Henry VIII. saw in these acts of the government of his nephew the signal of an impending attack, and he sent one of the greatest lords of his court, the duke of Norfolk, to Berwick and to Carlisle to watch Scotland. Norfolk attentively investigated the condition of that country, and perceived there two opposite currents. ‘The clergy of Scotland,’ he wrote to London, ‘be in such fear that their king should do there as the king’s highness hath done in this realm, that they do their best to bring their master to the war; and by many ways I am advertised that a great part of the temporalty there would their king should follow our example, which I pray God give him grace to come unto.’[210] Presently Norfolk learnt that James V. was making his cannon ready; that a proclamation was published at Edinburgh and in all parts of Scotland, enjoining every man between the ages of sixteen and sixty to be in readiness to set out; and that the fanatic cardinal was gone to the continent to make sure of the aid which Scotland might hope for, both from the king of France and from the pope. Norfolk ere long saw with his own eyes the sad effects of the intrigues of the clergy. Not a day passed but some gentlemen and priests, who were compelled to flee the country because they had had the audacity to read the Holy Scriptures in English, came to him to seek a refuge. ‘Ah,’ they to said him, ‘if we should be captured we should be put to execution.’[211] In the midst of these persecutions and preparations for war, James, initiated in the art of Roman policy, feigned the most pacific sentiments. ‘You may be sure,’ he said to one of the English agents, ‘that I shall never break with the king, my uncle.’ But Norfolk was not deceived: he felt the greatest distrust of the influence of Mary of Guise. ‘The young queen,’ he wrote to Cromwell, ‘is all papist.’[212] That ill-starred marriage linked in his eyes the family and the realm of the Stuarts with France and the papacy.