Without allowing the Covenanter another word, Mary swept from the vault, dropping her visibility and avoiding the crowds. Once she reached the end of the prison, she turned, and watched her messenger make his way from the vault, stopping here and there to tap a shoulder or whisper in an ear. Defiance fleetingly crossed some faces, only to be stopped by further orders from the elder man. Whoever he was, he at least appeared to hold some position of respect.
Satisfied that things should be in better order in the future, Mary returned to the Mile, just as a group of soldiers and camp-followers vanished into a gothic-horror themed bar. She hesitated for a moment, almost tempted to join them, then continued on her way; not knowing the mischief they were surely planning, she nonetheless doubted they would truly appreciate the presence of a Queen in their midst. She would find her own entertainment for the rest of the evening.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alone now in the pitch-black night, Queen Mary strolled back down the Mile, listening to the shrieks and trying work out which were genuine, and perhaps a result of her ghostly court, or which were in jest, a joke between friends close enough to try and scare each other witless, given the history of the street, and with no malice behind it.
A group of soldiers were walking in full visibility down the street, happily receiving compliments from groups of the living, envious of the realistic nature of their costumes. Initially hidden amongst the men, a pale young woman stepped forward (her name, if Mary remembered correctly, was Lorna) and demonstrated her costume’s ‘unique’ appeal: she could spin her head almost all the way to the back. During her hanging, her neck had been broken more surely than expected, and she had revelled in her skill since her death. Her first victim had been the judge who sentenced her, and her confidence had continued to grow with every shriek.
“Gentlemen, Lorna, I believe? Having a good evening?” Mary was now also fully visible, but her informal greeting encouraged nods only from the small group, not creating too much of a scene. “Now, I do enjoy a head-twisting, but I’ve already used my headless-woman trick a couple of times this evening, on unsuspecting groups, and I swear it’s given me a taste for it. A double-haunting, perhaps, my dear girl?”
Stunned at being addressed in person by the Queen, Lorna could do little more than stare; a nudge from a soldier got little more than a mumbled agreement from her. Smiling, Mary stood beside her, and linked arms, shocking the poor girl even more.
“Come now, we can work something out between us, and I’m sure these fine gentlemen will happily provide a suitable backdrop for us, set the atmosphere a bit. How about one of the small closes?” Not giving Lorna the chance to disagree, but seeing the soldiers’ grins widen, Mary led on, another hour at least of good haunting ahead of her.
The next morning, James MacDonald once again escorted Queen Mary to the top of the manhole cover, this time also accompanied by her usual guard. Gathering her skirts carefully beneath her, she knelt down on the pavement, placing her ear as close as she could to the small hole in the metal. Although it had been put to her that a ghost could just as easily go into the tunnel, knowing of Boy’s fate, not one spirit had been willing to volunteer for the task. Now, as she turned her head and peered into the darkness, she understood why, and shivered at the notion that anyone would ever have sent a child into such a place to begin with.
“Boy! Can you hear me? It is Mary, Queen Mary, and James MacDonald, from up at the Castle, from last night. Can you give me a sign that you are there?”
“I am here, Your Grace, I am here.” The voice which came out of the darkness melted Mary’s heart, as it always did. She had not seen her own son alive since he was ten months old, following her forced abdication and subsequent flight to England, and although they had been reconciled in death, he was by then an old man; the ghostly children she encountered always tugged at her heart-strings, dragging out her maternal instincts.
“Listen, can you do something for me, Boy? Can you come out of there? One final try for me and James here? We would so enjoy your company above ground, and you must want to see the sunshine again? It has been so long, you must want to come out here and join all of us?”
“I cannot, Your Grace. I was sent down here to find the end of the tunnels, and that is what I have to do.”
“You mean to say you have not?” This thought had never occurred to Mary before. She had assumed, as so many others had, that Boy’s current location was the end of the tunnel; after all, why else would he have stopped there?
“No, my Lady, this is not the end. There are tunnels everywhere. All I can see is tunnels. And it’s so dark. Always so dark.”
“But, the people who sent you down there are not here anymore, Boy, they are long gone, and so, therefore, are your orders. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Orders is orders, Your Grace, else what’s the point?” Boy’s voice was growing in confidence.
Mary nodded sadly at the young child’s logic. Clearly, this thought had sustained him for years in the cold and dark; he had been sent down there for a purpose, and he must fulfil it. After having that thought in his head for so long, how could they possibly hope to shift it? She waved her hand at James, who promptly stepped forward to help her up.
“James, I believe we need to think of a new way to help Boy. If he cannot leave the tunnel to join us, then it is up to us to join him, and keep him company as we can.”
James nodded, but stiffened: as with the others, he had steered clear of the fabled tunnels, and was no keener now to go venturing down them than he had been the day Boy had first been discovered. Yes, of course he felt sorry for the lad, but they had all done so much to try and help him over the years, and perhaps sometimes, there was strength in knowing when to give up?
“Would you gather the Castle soldiers for me this evening, in the great hall? I wish to speak with them all together, and advise them of my plan.” Back on her feet, Mary was looking back up the Mile to the Castle, a plan already forming in her mind.
“Of course, Your Grace – will seven o’clock suffice?”
“It will, thank you. Now, I wish to speak with Rizzio, see how he is getting on with my father, so I shall leave you, but I will be in the great hall at seven.”
Dismissing James, she knelt once again at the manhole cover. “I shall be back, Boy, do not fear. I understand that you must continue in your task, but you shall no longer be on your own, I promise you that. We shall return.”
On hearing his acknowledgement of her promise, she rose once more, and made her way down the hill to Holyrood, another soldier having seamlessly slipped into James’ place, and now keeping a respectful distance from the monarch.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Queen Mary had deliberately visited her father on only a handful of occasions during her time in Edinburgh. Since the first outing at the end of the Festival, she had been keen that he did not rely on her as his only company, forcing him, hopefully, to leave his tomb more frequently. On her handful of visits to him, he had told tales of other concerts, grand banquets at the Palace, and even hovering around a wedding party who had been taking some photographs at the front gates, having been married further up the Mile. All in all, it seemed that her plan was working; however, Rizzio had been unusually quiet, and she wanted to hear it directly from him. Happily, she found him easily, perched on the edge of the fountain in the front courtyard.
“David! Well met! Just the man I am looking for.”
“Your Grace, likewise, I was hoping to see you. I was about to send a messenger for you – there is something you need to see.”
Curious, Mary gave him her arm, and let him lead her literally through the Palace, to the gardens, now glorious in their warm autumnal shades. He paused at the foot of the wall, a few metres away from a sentry box which stood ready to provide guard duties at the various events which were held there throughout the year. On days like these, when not in use, it proved a popular photo opportunity for the steady stream of tourists follo
wing the set path through the grounds.
As Mary turned to ask a question, Rizzio put his fingers to his lips, indicating silence. He pointed to the box.
A group of teenagers had just reached it, and were unable to resist the urge to take it in turns standing, posing inside the box. As the apparent leader of the group took their place, one of the others suddenly shrieked.
“I saw somebody! Cissy, I swear there’s somebody behind you in the box!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Lucy was just in there; there’s nobody. Come on, just take the pho—” Cissy never finished her sentence, leaping from the box as though it was on fire. “Somebody touched me, somebody touched me! I want to get out of here!” She fled from the box, patting her clothes as though to rid herself of the feeling. Not stopping to check the box for themselves, the others followed.
Mary was rooted to the spot. “Who is in there?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, that’s why you had to see for yourself.”
Unable to hold still any longer, Mary crept up to the box, only to hear giggles from within and behind the structure.
“You really got them that time, James – I wish I had the gall to do such things.”
“Well, if they come into our Palace, what else can they expect?”
“Father! And Mother! I would never have imagined to find you doing such things. I can barely believe my eyes.” Mary approached the box, to find her parents giggling like schoolchildren, her father emerging from having been tucked into the back of the box, hidden from sight, even when fully materialised.
“Ah, Mary, my sweet, so lovely of you to join us,” said Marie, stepping out from behind the box to embrace her daughter. “You know we are not so good at the large-scale haunting, but it was suggested to us that this box might be a nice starting point.”
“Suggested by who?” asked Mary, glancing around to check that nobody was waiting in the wings to laugh at her parents and their new-found joy of haunting.
“Why, by David here,” answered her father, indicating at Rizzio, who had also now joined them at the front of the box. “He said to start small, and that this was probably the smallest ‘room’ in the Palace. It is also nice to be able to be selective; we don’t bother everyone. Yesterday, we just sat on that bench, enjoying the day.”
Mary couldn’t believe the news. “Rizzio, you are no musician, no secretary; you are a magician. And as for both of you, this is fantastic. You are truly enjoying it?”
“I believe we are. Madeleine sometimes comes to join us too, although, she is not so keen on the haunting; we tend to sit and talk in the private rooms during her visits. Although, there are still plenty of things to keep us occupied; there are some very interesting things tucked away in these attics.” Marie gestured upwards to the private floors of the Palace, shut off from public view.
Mary nodded. Even though she generally stayed up at the Castle, she had to admit to enjoying the odd day now and then, poking around the rooms used by Queen Elizabeth or other members of the Royal Family during their visits to Holyrood.
“Well, if I had not seen this with my own eyes, I don’t think I would have believed this,” said Mary, clasping her hands together and beaming at her parents.
“Then we are glad you visited,” said her father. “However, it would seem a waste of our time to keep haunting, when we could be relaxing. Shall we adjourn inside?”
Together, the four ascended the grand outdoor staircase, and flitted through the large French windows back inside the Palace. A bus-trip was snaking through the suite of rooms open to the public, led by its enthusiastic tour-guide, currently explaining in minute detail the meaning behind the artwork in the room. Leaving them to enjoy their visit in peace, the small party of ghosts kept heading upwards, to the private rooms.
“I feel we should be taking tea,” mused Mary, as they meandered through the royal suite of bedrooms, private drawing rooms and smaller dining rooms.
“I wish we could. I’ve been watching them have afternoon tea at various places along the Mile for years; it always looks so elegant. I think we would have enjoyed afternoon tea, if it had been invented in time.” Marie ran her fingers along the edge of the fine china which had been left out to decorate the room. Even when nobody was in residence, the rooms were kept to the highest standards; they made the perfect home-from-home for Marie and Madeleine, when they wished to escape the more boisterous elements of the Mile.
“I wish I could have had champagne,” said James, looking wistfully out of the window. “What about you two?” He looked over at Mary and Rizzio.
“For me, I miss roast meat. I don’t really mind which; but I would love to enjoy a full Sunday roast, with all the trimmings,” said Rizzio.
Mary looked thoughtfully out of the window. “Now, there is a question, Father. Sir William, Janet and I were recently lamenting roast pork, so yes, I do miss roast meat, but for me, it would have to be the sweet treats. The magnificent sugar structures were spectacles for the stomach and the eye.”
“Ah, those centrepieces were truly incredible, I agree. Even the grandest restaurants would have to put the effort in to match some of our banquets; all those meals in the halls of our various castles and palaces. Speaking of which, are you still intending to go on Progress?” King James had moved to stand behind his daughter, looking over her shoulder at the view over the gardens.
“I will do, yes. I had intended to go this autumn, but with one thing or another, it just didn’t happen. I think in the New Year, I will go, spend some time in the country. Lady Glamis will accompany me, and perhaps some of the courtiers who are on the Mile.” She turned to her father. “Unless you would rather come out with me?”
“Me? No, not I. I will stay here, but who knows, perhaps I will visit some of the other houses, maybe go to Craigmillar.”
“An excellent plan, James,” Marie called from across the room, having overheard their plans. “Might I accompany you?
“My dear, it would be an honour to have your companionship again.”
Marie blushed; clearly, when he tried to, King James V could still be as charming as he had been in life. The royal couple made their way together from the rooms, and along the corridors to the older part of the Palace, where each of them had spent time during their reigns. As Mary and Rizzio followed, she took his offered arm gladly.
“I cannot believe what you have done here, David,” she said quietly, dipping her head so that her parents wouldn’t hear her. “It is wonderful, simply wonderful. Do you think it will last?”
“I see no reason why not, Your Grace. He seems genuinely a lot happier. If I thought it was just an act, I would tell you, I swear.”
“Will you continue to keep an eye on him, though, just in case he falters?” she asked, as they reached her former bedchamber. Her parents had descended the narrow stair to the rooms below, formerly occupied by her husband. For her own reasons, Mary rarely entered his chambers these days. “Shall we sit?”
They crossed the room over to the large royal bed, which dominated the room, and drifted up to sit back against the large bolsters at its head.
“I feel I should not be here, Your Grace,” said David, even as he rested his head on the huge wooden headboard.
“Nonsense, David. Nobody can see us, and I want to be comfortable. Thank you so much for showing me my father’s activities today; I feel so much more content, seeing the change in him. My only regret is that it has taken me so long to realise what needed doing to help him.”
“It is not your fault, Your Grace; he did nothing to help himself for all these years, and after all, he is your father; he is not your responsibility.”
“Even so, now it is done, I feel happier. I can relax for a while.” As she spoke, she relaxed further back into the cushions, until she felt as though she could sink through them. This was exactly the relaxation she craved.
It wouldn’t last long.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A thundero
us roar broke their sought-after peace.
“What is this? I knew I was right all along – you traitor, and you, you witch!”
As one, Mary and Rizzio sat bolt upright, heads turned to the new voice, the source of the accusations being thrown at them.
Darnley.
He stood, hands on hips, at the entrance to Mary’s supper chamber, the location of Rizzio’s infamous murder. Rizzio started to rise, his face flushing, but Mary stopped him with an outstretched hand.
“No, David, you stay exactly where you are. Darnley, how dare you enter my bedchamber uninvited, and begin to throw such spiteful and vicious accusations in our faces? You have no right to intrude on my privacy, and I would ask you to leave immediately.” Mary kept her voice steady, hiding the anger that was brewing up inside her, threatening to overspill at any moment. She had still not moved from her place on the bed, other than to shift into a more upright position, the better to face her former husband.
Darnley stayed rooted to the spot, refusing to be moved by either his wife’s anger or her instructions.
“Clearly, Madame, I have been betrayed, and I wonder how long the betrayal has been carrying on? Am I to presume that I never held my wife’s affections? Am I to presume that ‘my’ son – the King of Scotland and Britain – was nothing more than the illegitimate offspring of a jumped-up musician?” He continued to bellow at them, Mary having now stood up from the bed and crossed the room to him as he spoke.
Standing less than a foot from him, she folded her arms and looked him straight in the eye.
“I am not even going to dignify your charges with a response. I asked you to leave this room, and yet you remain in it. If you do not leave immediately, I shall be forced to summon my personal guard, who will escort you from this Palace, back to the place where you died – and yes, I mean died, not where you were buried – and ensure that you stay there, on your own, for the duration of this visit, and any other visits I make to Edinburgh in the future. Do I make myself clear?”
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 11