It has been suggested that the episode might be an effort of Queen Margaret to dissuade her husband from the campaign by working upon his superstition, and that Lyndsay, through whose hands the apparition “vanished away,” probably knew more of the affair than he cared to confess. The whole matter, however, is wrapped up in mystery.
After the death of James IV. at Flodden, Lyndsay appears to have remained in constant attendance upon the young king, sometimes being styled “the Kingis maister usher,” sometimes “the Kingis maister of houshald.” It was probably in the course of these duties that he made the acquaintance of the lady who became his wife. Whether she was related to the great historic house is unknown, but her name was Janet Douglas, and from numerous entries in the treasurer’s accounts she appears, notwithstanding her marriage, to have held the post of sempstress to the king till the end of his reign. The union took place about the year 1522.
In 1524 affairs in Scotland took a turn which for a time deprived Lyndsay of his office. On 20th May in that year the Regent Albany finally retired to France, and the reins of government were assumed by Queen Margaret, who, to strengthen her position against her divorced husband, the powerful Earl of Angus, withdrew the young prince from his tutors, and placed the sceptre nominally in his hand. Angus, however, prevailed, and getting possession of the person of James, ruled Scotland in the Douglas interest for four years. Lyndsay’s opinion of the effect of this proceeding may be gathered from the lines of his “Complaynt”--
The Kyng was bot twelf yeris of aige Quhen new rewlaris come, in thair raige, For Commonweill makand no cair, Bot for thair proffeit singulair. Imprudentlie, lyk wytles fuilis, Thay tuke that young Prince frome the scuilis, Quhare he, under obedience, Was lernand vertew and science, And haistelie platt in his hand The governance of all Scotland; As quho wald, in ane stormye blast, Quhen marinaris bene all agast Throw dainger of the seis raige, Wald tak ane chylde of tender aige Quhilk never had bene on the sey, And to his biddyng all obey, Gevyng hym haill the governall Off schip, marchand, and marinall, For dreid of rockis and foreland, To put the ruther in his hand. Without Goddis grace is no refuge: Geve thare be dainger ye may juge. I gyf thame to the Devyll of Hell Quhilk first devysit that counsell! I wyll nocht say that it was treassoun, Bot I dar sweir it was no reassoun. I pray God, lat me never se ryng, In-to this realme, so young ane Kyng!