About four hundred and fifty years ago, when Henry IV. was king of England, King Robert III., of Scotland, put his son James, the heir to his throne, a boy of nine years old, on board ship, to send him to France, to be educated. But the vessel was taken by some English cruisers, and the little prince carried captive to King Henry, who treacherously imprisoned him at Windsor Castle.
King Robert was a very loving father, and when the news of this capture was brought to him, as he sat at supper in his palace at Rothesay, he was so overcome with grief that he fainted and seemed about to die. His attendants carried him to his chamber and laid him on his bed, which he never left again; for when he came out of his swoon, he hid his face in the pillow, and wept, and wept, refusing to be comforted,—sending all his food away untasted, and scarcely ever speaking, except to repeat the name of his son, over and over again, in a way to break one's heart. So he took on for three days and nights, and then died.
But the prince, now King James, was not so badly off as he might have been. Though a prisoner, he was not confined in a gloomy dungeon, but had handsome and comfortable apartments, in a tower which overlooked a beautiful garden, where trees waved, and birds sang, and fountains sparkled, and flowers sent up sweet perfumes to his windows. The sun shone and the stars looked in upon him; and when a prisoner can see the sun and the stars, he cannot feel that God has quite forgotten him, or the angels ceased to watch over him. He was not left alone, or deprived of employments and amusements. King Henry commanded that he should have a right princely education. He had masters who taught him history, grammar, oratory, music, sword-exercise, jousting, singing, and dancing. He was handsome, graceful, and clever, but always most celebrated for his poetical talent. As he grew to manhood, he became one of the noblest poets of his day, and even now his verses, though quaint and old-fashioned, are very sweet, pure, and pleasant to read.
One fresh May morning, when James had been a captive in Windsor Castle nearly eighteen years, as he was looking down from his window, he saw a beautiful young lady walking in the garden. She was dressed all in white; a net of pearls and sapphires confined her golden hair, and a rich chain of gold was about her delicate throat. By her side sported a pretty little Italian greyhound, with a string of tinkling silver bells around his neck.
As she moved among the flowers, the violet looked up into her eyes, and thought their tender blue was her own reflection. The rose said to herself, "What a rich bloom I must have, if even my shadow makes her cheeks so red!" The lily had similar thoughts about her neck; while the golden laburnum thought it and the sunbeams had been the making of her hair.
This lovely dame was the Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset. Of course, King James, having little else to do, fell in love with her without delay, and in a very short time told her so, by means of tender rhymes, which he sent fluttering down into her path. The Lady Jane was charmed with his verses, and found it easy to go from admiring the poetry into loving the poet. To be frank, and tell him so, she wrote a little billet, and tied it under the wing of a white dove, directing him to carry it straight to the captive's window,—and he did so. But if he had suspected what was to have come of it, I don't believe he would have gone; for it was little rest the poor bird got after that, between the two lovers, who kept him flying back and forth a dozen times a day with their fond messages under his wing.
At last, King Henry got wind of this romantic affair, and, instead of being angry; he was very glad, for he wanted King James to have an English wife. So he took him from prison, gave him Lady Jane in marriage, and restored him to his throne.
The poet-king and his noble queen were very kindly received in Scotland, and lived for some time very happily and peacefully, always dearly loving one another. But James found the kingdom in great confusion from misgovernment, and the common people very much oppressed. He bravely set himself to reform matters, trying to relieve and protect the poor, and restrain and humble the rich and powerful. His most difficult labor was to lessen the power of the great nobles, who were in fact almost kings themselves, on their own estates, and fought against each other, and even against the king, upon the slightest provocation, and often without any. They rebelled against this as being a spiteful action, and not, as it really was, a noble, kingly effort to benefit the whole kingdom. They took further offence at the levying of some taxes for the support of the throne and to carry on the government. The people being poor, and not used to paying such taxes, were easily led to believe that it was King James's avarice, and not the necessities of the government, which caused them to be exacted. So, although he was so wise and good, and had the welfare of his people so much at heart, he came to be looked upon as unjust and tyrannical, by both the nobles and the common people; and this led to a conspiracy to bring about his death.
The leader in this conspiracy was one Sir Robert Graham, a bold, ambitious man, who was greatly embittered by having suffered an imprisonment at the command of the King. He also enticed into the plot the old Earl of Athole, by promising that his son, Sir Robert Stewart, should be made king in James's place. Many others joined the plot, upon various grounds, bringing with them their followers, to whom they pretended that their object was to carry off a lady from the court. Graham went off into the far Highlands, to complete his plan, and from thence he formally recalled his allegiance to the king, bidding him defiance, and threatening to put him to death with his own hand. In reply to this, King James set a price upon the head of Graham, to be paid to any one who should capture and deliver him up to justice; but he managed to keep himself safely concealed in the mountains.
For the Christmas following this, the poor, doomed king had appointed a feast to be held at Perth. As he was about to cross a ferry on his way to attend this feast, he was stopped by a Highland woman, who professed to be a prophetess. She called out to him in a loud voice, "My lord, the king, if you pass this water, you will never return alive." The king had read in some book of prophecy, that a king would be killed in Scotland during that year, and was much struck by this speech of the old woman.
Better would it have been for both himself and Scotland had he given heed to this warning, which the old woman doubtless had better authority than her claim to prophecy for making; but he turned jestingly to a knight of the court, to whom he had given the title of "the King of Love," saying, "Sir Alexander, there is a prophecy that a king shall be killed in Scotland this year; now this must mean either you or me, since we are the only kings in Scotland." Several other things occurred which, if attended to, might have saved the king; but they were all suffered to pass unheeded.
When the king arrived at Perth, there being no castle or palace convenient, he selected for his residence an abbey of Black Friars, which made it necessary, unfortunately, to distribute his guards among the citizens, and thus make comparatively easy the execution of the design of the conspirators.
On the night of the 20th of February, 1437, after some of the conspirators, selected for that purpose, had knocked to pieces the locks of the doors of the king's apartment, carried away the bars which fastened the gates, and provided planks with which the ditch surrounding the monastery was to be crossed, Sir Robert Graham left his hiding-place in the mountains and entered the convent gardens, with about three hundred men.
The king had spent the evening with the ladies and gentlemen of the court, in singing, dancing, playing chess, and reading romances aloud. All the court had retired, and James was standing before the fire, in night-gown and slippers, talking with the queen and her ladies, when the same Highland prophetess that had warned him at the ferry, begged to speak with him, but was refused, because it was so late.
Suddenly there was heard without the clash of men in armor, and the glare of torches was seen in the gardens. The king at once thought of Sir Robert Graham and his threat, and called to the ladies who were still in the room to keep the doors fast, so as to give him time to make his escape. After vainly trying to break the bars of the windows, he suddenly remembered that there was a vault running beneath the apartment, which was used as a common sewer; whereupon he seized the tongs, raised a plank in the floor, and let himself down. This vault had formerly led out into the court of the convent; but, most unfortunately, he had only a few days before ordered this opening to be walled up, because, when playing ball, the ball had several times rolled into it.
In the mean time, the conspirators were hunting for him from room to room, and at last they reached the one beneath which he was hidden. The queen and her ladies kept the door shut as long as they could, but you will remember that the cowardly conspirators had broken the locks and carried off the bars; and this brings us to one of the most devoted and heroic acts in Scottish history. Catherine Douglas, one of the noblest (both by rank and nature) and loveliest of the queen's ladies, when she found that the bar was gone, with that high spirit which has made her race wellnigh the most famous of Scotland, thrust her beautiful, naked arm through the staples, in the place of the bar, and thus kept the door closed till her arm was crushed and broken by the pressure of the brutal traitors on the other side. When this heroic defence was overcome, they burst headlong into the room, with swords and daggers drawn, beating down and trampling on the brave ladies who did their best to keep them back. One of them was in the act of killing the queen, but a son of Graham prevented it, by exclaiming, "What would you do with the queen? She is but a woman! Let us seek the king!"
After a careful, but unsuccessful search, they went away to look in other parts of the building. The king having heard their departure, and being very cold and uncomfortable, asked the ladies to help him out of the vault. But some of the conspirators had remembered this vault, and just at this moment they returned to search it. They tore up the plank, and there stood the poor, doomed king in his night-gown, and entirely unarmed; at which, one of them said, "Sirs, I have found the bride for whom we have been seeking all night."
First, two brothers, named Hall, jumped into the vault, with drawn daggers; but the king was a very powerful and active man, and he at once threw them both down, and was trying to get a dagger from them, when Graham himself leaped down. Then James, finding that defence was useless, asked him for mercy, and for a little time to confess his sins. But Graham replied, "Thou never hadst mercy on any one, therefore thou shall receive no mercy; and thy confessor shall be only this good sword." Whereupon he ran the king through the body. Then, possibly overcome with remorse, or fearing the consequences of the deed, he was for leaving the king to the chances of life and death; but the others fiercely called out that if he did not kill the king, he himself should die. At this, he and the two Halls dispatched the poor monarch with their daggers. After his death, sixteen wounds were found upon his breast alone.
And this was the end of the great and good James I. of Scotland, who, king though he was, died a martyr for the rights of the people.
More Grace Greenwood Short Stories
