She brightened up when she heard that message and immediately she and her train set out for Newbattle.

She was so far composed as to have settled into the new residence and was playing cards — which she loved to do — in her apartments when a visitor was announced.

She started up and cried out in delight to see him. Now he looked more like a king, in black velvet jacket with a crimson velvet border and an edge of white fur.

Margaret returned his kiss, and he sat down with her and commiserated with her over last night’s unfortunate occurrence.

She told him about her white palfreys and wept. “For they were dear beasts,” she said, “and I loved them.”

“My Margaret has a tender heart,” said the King. “But do not weep, for it grieves me to see you do so. There will be other palfreys and we should rejoice that you are safe.”

She blinked away her tears and said that he made her happy.

“Why,” he answered, “you know nothing of happiness yet. Only wait until we are married in the sight of my people.” He clapped his hands. “Could we not have a little music? I fancy, my love, that you like it, even as I do.”

The minstrels began to play and the King asked Margaret to dance for him with Lady Surrey as she had at Dalkeith, which Margaret was happy to do; and watching her radiant face, which such a short while before had been so sad, the King told himself that she was only a child after all.

Being a lover of music, he himself must perform, and this he did with great skill on the clavichord. Margaret clapped her hands and declared that she had never heard such playing. Then he took a lute and played to her so sweetly that she was completely charmed.

“I am sure,” said James, “that there are others in the company who can amuse us.” And Margaret signed to Sir Edward Stanley to play the clavichord and sing.

“A wonderful English ballad,” commented the King, and called one of the gentlemen who had accompanied him from Edinburgh to Newbattle. “The two of you sing together,” he commanded.

And they did so, harmonizing so perfectly that everyone present applauded with enthusiasm — not only for the singing but because that was a symbol of the new friendship between the two countries.

But once again James must take his leave. As he left he whispered to Margaret: “Would I could stay this night with you.” He almost meant it. She was so young and fresh, and he was tiring of the mistress he had taken since the death of Margaret Drummond. “Alas, kings and queens must conform to the rules laid down for them… much as they would wish otherwise.”

Margaret’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes told him that she shared his wish.

“A few more days… ,” he murmured.

And she repeated: “A few more days.”

She insisted on accompanying him out to his horse, and he with his followers and she with hers left the apartment together.

He embraced her once more and then leaped onto his horse without putting his foot into the stirrup — a feat which everyone applauded. He turned, pulling off his hat, and bowed his head to Margaret before he galloped away.

These pleasant days of courtship were the happiest Margaret had ever known. The King would ride out to Newbattle; she would play for him on the lute and clavichord as he had for her; and everyone noticed how attentive he was, and how he always remained with his head uncovered in her presence.

Always there was conversation and music, and at last came that August day when she was to make her ceremonial entry into Edinburgh.

Her women were dressing Margaret in a gown of cloth of gold edged with black velvet; they were placing about her neck pearls and precious stones, when the Countess of Surrey came in to tell her that a gift from the King had arrived. This was two palfreys to replace those which she had lost in the Dalkeith fire.

Margaret clasped her hands in pleasure.

“Do you know,” she said, “I believe I have the best husband in the world.”

The ladies exchanged glances. It was true James was handsome, charming, courteous and kind; but they had heard certain scandalous gossip and they were inclined to believe it was true; and they did wonder how their high-spirited and headstrong little princess would act if and when she discovered there was truth in this gossip.

In the meantime it was well that she should enjoy her ignorance.

Riding in her litter, Margaret was met by James on the road to the capital. She was filled with delight when she saw him approaching, because he looked magnificent. His jacket was made of cloth of gold, and it opened to show that it was lined with purple velvet; about it was a border of black otter fur; his waistcoat was of purple satin and there were pearls and precious stones about his person, while his scarlet hose added an extra touch of color; and he looked very fine on a horse whose saddle and harness were of gold, and bridle and headgear of shining silver.

As he approached he sprang from his horse, and coming up to the litter, kissed Margaret. Then leaping onto his horse, he turned and rode beside the litter, while his gentleman-usher took out the sword of state from its scabbard of purple velvet and carried it before the King.

James was smiling at Margaret. “Are you prepared to enter your capital city?” he asked.

“I am longing to do so.”

“I am going to take you in on my horse,” he told her. “It is meet and fitting that I should do so!”

“You mean I shall ride pillion?”

“Why not? It is what I wish, and it is what the people will wish. Will you be afraid on such a fiery horse as mine?”

“I would never be afraid if you were there.”

“Ah, Margaret,” he told her “you are too trusting.”

He was frowning. “I would never forgive myself if you were thrown,” he went on. Then he shouted to one of his men to mount behind him pillion fashion to see how the horse reacted to the extra weight.

When it was clear that the horse was not pleased with the arrangement, the King said: “Nay, I’ll not risk this. Bring one of the Queen’s palfreys.”

The palfrey was brought and when the King had mounted and Margaret had been placed on the pillion, they prepared to journey into Edinburgh.

But there was much to be seen before they reached the city, for the King had determined that his people should show his bride a royal welcome. In a meadow about half a mile from the city they must pause and watch a joust between two knights, which had been staged for their benefit; when this was over a tame deer was released and a greyhound set to chase it.

It seemed that all the citizens of Edinburgh had come out to see the fun, for the roads were lined with people who cheered the King and Queen.

They were met by the Gray Friars who carried with them the cross and some holy but grisly relics which the King and the Queen kissed. Then as they approached the entrance to the city the trumpeters, whom Margaret had brought with her, blew a fanfare and the Scottish minstrels and trumpeters joined in with the triumphal music.

An “angel” appeared and presented the keys of the city to the new Queen; Margaret took these with a smile and turned to see that the precious relic, the arm of St. Giles, was being presented to her to kiss.

When this was done they entered the city where more pageantry awaited them; Margaret felt dazzled and found the quiet of the church of Holyrood, to which James had led her, rather pleasant. Here she knelt with James at the altar and afterward was presented to the great nobles of Scotland, among whom were such famous people as Huntley, Argyle and Lennox.

The ceremony was almost over and the King had brought his bride to his Palace of Holyrood.

They did not dine together, but later the King came to her apartments to see if she were comfortable, and there was music and dancing.

Margaret heard the city bells ringing; she knew that the streets were hung with tapestry and that all the nobility of Scotland were in Edinburgh because the following day she, Margaret Tudor, would be married to the King in the church of Holyrood.

This was her wedding day.

Margaret stood by the font, in the church of Holyrood, a dazzling figure in a gown of gold and white damask, the border of which was crimson velvet; on her head was a glittering crown, and her rippling golden hair on which she could sit with ease hung loose. About her neck was a collar of pearls. Her ladies who accompanied her were almost as richly dressed; on her right stood the Archbishop of York and on her left the Earl of Surrey.

The King was approaching, slowly, ceremoniously, accompanied by nobles in brilliant costume. He looked so handsome that Margaret could not resist the temptation to gaze at him. The white damask and gold suited his tawny coloring; and the black velvet border of his jacket and the crimson satin slashes on his sleeves, matching his scarlet hose, gave a touch of startling color. When he saw Margaret he removed his black velvet bonnet, in which glowed a great ruby, that his head might not be covered in her presence and all could therefore see the respect in which he held her.

His eyes, as they rested on her, were above all reassuring. And she thought: This is the happiest moment of my life. I am to be married to him in very truth at last, and I know this to be but the beginning of all my joy.

They stood together before the Archbishops of York and Glasgow, and the ceremony of marriage was performed. Then the bulls from the Pope, consenting to the union, were read aloud; and when this was done the trumpets blared forth in triumph.

Margaret and James were married.

They sat side by side at the banquet and the King commanded that the Queen should be served before he was.

In spite of her ecstasy Margaret could still feel hungry, and she tackled the boar’s head, brawn and ham and all the other delicacies with a zest which seemed to amuse her husband.

When the banquet was over the company left the dining hall for another room that was hung with tapestries and cloth of gold, and here the King and Queen led the company in the dance.

And so the evening passed until it was time for the King and Queen to retire together.

Margaret was happy; the King was well content.

She was young and beautiful and, as he had guessed, had been an apt pupil in those arts in which he had long excelled. It was pleasant to find a sensuality which matched his own, and if he had not continued secretly to mourn for Margaret Drummond he could have been a happy man.

Margaret with all her Tudor egoism, never doubted for one moment that the King was as delighted with her as she was with him. He had given her on the morning after the wedding night the domains of Kilmarnock as a morrowing gift.

During the weeks which followed she devoted herself to pleasure with an energy which those who had followed her from England had only seen surpassed by her royal brother. Each day she held a council of her ladies to discuss what she should wear; she danced and sang, she hunted, practiced archery; and always she was eager for those hours when she could be alone with her bridegroom.

After some weeks of this merrymaking James intimated that the celebrations should come to an end and it was time he showed the people of Scotland their Queen. Then began the royal tour. From Edinburgh to Linlithgow and from Linlithgow to Stirling, to Falkland, Perth, Aberdeen and Elgin. Each night they would come to rest in some mansion, convent or abbey where there would be dancing, music, card-playing or religious ceremonies.

One of the greatest difficulties was the transport of Margaret’s wardrobe, for the purpose of which special carters had to be employed.

“Do you need so much?” asked James gently.

“Indeed I do,” Margaret firmly told him.

Many would have been exasperated; not so James. He merely shrugged tolerant shoulders and the carters were engaged.

By Christmas they were back in Holyrood Palace where Margaret threw herself into arrangements for Christmas festivities with all her youthful enthusiasm. Holyrood should see festivities such as it had never seen before. There should be pageantry and dancing such as she and Henry had often longed for during the Christmas celebrations which had taken place in their father’s Court. It was wonderful to escape from that miserly caution which had been a part of her early life. Margaret was determined to have gaiety, no matter what the cost. Harpers and luters, fiddlers and pipers, trumpeters and dancers filled the state apartments with their music.