However she was the mistress of Archibald Douglas, and even James would think twice about upsetting the great earl.
Round the table several of the men had fallen asleep—they had slumped forward in their chairs, some snoring. Others sat with their women caressing them, perhaps rather too intimately for polite society. Not that James cared. They were Scots and would act in the Scottish way. The English who came to the Scottish Court were shocked by what they called the coarseness of the manners there. As for the elegant French they were amazed.
Let them be. It was Scotland for the Scots, said James.
George Gordon, Earl of Huntly was present with his eldest daughter Katharine—a very beautiful girl, James thought her. Her mother had been a daughter of James the First so there was a family connection. If he had not been so deeply involved with Marion—and Katharine was not the kind of girl with whom he could carry on a light intrigue—he might have been tempted. Perhaps it was better as it was. There was a puritanical streak about Katharine—young as she obviously was—and James had never been attracted by puritans. Connoisseur that he was, he had discovered that hot-blooded women were the most satisfactory partners.
Marion followed his gaze round the table and said: “It is different at Westminster, I’ll be bound.”
“You’re right, my love. Henry is a very virtuous man. I have never heard one whisper that he is unfaithful to his Queen.”
“Perhaps people are afraid to whisper.”
“I think not. They whisper of other things. They say that his heart beats faster when he tots up a column of figures and sees what profits he has made than it ever could in the most appealing bedchamber in the world.”
“I see he has not your tastes, James.”
“You should thank Heaven for that, Madam.”
“I do . . . I do. But you are a little afraid of Henry Tudor, are you not?”
“Dear Marion, my ancestors have been afraid of the rulers on the other side of the Border since the beginning of time. Trouble in England therefore means rejoicing in Scotland.”
“And the other way round?” suggested Marion.
“Don’t upset me, woman. I have trouble enough as you know. I wonder how many of these who call themselves my friends, snoring and eating here at my tables, fornicating or committing adultery in the rooms of my castles . . . would as lief thrust a knife in my back as kneel to me in homage.”
“You must keep them in order, my King.”
“One thing is sure: they will always follow me when I make war on the English. That is the common enemy. We can all be friends hating them, but when the English are not coming against us then forsooth we must go against each other.”
“So it is in your interests to preserve your old enemy,” said Marion lightly.
“I hear that he is in a state of panic at this time.”
“Which pleases you mightily?”
“How did you guess? His throne trembles under him, you know.”
“I know. This fellow on the Continent . . . is he really the Duke of York, Edward’s son?”
“Where is Edward’s son? Where are Edward’s sons? Two little boys in the Tower, and they disappear. Where to? Can people disappear in that way?”
“Easily if their throats are cut or they are stifled as I have heard these boys were . . . stifled by downy pillows . . . poor little mites. Did Richard do it as some say?”
“Why should he? He said they were bastards. But Henry has married their sister. He couldn’t marry a bastard . . . which she must have been if they were. It sounds reasonable to me. Henry takes them from the Tower in secret . . . puts them out to be murdered far from the spot. Someone takes pity on the younger boy . . . and there we have our Perkin Warbeck.”
“Reasonable,” she admitted.
“And a great anxiety to old Henry. You can picture him—trembling on his throne. There are many in Europe who are ready to rise up and help the young man fight for his crown.”
“Richard the Fourth. Would Scotland be happier under Richard the Fourth than under Henry the Seventh?”
“Scotland asks only to have an English king to fight. What his name is is of no matter. Scotland asks to harry the English King and if it can be done by making him change his name from Henry to Richard so much the better. Scotland is happiest when Englishmen are fighting against Englishmen because it saves the Scots the trouble of fighting them. I like to see my poor old enemy Henry being frightened out of his wits by this young man from Flanders.”
“Is he frightened? He seems to be holding his crown rather well.”
“Who can say, little love? He has to be continually on the alert. That has to take his mind from his money bags. And he won’t like having to spend some of those contents on war, will he?”
“James, you are malicious.”
“I am indeed where Henry is concerned . . . but kind and loving to my friends, do you not agree?”
“I would agree with that.”
“I am thankful to have your approval. I fancy I don’t have Huntly’s at this moment. He is wondering whether his daughter Katharine should be in such company.”
“My lord, I trust you will keep your eyes from Katharine. She is not for you.”
“Well I know it. Huntly need have no fears for his virtuous daughter. We must find a worthy husband for her.
