Kilspindie’s wife, Isobel Hoppar, sought refuge at Tantallon. Father appointed her my lady-in-waiting, for I was now thirteen and quite the great lady. She also served me as governess. Isobel was a strong, outspoken lady who had once enjoyed influence in high places. Cousin Archibald must have been in awe of her, as was Father. She was not a woman to be trifled with. Some thought her proud and haughty, but I liked her. She did a lot for me, ensuring that I was well educated. She encouraged me in my letters and inspired in me a love of verse. One day, I told myself, I would be a strong-minded, fearless lady in her mould.

As well as my lessons, I was learning what it meant to be in opposition to the King. When James besieged Tantallon in the summer of 1528, Father held it effortlessly. We heard that heralds had been galloping through the Scottish Borders, proclaiming that the King was offering a reward to anyone who could return his base sister – me! – to our mother, who could provide me with an establishment suitable to my rank. By then, I had no wish to return to her. I had girlish hopes of marrying one of the lords who had visited Father at Tantallon in his glory days, the Earl of Bothwell, who was sixteen, fair-haired and handsome but Father’s agents had warned that Mother meant to wed me to Harry Stewart’s younger brother. I had no intention of letting that happen, and Father was incensed, especially when he found out that Mother meant to secure for her brother-in-law the confiscated estates of the earldom of Angus.

The Earl of Bothwell was – I was certain – a far better match. But this was no time for romancing. Father’s priority was to get me away to a place of safety, far beyond my mother’s reach. He resolved to spirit me into England, counting on my uncle Henry welcoming me.

‘You are of marriageable age,’ he told me, ‘and a highly desirable bride. You will be an asset to the King. He will find you a good husband.’ Miserably, I thought of the Earl of Bothwell, now irrevocably lost to me. And I wept profusely at the prospect of being parted from Father. Yet I could see the sense in his plan.

In October, he stole away with me to Norham Castle, on the English side of the River Tweed. The Earl of Northumberland had offered me his protection and agreed that my beloved Isobel might seek refuge with me. Father would be welcome too, if things went badly for him in Scotland.