Anne carried her child with the minimum of discomfort and early in February removed to Stirling Castle to await the birth.
In the early hours of the 19th February, she was awakened by the first pangs of labour. Quickly she awakened James who summoned her maids and then removed himself to await the arrival of the child for he had an active dislike of sickness and pain.
Anne lay in the carved bed, draped with green velvet, alternating between moaning and crying as the spasms overtook her while Anka, Katrine and Margaret Vintner wiped the sweat from her brow and held her hands tightly when the pain reached its height. At last with a gurgle, followed by a piercing wail, induced by a slap on the behind by the midwife, her son was born and after inspecting the babe closely the Countess of Marr pronounced him perfect.
Anne had been sponged down with rosewater, dressed in a clean night rail and her long hair brushed out when James appeared.
He took her hand and beamed down upon her. “Ye’ve done well, lassie! A fine boy!”
She smiled tiredly. “What shall be his name?”
“Henry-Frederick, after ma ain murdered father an’ his grandfather o’ Denmark. Rest now, Annie, ye maun get strong again,” he exhorted her as he peered intently at the wizened little mite who slumbered peacefully in the ornate, velvet lined cradle.
“Ye’re sure he’s strong an’ healthy?” he enquired anxiously.
“O’ course he is! He’s as fine a bairn as I hae seen in many a lang year!” Annabelle Marr said firmly and it was easy to see where James had acquired his speech. “Away wi’ ye now an’ let the lassie rest an’ I’ll no’ hae his nursery turned into a public thoroughfare either!”
James smiled at his foster-mother. “The bairn is in guid hands I see.”
“They were guid enough for ye, Jamie Stuart, an’ they be guid enough for him!” she replied tartly but the gleam of affection in her eyes belied her sharp tone. As James reached the door the Countess Annabelle caught his arm. “She kens the auld custom, Jamie?”
“Oh, aye! Well I think she does.”
Annabelle shook her head. “Ye should hae told her afore this. She may tak’ it badly t’ learn that her firstborn will hae to be brought up here, under ma care!”
“Dinna fret yoursel’ about ma Annie, I can manage her,” he replied optimistically, little knowing the strife this ancient custom was to cause him.
When Anne was informed of the ancient law of Scotland which required the heir to the throne to be brought up in the sole charge of the Earl of Marr at Stirling Castle, her reaction was one of outraged maternity and a stubborn determination seized her to defy this edict. She had of course heard of this custom but had shrugged it aside, but now the matter became paramount in her mind and she was determined not to give in.
“You are a monster of inhumanity, James Stuart! You would tear my son from me to be immured in this… this… prison with that… that she-wolf! No! James, I’ll not stand by and let you do this to me!”
“Annie, Annie, calm yoursel’, ye’ll make yoursel’ ill! Hae I no explained it to ye a thousand times! ’Tis the auld custom, Guidsakes, woman! D’ ye think that if I hae stayed wi’ my ain sainted mother I would be King o’ Scotland this day? That I wouldna be, yon Annabelle guarded me like a she-wolf… that was an apt description, but d’ ye no’ see that ’tis for the bairn’s ain safety an’ mine too! If ye take Henry-Frederick wi’ ye in no time at all he’ll be whisked away an’ crowned King and mysel’, aye, and ye too, hounded to an early grave! Hae ye no notion o’ the history o’ Scotland’s Kings, woman?”
“He is my son and I will have him with me, at least until he is of an age to understand why he must be placed under the guardianship of the Marr’s!”
“That ye will not! Ye can visit the bairn whenever ye wish but here he stays!”
Anne dragged herself up on her pillows. “No! No! I’ll have my child!” she screamed.
James glowered at her, women were fell stupid at times he thought. “I’ll no’ discuss the matter further. Calm yoursel’, woman, or ye’ll be taking a fever an’ then Guid knows what will happen!”
As usual James got his way and it was a miserable, resentful Anne who accompanied him to Holyrood. She certainly did not intend to let the matter rest there and broached the subject upon every occasion that presented itself.
When the young Prince Henry-Frederick was fifteen months old she decided to enlist the help of certain members of the Council.
“Anka, I have come to a decision. I shall no longer endure my son to be brought up at Stirling!”
Anka looked at her mistress with concern. She knew how Anne fretted for the child and often she had heard her quietly pacing her chamber in the middle of the night, weeping softly. “Madam, what can you do? The King has given the most explicit instructions and Stirling is impregnable!”
Anne tossed her head defiantly. “He is my son and I will have him here with me! If the King does not like it then he must learn to accept it! Oh, Anka! I lie awake at night wondering if he lies crying unattended, if he is ill… or cold, or hungry? That nurse is a slovenly creature if ever I saw one!”
“But the Countess Annabelle reared the King, surely…”
“Yes and look at the result! James Stuart cannot speak correctly, let alone behave with dignity!” Anne cried scathingly. “I’ll not have my son dragged up… speaking broad Doric and slouching and the Lord alone knows what else!”
“But Madam, the King is a great scholar… he is extremely proficient in the Latin tongue, also the Greek and Hebrew, and he has a rare grasp of the political, economic and religious principles at stake!”
“That may well be, but I’ll not have Prince Henry-Frederick brought up at Stirling—he belongs with me!”
“What plans have you made, Madam?”
“I shall enlist the aid of certain members of the Council whom I know to be favourable to my cause and then I shall ride to Stirling and remove my son from the clutches of that evil old woman!”
Anka stared at her with trepidation, silently fearing that the members of the Council whom Anne intended to enlist to her cause might well seize the Prince for their own ends, but seeing her mistress’s determination remained silent.
“You must not breathe a word of this to anyone, Anka. Promise me? The King and those odious Erskines are ever watchful, but this time I refuse to be denied my baby!”
“I promise, Madam, you know you can trust me!”
Surreptitiously Anne began to make enquiries amongst the Lords of the Council and in a short time she had managed to enlist the aid of a handful of Lords whose loyalty to the King was somewhat suspect in Anka’s eyes. Anka watched fearfully while these men secretly visited the Queen in her apartments and the plan was fomented to remove the baby Prince from Stirling. Both she and Katrine kept watch at the door whenever these meetings took place, listening for the loud voice and tap tap of the gold-tipped cane that heralded the approach of the King.
At last all the details had been worked out. Anne accompanied by her two Danish maids and the Duchess of Lennox and Lady Huntley plus a handful of her servants and a dozen armed retainers were to set out supposedly upon a hawking expedition, but they were to meet up with disloyal Lords and their men at various points en route to Stirling where they would enter upon the pretext of visiting the Prince. Once inside the soldiers were to disarm the Earl of Marr and his supporters while the Queen and her ladies would remove the child and then ride with all haste to Dunfermline.
The night before the proposed venture Anne dined with the King. She was nervous and at the same time excited at the prospect of at last gaining her son. To try to hide her agitation she talked more than usual and drank a little more than was her want.
James did not fail to notice. “Ye’re ower talkative tonight, Annie… an’ that is the fourth time ye hae had yon cup filled!”
Anne flushed but tried to keep her hands and voice steady as she replied. “Perhaps it is just that tonight you are more attentive to me, normally you hardly listen to what I have to say and as for counting the number of times my cup has been refilled, am I not permitted to quench my thirst? The beef had been over salted!”
James shot her a penetrating look but refrained from commenting.
Anne bit her tongue, knowing she had clearly revealed her excitement. Finally, after the last course had been served and the minstrels and tumblers had commenced to entertain the court with their antics, she pleaded a headache and retired.
James watched her as she made her way slowly across the hall, his dark brows drawn together, his eyes appraising her retreating figure with suspicion. “Methinks ma Annie is up t’ something!” he muttered. “If it’s one thing women canna do, that’s hide their feelings successfully!” he confided to Lord Home.
Anne did not sleep a wink that night but lay awake beside her snoring husband, staring at the embroidered tester and trying not to disturb him by her restless movements. At last the dawn came stealing through the window and she rose.
“You’re awake early, Annie? ’Tis unusual for ye?” James muttered.
“Yes, it is unusual for me, James, but this morning I am indulging my passion… I am going hawking!”
James grunted and Anne presumed that he had gone to sleep. She moved to her chamber where her ladies dressed her in a rose-coloured damask jacket and skirt, edged with silver lace, and placed upon her head a matching hat with a single sweeping plume. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her cheeks were flushed as Katrine passed her the soft leather gloves, worked with red and green silk and perfumed with oil of lavender.
“Madam, pray take care. Everything must appear to be normal!” Anka whispered.
“The King is asleep, I have informed him that I intend to go hunting—there is nothing unusual in that—I have been known to hunt before today.”
The little party set out making their way at a leisurely pace towards the courtyard where awaited Anne’s palfrey and her guard. They kept up a lively conversation so as not to appear suspicious and the Queen laughed and joked with her Falconer as she took the hooded bird from him and transferred it to her wrist. They urged their horses forward and covered the distance across the courtyard to the gatehouse beyond which was the causeway. Suddenly, a guard appeared in the doorway.
“Your Majesty! I beg of thee… stay! The King has urgent need of speech with you!”
Anne’s heart sank. “Nonsense, man! The King is abed! What foolishness is this? I have just left him!” she cried sharply.
Anka and Katrine exchanged troubled looks.
“Begging your pardon, Madam, the message has just this minute come… here is the page who brought it!” the man cried in some confusion catching the arm of a young boy.
“Tell the Queen of your message!”
The youth bowed. “I am Robert Carr, Madam, the King sent me with all haste to delay your departure and inform you that he is most anxious to speak with you!”
“I know who you are! You are certain that the King wishes to speak to me this instant? I intended to hunt this morning, already it grows late!”
“That was his message, Madam.”
Anne looked helplessly at Jeanne Lennox.
“Madam, perhaps a few minutes would not delay us too much. To refuse would only increase suspicion!” she added in a whisper.
Reluctantly Anne nodded and turned her palfrey about. Tears of frustrated anger filled her eyes. Quickly she made her way back to the royal apartments and entered her chamber to find James up and dressed.
“James, what is so urgent that it could not wait until I had returned? Already it is late, if you continue to delay me it will be pointless to go at all and you will have succeeded in ruining a morning’s pleasure!” she cried petulantly, deciding the best form of defence was attack.
James surveyed her quietly with his large, lachrymose eyes. “It’ll no’ do, Annie! Ye dinna fool me, I ken what ye are up to!”
“What are you talking about, James? Up to what?”
“Och, woman! D’ ye tak’ me for a fool? Ye are no’ going hunting, ye are on your way t’ Stirling to fetch the bairn!”
Anne’s mouth dropped open. He had known all the time! He had let her go on making her plans, hoping… dreaming!
“How… who…?” she stammered.
“Women are no’ made t’ keep secrets! D’ ye think that all this chicanery an’ creeping about on the part o’ certain Lords o’ the Council—who I hae noted well—has escaped ma notice? Och, Annie! Ye’ll need a deal more experience in skulduggery to fool Jamie Stuart! Mind, ye hae me puzzled as t’ the actual time… until this morning that is! Ye acted vera strange last night too, but ye rose just a wee bit too early this morn. Aye, just a wee bit… an hour later an’ I would no’ hae found it strange!”
Angry tears trickled down Anne’s cheeks. “If you would let me have my child I should not have to resort to such measures! James, please, I beg of you? Let me have him, we can watch over him!” she cried clutching his arm in despair.
James sighed. “Annie, I ken how ye feel. I know it’s hard on ye but it’s no’ possible!”
She flung off his embrace. “It is possible! You wish to hurt me… to make me miserable… if you knew…”
“D’ ye think I hae no’ heard ye walkin’ the floor and weepin’?”
“You do not care for me! I would have succeeded… I will succeed!”
“What d’ ye think would hae happened if ye had managed to get the bairn away? D’ ye think those conniving limmers would hae let ye bring him here? Och, no! Ye would no’ hae got more than ten miles beyond Stirling afore they would hae killed yon guards and mayhap ye too, and taken the bairn and then it would be ‘Long Live King Henry-Frederick!’ I hae no’ suffered and schemed a’ these years, Annie, to be hounded to death so they could set ma son up in ma stead!”
Anne turned away so he could not see the bitter hurt and anger in her eyes.
“Annie, seeing as how ye are so upset, ye shall go to Stirling for a visit.”
“No, I will not! I’ll not have it said that I go out of compliment to Johnnie Marr to grace the wedding of the Lord of Glamis!”
James shook his head, perplexed and annoyed at the perversity of womankind.
“Besides, I am not well!”
“There doesna appear to be vera much wrong wi’ ye!”
“I said I am ill, the strain… do you doubt my word?”
“Aye, I do, ye’re just being obstreperous! Ye’re fell stubborn, Annie! Fell stubborn—ye will go!”
“No, I will not!”
“I command ye to go!”
She glared at him and then turning left the room abruptly.
They set out on the 30th May, but by the time they reached Linlithgow she declared that she could go no further and promptly took to her bed. Thoroughly exasperated and sick of the whole affair James ordered their return as soon as the Queen felt well enough to travel.
The matter continued to simmer beneath the surface. Anne made further plans to gain possession of her son, all of which were thwarted by James, until her mind was diverted by the knowledge that she was once more pregnant.
Her child was a girl who was born at the palace of Falkland on 15th August, 1596. She was called Elizabeth, in honour of her great-aunt of England and was baptised at Holyrood with the whole city of Edinburgh (represented in the person of the Provost) standing as godfather. Anne’s reaction when she learnt that her daughter was to be brought up in the care of Lord and Lady Livingstone surprised James who was prepared for another outburst. Anne seemed resigned to the fact and caused no fuss. The fact was that she had grown up considerably. She was no longer the young girl who had crossed the sea from Denmark but a woman who had begun to realise that her husband had a determination which equalled her own and would brook no objections to his will.
The choice of the Livingstones as guardians of the Princess Elizabeth caused murmurs of discontent within the ranks of the Calvinists who objected upon the grounds that Lady Livingstone was a Catholic and that both she and her husband had been devoted servants of Mary, Queen of Scots. James pointedly reminded them that it was Lord Livingstone who was the child’s official guardian and that he was not a Catholic, but the Calvinists and indeed most of the ministers of the Kirk continued to voice their grievances about the conduct and morals of the court until finally they resorted to what virtually amounted to rebellion and this James would not condone.
A certain Pastor Blake had the temerity to state from his pulpit ‘Guid Lord, we maun pray for our Queen for fashions sake; but we hae no’ cause for she will never do us any guid’. He followed this statement by calling all Kings ‘Devil’s bairns’ and capped it all by pronouncing Queen Elizabeth an ‘atheist’! The violent exception he took to Anne was due to the fact that she was a supporter of the Episcopal church—this being the faith in which she had been reared—and when she heard of Pastor Blake’s remarks she was justifiably incensed.
She went in search of James and found him partaking of a hearty breakfast after returning from a morning’s hunting. He was seated before a table upon which the remains of the repast (cold mutton, manchet bread, stewed quails and venison pasties) was liberally scattered, with Johnnie Marr, Ludovick Stuart and the Lords Huntley and Home all refreshing themselves with the usual copious quantities of wine and ale.
With a cursory, disgusted glance at the state of the table she launched forth. “I take it you have not yet heard of the treasonable… yes treasonable sermon Pastor Blake had the audacity to preach from his pulpit?”
“No, I canna say I hae… though no doubt ye will enlighten me!”
“Yon divines o’ the Kirk are a mite restless!” the Earl of Marr needlessly informed his Liege Lord.
Anne shot him a withering look for she cordially hated him on account of Prince Henry-Frederick.
“Well, what did yon preacher mannie hae t’ say that is so treasonable?”
Anne drew herself up, her bosom heaving with indignation, and proceeded to repeat the offensive remarks, while James listened apparently unconcerned, picking his teeth with an ivory toothpick. By the time she had finished Ludovick Stuart and the two Lords were glowering, only James and the Earl of Marr (who knew his King better than any man in Scotland) remained impassive.
Anne stared at them, greatly annoyed by their seeming indifference. “Have you nothing to say upon the matter? Am I to be insulted… and you too? To say nothing of Elizabeth Tudor? Dear God! You are a cold fish, James!” she exploded.
“I’m thinkin’ yon Blake mannie has ower stepped hi’self. No! Annie! I’ll no’ stand by and hae thee insulted frae yon pulpit. The man shall apologise publicly frae the said pulpit. Aye, publicly!”
Anne’s choler abated somewhat. “Thank you. I cannot understand why I have suddenly become the target of their spleen!”
“Dinna tak’ it too much t’ heart. I hae been slandered mysel’ and I dinna think auld Elizabeth will be ower pleased either! ‘Atheist’ she that considers hersel’ the champion o’ the Reformed church!”
“James… please?” Anne hissed, noting the smirk on the face of Marr at James’ disrespectful description of the Queen of England.
“Johnnie Marr was correct in his assumption. The divines of the Kirk are seething with discontent,” Ludovick Stuart, Duke of Lennox, reminded James.
“I’ve good cause to know that, Vicky Stuart! Hae I no’ just put them in their place ower the stramash o’ yon English players? When I gave them permission t’ perform their plays an’ ordered Geordie Elphinstone to give them timber to build you playhouse, did they no’ pronounce the playermen excommunicate an’ accursed? Did ye ever hear o’ the like? A direct affront to mysel’ God’s Anointed! I ask ye, who is more fitting than mysel’ t’ judge whether yon plays be sinful or no? I sent Willie Forsythe to th’ Mercat Cross wi’ a proclamation stating that it be ma pleasure that the elders and decons o’ the hail four sessions should annul their act concerning the English playermen and that it be ma pleasure that the said playermen use their plays in ma capital!”
“Did the proclamation have the desired effect ?” Ludovick Smart enquired politely, already aware of the outcome of this latest clash of wills between James and his church.
“Oh, aye! An’ just t’ gi’ the matter more weight I intend t’ go to yon playerhouse mysel’… wi’ Annie!”
Go he did, in company with the Queen and most of the court, much to the disgust of the ministers of the Kirk who considered such goings on to be the work of the devil. As to Pastor Blake, he absolutely refused to recant or to apologise and was subsequently banished. Once again James proved himself master of the realm.
Anne once more found herself pregnant and on Christmas Eve, 1598, at Dalkeith palace, gave birth to another daughter. The baby was christened by David Lindsay in Holyrood Chapel and given the name of Margaret but it was obvious that the child was weak and sickly. Anne watched with concern as daily the little mite seemed to grow weaker. She had been fortunate in her children so far, for so many died either at birth or shortly after.
After the christening the Princess Margaret seemed to gain a little weight and Anne began to hope, but the following week the child took a fever and died. The effect upon Anne, still weak from childbirth, was traumatic. She wept long and passionately and no amount of soothing on the part of her devoted maids or the exhortations of her husband could quiet her.
In vain did James beg her to think of her health, to thank God for her son and daughter who were quite healthy, but thinking of Prince Henry-Frederick far away from her she refused to be comforted.
“But lassie, you’re fell young yet! There will be more bairns! Ye canna fly in the face o’ God, ’twas His will to tak’ yon bairn!”
“But it is your will that keeps my son from me!” she replied angrily, raising a tear-stained face.
“He’ll no’ come t’ any harm.”
“But if he does, I’ll not be in time to reach him!” she cried and dissolved once more into passionate tears.
She recovered slowly but soon the gulf between them was to be widened. A number of things contributed to the storm when it finally came to a head in the form of what was afterwards to be called ‘the Gowry Plot’.
For some time past Anne had noticed that James had displayed a certain amount of affection towards the handsome young men of the court. At first she had shrugged aside these disquieting thoughts as mere imagination upon her part but the rumours and innuendo grew until she could no longer close her eyes. The day she caught her husband fondling Sir Thomas Erskine opened her eyes to the truth in all its enormity!
She had gazed in horror upon the scene and then turned and ran from the chamber, her cheeks bright red with shame. She had reached her own chamber out of breath and flushed, to find Anka sitting alone in the window seat.
Anne closed the door and leaned against it, her breasts rising and falling beneath the tightly laced bodice.
“Madam! Madam, what is wrong?” Anka cried, dropping her needle and silks and rushing to the Queen’s side.
Anne could not speak; she could not put into words the feelings of disgust and nausea that washed over her.
Anka took her by the arm and led her to a chair. “Who has upset you? Is it the King?”
Anne nodded and then covered her face with her hands.
“Is it Prince Henry-Frederick? Will His Majesty not let you see him?”
“No! No! ’Tis not that!” Anne choked. Suddenly, she found her voice. “Oh! Anka! How could he… it is so foul… so sordid… so unnatural!”
Anka’s bewildered expression changed to one of concern. She, too, had heard the rumours but had discredited them, but now it was apparent that Anne had witnessed something which proved beyond doubt their authenticity.
“How… how could he behave so horribly?” Anne raised her head. “It makes me feel unclean… defiled… debased! To see him with that creature… kissing and fondling…” she choked again and for a minute Anka thought she was going to vomit.
“Come and lie down, I will fetch you some wine. Dearest Madam… Oh! What can I say?”
She helped Anne to the bed and poured some wine into a goblet and made Anne sip it while searching for some words of comfort, her own feelings sickened and outraged.
“My mother warned me that he might take a mistress! Oh God! She never thought to warn me that he would take a… man! I cannot bear to think of him touching me ever again, Anka! I cannot bear it!”
“What did he say?”
“He did not have time to say anything, I fled! I never, never want to see him again!”
Anka sighed helplessly for unless Anne separated herself entirely from him and returned to Denmark, there was little she could do.
“Madam, you will have to see him. For the sake of appearances you must try to ignore the matter. It is what your mother would have wished, I know! It will not be easy, but do not demean yourself by confronting the youth in question—ignore the whole matter, it may just be an isolated occurrence!” she advised.
“Ignore it! How can I ignore it? The truth is, Anka… he prefers that pimply-faced, painted, perfumed pimp to me! To me… Princess of Holstein… his wife and the mother of his children! Oh, Anka, what am I to do?”
Anka reasoned, advised and comforted her for hours until at last she half-heartedly agreed that to ignore the matter was the best course of action for she would thereby at least maintain some dignity.
She had found it almost impossible at first to even speak to James and any advances he made towards her were met with icy disdain. After a time her attitude began to soften and she eventually found that she could live with the knowledge, but she was never to reconcile herself to the fact that her husband was capable of making love to her one night and to one of his favourites the next, and she treated these young men with utter contempt.
To add to the ever widening rift in their relationship came the Gowry Plot and its consequences that were to drive the wedge deeper. The name of ‘Ruthven’ had been associated with treachery and murder in the annals of Scottish history well before the birth of James VI. It was a Ruthven who had taken part in the brutal murder of Rizzio, Mary Stuart’s secretary—a deed performed before the very eyes of that Queen while she was then carrying James and it had been a Ruthven who had led the infamous raid in which the young James himself had been seized and held captive. That Ruthven had been executed but his eldest son had been educated in France and his other children brought up at the Scottish court.
Two of these young Ruthvens had been placed in Anne’s household upon her arrival in Scotland and having watched Alexander and Beatrice grow from childhood, she was very fond of them.
As the century drew to its close the Queen of England’s health was causing concern and James found that his influence was growing daily with certain nobles of the English court. It was at this time that the young Ruthvens sought to revenge themselves upon the King for the death of their father.
On the 3rd August, 1600, Anne was awakened by James noisily moving about the bedchamber.
“What hour is it?” she asked sleepily.
“Ha’ past three or thereabouts.”
“What in the Name of Heaven are you doing astir at this hour—or have you not been to bed?”
“I’m away t’ the chase, I hae it in ma mind t’ kill a prime buck afore noon.”
Anne grunted and turned over, she had long become accustomed to James’ passion for hunting and the unearthly hours he kept.
James finished his meagre toilet and left but the reason he had given her was not entirely the truth for Alexander Ruthven had informed him that a Jesuit with a hefty bag of gold (no doubt to be used to persuade his subjects to revert to the faith of their fathers) had been seized near Perth and detained in Gowry House until James could interrogate him. The thoughts of the gold and a subversive Jesuit were too much of a temptation and at noon James eluded his party and with only one attendant, a page named James Ramsay, made his way to Gowry House. Here he was greeted amiably by the young Earl of Gowry, Alexander’s elder brother, who had just returned from the English court. James was cordially invited to partake of dinner which he did, but once the meal was over Alexander requested his‘ master to accompany him and James followed him up the narrow, winding staircase, his thoughts absorbed by the gold which would swell his depleted pockets, until he found himself in a circular, stone room with a heavy oak door and one window which was barred. Here to his increasing uneasiness he found himself confronted not by a Jesuit priest, but by a figure in black armour! In panic James turned to flee but found himself face to face with Alexander Ruthven whose eyes blazed with fanatical hatred.
“You’ll not escape this time! You were the cause of my father’s shameful death and now you will pay!”
James backed away. He was completely unarmed and alone. “I was a bairn under restraint o’ a regent when your father was executed!”
“You could have stopped them, if you had wished to!”
“I could do nothing! Think how fond the Queen is o’ ye, laddie! Aye, an’ Beatrice too! What will happen to the lassie Beatrice?” James cried, grasping at anything which would hopefully divert the boy from his purpose.
The boy advanced and James backed away, eyeing the dirk young Ruthven held. The figure in the armour had not moved and James began to realise that it was only a dummy, put there to lend menace to the situation.
“Hae I no’ treated ye with kindness all these years?”
“’Twas a stricken conscience that suffered you to do so!”
The boy lunged at him and James tottered back, crying in pain and fear as the dirk slashed his arm, missing his throat by inches. Ruthven lunged again but as James’ cries became louder the boy’s attention was diverted by the sudden appearance of young Ramsay who had found an unguarded back stair leading to the chamber.
Ramsay charged at Ruthven and a violent tussle ensued during which James ran to the window shouting for help. Into the room dashed the Earl of Gowry with two servants who dragged Ramsay off Alexander whom Ramsay had managed to wound in the chest.
James stood rooted to the ground, his eyes wide with terror, the saliva drooling from his lips. “Guid hae mercy on us! Ye fell traitors, will ye kill your ain King?” he all but shrieked.
One of the Ruthven servants was obviously affected by his cry for he came instantly to James’ side and held his sword before him, protecting his sovereign. To James’ relief a loud hammering came to his ears and above the tumult he recognised the voices of Ludovick Stuart and Johnnie Marr.
“Open up! Open up! If ye hae harmed him I’ll smash your craig’s t’ pulp, ye murdering dogs!” Johnnie Marr’s voice thundered over the rest.
“Open this door or it will be the worse for you all!” Ludovick Stuart ordered.
Pandemonium reigned. James shouted loudly that he was being murdered while Ramsay rolled upon the floor locked in combat with the elder Ruthven and the battering upon the door grew louder. The next instant it was smashed open and Marr, Thomas Erskine, Lord Home, Ludovick Stuart and Lord Huntley dashed in to find James in a state of abject terror, Alexander Ruthven dead and his brother dying from wounds inflicted by James Ramsay.
“Thank Guid, Jamie! Are ye harmed?” Marr cried.
“A bit scratch on ma arm but yon Ruthvens would hae murdered me!”
“Take them away!” Ludovick Stuart ordered and James watched as the lifeless form of Alexander Ruthven was dragged from the room followed by his brother who was bleeding profusely from his wounds.
“What possessed you to come here, of all places, alone?” Ludovick Stuart asked.
“A fell treacherous story of yon Ruthven, Vicky!”
“Did you not suspect him, after the treachery of his father?”
“Dinna lecture me, Vicky Stuart! O’ course I trusted the lad, has he no’ been wi’ me from a bairn?” James cried irritably.
“All Ruthvens hae black, murdering hearts! Aye, even the bairns!” Marr growled.
“Will ye all stop blatherin’ an’ send for someone t’ see t’ ma arm, lest ye want me to bleed t’ death!” James cried, then catching sight of James Ramsay he called, “I’ve ye t’ thank, laddie! Aye, for ma vera life, ye’ll no’ go unrewarded!”
His arm attended to, James and his party set out. News of the fracas had travelled swiftly and the citizens of Perth turned out to see the King who providentially had been saved from an early grave. To their cries of “Guid be praised! Our Jamie’s safe an’ well!” James managed a shaky smile as he rode on in the darkness and the rain to Falkland.
It was Lady Huntley who brought the news to the Queen.
“Madam, Alexander Ruthven and his brother, the Earl, have been slain by the King!”
“Why? Why? What did the poor laddie do?” Anne cried. “Oh! My poor Beatrice!”
Beatrice Ruthven had uttered a brief cry and was swaying upon her feet.
“Quick! Katrine, catch her! Hetty, fetch some wine!” she bade Lady Huntley. “Oh, you poor child!”
Beatrice was laid upon a couch and revived slowly.
“Madam… it cannot be true!”
“I am afraid it is, child, I do not know the details but an attempt was made upon the King’s life!” Henrietta Huntley said gently.
“Nonsense! That boy would not harm a fly! Why, he is fond of James, he has lived with us since he was a child!” Anne replied firmly.
“I, too, find it hard to believe, Madam,” Henrietta concurred.
“Lie still, child, I do not believe these lies and I shall find out the truth of the matter!” Anne promised Beatrice. She straightened up and signed to Lady Huntley to follow her. When they were out of earshot of the little group around Beatrice, Anne continued. “What is all this, Hetty? Is young Ruthven dead?”
Lady Huntley nodded.
“I refuse to believe that he would harm James. Oh, I know of the history of that family, Hetty, but I have known Alexander for eleven years and I cannot believe that James would kill him—or have him killed!”
“As I have said, I do not know the full story, but there was an attempt upon the King’s life.”
“Where is James?”
“On his way back here, Madam.”
“Then we shall await his return.”
By the time the King’s party arrived it was long past midnight and Anne had dismissed all her ladies, bar Anka, young Beatrice having been put to bed with a sedative earlier.
As James entered Anne jumped to her feet, signing for Anka to leave them. “James, what is all this? Is young Alex Ruthven dead?”
James sat down wearily. He was cold, wet, tired and still suffering from shock. “There’s no cause for alarm, Annie. I’m no’ harmed—just a bit scratch on ma arm—but aye, young Alex is dead an’ his brother Gowry—fell murdering bastards!”
“Alex would not harm you!”
“Would he no’? I tell thee, Annie, he lured me to Gowry House wi’ a lying tale about a priest an’ a bag o’ gold, an’ then he set upon me wi’ a dirk! Is that the way t’ repay ma kindness? D’ ye see ma arm? That’s yon Alex Ruthven’s work! I would no’ be here now but for James Ramsay!”
“I refuse to believe it… he was forced to do it! He was put up to it!”
“Ye dinna believe it? Ye dinna believe me, yer ain husband? The little bastard was bent on slittin’ ma throat!”
Anne stared at him in silence. James was quivering with rage and indignation.
“I would hae expected a wee bit o’ sympathy an’ loyalty from ye, Annie!”
“I’m sorry, James, but nothing will induce me to believe young Alex was capable of such treachery—someone else is behind it!”
“Guidsakes, woman! There was no one else, except his brother Gowry! I should hae had a wean more sense! Vicky Stuart was right, I should no’ hae trusted a Ruthven!”
Anne compressed her lips tightly together, still unable to accept the fact that the young, gentle, affectionate boy she had known could turn into the vengeful monster James portrayed him to be.
“I see I am wasting ma time wi’ ye! Mayhap ye would hae been happy if I hae been murdered, yon Henry-Frederick’s been a thorn in your flesh! I can see now that ye hae no love for me!”
“You talk of love to me? You, who have humiliated me with your… your… unnatural habits!” Anne spat at him.
It was James’ turn to stare in silence.
“But despite your… creatures, I do not wish you dead! You are an unnatural husband and you have torn my children from me, but despite all that, James, I wish you no harm!”
“I am sore grieved, Annie. Aye, sore grieved! I can see that I am wastin’ ma breath. Dinna call me unnatural… is it too much t’ expect a wife to believe her ain husband again’ the word of an evil little toadie?”
“I suppose you think poor Beatrice was a party, too?”
“I dinna what t’ think. She is a Ruthven, too, is she no’?”
“That child has not an evil bone in her body—I’ll vouch for that and I will not allow you to vent your anger upon her.”
“Ye’ll no’ allow me!” James shouted.
“No! I will not!” Anne shouted back at him.
“She will pack her bags and go… like all the tribe of Ruthvens! I dinna want to hear that name spake again! D’ ye ken me, woman? First thing in the morning… she goes!”
Before Anne could reply he stamped from the room, slamming the door behind him, not caring if he roused the whole palace.
Despite Anne’s protests Beatrice was turned out and the whole Ruthven clan were banished, their property confiscated and their very name abolished. Anne retired to Dunfermline in a great state of melancholy which was not improved by the fact that she was yet again with child. James came to bid her farewell, but to his attempted reconciliation she coldly replied,
“I hope Heaven will not visit my family with its vengeance for the sufferings of the Ruthvens!”
James remained in Edinburgh, engaged with his parliament which according to an ancient and gruesome law of Scotland, sat in judgement upon the dead bodies of the two Ruthven brothers—duly pronouncing them guilty of treason and attempted murder of the King. The corpses were hanged and quartered and their putrid and mutilated remains set upon the walls of the city.
Anne was very ill. On the 19th November she had given birth to a son but the depression which had settled upon her during her pregnancy and the plight of Beatrice (now virtually destitute), added to a difficult and prolonged labour, left her weak and exhausted.
James journeyed to Dunfermline but was shocked at the change in her. Dark rings circled her lustreless eyes, her face was drawn and pinched and her flesh hung upon her bones.
“Was it vera bad, Annie?” he asked with some concern.
“I am tired, James. I shall recover.”
“Aye, ye maun rest. What o’ the bairn, I hear he is no’ strong?”
“No, he is not strong. I fear for him—he reminds me of my little Margaret.” She turned her head away from him, the tears sliding down her thin cheeks.
James took her feverish hand in his. “We maun pray, Annie.”
She wiped away the tears with her other hand and nodded, thinking it was small wonder the child was so sickly considering the traumas she had experienced whilst carrying him.
James’ concern was greatly increased when he beheld his son. He decided that it would be best if the babe were baptised immediately for he secretly thought his son would die before morning. The child was given the name of Charles, his father’s own first name and that of his uncle, Lord Charles Stuart.
Little Charles, Duke of Albany, was more robust than he first appeared and clung tenaciously to his thin thread of life and a month after he was born he was formally baptised once more, this time at Holyrood, and in due course was handed over to Lord Fife.
Anne gained strength and as the New Year gift, James ordered from George Herriot his goldsmith (known to the court as ‘Jinglin Geordie’) a fine jewel which cost £1,333 (pounds Scots).
The resentment and hostility were smoothed over for a time but the grievances remained buried beneath the surface.