Three Sisters, Three Queens

HOLYROODHOUSE PALACE, EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND, AUTUMN 1522

The one thing that my marriage to the King of Scotland was supposed to prevent was war between the country of my birth and the country of my marriage. I have tried to keep peace in Scotland, and peace between Scotland and England, so it is a bitter day for me when the Duke of Albany serves his French king better than his country of Scotland, when he is truer to his French paymaster than he is to me, and marches against the English. Not even the prospect of the humiliation of Lord Dacre can comfort me.

In this emergency, my brother turns to me once more, as if we have never quarreled, and sends me secret messages, asking me what sort of force the French will bring against his men. He reminds me—as if I ever forget—that I am an English princess, bound to him and to my country by unbreakable bonds of love and loyalty. I advise him as best I can and when Albany gives up the attempt to march on England and sails for France, for more funds and men, I find I am left alone in Scotland, the regent gone, my husband exiled, my enemies defeated. Finally, I am the peace bringer, the only leader left standing.