by Alison Weir
This letter makes better sense placed in this context, rather than during Mary’s sojourn at Stirling before her abuction and Bothwell’s divorce. Huntly is known to have been in Edinburgh on 7 June and 10 June, and he was in Edinburgh Castle on the 11th; it is not inconceivable that, on 9 June, the day before the Lords planned to attack Borthwick—which Huntly must have known about—he visited Mary at Borthwick, which was easily accessible from Edinburgh. His visit, and her letter, may be dated to the 9th on the basis of his request to Mary for advice as to what he should do “after tomorrow.” The fact that his men arrived with those of Lord Livingston suggests that he had sent them covertly. It is not surprising that he was terrified, in view of Mary’s recent accusations of treason, that he would be arrested and charged with it. Relieved that he had come, yet aware that he was still having doubts that he had done the right thing, it would have been natural for Mary to warn Bothwell to treat him with circumspection.
When Mary referred to Sutherland and many other folks being “here,” she meant nearby or in the vicinity, which could even mean in Edinburgh. Both Sutherland and Huntly had reason to be grateful to Mary, for she had restored their lands in the recent Parliament. The tone of this hasty letter is dutiful, but in no way loving or passionate; however, Mary must now have known for certain that she was pregnant, and for this reason she had no choice but to fight or fall with Bothwell.
If the letter does date from this time, as seems probable, then it could not have been among the documents in the casket that was discovered by the Lords in Edinburgh on 20 June, for Bothwell never returned to Edinburgh after leaving it on 7 June. In that case, it must have been planted in the casket by the Lords, who later alleged, in order to incriminate the Queen, that it had been written in an entirely different context. This is almost certainly further proof that the evidence against Mary was manipulated.
Bothwell returned to Borthwick on 9 or 10 June, then sent urgent messages to Balfour, Huntly and Archbishop Hamilton to hasten to him with more men. That night, as they had planned, Home, Morton and Mar,63with their individual forces, met up at Liberton Kirk, four miles south of Edinburgh, and marched together on Borthwick at the head of 7–800 mounted men armed with muskets.64With them were Atholl, Glencairn, Lindsay, Sempill, Ruthven, Tullibardine, Grange, Ker of Cessford and Ker of Fawdonside.65At, or before, their approach, Bothwell, knowing that capture would mean certain death, made his escape through a postern gate, leaving Mary to deal with the Lords, presumably relying on them not to make war on a lone woman who was also their sovereign.
The Lords massed their forces before the castle, “discharged several volleys of musketry” and called for Bothwell to come out and take up their challenge.
“Traitor! Murderer! Butcher!” they cried, when he did not appear.66Then Mary appeared on the wall to tell them he had gone, and they asked her to return with them to Edinburgh and assist them against her husband’s murderers. Knowing they meant Bothwell, she refused. Realising that it was futile to press her further, and knowing that they could not lay siege to the castle since they had no artillery, the Lords shouted a few insults at her, “too evil and unseemly to be told, which the poor Princess did with her speech defend,”67then withdrew north to Dalkeith. The Lords later insisted that they had used all courtesy towards the Queen, and had withdrawn as soon as they discovered that Bothwell had left the castle.68
As soon as the Lords had arrived, Mary dispatched two messengers to Huntly in Edinburgh, urging him to come to her with armed men, but Morton’s men captured them. Later, in the early hours of the morning, they released them before marching off, whereupon the messengers promptly galloped off to the city. Huntly, aided by Archbishop Hamilton, did his best to rouse the citizens against the Lords, but in vain.
At 8 a.m. or earlier, the Confederate Lords entered Edinburgh, to great acclaim, and without any hindrance from Balfour’s garrison at the castle.69As Bothwell wrote, “the city and castle of Edinburgh had abandoned us and gone over to them.”70At the Mercat Cross, the Lords told the crowds who had come out to greet them that they had taken up arms only “to pursue their revenge for the murder of the King.”71Shortly afterwards, they issued a proclamation summoning the citizens to aid them in delivering the Queen from Bothwell.
Huntly and Archbishop Hamilton “took to arming as soon as they saw this change of heart” on the part of the citizens, “in order to defend themselves against the troublemakers, and to save the city. But they were unable to do anything, being greatly inferior in numbers.”72Huntly was received into Edinburgh Castle on the 11th,73but was allowed to leave soon afterwards. Immediately, he fled north to raise troops for the Queen, while Archbishop Hamilton left to rouse support in the south-west.
At midnight on the 11th, Mary, who had no mind to wait until the Lords returned with superior forces, escaped from Borthwick Castle, “dressed in men’s clothes, booted and spurred.”74Tradition says she was lowered to the ground by a rope from a window in the great hall,75and thence hastened away through the postern gate. She was met by Bothwell’s servants a mile from Borthwick,76and joined him at either Hailes Castle or at the fifteenthcentury tower known as Black Castle at Cakemuir on nearby Fala Moor, which was the property of the Wauchope family, who were friends of Bothwell.
At 3 a.m. on 12 June, Mary and Bothwell arrived at Dunbar, where they were met by Lords Seton, Yester and Borthwick, and six lairds.77Mary had left her wardrobe and personal belongings behind at Borthwick, and had to borrow clothes from a countrywoman: “a red petticoat” that barely covered her knees, “sleeves tied with bows, a velvet hat and a muffler.”78There was no time to lose, and Bothwell immediately left for the Borders to raise men. At the same time, “a messenger was sent to hasten the coming of the Hamiltons and Huntly, who did not arrive until it was too late.”79
That day, both Mary and the Confederate Lords summoned the lieges to their banners.80Bothwell was to have some success in raising a force of his loyal Borderers, but otherwise comparatively few supporters rallied to the Queen. In their summons, the Lords declared their intention of executing justice on “the murderer of the King and the ravisher of the Queen”; “also, sundry libels were set out in both rhyme and prose, to move the hearts of the whole subjects to assist and take part in so good a cause.”81These astute measures, combined with the vigorous exhortations of the Protestant clergy, inspired many to join their already formidable army.
Balfour now committed the ultimate treachery. On 13 June, he sent a message to the Queen, advising her to take the open field and to march direct to Edinburgh, so as to meet the insurgents on the road. He assured her that they would not keep their ground for a moment, especially when they knew that he had declared against them and would open fire upon their troops. If she did not do so, he would be compelled, he said, to come to terms with them. But he had been won over by the rebels to give this counsel.82
This message came before Mary and Bothwell had had a chance to raise sufficient men, but on the strength of it, the Queen decided that the time was ripe for taking possession of the capital,83and sent a message to that effect to Bothwell.
The next day, Maitland had an interview lasting three hours with Balfour in Edinburgh Castle,84which resulted in Balfour undertaking to surrender the castle to the Confederate Lords and assist them in rescuing the Queen from Bothwell; in return, Maitland promised to support Balfour’s claim to retain command of the castle. By now, the Lords had an army of 4,000 men.85
On 14 June, Mary left Dunbar with 600 horse and three cannon, and rode to Haddington, where she met up with Bothwell, who had returned from the Borders with a force of 1,600.86On the way, the Queen was dismayed to see that “the people did not join as expected.”87From Haddington, the royal army marched to Gladsmuir, where they proclaimed that “a number of conspirators, under pretext of preserving the Prince, were really trying to dethrone the Queen, that they might rule all things at their pleasure,” and that “very necessity compelled her to take up arms, and her h
ope was in the help of all faithful subjects, who would be rewarded with [the] lands and possessions of [the] rebels.”88Then they rode to Seton, where, while their soldiers camped at Prestonpans, the Queen and her husband spent what would turn out to be their last night together.89They had decided to march on Edinburgh the next day.
On the 15th, Bedford reported to Leicester that the Lords had assured him that they would move against Bothwell alone, but that swift action was necessary because “the Queen is with child.”90They perhaps feared that, once Mary’s pregnancy became evident, the people might not be so willing to rise against her or her husband.
The two armies finally came face to face on 15 June at Carberry Hill, overlooking the River Esk, seven miles east of Edinburgh.91The Queen’s forces were drawn up on the hillside beneath pennants bearing the Lion Rampant of Scotland and the Saltire of St. Andrew. The Lords were positioned at the foot of the hill, under an emotive white banner portraying the infant James praying before his father’s murdered corpse, and bearing the legend, “Judge and avenge my cause, O Lord.”92
Both sides were reluctant to fight, so the day was spent in fruitless parleying under a hot sun. Glencairn sent the Queen a message stating that the Lords’ quarrel was not with the Crown, and if she would abandon Bothwell, they would restore her to her former authority as their natural sovereign; but she angrily refused, saying, “The Lords must yield or try their chances in battle,”93adding, with some justice, “It was by them that Bothwell had been promoted.”94
Bothwell notes that the Lords sent a herald to him “with a written statement of their reasons for taking to the field. These were, firstly, to set the Queen free from the captivity in which I was holding her, and also to avenge the death of the King, of which I had been accused.” He replied, somewhat untruthfully, that he “was not holding the Queen in any captivity, but that I loved and honoured her in all humanity as she deserved”; nor had there ever “been any question of my participating in, or consenting to, the murder of His Majesty,” but although he had been completely cleared of that charge, he was happy to defend his honour in the field there and then, against any comer.
Du Croc, who had followed the Lords to Carberry Hill, attempted to mediate between the two sides, but to little effect. Bothwell told him that his enemies were merely jealous of the favour he enjoyed: “There is not a man of them but wishes himself in my place.” As Mary was by then weeping pitiably, Bothwell challenged one of the Lords to fight him, so that the outcome of the day could be decided by single combat, but when a suitable answerer, Lord Lindsay, was finally found, the Queen vetoed the idea, fearing that Bothwell would be killed.
Mary and Bothwell were hoping that reinforcements led by Huntly and the Hamiltons would come to their rescue, but in vain. By the evening, so many of the Queen’s men had drifted off home or deserted to the rebels that the outcome of any armed combat was in no doubt. Melville says that “many of those who were with her were of opinion that she had intelligence with the Lords, especially such as were informed of the many indignities put upon her by the Earl of Bothwell since their marriage. [They] believed that Her Majesty would fain have been quit of him, but thought shame to be the doer thereof directly herself.” Although Mary’s later conduct does not bear this out, it is a good indication of how people at the time perceived her feelings towards Bothwell.
Du Croc was reluctantly impressed by the way in which Bothwell conducted himself in this difficult situation: “I am obliged to say that I saw a great leader, speaking with great confidence and leading his forces boldly, gaily and skilfully. I admired him, for he saw that his foes were resolute, he could not count on half his men, and yet was not dismayed. He had not on his side a single lord of note. Yet I rated his chances higher because he was in sole command.” But it was now too late. Wishing to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Mary asked the Lords to state the terms on which she might surrender. Maitland and Atholl did not want to face her, so they sent Grange to assure her that, if she would consent to place herself in their hands, they would permit Bothwell to leave the field unmolested and go where it pleased him until such time as the matter of his guilt was decided by Parliament.
Bothwell was against this idea; “I knew well what treachery they were hatching: if she did not agree to their demands, I told her, they would take her prisoner and strip her of all authority.”95He begged her to retreat with him to Dunbar in order to raise another army, but Mary overrode him. The important thing was that her husband should survive. In the meantime, he must lie low until Parliament had debated his case. She told him and Grange that she owed a duty to the late King her husband, a duty which she would not neglect. Most willingly, therefore, would she authorise everyone to exercise the fullest liberty of inquiry into the circumstances of his death. She intended to do so herself, and to punish with all severity such as should be convicted thereof. She claimed that justice should [also] be done upon certain persons of [the Lords’] party now present who were guilty of the murder, who were much astonished to find themselves discovered.
Only Bothwell could have told her who they were, and it would appear that he had implicated them without revealing his own guilt. Clearly, they were not the principals involved. “In order to attain this [justice],” she told Grange, “she was willing to entrust herself to the good faith of the nobles, thereby to give an authority to whatever they might do or advise.”96
Then she turned to Bothwell, declaring that, if he were found innocent, “nothing would prevent her from rendering to him all that a true and lawful wife ought to do”; but if he were found guilty, “it would be to her an endless source of regret that, by their marriage, she had ruined her good reputation, and from this she would endeavour to free herself by all possible means.”97
Bothwell had no choice but to agree to leave Mary in the hands of his enemies. Letting him go was a solution that suited the Lords very well, for he was in possession of dangerous information. They could easily have taken him prisoner, but were reluctant to do so, for then they would have to put him on trial for Darnley’s murder, and run the risk that he would incriminate them also. It would be safer to pursue him later and kill him in open combat.
Thus it was agreed that Mary should surrender to the Lords, she “thinking that she could go to them in perfect safety, without fear of treachery, and that no one would dare lay hands on her.” According to Bothwell, “it should be clearly understood that the Laird of Grange gave out that he had been sent, at the unanimous request of the rebels, for the sole purpose of offering to the Queen, as their rightful superior, their true allegiance, and to give her a guaranteed safe-conduct to come amongst them. Furthermore, that each single one of them wanted no more than to accord her all honour and obedience in whatever way she wished to command them.”98
“At parting from the Queen, Bothwell wished to ease his conscience.” He told her that Morton, Maitland, Balfour and others “were guilty of the death of the late King, the whole having been executed by their direction and counsel.” Then he handed her a copy of the Craigmillar Bond, bearing the signatures of himself, Maitland, Argyll, Huntly and the other nobles, including perhaps Moray and Morton, who had plotted Darnley’s murder. If Mary had not suspected or known of it before, the treachery of her Lords was now revealed to her, along with the truth about the man she had married, whose child she was now carrying.99This must have come as an unpleasant surprise to her, but Bothwell swore that anything he had done had only been for the good of her realm, and that he had acted on the advice and persuasion of those same Lords who were now opposing him. Before he embraced Mary for the last time and rode off with between twelve and thirty horsemen towards Dunbar, he urged her to “take good care of that paper.” However, it was almost certainly taken from her by the Lords soon afterwards and given to Argyll for safe keeping. Not surprisingly, given the names on it, it was never used in evidence against Mary.
Bothwell’s motive in giving Mary the bond may not only have been the desire to give her proof
of what he had already revealed to her, but also the wish to furnish her with evidence that she could use against the Lords, should the opportunity present itself. However, in giving her a document that incriminated himself, he was also, perhaps deliberately, providing her with an excuse to abandon him, which was undoubtedly in her best interests and would have solved many problems.
“In good faith, and reliance upon the public honour,”100the Queen surrendered herself to Grange. A contemporary drawing in the Public Record Office shows him leading her by the bridle to where the Lords waited; she was still wearing the same borrowed clothes she had donned at Dunbar three days previously, which were now spattered with mud.
Morton, Home and the other Lords “used all dutiful reverence” to the Queen as she approached,101telling her that she was now in her rightful place among her true and faithful subjects. “For welcome,” however, according to Drury, they “showed her the banner with the dead body,” which she said “she wished she had never seen.”102The rebel army stood mute for a few moments, but soon there were cries from the ranks of “Burn the whore! Burn the murderess of her husband!” and Mary was roughly jostled. Grange and some of the Lords “who knew their duty better, drew their swords and struck at such as did speak irreverent language,”103but to little lasting effect.