A murder most royal: Was James IV’s mistress poisoned?

Words: Suzanne Milne

In the middle of the picturesque town of Dunblane stands one of the noblest and most imposing of Scotland’s medieval churches. The building dates from the 1100s and contains magnificent woodwork, soaring stone arches and stunning stained glass.

From the weathered interior walls of the nave, which had no roof for 300 years, to the superb Gothic west doorway, there is much for the visitor to see. But the cathedral also houses a mystery and scandal with royal connections dating back to the 15th century.

In front of the high altar lie three brass plaques, which give a tantalizing insight to a little-known piece of Scottish history. The plaques deal with the mysterious deaths, in 1501, of three of the daughters of John, 1st Lord Drummond.

Around 1495, James IV of Scotland visited Drummond Castle in Perthshire, home to Lord Drummond and his six daughters. James was a clever, well-read young man, intensely interested in science and the arts, who also spoke several languages. He loved hunting and this visit was most likely a hunting trip for himself and his entourage. Margaret, the eldest daughter, soon caught the eye of the king and he became besotted with the beautiful young woman. Like most noblemen of the time, James took several mistresses without too much being thought of it, but this liaison seems to have had a different effect on the 22-year-old monarch.

By June 3rd 1496, Margaret was ensconced in her own apartments in Stirling Castle, treated royally as a high status person in the king’s household. Then on October 30th, she was moved into Linlithgow Palace where she gave birth to James’s child, also named Margaret.

James made no bones about how he felt towards Margaret Drummond and was keen to propose marriage. His royal council was less keen as they had been engaged in talks with the English Tudor king, Henry VII, regarding a match between his daughter Margaret and the young Scots king.

James had had various other dalliances during his reign, but none seemed to have had the serious implications of his affair with Margaret Drummond. No doubt her family encouraged this; if she was to become queen, it would afford them great power and status.

However, that was not to be. Margaret and her daughter were moved out of Linlithgow Palace and back to Drummond Castle, albeit with a generous stipend from the king. Whether the move was the result of pressure from James’s nobles, or the affair running its course, or perhaps James thinking she might be safer back with her family, no one knows.

James’s courtiers continued to hold talks regarding the alliance with the English Tudor court. They certainly would have wanted to discourage James from having any thoughts of a marriage to the daughter of a minor noble. Politics definitely trumped love. They were desperate to ensure a tie between the two ancient enemies of Scotland and England and a marriage to Margaret Tudor would seal the deal. Perhaps it was this that contributed to the next turn of events for Margaret Drummond.

In 1501, at Drummond Castle, Margaret and her two sisters, Eupheme and Sybylla, along with several members of the household, became violently ill following a breakfast meal. Many people appeared to suffer from this mystery illness, but the only fatalities were Margaret and her two sisters. Opinion seems divided as to why this should have happened. Did the Scottish nobles and their Tudor counterparts feel so threatened by the hold Margaret seemed to have over James that they contrived to put an end to it by ensuring her death through poison? Were the deaths of her sisters and the severe illness of the household staff collateral damage? It certainly seems possible.

Of course, the deaths could also be attributed to poorly prepared food and a general lack of hygiene in a medieval kitchen – it wasn’t an unknown occurrence. Whatever the cause, three young women lay dead and a baby was left motherless. No doubt the nobles must have breathed a sigh of relief, as rumours had been circulating about a secret marriage between the two.

Whatever the cause of Margaret’s death, James was bereft. He paid for masses to be said for her soul and it was said that he mourned her for the rest of his life.

The brass plaques at Dunblane Cathedral state in no uncertain terms that the sisters were poisoned and that their bodies were laid to rest in front of the high altar. This in itself is unusual because internments in that section of such an important church would have been considered sacred and usually reserved for very high-status individuals. A king’s mistress, however well regarded, would not qualify.

An excavation of the area was carried out and bones of three bodies were, indeed, found. However, these turned out to be mainly male. It seems more likely that the sisters were buried in a side aisle, known as the Drummond Aisle, but no excavations have been made there, as yet, to prove or disprove the theory. The building belongs to the Crown and is overseen by Historic Environment Scotland, so any archaeological examinations would take a long time to be approved.

The intriguing tale of the sisters’ deaths and burial is based entirely on a 17th-century family history. It wasn’t until 200 years later that the plaques commemorating this dreadful occurrence were installed.

In August 1503, James was married to Margaret Tudor, sister to Prince Henry, who was to become Henry VIII of England. It was so important a wedding that William Dunbar, the illustrious Scots poet of the time and a member of James’s court, was inspired to write his famous Scots-language poem ‘The Thrissil and The Rois’ (‘The Thistle and the Rose’) – the thistle being a symbol of the Scottish monarchy and the rose a dynastic symbol of the Tudors. The poem can be found only in the Bannatyne Manuscript, held in the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh.

The story of Margaret Drummond and James is full of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes.’ What if he had married into the Drummond family instead of choosing the Tudor princess? There would have been no alliance with the English throne and when, in 1603, Elizabeth I died, James’s great grandson, James VI, would not have become King of England as well as Scotland. This Union of the Crowns would not have happened and Scotland would have remained an independent country.

Whichever version of the deaths of the Drummond sisters you choose to believe, there’s certainly a sense of sadness and anger in the words inscribed on the plaques. Three young lives lost and the fate of a country changed in an instant.