“I know of none,” she answered; and as she spoke she could not resist flashing a look of mockery at her brother. He knew of reasons, if he had been speaking the truth to his sisters when they were alone. But Henry was solemnly staring ahead and pretended not to notice her glance.
Now it was the turn of her father to ask the same questions of the Scotsmen. Margaret caught her breath. Was it really true that her prospective bridegroom had contracted a marriage with his mistress? What if one of the Scottish lords spoke up and said so? Would that be an end to this marriage?
But the Scots were assuring the King of England that there was no impediment to the marriage, and the Archbishop of Glasgow turned once more to Margaret.
“Are you content, of your own free will and without compulsion, to marry my master?”
Margaret spoke the words which she had rehearsed with her mother. “If it please my lord and father the King and my lady and mother the Queen, I am content.”
“It is our will and pleasure,” pronounced the King.
Now her hand was laid in that of Patrick Hepburn who was declaring with the utmost earnestness: “I, Patrick Earl of Bothwell, procurator of the right high and mighty Prince James, by the Grace of God King of Scotland, my sovereign lord, having sufficient power to contract marriage per verba presenti with thee, Margaret, daughter to Henry by the Grace of God King of England and Elizabeth Queen of the same, do hereby contract matrimony with thee, Margaret,… ”
Margaret’s gaze had strayed once more to her brother; she was flashing a message to him: Why did you not speak when there was time? It is too late now.
But the young Prince of Wales refused to interpret her glances. He was showing a great interest in everything that was going on and endeavoring to look as pleased with the proceedings as his father did.
The Archbishop of Glasgow was attracting her attention and whispering: “Repeat after me.”
She nodded slightly and, following him, began: “I, Margaret, first daughter of the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince and Princess Henry, by the Grace of God King of England, and Elizabeth, Queen of the same, wittingly and of deliberate mind, having twelve years complete in age in the month of November which be past, contract marriage with the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince James, King of Scotland, for the person of whom Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, is procurator; and I take the said James, King of Scotland, unto and for my husband and spouse, and all others for him forsake during his and my lives natural; and therefore I plight and give to him in your person, as procurator aforesaid, my faith and troth.”
As she completed those words there was a sudden burst of music from the royal trumpeters and in an adjoining chamber minstrels began to play.
Princess Margaret of England had now become the Queen of Scotland.
Life was exciting for Margaret — full of color, full of splendor. It was rarely that King Henry encouraged extravagance at his Court but this was, after all, the occasion of his daughter’s marriage and he must impress the Scottish visitors with the wealth and power of England.
“A waste of good money,” he told his Queen. “Banquets… jousts! I did not know until this time what a feckless band of courtiers were mine. They welcome the opportunity to flaunt their wealth in senseless pageants.” His eyes narrowed and Elizabeth guessed that he was noting the spendthrifts and devising ways in which the wealth they were so eager to throw away could be diverted into the royal coffers.
Poor fools, to spend more than was necessary. Did they not yet understand the manner in which their royal master’s miserly mind worked? Constantly he was thinking of gold for his exchequer. Taxes, fines, they were good methods of swelling it. He wanted more and more gold; he would never be satisfied; just as he wanted more and more children, that he might bargain for concessions from the royal houses of Europe. The Scottish marriage… then marriages for Henry and Mary and all the others who would follow.
Oh no, no, she thought. There could be no more. But how could she explain to him? Her duty was to provide him with children — counters for bargaining in state politics, in the same way that it was for his ministers to devise laws for diverting his subjects’ wealth into the royal exchequer.
She knew that she was looking ill; her sister Katharine had told her so. But Henry would not notice. She must go on unfalteringly doing her duty as he did his.
“A few more days of this jousting,” she said to soothe him, “and the celebrations will be over.”
He shook his head sadly. “We must not give the impression that we are a poor nation. There will be reports circulated as to how we celebrated our daughter’s marriage. But, since her husband will be eager for her to join him in Scotland, we might cut short the merrymaking.”
Elizabeth shivered. “She seems so young. Not much past her twelfth birthday. We shall miss her.”
“Yet I fancy she is old for her years.” The King dismissed the matter comfortably. “And you’ll soon have another to take her place. Pray God this time it is a boy.”
“I trust it will be so.”
The King gave her one of his rare smiles. “And if it is another girl, we’ll not despair. There’s time ahead of us.”
She turned to glance out of the window. She could not trust herself to look at him lest he see the fear in her face.
It had been a great day of jousting. Margaret had sat in a place of honor, the Earl of Bothwell beside her; she had applauded the skill of Charles Brandon and the Duke of Buckingham, while young Henry watched broodingly. In his imagination he was jousting with the knights, surprising them all with his skill. It was a great trial to be but ten years old and a looker-on.
Margaret had become grown up since that ceremony in their mother’s chamber. He noticed that she was treated with a new deference; he was envious; and when his father was not present he acted as though he were already the King. All his friends indulged his whims; after all, was he not Prince of Wales, destined one day to be King? If he wished to anticipate that day it would be a foolish man who gainsaid him.
Little Mary was delighted with the jousting. She sat with her brother and asked eager questions while he looked after her tenderly; but all the time he was watchful of Margaret who had temporarily usurped the place of honor which he felt should rightfully be his.
After the jousting there was a banquet, and it was Margaret who again sat in the seat of honor, who was Queen of the pageant.
Henry could not understand his father who, in his drab garments, did not look like a king, and sat a little apart from the company with a tired expression in his eyes as though he found all the splendor and fun rather silly.
The Queen sat beside the King and she looked as though her thoughts were far away, and although she was smiling, the smile was forced.
Oh, how different it will be when I am King, thought young Henry.
Margaret, with a dignity new to her, distributed the prizes to the champions of the joust. There were silver bowls and golden cups; and the victors bowed low and kissed her hand when she presented them. She looked very lovely with her young face glowing, and clearly enjoyed being a Queen.
As soon as the prize-giving was over, the pageant began; and because such scenes were rare at the Court of Henry VII they seemed especially delightful. Never it seemed had morris dancers danced with such zest; the ballet was an enchantment, particularly as the six ladies and six gentlemen who took part were all masked and there was the fun of guessing their identities.
And when it was over, the time had come for the King to present gifts to the Scotsmen, and there was an awed silence as the magnificence of these was revealed. For the Archbishop of Glasgow there was a cup of gold and six silver pots, twenty-four silver bowls and a basin and ewer of the same precious metal together with a receptacle for holding hot ashes for the purpose of keeping the feet warm.