Виктория Холт - The Thistle and the Rose

She left him in the parlor, and in a short time returned with a servant who carried wine and two goblets.

“Serve first the King of Scotland,” Lady Heron ordered. “And then serve me.”

So they sat in the parlor and talked. He spoke of the horrors of war; the need for one country to take up arms against another; and how in the wretched business of wars there were now and then interludes which made of it a glorious adventure.

The soldiers lay about the castle grounds glad of a rest; Alexander had found the young girl a pleasant companion, and she was as attracted by him as he was by her.

Meanwhile the King grew more and more enchanted with the company of Lady Heron. She was young, beautiful, and was learning to trust him.

“You without a husband, I without a wife,” sighed James. “It would seem that we might offer comfort to each other.”

Lady Heron was not coy; she admitted that she found the King of Scotland charming even as he found her, and by nightfall their friendship was progressing so rapidly that it had all the appearance of courtship. The pursuit of a woman had always been a more fascinating project than that of any enemy, and quite irresistible to James.

By sweet St. Ninian! he thought. How glad I am that we came to Ford Castle, and what great good luck that Sir William Heron is imprisoned and so not present to spoil the fun.

James had a feeling that he would not sleep alone during his night at Ford Castle.

He gave instructions that the Lady Heron and her family and dependents were to be treated with the utmost courtesy. He and his men were guests in the castle, he would have them know, and any brutality would be severely punished. He asked the Scots to remember their chivalry. Lady Heron was to be free to come and go as she wished in the precincts of the castle; there was to be no suggestion of making any prisoners.

The long day was coming to an end and the friendship between the King and the Lady of the castle now seemed moving toward an inevitable climax. Alexander, who admired his father more than any man on Earth, sought to emulate his manners and habits by pursuing the daughter of the house with the same gentle yet persistent charm as his father used in pursuit of her mother.

Old Bell-the-Cat saw what was happening and gnashed his teeth in rage. The King seemed to forget that they were engaged in war. Since he had set eyes on Lady Heron he had behaved as though he were a friendly neighbor paying a visit.

Well, they would leave a few troops in Ford tomorrow and march on. But the amorous nature of his King — reminding him as it did of their rivalry — was galling to the old man, both as a soldier and a lover of Janet Kennedy.

Lady Heron looked out from the window of her apartment over the darkening countryside. She was excited because as a born intriguer and a woman of light morals, she found the position exciting.

She was expecting a message, for she believed this would surely come to her if the King of Scotland arrived at Ford Castle. She was hoping for it; it was going to give her the excuse she needed; but even without it she would not forgo her night’s pleasure.

He was certainly attractive and would be an accomplished lover. She would feign reluctance… at first. But she would have to act with skill because, for all his outward charm, he was not without shrewdness and insight.

Her maid came to tie her hair and, as she passed the comb through those long curls, she bent close to whisper.

“The messenger is below, my lady. He came with stores for the castle, and he is not to see you for fear of arousing suspicion. He has told me what I must say.”

“Then say it,” said Lady Heron.

“The Earl of Surrey asks your help. He cannot be ready for several days. He wants you to hold the Scotsman here until he sends word that he is ready to meet him. If the Scots march south tomorrow they will find no real resistance, but a few days will alter that. So it is imperative that they are held here.”

Lady Heron nodded slowly. “You’re a good girl,” she said. A lascivious smile played about her lips as she murmured: “What is asked of a poor woman in the service of her country!”

They were delighted with each other.

“Is there to be just this one night?” asked Lady Heron, her great eyes filled with brooding melancholy.

“I am at war,” laughed James.

“You are conquering all before you… the castles of England, the women of England. Must you go so quickly?”

To leave Ford Castle and Lady Heron, now that he had discovered what pleasure she could give him, would indeed be a blow. It had been a night of exciting discovery; yet he felt he had more to learn of the beautiful and willing lady of Ford.

What could one more night matter? He pictured the army camping that night in some cheerless field and he shivered with disgust.

No, as he had told her, it was episodes such as this one which made war a great adventure.

“Perhaps we might tarry one more day and night,” he murmured.

She laughed delightedly. It was so pleasant when one could combine the service of one’s country and the satisfaction of one’s bodily needs. Surrey would be pleased with her.

And if he could dally one night, why not two and three?

So in the castle courtyards the Scots soldiers lay about playing dice, or following the royal example and flirting with the maidservants. They were happy enough in the delay.

Old Bell-the-Cat stormed into that apartment which had been set aside for the use of the King.

“Your Grace,” he cried sternly, “this is folly. We dally here while the English are mustering their forces to come against us. Already much precious time has been lost.”

“Nonsense!” retorted James. “The rest and relaxation we enjoy here are preserving our strength so that when the time comes to fight we shall be ready.”

“We are frittering away our strength on senseless pleasures,” retorted Bell-the-Cat, who was too disgusted with his King to mind his words. “I tell Your Grace, we are giving the English that which they most need: time. Had we gone forward we could have attacked them while their numbers were small.”

“I would be ready to fight the English if they were a hundred thousand more in numbers.”

“Your Grace, you could return to Scotland now. You have shown the English your warlike intentions. You have taken certain of their castles. That will suffice to keep your oath to the Queen of France. I implore you either to go forward now… or return. I have reason to know that the Earl of Surrey is gathering more and more men to his banner every day.”

“The Earl of Surrey is a friend of mine. You forget, it was he who escorted the Queen to Scotland.”

“He is now Your Grace’s enemy, and he serves his King well.”

“The King of England is fortunate to have such good servants.”

“If Your Grace will either go on to attack or return to Scotland, you will find as good servants as those of the King of England.”

“You forget, Angus, that I am the commander of my own armies.”

“I’ll not stand by and see the crown of Scotland placed in jeopardy.”

James’s eyes blazed with an anger rare to him. Then he looked at Angus and saw before him an old man. Was he a little jealous of the pleasures shared by the King and the Lady of the castle? Did this remind him of what the King had taken from him when he had taken Janet Kennedy?

James shrugged aside his anger.

“If old Bell-the-Cat is afraid of the English, then let him return to Scotland. I doubt not that we will win victory without him.”

“Bell-the-Cat was never afraid of the English, but he’ll not stand by and let them take the time they need.”

“Then… goodbye.”

The old soldier bowed and retired.

Next morning he set out for Scotland; but he left behind his two sons so that, when the King went into battle, there should be Douglases to fight for Scotland.

Surrey’s herald had arrived at the castle.

Lady Heron, seeing him come, knew that the brief love affair between her and the King of Scotland was coming to its end. She had done her duty. Surrey had gathered his army and was waiting.

The herald was taken to the King and there gave him greeting from the Earl of Surrey, together with the request that he would name a day for the battle.

This James declared himself delighted to do; and although his generals assured him that it was important they should surprise the English and mow them down with Thraw-mouthed Meg — which was another name they had given to their “Seven Sisters” cannon — James would have none of this. He was determined to go into battle as he went into the joust. He was the Wild Knight, who must conquer through fair play.

On the morning of the ninth of September the armies prepared to meet at Flodden.

James was exultant. Beside him — on foot as he was — stood his son Alexander. “Keep close to my side,” he warned. “And if you are in difficulty remember I am nearby.”

“Yes, Father,” was the answer.

James loved the boy — loved his shining youth, his vitality.

Oh, he thought, if I had but stood beside my father as this son of mine now stands beside me, there would have been a different story to tell of Sauchieburn.

He could see the English banner fluttering in the breeze. It would soon be over, this decisive battle which would mean the end of strife between England and Scotland forevermore. Henry would return from France to find his country lost.

He heard the roar of the cannon as the two armies met at the foot of Brankston Hill.

The Scottish army was divided into five divisions with Home and Huntley leading the vanguard; in the rear were Lennox and Argyle; while James, with Alexander, was in the center; in the rear was the reserve under the command of the Earl of Bothwell.

At four o’clock in the afternoon the battle started and at first it seemed that the English were losing ground, when Sir Edmund Howard, who led the English, lost his banner and his men were quickly in confusion; but Surrey had, on account of the time which had been allowed him, gathered together a strong army, and others were ready to step into the breach and take the place of Howard’s men.

James was in direct conflict with Surrey’s section where the fighting was at its most fierce. All about them was the noise of battle; the clash of spears, the roar of the cannon and cries of wounded men and horses.

James was conscious of Alexander beside him and for the first time wished that he had commanded him to stay at home, for he had caught a look of startled horror on the face of the boy who had so far experienced nothing but light skirmishes and had dreamed of war which had not been like the reality.

This was no joust. This was war to the death. The enemy was determined to drive the Scots back beyond the Tweed and the Cheviots; and the Scots were determined to go forward.

“Alexander, my son… ”

James felt a sob in his throat for his beautiful Alexander had fallen and there was blood where there had but a moment before been the freshness of youth.

“Oh, my son… my son… ”

Mercifully there was little time for remorse. He did not see the man who struck him. James was dressed as an ordinary soldier for he had determined to go into battle as one of his men; he had wanted no special treatment. He was a soldier just as they were.

So he fell, as men were falling all about him.

The battle raged; and it was only later when the fighting was done that the terrible truth was known. On that day of glorious victory for the English and bitter defeat for the Scots, ten thousand Scotsmen lay dead or dying on Flodden Field and among them was their King.

The Queen had shut herself in that turret of Linlithgow Palace which was known as Queen Margaret’s Bower. She sat alone on the stone bench which surrounded it and looked out of the window hoping and praying for the coming of the messenger.

When she had heard that James was dallying at Ford Castle with Lady Heron her anger was greater than her fear. Each night she was tormented by vague dreams; each day she came to her bower to watch and wait.

There she relived so much of her life with James. This very bower itself had been created by him for her pleasure. It was reached from his dressing room by means of a staircase, and James had had a stone table erected in the center. She remembered so well the day he had shown it to her. How charming he was, how tender! And how difficult it was to remind oneself that he had been as charming and tender to other women perhaps the day before he was showing so much solicitude to her.