Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile

by Jennifer Wilson

  “Better than the scaffolds we knew; don’t you think?” Sir William said, nudging Janet as she perched next to him.

  “William… That joke was not funny in the first place, it is not funny now, and will never be funny in the future. You are aware of that?”

  William didn’t care, it made him laugh, year after year, and that was all that mattered to him. Tonight was about having fun, and he wasn’t even going to let the group of soldiers currently jostling each other at the far end of the stand get to him; he would simply make sure they were on the most frustrating watch within the next week or so. Edinburgh may be at peace now, but it didn’t do to have groups of young men bored, and run the risk of in-fighting and trouble. By keeping a regular rota of guards, it gave them a semblance of normality, and something of their previous life to keep believing in. Given the presence of some known trouble-makers in the city, it also didn’t hurt to have fit and trained men ready to see off any who might have tried to be somewhere they weren’t welcome. The option of visibility or invisibility also came in very useful when it came to security observations. Tonight, though, all watches were off, bar two volunteers at the main gate, keeping an eye on the comings and goings, ensuring none of the more unwelcome ghosts put in an appearance.

  The show was its usual spectacular self, with displays of arms, regional and local dancing, and more armed forces bands than you could shake a stick at. They grew in scope and scale each year, as more and more countries brought the pride of their forces to put on show. Slipping away just before the end, the ghosts lined the top of the Mile as the bands marched in unison down the road, their music stirring even the most unpatriotic. Despite being present throughout the preparations, observing the dress rehearsals, and hearing/watching several of the previous shows, having so many of the Castle’s residents present for a single performance was always something special. With so many military men throughout the audience, from so many periods in the city’s history, there was always somebody on hand to explain a historical significance, or point out an error which had not needed highlighting. And with so many Commonwealth elements of the celebrations these days, there was so much more to be interested in.

  With the finale looming, all semblance of order and hierarchy began to fall away, with the ghosts who had remained dancing gleefully beneath the seating arrangements, ensuring they stayed safely out of sight and out of the way. No haunting, no politics, just sheer enjoyment; a holiday in a single night.

  As she gazed up at the solo piper on the top of the Castle, playing at the very end of the evening, Queen Mary felt tears welling up in her eyes. This was the only part of the Tattoo she didn’t enjoy: the risk of public humiliation as the tears flowed down her pale cheeks. She made it through every other event, even managed to pass the pipers who seemed to play on every other street corner throughout the year, but this, the solo piper, on her Castle, in her city, always cut straight to her heart. Knowing her mistress’ discomfort, Janet took the presumption of gently squeezing her shoulders, and leaving quietly with Sir William, ushering the rest of the remaining nobles away, for once without first asking Queen Mary’s permission to leave the royal presence.

  Mary didn’t move, as the crowds made their way out, or even as the staff swept through the seating, collecting rubbish and straightening things out for the next evening’s performance, almost before the current group had left. Eventually, as she heard clocks around the city striking two o’clock, she pulled herself together and made her way back up to the tiny chamber within the royal palace, nodding to the guards who had remained on duty, awaiting her return. Tomorrow, she thought, there would be haunting. That was always the best way to cheer herself up after the solo piper incident. And she knew exactly who her targets would be.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lady Janet and Sir William were waiting for Queen Mary when she left her chamber the next morning, taking the time to sun themselves in the courtyard before the visitors began to arrive. Seeing her, they made to rise, but she waved them back to their more comfortable lounging, joining them on the bench.

  “I presume things haven’t changed with the ghost tours?” she said as she sat down.

  “Not to my knowledge, Your Grace,” replied Janet, confused at the conversation-starter. The ghost tours were a cornerstone of Edinburgh’s tourist trade, showing thrill-seekers around the darker parts of the city’s history. Of course, there were plenty of spirits for them to find, but on the off-chance that the spiritual residents of whichever Close or Alleyway they were visiting weren’t in the mood for haunting that day, some tours employed students to ensure that visitors still got a good scare. Hidden in darkened corners, behind opened doors, there were plenty of places for them to be secreted, ready to moan or jangle chains as appropriate. Some had proven themselves too good an opportunity for the real ghosts to ignore…

  “I thought we might visit some of the usual ‘haunts’ this evening: I want to cheer myself up after yesterday evening, and the students are always good for a laugh. Shall we rustle up some of the others?”

  Sir William nodded and laughed. “It sounds a tremendous idea, and I don’t think we’ve bothered them much this year so far. It’s always good to bring something new to the haunting schedule.”

  “Very good,” said Mary, leaning back and closing her eyes against the sun. “Well, that is this evening sorted. What do you have planned for today?”

  William’s and Janet’s silence gave her their answer.

  “Oh well, as you have nothing planned, I shall go out onto the Mile, perhaps visit John and Bobby.”

  “Actually, Your Grace, if you are visiting, perhaps the Covenanters might find themselves onto your list?”

  Mary sighed. “Not today. Today I am being selfish, and visiting them will only lead to more arguments and upset; if we haven’t had any more negative reports, I shall leave them be for now. I shall go to the National Museum, I think, see if anyone is around there. And if not, I shall simply look around the latest exhibits – there’s always something worth seeing in there.”

  With another hour until the museum opened, there was no need to rush. Mary settled back on the bench, and the three continued to relax in companionable silence.

  That evening, a group of ghosts stood giggling in the entrance to Edinburgh Castle, awaiting the arrival of Queen Mary. Nobles and serving staff stood side-by-side, keen to be part of the haunting party. Their giggling subsided as the Queen made her way down the cobbled roadway, and led them out across the Esplanade, itself starting to come to life for the Tattoo later.

  “Now,” said Mary, raising her voice so the ghosts could hear her as they walked. “We haven’t done this for a while, so let’s have a refresher. We are not frightening the visitors, not this evening. Tonight, we are scaring the scarers, with their long black coats and face-masks. If they truly came across the likes of Boots or the Poltergeist on one of their worst days, these children wouldn’t know what had hit them. So, they are our targets. We wait until they are on their own, and give them a gentle nudge to begin with, and then, well, we shall see where the night takes us…”

  The Queen adjusted her hair, before cleanly removing her head in one quick movement. Turning to the group, she paused for a moment. “Does this still look frightening, or do you think we are past the days of headless women?”

  A lady in blue made her way to the front of the group. “If you’ll forgive me, Your Grace, but I find it still works fine for me, indoors. For some reason, it doesn’t seem as effective outside. Perhaps it’s easier to think you’re just imagining things?”

  “Ah, Clara, thank you. Well then, I shall do this, and the rest of you, well, I think we can manage some chills, a few footsteps, hands on shoulders; you all know what works. Clara, you’re still being the Lady in Blue, I presume?”

  Clara nodded. When it came to ghosts, the people of Britain did seem to enjoy their ladies in specifically-coloured dresses – with grey and blue being particular favourites.

>   With a nod from Mary, her head now returned to its rightful place, the ghosts began to slip away from the group, making their way to the various venues along the routes of the ghost tours. With up to four or five happening each evening, there were plenty of places for them to hide. Mary herself made her way with Clara to St Giles, where most of the tours left from, and loitered in silence, invisible, as tourists began to make their way to the various stands.

  “As I’ve not done this for a while, Clara, I thought we might stay around here, for a while at least? Do you mind waiting with me?”

  Delighted at the honour of stepping into Lady Janet’s shoes, however briefly, Clara beamed a smile back at Queen Mary. They may have been a century apart in their lives, but Mary’s reputation had extended well beyond her lifetime. Clara had fallen prey to a fire in her home on the Mile when she was just nineteen, but, on realising her time on earth did not have to be over, had adapted well to the notion of being a ghost; ambitious in life, in death, she had surpassed herself, making her way into the inner circle of Castle’s spiritual residents.

  Just as an autumnal dusk was starting to grip the city, the visitors started to arrive and gather at the Heart of Midlothian, the mosaic in the pavement outside St Giles which was the traditional meeting place for many of the Edinburgh City Ghost Tours. To spook every single tour would become too predictable, too obvious, so in recent years, the number of hauntings had been reduced. This one was the first since Mary’s arrival in mid-summer, and a rota had been established, ensuring that any ghost which wanted to have a turn at the hauntings got their fair share, and that no single tour organiser could claim to have the most ghosts haunting their route around the Mile. The ghosts couldn’t be seen to show favouritism, after all.

  With Lady Janet and Sir William arranged to take the next shift, a couple of days later, Mary and Clara had set about arranging their mixed bag of ghosts, all in the mood for tormenting those who tried (and, generally succeeded) in making money out of them. It was difficult getting them to agree to leave the tourists alone for once; after all, if they had actively chosen to take part in such a tour, then they must surely be considered willing victims of anything which might take place? As Mary explained, however, they would no doubt be scared by the reactions of their guides, and that must satisfy the ghosts for now. They’d have plenty other opportunities to haunt ‘regular’ people.

  As numbers grew, a group of teenagers glanced nervously at each other, none of them willing to be left on the outside of the group, even as they loitered in daylight, above ground, waiting for the arrival of their guide. When he arrived, their nerves heightened. Dressed all in black, with a long, flowing cloak, the young man who announced himself as in charge was definitely prepared for the role. Raising his hood, he stepped forward.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Edinburgh’s Royal Mile, one of the most haunted streets in Britain, if not the world. Now is your last chance to back out, if you feel you cannot handle the terrifying sights we may encounter this evening.”

  Mary flashed a very unqueenly grin at Clara, before making final adjustments to her hair, and ensuring her rich string of pearls and rubies were securely attached to the neck of her gown. Suddenly appearing to a group of tourists, then dramatically removing your head in a single sweep, did not have quite the same effect when you then screamed yourself, and started scuttling around on the floor trying to collect an array of gemstones. She would not be letting that happen again.

  A young soldier appeared out of nowhere beside them, and bowed deeply to the two women.

  “I can confirm that everyone is in position, Your Grace,” he said, straightening up. “And everyone is very clear on the rules of engagement.”

  “Very well, then, let us begin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As the tour party set off, Mary and Clara fell in with the group, following along at the back, as they made their way along the Mile, their guide outlining the foul deeds which had befallen people throughout Edinburgh’s history. From the poor kitchen boy, to the piper, with even Lady Janet getting a mention, no stone was left unturned as they wound along darkened alleyways, tales getting distinctly taller as the night progressed. On such a warm night, the desired chill in the air did not materialise for the tour guide, but as they edged down Mary King’s Close, something did indeed brush against the visitors’ arms as they passed, tugging gently at hair, and moaning unintelligibly.

  “The students are on good form,” whispered Mary to Clara, as they passed two girls, dressed entirely in black, hugging an alcove from which they performed their ‘haunting’. With the visitors moving on, Mary gestured to Clara, who pulled herself up to her full height, and, in full visibility, flashed past the girls, her blue gown billowing around her in all its glory, the silk rustling as it brushed their legs.

  “What the—?”

  “Did you see? No, no, it cannot be…”

  The girls’ voices merged into one as they leapt from their hiding place, and stared up and down the alley.

  “It must have been one of the other tours, getting into position, that’s all,” said one, reaching for her friend’s hand in the darkness.

  “But we don’t do costumes. None of them do tonight, remember? We were told.”

  “Then what was—?”

  Her question was cut off by her friend’s scream. As she turned to see what had caused it, Mary was perfectly positioned. Head under her arm, she swooped down on them, her headless neck inches away from their faces.

  It was expert timing. The terrified girls fled the scene, just as the next tour group arrived to see if they would have any luck tracking down the spirits of the Close.

  “Don’t go down there, just don’t,” one of the girls yelled as they raced past, desperate for open space, air, and the safety of the evening’s dwindling crowds. She scarcely looked at the tourists, who were laughing nervously, as though certain that this was ‘part of the show’. The screaming girl paused for a second, meeting eyes with the newly-arrived guide.

  In an instant, the guide appeared to realise something was up. Mary was well aware that it would be rehearsed as to where they should and shouldn’t find the more frightening ghosts, and where students, clad in black, should be loitering, ready to make their presences felt. But none of her particular ‘crew’ were down here tonight, and these two looked genuinely frightened. Summoning up her courage, the guide managed to pretend that the girls were indeed part of the tour, letting her group know how frightening things were down Mary King’s Close. They pressed on.

  Down in the Close, Mary and Clara were bent double with laughter at the reaction of the two girls. Mary’s head was now returned to its rightful place, hairs escaping the tight bun she had pinned in place for the occasion.

  “Your Grace, that was wicked of you,” said Clara, bracing herself against the cool bricks of the Close. “But it was brilliant – I had forgotten how much fun a proper haunting could be.”

  Mary shook her head and tried to compose herself. “I hope the others are having as much luck and fun elsewhere. Wait – there’s another group coming down, only visitors I think. Shall we give them the briefest glimpse of what scared those poor girls?”

  Clara nodded, and between them, they readied themselves to give the tourists a brief glimpse of a ‘Lady in Blue’ and ‘Headless Lady’. After all, there was no sensible reason why Mary, Queen of Scots would be down there; there was no connection to the monarch at all. Tonight, she would be anonymous, blending in with the myriad of unfortunates who had lost their heads in Scotland’s capital over the years.

  “One word of caution, Clara,” said Mary, as the group approach. “Not a word of this to anyone – we said no haunting tourists, remember? I cannot have my subjects thinking I am unable to stick to my own rules, can I?”

  Clara beamed back, thrilled to be part of the deception. With the tourists approaching, their second haunting of the night began.

  The majority of the ghost tours ended u
p at the Covenanters’ Prison, for reputation if nothing else. Over the years, the tales of visions, feelings, and, of course, the Poltergeist around Mackenzie’s tomb, had become infamous, the stories becoming more lurid and terrifying with each passing year. Tonight, a group of ghosts lingered at the edge of the Prison, keeping a close eye on the true Covenanters, themselves gearing up for their evening’s visitors.

  “My Lord, are you sure this is a good idea?” a soldier nervously asked Sir Thomas Randolph, who had joined the group as they made their way towards Greyfriars. “I mean, they’ve got their own ghosts here, I’m not sure we’d be welcome.”

  “Nonsense, lad, the more the merrier. Although, perhaps for common courtesy, we should check with their leaders, make sure we aren’t treading on any toes, spiritual or otherwise.”

  Sir Thomas passed through the railings, and made his way to the far end of the Prison, calling out as he went. Eventually, a man in his early forties stepped forward.

  “Randolph? Is that you?”

  The knight spun on his heel. “It is. Who speaks?”

  “Never you mind who speaks. What are you doing here? The tours are due to start soon; I would hope you weren’t thinking of muscling in on our haunting ground? We get enough of that from the kids.”

  “Well, we had thought of giving some of the student mob a bit of a scare, whilst they waited for the tours to arrive, but well, if that’s not to your preference…?”

  “I can confirm that it most definitely is not.” The man walked straight up to Sir Thomas, until they were so close that if they still had breath in their bodies, that breath would be hot on each other’s faces.

  “Then, we thank you for that,” muttered Sir Thomas, stepping back, and starting back towards the rest of his group, who were nervously watching through the gate. Even to the nobility of the Castle, the Covenanters were a feared group. “Of course, I shall have to report this to Queen Mary, let her know that we were advised not to come in here, not to do what had been agreed.” He let the threat hang in the air, but to no avail.