Sir George Douglas and his brother, the Earl of Angus, who had married Queen Margaret of Scotland, had obtained possession of the person of the young King James V., then a child; and the Earl of Angus administered the kingdom, and discharged all the functions of a regent without assuming the title. In a word, these two lords manoeuvred so as to substitute their family for the reigning one upon the throne of Scotland. Several attempts for the King’s deliverance had failed, and even two great battles had been fought without success by the partisans of James V. At the commencement of the second battle, George Douglas, seeing that the King was eagerly watching an opportunity to escape, said, “It is useless for your Grace to think of getting out of our hands; if our enemies held you by one arm, and we by the other, we would see you torn in pieces rather than loosen our grip.” To make quite sure of their prize, they appointed a hundred chosen men to guard the youthful monarch, commanded by one of their own family, Douglas of Parkhead.

Every attempt by open force having thus failed, James resolved to have recourse to stratagem. He persuaded his mother, Queen Margaret, to give up her castle of Stirling to him, and to place it under the command of a gentleman in whom he had confidence. All this was done very secretly, and the King, having thus prepared a possible retreat, began to seek an opportunity of flying to it. The better to disarm the vigilance of the Douglases, he showed such deference to the Earl of Angus, that people began to think he had gone over to that nobleman’s party, and had become resigned to the loss of his own liberty. He was then living at Falkland, a royal residence very favourably situated for hunting and falconry, his favourite amusements.

The Earl of Angus and Archibald and George Douglas had all three left Falkland on various errands of business or pleasure, and no one remained near the King but Douglas of Parkhead, with the hundred men on whose vigilance the family knew they could rely. James saw the moment was favourable. To allay the suspicions of his guards, he announced his intention of rising early on a certain morning to hunt the stag, and Douglas of Parkhead never doubting that this was said in good faith, went to bed after posting his sentinels in the usual manner.

But the King no sooner found himself alone than he called his trusty page, John Hart, and looking at him very earnestly, said, “John, do you love me?”

“More than I love myself,” replied the page.

“And are you willing to risk everything for me?”

“My life, if needs be,” replied the youth.

The King then made him acquainted with his plan, and hastily putting on a servant’s livery, went to the stables with him, as though to prepare for the next day’s hunt. The guards, failing to recognise him in this disguise, suffered him to pass without hindrance. The King had previously taken another of his servants into his confidence, so that when he and the page reached the stable they found three good horses, ready saddled and bridled, awaiting them.

James mounted at once with his two faithful servants and galloped all night, light as a bird just escaped from its cage. At break of day he passed the bridge of Stirling, and as there was no other means of crossing the Forth than by this bridge or by a boat, he ordered the gates which barred the passage to be closed against all comers, without exception. He was very tired when he reached Stirling Castle, where he was received with joy by the governor, whom, as we have seen, he had himself been the means of placing in that fortress. The drawbridge was raised, the portcullis lowered, the guards were doubled—in fact, every possible precaution was taken that prudence could dictate. But the King was so much afraid of again falling into the power of the Douglas, that in spite of his fatigue, he refused to go to bed until he had himself placed the keys of the castle under his pillow.

There was great alarm at Falkland on the following morning. George Douglas had returned on the very night of the King’s flight at about eleven o’clock, and had at once asked for his prisoner. He was told that James had gone to bed early, wishing to rise in good time for the hunt; and he himself retired, perfectly satisfied that all was safe. But in the morning he was destined to hear very different news, for a certain Peter Carmichael, baillie of Abernethy, came rapping at his door, to ask him if he knew where the King was at that moment.

“He is asleep in his bedchamber,” said Sir George.

“You are deceived,” replied Carmichael; “he passed over Stirling Bridge last night.”

Douglas, jumping out of bed, ran to the King’s room, knocked loudly, and receiving no answer, broke open the door. Finding the apartment empty, he cried, “Treason! the King is gone!” dispatched couriers to his brothers, and sent out in every direction to call his partisans together for the recapture of James. But the King had by this time proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would declare traitor every person bearing the name of Douglas who should approach within twelve miles of his person, or take any part in the administration of the kingdom. The Douglases were obliged to submit, and from that time commenced the decay of their house, for James could not be brought to pardon them. (Sir Walter Scott’s History of Scotland, ch. xxiii.)