The Thistle and the Rose: The Story of Margaret, Princess of England, Queen of Scotland (Novel of the Tudors Series)

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Overview

From the pen of the legendary historical novelist Jean Plaidy comes the story of Princess Margaret Tudor, whose life of tragedy, bloodshed, and scandal would rival even that of her younger brother, Henry VIII.

Princess Margaret Tudor is the greatest prize when her father, Henry VII, negotiates the Treaty of Perpetual Peace with neighboring Scotland. The betrothal is meant to end decades of bloody border wars, but it becomes a love match: To Margaret’s surprise, she finds joy in ...

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The Thistle and the Rose: The Story of Margaret, Princess of England, Queen of Scotland (Novel of the Tudors Series)

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Overview

From the pen of the legendary historical novelist Jean Plaidy comes the story of Princess Margaret Tudor, whose life of tragedy, bloodshed, and scandal would rival even that of her younger brother, Henry VIII.

Princess Margaret Tudor is the greatest prize when her father, Henry VII, negotiates the Treaty of Perpetual Peace with neighboring Scotland. The betrothal is meant to end decades of bloody border wars, but it becomes a love match: To Margaret’s surprise, she finds joy in her marriage to the dashing James IV of Scotland, a man sixteen years her senior. But the marriage, and the peace it brings to both nations, does not last. When King James is struck down by the armies of Henry VIII, Margaret—Princess of England, but Queen of Scotland—finds herself torn between loyalty to the land and family of her birth and to that of her baby son, now King of the Scots. She decides to remain in Scotland and carve out her own destiny, surviving a scandalous second marriage and battling with both her son and her brother to the very end. Like all the Tudors, Margaret’s life would be one of turmoil and controversy, but through her descendants, England and Scotland would unite as one nation, under one rule, and find peace.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780609810224
  • Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/27/2004
  • Series: A Novel of the Tudors Series , #8
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 604,053
  • Product dimensions: 5.15 (w) x 7.96 (h) x 0.65 (d)

Meet the Author

JEAN PLAIDY, one of the preeminent authors of historical fiction for most of the twentieth century, is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also known as Victoria Holt. By the time of her death in 1993, the novels of Jean Plaidy had sold more than 14 million copies worldwide.
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Read an Excerpt

The Betrothal

IN AN APARTMENT OF THAT ROYAL PALACE WHICH recently, by the command of the King, had had its name changed from Shene to Richmond, three children were ranged about a blazing fire. Outside the January wind buffeted the octagonal and circular towers, threatening to sweep away the little chimneys which looked like inverted pears.

The eldest of the three-a girl just past her twelfth birthday-had taken off the net which held her beautiful reddish golden hair, so that she could have the joy of letting it fall over her shoulders and down to her waist. The boy, who had the same rosy complexion and bright gold hair, watched her sullenly. She was delighted with herself; he was displeased. As for the other child, a little girl not quite six, she was intent on watching the pair of them, very conscious of the fact that on account of her age she was of small account in the eyes of her twelve-year-old sister, Margaret, and ten-year-old brother, Henry.

"The fact is," Margaret was saying, "that you are angry because I am to have a marriage and because I shall be a queen before you are a king."

"Queen of Scotland!" sneered Henry. "That barbarous land! Nay, my sister, I tell you this: I am displeased because it seems to me unfitting that my sister should so demean herself by such a marriage."

Margaret burst out laughing. "What airs you give yourself, Henry. I declare that since you became Prince of Wales you believe you are a king already. And think of this, brother: Had our dear Arthur lived you would never have been a king at all."

Henry scowled. It was like Margaret to take an unfair advantage. She was telling him that he showed too much pleasure in his new state and not enough sorrow for the death of their brother.

"It matters not how or why a man wears a crown," he muttered. "It only matters that he does." "So you are glad Arthur is dead!"

"I did not say that."

"You imply it."

"You lie."

"I do not lie."

Mary began to whimper. She hated quarrels between her brother and sister; they were always threatening to arise, partly because Margaret and Henry were so much alike. If Margaret's hair were cut off-which she would never allow because it was her greatest beauty and she was very proud of it-and she were dressed like a boy, there would be Henry all over again. And it was not only in appearance that they resembled each other. They were both headstrong, willful, loving to indulge themselves, furious with any who opposed them. Mary secretly took Henry's side because he made much of her. He often told her how pretty she was and that she was his favorite sister.

"Now you see what you have done," complained Henry. "You have frightened Mary. Come here, Mary. I will sing to you if you like. I will play my lute."

"Oh yes, please."

Margaret regarded them scornfully.

"And you must say none sings like he does, none plays the lute to compare with him, and you are the luckiest girl in the world to have such a brother. That is the payment which will be asked of you for his attentions, little sister."

"Heed her not," Henry reassured the little girl. "She is angry with us because she has to leave our beautiful Court for that of a barbarian."

Margaret lost a little of her bravado. She had her qualms. It could be an ordeal at twelve, when you had not a great experience of the world, to be called upon to leave your home for that of a husband you had never seen.

Henry saw the change in her demeanour and made the most of his advantage.

"I never cared for Scottish alliances." He imitated the tone of one of his father's ministers and stood ponderously, long legs apart, hands clasped behind his back, an expression of wisdom on his round, rosy face.

"I wonder you do not discuss this matter with the King," Margaret put in sarcastically.

"I might do so." Henry was playing for Mary; it was possible that she would not find it difficult to imagine her wonderful brother already advising the King.

"Go and seek an audience at once," Margaret suggested. "I am sure our father will be eager to listen to your counsel."

Henry ignored his sister; he began to pace up and down before the fire. "In the first place," he said, "I like not these Stuarts. I like not their lax morals. You will be going to a man who has had a host of mistresses and, some say, married one of them. A pleasant state of affairs, madam, for a Tudor!"

Margaret folded her arms across her breasts and laughed gaily. She was aware of mingling apprehension and excitement; she had become conscious of her body at an early age; her governess and nurse said of her: "She should marry young." It was different for Henry, who was as eager for manhood as she was for womanhood; they were lusty people, these young Tudors. They must have inherited that quality from their maternal grandfather; they had often discussed gossip they had heard about him. Great Edward IV-handsome, tall, golden and very like them in appearance-whose greatest pleasure had been the pursuit of women. His daughter, their mother, was mild and docile; their father lusted after gold and possessions so exclusively that he had no lust left for anything else. So, thought Margaret, Henry has undoubtedly inherited his tastes from his grandfather. Have I? She believed so; and that was fortunate, for it meant that in spite of certain natural fears she could look forward with excitement to marriage with a man noted for his sensuality.

It was amusing to see Henry in this mood. His little mouth was prim; because he liked to be the center of attention, and since, as this was her marriage which was about to take place, she must necessarily be, he was going to show his displeasure by disapproving of the morals of her bridegroom.

"He will have to give up his mistresses when I arrive," said Margaret.

"If he would not do so while negotiating with our father for the marriage, depend upon it he will not when he has achieved his purpose: alliance with the Tudors."

Henry said the last sentence as though he were making an announcement like a herald at a tournament. He had become very insistent on the homage due to the Tudors since he had become the heir to the throne.

Of course, Margaret thought, that had changed everything. He was surrounded by sycophants, all eager to be friends with the boy who would one day be King; and Henry did not appear to see what their flattery meant-but perhaps he did though, and loved it so much that he would accept it eagerly no matter what lay behind it.

Little Mary was watching him with adoring eyes. It was easy enough to be a hero in the eyes of a five-year-old little girl.

"Our grandfather had many mistresses, and he was a great King," Margaret reminded Henry.

"But these Stuarts! Even their castles are drafty."

Margaret shivered. "So are ours."

"And the winters are hard, north of the Border."

"I shall know how to keep myself warm."

"And"-Henry narrowed his eyes and his mouth grew tight-"I remember-though others do not-that your bridegroom has been overfriendly with a certain traitor."

"A traitor!" squealed Mary. "Oh, Henry, what traitor?"

"You are too young to remember, but two years ago Perkin Warbeck was a prisoner in our Tower of London, and there he was tried and found guilty; after which he was taken to Tyburn and hanged by the neck until he died. Do you know what this traitor planned to do? To pass himself off as the Duke of York, our mother's brother, thereby claiming that he had more right to the throne than our father. Vile traitor that he was. And this James, whom your sister is so proud to marry, received him in Scotland, gave him honors and allowed him to marry his own cousin. There! Do you understand now why I see no matter for rejoicing in this marriage of our sister?"

Mary turned solemn eyes to Margaret. "Oh, Margaret, is it indeed so?"

"Do you doubt me then?" roared Henry.

"Oh no, Henry. You are always right!"

"He is not," snapped Margaret. "And that is all ancient history. Perkin Warbeck deceived James Stuart as he did others. It is over and nothing to do with my marriage."

"I beg leave to say that it has a great deal to do with your marriage."

"Then I am surprised you do not forbid our father to consent to it," Margaret mocked. Henry's face flushed scarlet.

"When I am King...," he muttered.

It was unfortunate for Henry that at this moment the door was flung open and his words were overheard by the last person he wanted to hear them.

The King had entered the room with his wife and a few attendants. King Henry VII was no lover of ceremony; his clothes were a good deal plainer than those of many of his courtiers; his face was pale and shrewd, and no one would have suspected he was the father of those pink and gold children who were clearly disconcerted to be so interrupted.

Henry thought scornfully that a king should make his entrance to a fanfare of trumpets; his garments should dazzle with their magnificence; he should tower above his followers. When I am King...,his thoughts went on, for that was their persistent theme since the news of Arthur's death had been brought to him.

He bowed to his parents, and the girls curtsied.

"That time is not yet, my son," said the King coldly, "though it would seem you are unbecomingly eager for it."

"Sire," began Henry, embarrassed, "I was but explaining to my sisters..."

The King lifted a hand. "I rejoice in your healthy looks," he said, "and would that your mind kept pace with your body. You should pray that the time will not be yet for, my son, you are an infant in princedom and have much to learn of kingship."

"I know this, Sire," murmured Henry, "and I will endeavor to learn quickly-so to please you."

"My daughter," said the King; and Margaret came forward. Her father did not smile-he had rarely been seen to do so-but his glance was approving. The vitality of these children of his never failed to delight while it surprised him. He had lost Arthur and Edmund, it was true, but the ruddy looks of these three reassured him. If the child the Queen now carried had this same blooming health, and it were a boy, he would cease to mourn for the death of Arthur. There was, of course, no reason why there should not be more and more. Both he and the Queen were young enough to add to their brood.

He went on: "The Scottish nobles are now arriving at the Palace. You should be ready to receive them. This is no time for nursery games."

"No, Sire," murmured Margaret.

The Queen stepped forward and took her daughter's hand. Elizabeth of York tried to hide the apprehension she was feeling. It was only a little more than twelve years ago that this bright girl had been born to her in the Palace of Westminster; she remembered the November mists which hung over the river and seeped into the room; she remembered holding the tiny child in her arms and rejoicing in her, forgetting the disappointment in her sex which it seemed must overshadow all female royal births. A sister for Arthur-a healthier baby than her little brother.

And now soon there would be another. The present pregnancy worried the Queen. She was filled with foreboding perhaps because she, more than any, knew the weakness of her own body. Childbearing had taken its toll and, although she could remain fruitful for several years to come, she thought with dread of future pregnancies.

There was none to whom she could confide this fear. Her daughter was too young to understand; moreover could she complain to her of a fate to which, by very nature of her own position, Margaret could herself be condemned? It was a great responsibility to be a royal princess, one whose duty it was to provide sons-a task which seemed extremely difficult for royal princesses and amazingly simple for humble subjects. Could she explain to her husband? Henry would never understand that anything could be of importance except the piling up of wealth, the strengthening of the country, so that the Tudor, who sat somewhat uneasily on his throne, should maintain his place. There was reason for disquiet. The recent affairs of Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck had shown that; but with his usual sound good sense Henry had dealt with those impostors in a manner befitting his kingship. But such matters were disturbing to him.

And now...a match with Scotland. An excellent proposition. Perhaps that would mean an end to the senseless border warfare which harried their peoples. Perhaps the Alliance would so strengthen the friendship of the two countries that they would live amicably together during the years ahead.

And my daughter Margaret would be responsible, pondered the Queen. Pray God that she may be a wise counselor to her husband.

She would speak with Margaret, try to impress upon her the importance of her duty.

"Come and prepare yourself to meet the envoys from the Scottish Court," she said.

"The Prince of Wales should also grace the assembly with his presence," said the King with a slight lifting of one corner of his mouth to imply mockery.

Margaret glanced at her brother. Now was the time for him to declare his dislike of the match, to state boldly before his father what he had told his sisters.

Henry's lower lip jutted out slightly. He opened his mouth as though to speak; but when he looked up into his father's stern face, he changed his mind. He was not yet King of England.

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First Chapter

The Betrothal

IN AN APARTMENT OF THAT ROYAL PALACE WHICH recently, by the command of the King, had had its name changed from Shene to Richmond, three children were ranged about a blazing fire. Outside the January wind buffeted the octagonal and circular towers, threatening to sweep away the little chimneys which looked like inverted pears.

The eldest of the three-a girl just past her twelfth birthday-had taken off the net which held her beautiful reddish golden hair, so that she could have the joy of letting it fall over her shoulders and down to her waist. The boy, who had the same rosy complexion and bright gold hair, watched her sullenly. She was delighted with herself; he was displeased. As for the other child, a little girl not quite six, she was intent on watching the pair of them, very conscious of the fact that on account of her age she was of small account in the eyes of her twelve-year-old sister, Margaret, and ten-year-old brother, Henry.

"The fact is," Margaret was saying, "that you are angry because I am to have a marriage and because I shall be a queen before you are a king."

"Queen of Scotland!" sneered Henry. "That barbarous land! Nay, my sister, I tell you this: I am displeased because it seems to me unfitting that my sister should so demean herself by such a marriage."

Margaret burst out laughing. "What airs you give yourself, Henry. I declare that since you became Prince of Wales you believe you are a king already. And think of this, brother: Had our dear Arthur lived you would never have been a king at all."

Henry scowled. It was like Margaret to take an unfair advantage. She was telling him that he showed too muchpleasure in his new state and not enough sorrow for the death of their brother.

"It matters not how or why a man wears a crown," he muttered. "It only matters that he does." "So you are glad Arthur is dead!"

"I did not say that."

"You imply it."

"You lie."

"I do not lie."

Mary began to whimper. She hated quarrels between her brother and sister; they were always threatening to arise, partly because Margaret and Henry were so much alike. If Margaret's hair were cut off-which she would never allow because it was her greatest beauty and she was very proud of it-and she were dressed like a boy, there would be Henry all over again. And it was not only in appearance that they resembled each other. They were both headstrong, willful, loving to indulge themselves, furious with any who opposed them. Mary secretly took Henry's side because he made much of her. He often told her how pretty she was and that she was his favorite sister.

"Now you see what you have done," complained Henry. "You have frightened Mary. Come here, Mary. I will sing to you if you like. I will play my lute."

"Oh yes, please."

Margaret regarded them scornfully.

"And you must say none sings like he does, none plays the lute to compare with him, and you are the luckiest girl in the world to have such a brother. That is the payment which will be asked of you for his attentions, little sister."

"Heed her not," Henry reassured the little girl. "She is angry with us because she has to leave our beautiful Court for that of a barbarian."

Margaret lost a little of her bravado. She had her qualms. It could be an ordeal at twelve, when you had not a great experience of the world, to be called upon to leave your home for that of a husband you had never seen.

Henry saw the change in her demeanour and made the most of his advantage.

"I never cared for Scottish alliances." He imitated the tone of one of his father's ministers and stood ponderously, long legs apart, hands clasped behind his back, an expression of wisdom on his round, rosy face.

"I wonder you do not discuss this matter with the King," Margaret put in sarcastically.

"I might do so." Henry was playing for Mary; it was possible that she would not find it difficult to imagine her wonderful brother already advising the King.

"Go and seek an audience at once," Margaret suggested. "I am sure our father will be eager to listen to your counsel."

Henry ignored his sister; he began to pace up and down before the fire. "In the first place," he said, "I like not these Stuarts. I like not their lax morals. You will be going to a man who has had a host of mistresses and, some say, married one of them. A pleasant state of affairs, madam, for a Tudor!"

Margaret folded her arms across her breasts and laughed gaily. She was aware of mingling apprehension and excitement; she had become conscious of her body at an early age; her governess and nurse said of her: "She should marry young." It was different for Henry, who was as eager for manhood as she was for womanhood; they were lusty people, these young Tudors. They must have inherited that quality from their maternal grandfather; they had often discussed gossip they had heard about him. Great Edward IV-handsome, tall, golden and very like them in appearance-whose greatest pleasure had been the pursuit of women. His daughter, their mother, was mild and docile; their father lusted after gold and possessions so exclusively that he had no lust left for anything else. So, thought Margaret, Henry has undoubtedly inherited his tastes from his grandfather. Have I? She believed so; and that was fortunate, for it meant that in spite of certain natural fears she could look forward with excitement to marriage with a man noted for his sensuality.

It was amusing to see Henry in this mood. His little mouth was prim; because he liked to be the center of attention, and since, as this was her marriage which was about to take place, she must necessarily be, he was going to show his displeasure by disapproving of the morals of her bridegroom.

"He will have to give up his mistresses when I arrive," said Margaret.

"If he would not do so while negotiating with our father for the marriage, depend upon it he will not when he has achieved his purpose: alliance with the Tudors."

Henry said the last sentence as though he were making an announcement like a herald at a tournament. He had become very insistent on the homage due to the Tudors since he had become the heir to the throne.

Of course, Margaret thought, that had changed everything. He was surrounded by sycophants, all eager to be friends with the boy who would one day be King; and Henry did not appear to see what their flattery meant-but perhaps he did though, and loved it so much that he would accept it eagerly no matter what lay behind it.

Little Mary was watching him with adoring eyes. It was easy enough to be a hero in the eyes of a five-year-old little girl.

"Our grandfather had many mistresses, and he was a great King," Margaret reminded Henry.

"But these Stuarts! Even their castles are drafty."

Margaret shivered. "So are ours."

"And the winters are hard, north of the Border."

"I shall know how to keep myself warm."

"And"-Henry narrowed his eyes and his mouth grew tight-"I remember-though others do not-that your bridegroom has been overfriendly with a certain traitor."

"A traitor!" squealed Mary. "Oh, Henry, what traitor?"

"You are too young to remember, but two years ago Perkin Warbeck was a prisoner in our Tower of London, and there he was tried and found guilty; after which he was taken to Tyburn and hanged by the neck until he died. Do you know what this traitor planned to do? To pass himself off as the Duke of York, our mother's brother, thereby claiming that he had more right to the throne than our father. Vile traitor that he was. And this James, whom your sister is so proud to marry, received him in Scotland, gave him honors and allowed him to marry his own cousin. There! Do you understand now why I see no matter for rejoicing in this marriage of our sister?"

Mary turned solemn eyes to Margaret. "Oh, Margaret, is it indeed so?"

"Do you doubt me then?" roared Henry.

"Oh no, Henry. You are always right!"

"He is not," snapped Margaret. "And that is all ancient history. Perkin Warbeck deceived James Stuart as he did others. It is over and nothing to do with my marriage."

"I beg leave to say that it has a great deal to do with your marriage."

"Then I am surprised you do not forbid our father to consent to it," Margaret mocked. Henry's face flushed scarlet.

"When I am King...," he muttered.

It was unfortunate for Henry that at this moment the door was flung open and his words were overheard by the last person he wanted to hear them.

The King had entered the room with his wife and a few attendants. King Henry VII was no lover of ceremony; his clothes were a good deal plainer than those of many of his courtiers; his face was pale and shrewd, and no one would have suspected he was the father of those pink and gold children who were clearly disconcerted to be so interrupted.

Henry thought scornfully that a king should make his entrance to a fanfare of trumpets; his garments should dazzle with their magnificence; he should tower above his followers. When I am King...,his thoughts went on, for that was their persistent theme since the news of Arthur's death had been brought to him.

He bowed to his parents, and the girls curtsied.

"That time is not yet, my son," said the King coldly, "though it would seem you are unbecomingly eager for it."

"Sire," began Henry, embarrassed, "I was but explaining to my sisters..."

The King lifted a hand. "I rejoice in your healthy looks," he said, "and would that your mind kept pace with your body. You should pray that the time will not be yet for, my son, you are an infant in princedom and have much to learn of kingship."

"I know this, Sire," murmured Henry, "and I will endeavor to learn quickly-so to please you."

"My daughter," said the King; and Margaret came forward. Her father did not smile-he had rarely been seen to do so-but his glance was approving. The vitality of these children of his never failed to delight while it surprised him. He had lost Arthur and Edmund, it was true, but the ruddy looks of these three reassured him. If the child the Queen now carried had this same blooming health, and it were a boy, he would cease to mourn for the death of Arthur. There was, of course, no reason why there should not be more and more. Both he and the Queen were young enough to add to their brood.

He went on: "The Scottish nobles are now arriving at the Palace. You should be ready to receive them. This is no time for nursery games."

"No, Sire," murmured Margaret.

The Queen stepped forward and took her daughter's hand. Elizabeth of York tried to hide the apprehension she was feeling. It was only a little more than twelve years ago that this bright girl had been born to her in the Palace of Westminster; she remembered the November mists which hung over the river and seeped into the room; she remembered holding the tiny child in her arms and rejoicing in her, forgetting the disappointment in her sex which it seemed must overshadow all female royal births. A sister for Arthur-a healthier baby than her little brother.

And now soon there would be another. The present pregnancy worried the Queen. She was filled with foreboding perhaps because she, more than any, knew the weakness of her own body. Childbearing had taken its toll and, although she could remain fruitful for several years to come, she thought with dread of future pregnancies.

There was none to whom she could confide this fear. Her daughter was too young to understand; moreover could she complain to her of a fate to which, by very nature of her own position, Margaret could herself be condemned? It was a great responsibility to be a royal princess, one whose duty it was to provide sons-a task which seemed extremely difficult for royal princesses and amazingly simple for humble subjects. Could she explain to her husband? Henry would never understand that anything could be of importance except the piling up of wealth, the strengthening of the country, so that the Tudor, who sat somewhat uneasily on his throne, should maintain his place. There was reason for disquiet. The recent affairs of Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck had shown that; but with his usual sound good sense Henry had dealt with those impostors in a manner befitting his kingship. But such matters were disturbing to him.

And now...a match with Scotland. An excellent proposition. Perhaps that would mean an end to the senseless border warfare which harried their peoples. Perhaps the Alliance would so strengthen the friendship of the two countries that they would live amicably together during the years ahead.

And my daughter Margaret would be responsible, pondered the Queen. Pray God that she may be a wise counselor to her husband.

She would speak with Margaret, try to impress upon her the importance of her duty.

"Come and prepare yourself to meet the envoys from the Scottish Court," she said.

"The Prince of Wales should also grace the assembly with his presence," said the King with a slight lifting of one corner of his mouth to imply mockery.

Margaret glanced at her brother. Now was the time for him to declare his dislike of the match, to state boldly before his father what he had told his sisters.

Henry's lower lip jutted out slightly. He opened his mouth as though to speak; but when he looked up into his father's stern face, he changed his mind. He was not yet King of England.
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Reading Group Guide

1. Henry VII sees his children, Margaret, Henry, and Mary, as bargaining chips in a political game. How does being used in this way affect each of them over the course of the novel? Do you agree with Mary’s assessment that the siblings are “three of a kind”?

2. James IV is obsessed with the what-ifs in his past. About his tendency toward infidelity, he muses, “If I could have married Margaret Drummond I would have been a satisfied husband who never strayed.” In reference to his guilt over his father’s death, he thinks, “If I could have known my father, talked with him, understood him, I would never have had this terrible blot on my conscience.” How does his sense of guilt and lost opportunities affect his marriage and his ability to rule? What are Margaret’s what-ifs?

3. When Margaret requests the jewels left to her in her brother Arthur’s will, Henry refuses to send them on the grounds that James is too friendly with the French. What is Henry’s alleged fear about the jewels? Why does Margaret show Henry’s refusal letter to James, when she knows it will only cause a rift between the two men? Why might she be interested in antagonizing her brother?

4. Margaret pursues Angus fewer than twelve months after King James is killed at Flodden. Not only does she fail to notice that Angus is a reluctant partner in the seduction, but she fails to consult with her own Parliament about the suitability of the match: “She did not stop to think of the consequences of this marriage. All that mattered was that this handsome boy who had long occupied her thoughts was now her husband. Her one desire was to abandon herself to the passion which obsessed her.” Why does she act so recklessly? What self-serving reason does Henry have for supporting her in this plot?

5. Angus reveals his cowardice and duplicity early on by forming an alliance with Albany and the Parliament behind the queen’s back. Where else do you see evidence of Angus being two-faced? How does Margaret protect herself from this?

6. What causes Margaret to suddenly view Albany—who has always been a threat, a nuisance, and an enemy—as a potential lover? Does he recognize the shift?

7. Henry sabotages Margaret’s first attempt at divorce by sending Henry Chadworth to Scotland to terrify the queen with tales of hellfire and eternal damnation. Why is this method successful even though Margaret has never been a religious woman? Why is Henry so irate at the idea of a divorce in the family?

8. Margaret, Mary Tudor, and Katherine of Aragon combine forces to convince Henry to spare a group of prisoners arrested during the revolt of Evil May Day. What is their technique and why does it work? What is each woman’s motive in the scheme?

9. When little Alexander dies, Margaret accuses Albany of murder. What ulterior motive does Angus have for urging Margaret to return to Scotland and make peace with Albany immediately? Does she ever discover it?

10. J Margaret’s unorthodox relationship with Albany so infuriates Henry that he orders a mass exodus of Scotsmen from England, fueling a violent resurgence of border warfare between the two countries: “To Margaret this seemed only a minor irritation.” Why is this turn of events ironic? Does either Henry or Margaret recognize it as such?

11. When Angus is banished for his betrayal of the queen, he simply refuses to leave the country. What solution does Albany come up with to send Angus packing? How long does this solution last?

12. Time and again, Tudor egotism prevents Margaret from seeing her devotion to a man outweigh his devotion to her. Thus, her partners’ extracurricular dalliances come as a fresh shock every time. Does her myopia in this area provoke sympathy in the reader? Why or why not? Which character from more recent literature or television does Margaret bring to mind?

13. The only male in Margaret’s life with whom she enjoys a dependable, loving relationship is her son, James V. What event finally breaks the bond between mother and son?

14. Margaret has a macabre talent for reaping the benefits of disaster. When her one-year-old son dies, she feels a “faint exultation” that the tragedy keeps James at her side. And when James is unstrung with emotion and guilt over memories of his father, “it gave her a certain pleasure to see him thus.” Are there other examples of this dark side of her personality? What do you make of Margaret in these instances?

15. J Margaret tells herself that “when hatred turned to indifference, then could a woman call herself no longer the prisoner of her emotions.” Does she ever get there?

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 29 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(10)

4 Star

(6)

3 Star

(8)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 30 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 25, 2008

    GREAT BOOK!

    I really liked this book. Margaret was not a heroine...she was very spoiled in her early years and really most of her life but it is a compelling read. I wish King James IV was in the book a little more. But for someone like me who really stays mostly in the Tudor Era, touching in on Scotland was great. Its always different when your looking at it from another's perspective.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 11, 2008

    Great!

    This was the first book by this author that I've read. I love reading about this time period, and especially the Tudors. So when I saw this, I really wanted to read about Henry VIII's sister. Some of the wording was a little rough (in the first few chapters) and the early conversations didn't sound right sometimes, but overall I think it was a wonderful story. As much as I disagreed with her about her love affairs, I felt for her, dealing with the loses and separation from her children. The chapters were kind of long, but I still didn't want to put the book down. I did find one inaccuracy. It said that her daugther was born on October 5, which is my birthday, but when I researched her I found out that it was October 8. Anyway, it was a sweet, sad story with somewhat of a happy ending. A great read!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 3, 2007

    Read all of Plaidy's books if you love historical fiction

    This was the first of Plaidy's books I read. Since, I have read many others. They have prompted me to do a little research of my own to see how much is 'historical' and how much is 'fiction.' It seems to me that all the characters, their positions, and actions are as accurate and true as possible. The only fiction here is the conversations and feelings of each player, imagined by Ms. Plaidy. As a result, the reader does not get a false sense of history while they take an enjoyable trip back to an interesting time in Europe. If you are interested in the lives of European rulers of the past, love historical fiction, etc.. all of Plaidy's books are recommended!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 16, 2006

    An amazing story

    The Story or Margaret Tudor isn't very well known or common compared to that of her family members. But it was really becuase of her lineage to the throne that Scotland and England eventually united under one ruler. Hers is a story of betrayal, heartbreak, love, and determination, reveling a strong woman whose emotions seem so raw that anyone can relate to her.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2014

    ThornClan territory

    Here.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2013

    THISTLEFANG IS A LESBIAN!

    Not that there's anything wrong with that...

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2013

    Pikapower

    YOUR AN IMPOSTER!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2013

    Pikapower

    "Im sorry...Im just...im sorry...i just need to learn to..." She huffs. "Ill try to fit in... ill try to stay..." She is shaking her head violently

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2013

    Thistlefang

    "Please stay!"

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 14, 2009

    Good read.

    Enjoyed this book and will look for more by this author in the future.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 6, 2009

    The Thistle and the Rose

    This is a great read. I've long been wanting to read about Henry VIII's sister Margaret. The story is touching and easy to read. It tells in detail about her life and her struggles, especially as a woman in Scotland. Jean Plaidy has captured the character, but also the man she married. It's touching to see the story so well told.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 7, 2008

    STARTED WELL BUT BECAME REPETITIVE

    As a historical fiction fan, I found Jean Plaidy's book an okay reading. Normally, this author writes great fiction and the books are excellent. This one started very well and Margaret Tudor came to life as one fiery and fascinating princess. But, by the end of the book, it all became repetitive and kind of dull. Still, it's a good read. I wish it'd been better.

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    Posted March 16, 2011

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    Posted February 14, 2011

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    Posted February 24, 2013

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    Posted October 26, 2008

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    Posted January 3, 2011

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    Posted October 18, 2011

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    Posted December 3, 2013

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    Posted September 1, 2011

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