Mary gestured for him to relax, and they sat down on two of the seats that had been placed at the front of the room as part of the day’s planned series of talks. MacTavish recounted his tale of the evening’s events, from their arrival at the gardens, to the parting of the King and the two Queens at the cross-roads on the Mile.
“Their Graces, Queen Marie and Queen Madeleine, they returned to the Castle, whilst the gentlemen returned to Holyrood, Your Grace. Half of the guard went with each pair, to ensure their safe return, as we believed you would have ordered.” He finished his tale, immediately taking the opportunity to stand again, clearly unwilling to remain seated in her company.
Mary nodded. “That is exactly correct, MacTavish. I have not seen my mother or Queen Madeleine yet this morning, but I am sure they will have plenty to tell me as well. However, I greatly appreciate your assistance last night, and am grateful for your report this morning; it is heartening to know that my father may be making his way towards being on the mend.”
“If I may, Your Grace, I served under your father at Solway Moss, and he was a great man. It was sad to see him brought so low, and leave us so soon. I was pleased to serve you until I lost my life, but it is a great honour to be serving my king again, and if there is any further opportunity to do so, please, if it pleases you, consider me?”
“I shall, MacTavish, I promise you that. I shall be visiting my father either later today or early tomorrow; perhaps you would form part of the guard to accompany me? I shall ask if he wishes to employ a permanent guard, and if he does, I shall recommend you for part of the company.”
The soldier blushed at her kind response; Mary realised it was not the one he had been expecting. MacTavish tugged at the corners of his jacket, looking more like a schoolboy than a hardened soldier. He ran his hand through his thick black hair, before noticing Mary’s smile, and quickly smoothing it back into shape.
“Do not worry about your appearance, MacTavish, you are among the smarter men we have on guard here. If you do join my father, I shall be sorry to lose you. Now, if you could send word to Holyrood, and confirm what time would be best to visit my father, that would be greatly appreciated.”
With another smile, she left the room. Ever the soldier, MacTavish gave her a perfect salute as she disappeared.
Chapter Seventeen
As he had promised, MacTavish confirmed with the men at Holyrood what time would be best for the father-daughter meeting. Accordingly, mid-afternoon, Mary set off on her way down the Mile to the Palace, with some of the grander ladies of the Castle accompanying her in the obvious absence of Lady Glamis. With no need to rush, Mary took her time, observing the people enjoying their day: the final flurry of Festival tourists finishing their holiday, and the new arrivals, finding their ways to hotels and museums, or, like so many others, simply strolling along and soaking up the atmosphere.
Her slowness hid her nerves at seeing her father. She had not spoken to or heard from Rizzio since the previous evening, and had forgotten to give MacTavish specific instructions to tell David she was visiting, so had no idea how she was going to be received at her former Palace.
As they passed through the gates, her stomach knotted as she glanced around, trying to work out where her father might be lurking, before deciding to presume the worst, and try his tomb. She left her small court behind, and made her way to the Abbey.
“Father, are you there?” she called out, making her way carefully through the group of visitors which had just descended from her former chambers. Today, with her focus very much on the dead, was not a day to bother the living.
“Mary, is that you?” A voice croaked out of the crypt in the far corner of the Abbey. She chose not to approach any closer, preferring to see whether her father would appear in his entirety, or simply speak to her from within the stonework. Slowly but surely, he emerged, until he was standing in front of the tomb.
For several moments, they waited in silence. Finally, it was Mary who stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and dipping in a brief curtsy.
“Father,” she started, before he took her hands in his, and raised her back to her full height.
“Were you at the finale last night?” James asked, dropping her hands, and turning slowly to the Abbey’s archway.
“I…I was, yes; I thought it an excellent display, as always. And you?” Mary replied, to her father’s back.
“I was, as I think you are wholly aware. Rizzio can be particularly persuasive when he wants to be, can’t he? And it would appear he convinced my two wonderful wives to help him?”
“Yes, I believe persuasion is still amongst David’s skills, when required,” replied Mary, nervously. She was not entirely sure where her father’s line of questioning was leading.
“And was it you who recruited him, yesterday evening?” King James still did not turn to face his daughter. “Are you plotting against me, child?”
“Against you? Oh, Father, no, of course not,” Mary blustered a denial. “I simply mentioned in passing that perhaps you might enjoy the display. Was I correct in that assumption?”
“You were, I suppose, but still.” He started to turn towards his daughter, paused, then continued until he was looking her in the eye. “It was a good evening. But if you decide to convince me to attend things in future, do give me the choice, won’t you?”
“Of course, Father,” she replied, mentally crossing her fingers. Her plan seemed to be working, and there was no way she was going to stop now. Her mind filled with more ideas; events she could invite him to, places he could visit, people she could get him to talk to. For the rest of their conversation, she only half-listened to her father, as he passed on various trivial items of gossip from the night before, a summary of Rizzio’s commentary, and his own opinions on the music and company. Queens Marie and Madeleine, he assured Mary, would be forgiven, and he was sure that Rizzio meant well.
If he was honest, the king concluded, it had been a very enjoyable evening. And maybe, just maybe, he would enjoy more such events.
Queen Mary smiled; once again, she knew she would get her way.
Chapter Eighteen
Gradually, the Edinburgh summer began to turn to autumn, with the end of the Festival having marked the start of the change. Queen Mary always delighted in watching the city change from vibrant greens to browns and blacks, as the Princes Street gardens showed the turning of the seasons, on perfect display from the Castle’s Esplanade.
The days passed in relative peace, with the usual goings-on amongst the ghosts, keeping themselves busy with hauntings, or keeping themselves to themselves as spiritual events went on around them. The younger ghosts were always the more active, regardless of the season, with the soldiers and young women of the city enjoying a ‘good haunting’ around both the old and new towns. There was always something un-nerving about seeing a medieval or even 16th or 17th century soldier or noble(ish) lady, wandering around the grander, wider streets of Princes Street and behind. There was often scope for the more gentle hauntings on this side of town as well, with Madame Vernelt wandering in and out of her shop, and the occasional sound of the piano drifting across Charlotte Square, in the odd lull of shoppers and tourists.
They had reached two-thirds of the way through September when Mary realised she was woefully behind with her plans to go on Progress after Hallowe’en. The celebration was approaching more rapidly than any had imagined. The first pumpkins had begun popping up in shop windows, and murmurings about what various groups (living and dead) had planned for the big night had begun to be overheard.
“I hope we’re not in for any nasty surprises,” commented Janet, as she sat with Mary in George Square, enjoying the relative tranquillity compared to the Royal Mile.
“For Hallowe’en? I’m sure we will be fine – Sir William, Sir Thomas, Argyle and the like can usually keep the younger lads in check, and make sure there isn’t any actual danger or trouble.” Mary thought back to the reprimands the older men had
had to issue to the more audacious of the men, who had, for a while at least, endeavoured to outdo one another again and again. They were scaring the dead as well as the living, as Hallowe’en became more and more of a big event.
“I remember when it was nothing but the occasional lantern, nothing like it is today,” Mary continued. “But then, I also remember All Hallows’ Eve, where it was all about praying for the souls of the departed. Chocolate, or ghosts, or scaring people, didn’t come into it. And as for ‘trick or treat’, I’m not surprised half the people pretend they’re not in. I would complain, but you hear enough of that from the living, don’t you think?”
Janet nodded. Every year, as October approached, there were the usual complaints that it was all getting too commercial, and too far away from what it had originally been. “Just like Christmas,” she mused, thinking of the other festival which had come a long way – and not necessarily in a good way – since they had been alive.
“Still, we shouldn’t complain – personally, the more reasons to celebrate, the better, don’t you think?”
“I do, Your Grace,” replied Janet, smiling at the Queen. She knew Queen Mary was never one to knowingly miss out on a party of any type, for any reason. This year was simply not moving through them quickly enough for her.
Chapter Nineteen
October’s days ticked by, and the festival they had all been waiting for finally arrived. On the morning of 31st October, Lady Janet met with Queen Mary as she left her usual spot within the room in which her son had been born. Mary acknowledged her with a smile.
“Well, here we are at last, Janet – ‘our’ festival has arrived,” she said, as the two ladies made their way down the hill, nodding to the various early-risers they encountered. As Hallowe’en dawned, even as fans of the celebrations, they were grateful that the Castle itself did not partake in the madness of total decoration that they had seen in numerous shops, bars and hotels in the last couple of weeks. “I presume some of the youngsters will be going out onto the Mile, as usual, taking part in the celebrations this evening?”
“Yes, I heard some of the soldiers discussing their plans. I have asked William to be on patrol, to keep an eye on events, and I believe he has gathered some of the older men to assist him.”
“Excellent.” Mary smiled as the man himself came into view, drifting up from the main gate, having just left a group of younger men. “William, well met indeed, good morning.”
“Good morning, Your Grace,” replied Sir William, sweeping her a deep bow. “I was just briefing them for the day; advising them not to be too over-the-top with their hauntings today. Honestly, they all revert to being children on Hallowe’en, do they not? You wouldn’t think they had been brave men, fighting for their country within these walls.”
“Hallowe’en is our Christmas, I suppose,” said Janet, happy that William would be around to keep some of the more boisterous spirits in line. With the Castle having been an active barracks for so long, not to mention the sieges, battles and imprisonment which had taken place there, it was still home to many young men who had chosen to stay with their friends, rather than passing through the white lights which had appeared for them over the years. They could indeed go over-the-top in their festivities, even without the old stimulus of alcohol flowing through their veins.
“Are you jealous, Lady Glamis?” said Mary, nudging her companion in the ribs to tease her.
“I will confess that when I see all the sweets and goodies for sale in the shops, I do miss my sugary treats. I did have a sweet tooth for the honey pastries our cook made for us. I would do anything to taste those again.” Janet rubbed her stomach at the memory. Ghosts may be able to travel where they wished, control their physical situation and visibility, and live almost uninterrupted lives, but the lack of food and drink troubled most of them from time to time, generally during celebratory seasons.
“Ah, yes, I share your pain, Janet,” William agreed with her. “I see all these toffee apples, gingerbread shapes and iced buns, and I remember how much I enjoyed my food when I was alive. Perhaps we should try and find the ghost of a pig, see if ghosts can eat other ghosts…” His voice trailed off, as the three spirits closed their eyes, dreaming briefly of roast pork.
“Well, the dogs are about, or some of them at least,” said Janet, glancing in the direction of the Pets’ Cemetery, where a couple of the residents were chasing each other, yapping silently against the unfairness of some perceived slight or other. “So perhaps one day, we will find an edible animal.”
“It is strange, you know, that some of our dogs have survived, as it were,” said Mary, as the three set off towards the Esplanade, to watch the city come to life from its vantage point. “When I visited London, for some sight-seeing, I ventured into the Tower of London, keeping my visibility to myself, and I overheard Anne Boleyn lamenting the fact that her pets weren’t with her. And yet, as you say, we have plenty of dogs up here. Bobby for one, of course, but the soldiers’ pets as well. I wonder why the difference?”
“Perhaps it depends on whether the animals are needed or not, Your Grace?” said William.
“Perhaps. I suppose some of the men value the company of their pets, whereas Anne still has her brother, and plenty of friends around her. Ah, Edinburgh. You would think I would be bored of the view by now, and yet…” Mary’s voice trailed off, as they stood on the edge of the Esplanade. Lights were shining out of the front of shops on Princes Street, and as they watched, a small market was starting to set up in the Gardens.
“Do you know what the market is today, William?” asked Janet, straining her eyes to see what was being displayed.
“I think, given our recent conversation, my Lady, you would not want to visit,” he replied, and then laughed as she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. “It is a combination of Hallowe’en treats and continental foods, Madame. Plenty of heavenly smells to torture ourselves with, and personally, I shall not be bothering. Although, I have heard that some of the lads will be popping down in full visibility, to enjoy the day.”
“Well, at least on today of all days, they will fit in.” Mary turned away from Princes Street, and made her way across to the other side, gazing in the direction of Craigmillar Castle. “It is funny, I have been there so many times, and I know that I can see Edinburgh Castle from Craigmillar, and yet not once, since all this construction, have I been able to see Craigmillar Castle from here. It is very annoying.”
Despite knowing she couldn’t see it, she kept her eyes focused in the direction she knew Craigmillar Castle to be, imagining the view before the rest of Edinburgh had been constructed, expanding into the countryside which had once existed between the two buildings. She may only have stayed there on a couple of occasions, yet she had found herself inextricably linked to the place, thanks to the rumours which had spread about it.
Mary knew the rumours; she had known them then, and was certainly more than aware of them now, having read plenty of books on the subject of the infamous ‘Craigmillar Bond’. It had been devised and agreed during her stay there in 1566, by a group of her closest advisors who had decided to rid themselves of her second husband, Lord Darnley. It is true enough that she was fed up of the man, but to plot to have his house blown up, and then strangle him in his garden? The notion would be laughable, if it hadn’t had such a devastating effect on the rest of her reign. If she had been involved, she would have been far more intelligent than that. A quick dose of poison added to his wine, an ‘accidental’ death during a mugging on one of his infamous evenings gambling, or even a tragic accident during a joust or horse-race; there would have been a dozen ways to have dealt with the situation much more effectively.
The queen shook her head to clear the memory. It wouldn’t do to think of Darnley today. Since her arrival in early August, she had only seen him twice, and then only briefly. Firstly, there was the altercation which Sir William had dealt with, and the second time had been as she strolled through the gardens of Holyrood.
He had been walking away from her, and, having seen him, she slipped quietly away, taking herself off to her old chambers within the Palace walls. It had been a pleasant afternoon once she was certain he had not followed her; she enjoyed listening to the tourists discussing her and her history, deciding whether she was heroine or villainess. Largely, she came out of people’s discussions as a tragic romantic heroine. Not quite the legacy she would have chosen to leave behind, but certainly better than some of her fellow Scottish monarchs. But still, she remembered her promise to Rizzio, and would need to deal with Darnley personally at some point soon.
But not today. Pulling herself together, she turned back to William and Janet, who had also turned away from the Princes Street side of the Esplanade, and were now watching her, awaiting further instruction.
“So, Sir William, what are the general plans for tonight?” Queen Mary asked her companion, as she sauntered back across to where he was standing with Janet, manoeuvring around the first groups of tourists as they began to gather. “I presume there will be ventures into town?”
“Yes, Your Grace. One of the more gothic-style bars along by Chamber Street is their target tonight, as far as I can understand,” William replied. “All men have ensured they are at their most ragged, pale and gruesome for the celebrations, and judging by the outfits I’ve seen being carried into hotel rooms, I think they’ll fit in just fine.”
“Very good. Well, I think I shall make myself scarce for the day, have a nice, peaceful time of it, and let everybody have the run of the place. If anyone needs me, I shall be above the main gate; I’ve not heard word of it being hired out today, and it is nice and calm, not to mention an excellent view of proceedings. But I will most certainly see you around this evening for the festivities. I’ll make certain that I am refreshed and ready for whatever delights the evening throws at us.” Nodding to them both, Queen Mary drifted back up to the Castle, and through to the small room, from which she could maintain a watch of the comings and goings of the day at a distance.
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 9