I have a young husband, a handsome husband from a great family, and he loves me, only me, while Katherine has to look the other way from Harry’s infidelities and pretend not to mind. I am a queen just as good as her, and better than her—far better—I have a son who is king. She gives birth to nothing but dead babies or babies who die after birth; she must be wretched. She should be wretched. When I think what she has done to me I know that she should be wretched forever.
But it is no comfort to think of her hunched over her swelling belly and praying that this time God grants her a live child, hoping that Harry won’t be unfaithful during the months of her confinement. Although I feel sour and envious, I find I get no pleasure in imagining her being wretched. For despite listing my blessings—my handsome husband, my two boys, the baby in my belly—I feel rather wretched too.
We wait to hear what the response will be from the Duke of Albany, and the council of lords. Archibald rides out with James every day, teaching him how to sit on his pony and raise a hand to take a salute. He talks to him of battles. I don’t like them to go far afield, as I am afraid that the council may grow impatient and kidnap our little king. I am uneasy, nervous in my pregnancy. I think that I am allowing myself to be frightened of shadows. Then sometimes I think that I have much to fear.
I have the vivid dreams of pregnancy. I start to think of Albany with dread, as if he were the devil himself and not a careful, courteous politician. I think he will take James by force. I think he will take Ard from me. I think of him stripping John, Lord Drummond, of his wealth, for nothing more than being a good advisor to me, a tender grandfather. Although they have promised to release him from imprisonment, they have ruined him, taking his estates and his castles. Ard has lost his inheritance and now we have no money at all. Bishop Gavin Douglas is imprisoned with no hope of release, and my secret letters to Harry have been read by everyone. Everyone knows that I was plotting to bring the English down on my own country, that my husband and his family were profiting from my treason. George Douglas, Ard’s younger brother, has fled to England, marking the whole family as traitors. I feel as if I have lost all my friends, I feel as if Ard has lost his family for me, and yet still my brother sends neither money nor help. Still Katherine does not advise him that they should compensate me—yet who brought me into this danger but her?
I know that the Duke of Albany will not wait forever, and at the end of July he sends for James, my son. The council is determined that I hand over the little king to his new guardians.
Again, I speak through the portcullis, but this time there are no cheering spectators. I say that Stirling is my own castle, my husband the king gave it to me himself. I say that my son is in my own keeping, my royal husband made me his protector. I say I will not hand him over. I will not surrender the keys of the castle.
They call on Archibald, who is standing silently behind me, and they order him to advise me. Confidently, I turn and smile, but Archibald astounds me. Then and there, in the courtyard of Stirling Castle, where he used to count himself lucky if I let him lift me into the saddle, he says that his advice to me as my husband has always been that I should obey the governor, the Duke of Albany, who has been appointed by the parliament as regent. He says that this is the will of the lords of Scotland and we should all obey the earthly powers. I am completely silent, my eyes blazing at his pale face as he betrays me completely, politely, and in public. I say nothing at all until we have gone inside the castle and the door is closed on my privy chamber and we are alone. Then he stands with his hands behind his back, his head down, his face sulky as a child’s, waiting for the scolding that he knows is coming.
“How could you? How could you?”
He looks tired. He looks pale, like a boy who has been forced to take on troubles beyond his years. “So that they don’t charge me with treason like my grandfather,” he says.
“How could you betray me? You owe me everything. I have done everything for you. You are nothing more than Charles Brandon is to my sister. We both have honored husbands far below us, men who would be nothing without us.”
He shakes his head and it only makes me angrier.
“I will never forgive this,” I rail at him. “I have lost my throne for love of you. If I had not married you I would still be queen regent. All this is your fault, and yet when they call on you, you answer obediently! But you are not free to answer to them, you are bound to me! You are my husband, I am queen regent. You should not even speak when they address you!”
“I answer fair so that I keep my lands and goods,” he says slowly. There is no rage in his voice; unlike me, he speaks slowly and steadily. “I keep my castles and my tenants. I am going now, to raise troops to defend you. We have no one here in Stirling; we have no money to pay an army. But if I can get home and raise my tenantry and call on my friends and borrow money, then I can come back and get you out of here.”
“You are defending me?” My rage turns to astonishment. I feel the pulse of a complete change of heart.
“Of course. Of course.”
I grab his hands, tears pouring down my face, as anguished as I was angry. “You swear it? You’re not just leaving me? You’re not just saving your own skin and leaving me here?”
“Of course not.” He kisses my hands, he kisses my tearstained face. “What do you take me for? Of course I am going to raise an army to save you. I am your husband, I know what I must do.”
“I thought you had betrayed me. Before them all! I thought that you had gone over to their side and left me.”
“I knew you would. But you had to believe it, and they had to believe it, so that I can serve you.”
“Oh, Archibald, stay with me.”
“No, I shall go and get my men so I can save you. I shall go to my home.”
“And you won’t see her?” The words slip out before I can stop myself.
At once the tender look falls from his face and he looks as old as his grandfather and weary. “I will have to see her if I am trying to raise troops from her lands. She is a sweet loyal girl and has never failed in kindness towards me. Even now, she would do anything for me. I will have to meet with her family to plead your cause. But I am not leaving you for her. I don’t forget I am married to you. I know my duty, even though it is not what I thought it would be.”
“We will be happy again,” I promise him as if he is a child, like James, desperate to restore the love to his eyes. “Your duties will be merry again. We will break out of this, Harry will send an army. We will have our child and you will be glad. I will give you a son, I know I will. I will give you the next Earl of Angus. You will like that. And we will take power.”
He shows me a weary smile. “I am sure. I will go now and make all the speed I can to come back to you.”
“You will come back? You won’t run away to England like your brother George?”
He shakes his head. “I have given the word of a Douglas.”
I wait in the castle alone. Albany’s retinue and the lords who support him have invested the town of Stirling, and the castle is under siege. I have to guard my sons and defy the parliament, the lords, and the governor. I write to Harry. I tell him that I am alone, surrounded by my own parliament. They insist on taking my boys, his own nephews, his heirs. If he does not come to rescue me I cannot predict what will happen. I get no reply. Lord Dacre advises me in a secret letter that Harry and the new French king, Francis, have agreed together not to meddle in the affairs of Scotland. I know what this means: Harry has abandoned my cause; my brother has betrayed me.