence with her brother.
In her letters she gave vent to wrath against Albany; she reported his liaison with Fleming’s sister and added that she distrusted the Fleming clan, for Lord Fleming himself had murdered his own wife — a mysterious event which had taken place before she, Margaret, came to Scotland — and, with his wife, two of her sisters.
Always ready to listen to attacks on Albany and his French connections, Henry was interested in his sister’s change of front. He implied that if she offered to stop agitating for a divorce and became reconciled to Angus, she would have the wholehearted support of England.
But hating her latest lover as she did, Margaret had no intention of rejoining one who had deceived her even more cruelly. That was one point on which she was adamant. Never would she go back to Angus.
Meanwhile Albany’s friends, having an inkling of what was happening, wrote to him and told him that his presence was urgently needed in Scotland and it was unwise for him to delay his return; but Albany, on account of his wife’s sickness, was in no hurry to come.
Meanwhile Margaret had succeeded in obtaining terms from the English for a truce between the two countries, and she returned to Edinburgh determined to bring forward young James and allow him to speak for himself in the Tolbooth, demanding, as Scotland’s King, the right to go where he would throughout his kingdom.
James, being a fearless boy and well coached by Margaret, entered the Tolbooth that day in a kingly fashion and even the cynical lords were impressed and a little awed. Many of them told themselves that they must have a care how they behaved toward him; he was young yet, but he would one day be King and he looked sharp enough to remember those who offended him.
James spoke in a loud, clear voice. “I am your King and I will no longer be your prisoner. This realm is of goodly size but it will not contain both me and the Duke of Albany.”
Several of the lords spoke, respectfully explaining to the King that he was accompanied by guards for his own safety. They had no wish but to serve him, and this they had sworn to do.
James was looking at his mother for his next cue; but at that moment Gaultier de Malines, who had entered the Tolbooth immediately after the King was in his place, came forward to say that he had a message from his master the Duke of Albany and he believed that now was the time to deliver it.
“My master,” he said, “thanks you for your support of his rule during his absence. He is on his way to you and he has good news for you. Sir Richard de la Pole will shortly be arriving with an army for the invasion of England; and he knows that you will recognize as enemies to Scotland those who have tried to bring about a truce between the two perennial enemies. Let the King remain in Stirling Castle with certain trusted lords as his guardians; but give him license to hunt if he so wishes.”
Margaret, listening and watching the effect of these words on the lords, felt so frustrated that she could scarcely restrain her tears, for anger could make her weep more easily than sorrow. The King had made such a good impression and but for the coming of Gaultier de Malines she would have won James his liberty.
She cried: “This is no way in which to treat your King. He may be young in years, but see, he is indeed a king.”
But she knew she could not move them with her pleas, so she asked that she might choose the King’s guardians and that Lords Borthwick and Erskine might be these, with help from the Abbot of Holyrood and the Bishop of Aberdeen.
The Parliament agreed that Lord Erskine should be the King’s guardian but rejected the others.
James, seeing his mother’s grief, stamped his foot and cried: “Do you forget, gentlemen, that I am your King?”