The Thistle and the Rose by Jean Plaidy Page B

so much as Margaret Tudor.
    Outwardly she appeared to be a high-spirited girl, not cowed but wisely accepting what could not be prevented. James was delighted with her, and when he came home from his travels the reunions were gay and pleasant occasions. The apartments of Holyrood House rang with laughter and music—which they both enjoyed; there were occasions when James entertained in his own apartments and Margaret in hers, but if James found an entertainer of talent he would send him or her immediately along to entertain the Queen. A female minstrel who was known by the name of Wantonness was an example of this. Wantonness had amused James; therefore Margaret must enjoy her singing. It was the same with O'Donnel, an Irish harper, and a luter known as Gray Steil.
    James took advantage of his wife's complacency to have Margaret Drummond's daughter, Lady Margaret Stuart, brought to Edinburgh Castle, but when Margaret heard that the child was there her restraint broke down temporarily, and before her English attendants she demanded to know how she was expected to deal with such an affront.
    Lady Guildford suggested that she might remonstrate with the King, provided she remained calm enough to do so.
    “He dotes on that child,” retorted Margaret. “And I know why. He still remembers her mother. He believes that had she lived he would have been faithful to her! As if he would! As if he could ever be faithful to any woman!”
    “Your Grace should remember that it is better not to show your anger.”
    “That's one lesson I've learned,” retorted Margaret grimly.
    Still, she could not resist talking to the King.
    They were planning a masque and were discussing the meritsof English Cuddy and Scotch Dog and whether Wantonness should be summoned to sing with the other minstrels, when Margaret said suddenly: “James, do you think it wise to have Margaret Stuart at the castle?”
    “But why not?” he asked, surprised.
    “I know how devoted you are to her, but she is still a bastard.”
    James said coolly: “I have decided that she shall be acknowledged as my daughter, and I swear by St. Ninian that nothing shall deter me.”
    “But…”
    He had become a king suddenly and Margaret was aware that however courteous he was he would rule Scotland alone. Then she knew that there was one thing she wanted to do; that was rule Scotland herself. She understood in that moment of revelation that if James had taken her advice she could have readily forgiven him his philanderings. But he would not be advised; his gentle demeanor was a shield which hid a man determined to have his way. He was no husband for a strong-minded woman. She thought enviously of her brother Henry who on their father's death— which could not be long delayed—would be absolute ruler of England.
    “I think little Margaret finds it lonely at the castle,” went on James, “and I have for some time believed that it would be an excellent idea to gather my family together under one roof. I am therefore having young Alexander Stuart brought to the castle… temporarily of course. In time I intend to send him and his brother, Moray, abroad to be educated. I have a great respect for Erasmus and I want him to take charge of their education.”
    Margaret could not remain calm. She laughed aloud suddenly. “Alexander Stuart, bastard son of Marian Boyd and the King of Scotland—a mere boy, and Primate of Scotland! Don't you think that's a little ridiculous, James?”
    James gave his lazy smile. “One favors one's own flesh and blood, my dear. Parents are notoriously fond and foolish.”
    “Such fondness and foolishness can have dangerous results when employed by kings.”
    “I see no harm done. Wait until you give me a son. For him there will be the crown of Scotland.”
    “I might have more opportunity of doing so if you did not fritter your manhood away on other women.”
    James laughed aloud and, reaching for her, held her in an embrace, which was mocking yet