Hearing her father up ahead, eagerly discussing the defensive history of the Palace with one of the more senior guards, Mary quickened her pace, keen to join in the conversation and distract herself from her planned sighting of Darnley. Yes, it was her idea to see him, and she did indeed want to see for herself that he was safely tucked away, but that didn’t mean she had to look forward to it.
Chapter Thirty
Taking the advantage of the next quiet Sunday night, Sir William decided to move Darnley sooner rather than later, getting him out the way of the Castle, so that if Queen Mary and her court did decide to return to their usual haunts, there would be nothing stopping them. As he planned, Mary herself was standing just out of sight, and only semi-visible anyway, surrounded by her ladies and several noblemen, all instructed, unbeknownst to the Queen, to restrain her using the same tactic used on Darnley, should the need arise.
“Can you see anything?” the Queen asked of Lady Janet, who stood directly by her side, waiting for the move to begin. Even with her height’s advantage, Mary couldn’t see any sign of the party approaching.
“Not yet, Your Grace – Robert, run up the street and see what’s happening,” Janet instructed the young page boy, ever alert to his mistresses’ wishes.
Robert raced away into the darkness, as they all peered after him, each keen to be the first to spot the party’s arrival. Even now, with midnight well over an hour past, there was the occasional late-night stroller, or group of revellers, blissfully ignoring Monday morning’s rapid approach.
Finally, Robert sped back into view. “They’re coming! There was a couple getting engaged up by the Castle; Sir William couldn’t risk getting past them.”
“An engagement? At this time of night? Well, good luck to them,” said Queen Mary, looking up the street expectantly. “It shouldn’t be long now then, as long as they can avoid the stragglers.”
“At least there’s always the excuse of fancy dress, if anyone asks,” said Janet, smiling at the Queen, hoping to show support and encouragement, and to hide her own nerves at what was potentially about to happen. She didn’t believe for a second that the Queen would let Darnley pass without any comment, nor did she believe the gathered group of courtiers would – or could – do anything about it anyway.
A murmur down the street hinted at the group’s approach, as all heads turned in the direction of the disturbance. Despite the obvious fact that it couldn’t physically happen, Mary felt her heart pounding in her chest, certain that everyone around her would hear its deafening thumping. She knew Darnley would be coming, and she had seen him recently enough, when he had the nerve to approach her in her chamber. Still, seeing him so close, her plans to disregard Sir William’s advice threatened to crumble into cowardice. She summoned her courage, only to feel Janet’s hand on her arm. Such little pressure, hardly enough to feel it, yet firm enough to bring Mary to her senses.
“Really, Janet? You definitely don’t think it is worth it?”
“What would it achieve, Your Grace? I don’t say this as your companion, but, I hope, as your friend; it will surely bring only hurt and anger. It is nearly Christmas, and after that, your planned Progress. Why dampen the high spirits which are surely only days and weeks away?”
Mary closed her eyes, blinking away tears which she feared would start to flow. “You are indeed a friend, Janet, and a good one at that. You have kept your promise, I suppose.”
“I swore I wouldn’t interfere with you seeing him, but I would betray my own beliefs if I didn’t try to stop you approaching him.” She glanced over at the group of men, slowly but surely making their way down the Mile, now almost drawing level with Mary’s viewpoint.
Mary drew a deep breath, and held herself steady as her husband, separated from her only by his violent death, walked by just a few metres away. Almost without meaning to, she faded into total invisibility, the slight chill she cast into Janet’s solid arm the only evidence that she was still present. A few moments more, and he was gone again, vanished down towards the vaults of the South Bridge, where Boots had been told to be waiting for him. Even at their distance, the group of courtiers heard the first meeting between the two men.
“This is who you summon to greet a King?” Darnley’s voice rose through the night. “This is an insult! I shall not suffer this!”
Mary groaned inwardly; she knew he wouldn’t take it quietly. She wasn’t prepared for Boots’ response.
“I am not greeting a King. I am greeting a prisoner, and the insult, I assure you, is entirely to me! Bring him in lads, if it has to be done. I’ll gladly talk to you, but I’ll no’ be approaching him without due cause.”
The sound of steps shuffling down into the chambers vanished into silence, as Janet stifled a giggle. She tried desperately to maintain a dignified silence, before realising that Mary was shaking next to her, now returned to a full visible state. She turned in horror, fearing the Queen was having a breakdown of sorts, before realising that Mary too was trying hard not to laugh out loud.
“Your Grace!”
“I know, I know. Janet, we must leave, I cannot help myself. Back to the Palace, I think – I need to rest and calm down. Boots truly is priceless; I must send him some sort of gift for that retort alone.”
Janet smiled, and linked arms with the Queen. “I shall speak to Sir William; he will arrange something.”
Sir William could arrange everything, thought Janet, wistfully, as she already looked forward to seeing the knight as soon as the sun rose.
Chapter Thirty-One
With Darnley safely secure under Boots’ charge, and Christmas fast approaching, Mary decided to move her court back to the Castle for the festive season. She had a feeling her father would not welcome the courtiers’ Christmas celebrations. Even as ghosts, the festive spirit could overflow if left unchecked, and even with his new-found positive outlook on life, it didn’t seem worth the risk of pushing him right back to where he had started the year. Finding him in the garden one morning, she told him of her decision.
“Are you quite sure, my dear?” he said. “Don’t feel you have to rush away. I’m sure it would be pleasant to have company for Christmas.”
But she could hear the lie in his voice. This was a man who craved solitude, kept himself to himself, and preferred a quiet evening’s discussion with like-minded souls. He was not one who would enjoy the parties and jokes the Castle’s residents dabbled in. Dead, yes, but never dull.
She smiled back at him. “I’m quite sure, Father, quite sure indeed. But it has been so nice to be here, and see more of you. It has been a truly lovely visit in general, since I first came and sat with you, on this very bench, back in August.”
“An interesting time,” said James, nodding in agreement. “But yes, a good time too, I think. You were devious, daughter, but I shall forgive you it; I know it was for my own good.”
“And you have managed to survive our entire visit without clashing with Lady Glamis, so your mood must be improving.” Mary couldn’t help tease her father. Janet hadn’t entirely kept her promise to James V, in that she had certainly strayed from Queen Mary’s chambers, but she had stayed true in spirit, keeping out of her former King’s way, and vanishing into nothing at the first indication of his approach. It hadn’t been an easy time for her, but she had stayed loyal to Mary in her attitude at least. Having things to plan with Sir William had certainly helped keep her occupied.
James glowered at his daughter. “I would rather you did not make jokes about the woman who tried to kill me,” he said, with more petulance than was befitting a King.
“No, Father, of course not. Still, she – and the rest of us – will be gone by the end of tomorrow. That has to be the biggest advantage of being dead; nothing to pack, no provisions required, no need to warn people we’re about to arrive. We just decide, and then we go. We’ll be back in the Castle by tomorrow evening, and I shall return to the old pattern of visiting you every so often.”
“You
are still going on Progress?”
“I am, yes. Sooner rather than later, now that Darnley is settled, for now at least. We shall have Christmas and New Year in Edinburgh, and then we’ll go. Janet is drawing up a list of those who shall attend me on my travels, and I’m thinking of where to visit.”
“Well, I hope you have a pleasant time of it. Will you be haunting, or just visiting?” her father asked.
“Haunting, I should think. I found a good book recently, describing where people thought they had seen my ghost. Some of them clearly weren’t me at all – I’ve not been anywhere near since my death – but elsewhere, some people must have been very observant on my occasional visit. Anyway, I thought we’d go back around, see the old places. And a true Royal Progress can be so much fun. It’ll be like the glory days in France, visiting all the palaces, with not a care in the world. Well, I hope not at any rate – I shall vet each house before we arrive, check that any spiritual occupants are hospitable.”
“A good plan,” said James, stretching out his legs. “But now, I think I shall return to the Palace. Good luck with your move back to the Castle, and I shall see you anon.”
Mary watched her father leave, before slowly sauntering in the other direction, taking in a circuit of the gardens for one last time during her stay. It had been quite relaxing, but was certainly now time to go home. She spied Robert out the corner of her eye, and summoned the young boy over.
“Confirm that everything is ready, Robert – I don’t want to be making any arrangements myself.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” he replied, with his now all-but-perfect bow, before dashing off to find Lady Glamis and Sir William. Mary continued her stroll.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Once winter began to take a firmer hold on Edinburgh (and in truth, almost immediately after Hallowe’en had been fully cleared away), thoughts began to turn to the next great celebration: Christmas. The pumpkins and fake cobwebs were long gone, and had been smoothly replaced weeks previously with Santas, reindeers and fake snow (sometimes, the ghosts were convinced, people simply sprinkled silver glitter into the fake cobwebs, and left them up as snow, to save the hassle of redecorating; it was just as effective, after all).
The city began to sparkle with fairy-lights, shining out from every shop window, as shops and attractions battled with themselves and each other to determine when the best time was to go ‘all out’, and throw themselves wholeheartedly into the Christmas celebrations. The Castle tended to move more slowly than some, keeping itself safely the right side of the ‘tacky’ line, ensuring that those not so keen on the festival would still feel at home in the place. The shops of the Mile had no such qualms. By the end of November, celebrations were in full swing, and now the court had resumed its normal home at the Castle, everyone was in a jovial mood.
“Sir William! Lady Glamis! What on earth are you wearing?” Mary demanded of them, bent over with laughter as she and Queens Marie and Madeleine welcomed them into the Castle’s great hall one evening, long after the last visitor of the day had left. “And, more to the point, how did you get it here?”
The two had entered the room in fits of giggles themselves, knowing what Queen Mary’s reaction would be to their attire, but hoping it would continue to cheer her after the Darnley situation; they had caught her almost every day, watching out over the rooftops, clearly the same thing on her mind. Even through the giggles, Janet had been gladdened at the sight of the two French Queens, helping their third member feel more cheered.
Atop Janet and William’s heads were the most garish of Loch Ness Monster hats, but not just any ordinary Nessie. This Nessie daringly clashed the bright green of her skin with an equally bright red Santa hat, trimmed in glistening white fur, and topped with sparkling tinsel.
“It gets better,” said Janet, reaching up to William’s hat, and squeezing Nessie’s nose teasingly. In a high-pitched squeal, the hat started to sing We Wish You a Merry Christmas at full volume, pushing all of them over the edge into hysteria.
“I want one!” shrieked Mary, laughing at Marie and Madeleine’s faces at the thought of a Queen of Scotland wearing such an item. “Come now, it’s perfect, surely you see that?”
Marie shook her head at her daughter. “I did not raise you as a Queen of France and Scotland for you to demean yourself in such attire. If you ask me honestly, I think it far below even Lady Janet and Sir William.” Nose in the air, she turned her face away from the group, looking pointedly towards the window.
The couple in question had now started dancing to the musical hats, the noise attracting more of the ghosts into the Hall. Most of them started laughing and joining in, forming pairs as they went. Noble ladies fell about laughing, accepting the hands of prisoners of war and soldiers, as noblemen wandered in, bemused at the sight.
“I fear, Lady Mother, that you are outnumbered in your opinion,” replied Mary, happily accepting the offered hand of one of the more handsome prisoners, as he nervously approached her, eyebrows raised questioningly.
“And now you dance with common soldiers!” Queen Marie tutted, as her daughter accepted the request, but even she was beginning to be sucked into the moment of merriment, her dainty, silk-slippered foot starting to move in time to the music.
“It is catching,” said Madeleine, glancing at the older woman with a smile.
“Oh, I hate it when others prove me wrong,” said Marie, throwing her shoulders down in frustration. “Come, then, Madeleine, what is good enough for the goose is good enough for the gander – shall we join them?”
The two royal ladies linked arms and moved into the centre of the room, joining the whirling mass of bodies, each pair attempting to dance to the tuneless rendition, ages and classes clashing in the dancing styles down the ages, not a single pair appropriately matched in terms of era. Finally, Mary broke away from her lowly prisoner, and clasped hands with the newly-arrived Sir Thomas, who was gazing about the room, shaking his head in disbelief, until he saw Mary in the middle of celebrations.
“Are we celebrating anything in particular, Your Grace?” he asked her, as he spun her around, before lifting her up by the waist.
“William’s and Janet’s hats, Thomas. Nothing more than that, I’m afraid, but I rather think it was all we needed.”
After an hour of non-stop playing, the batteries in the hats died, taking the tune with them, and the ghosts sank to the floor in an untidy heap of gowns and coats, Mary herself resting against one of the gun cabinets which lined the edge of the room.
“Well, William, Janet, if this is what your shopping trips to lead to, I think we shall send you out down the Mile together more often,” she said, catching her breath between words. Ghosts they may be, but that much activity could still wear them out.
“Why not simply plan things a little more carefully, Your Grace?” said Sir William, as he began to help some of the ladies to their feet, not caring these days whether serving girl or lady-in-waiting took precedence. Every one of them had died in these walls; most of them considered themselves of equal rank in death.
“Explain?”
“Well, we have a few musicians, if we could find some instruments, we have all this space. Why not hold a proper party? If we planned it right, it could be wonderful celebration. It need not even be here; we have plenty of options along the Mile, there is bound to be somewhere nice and out-of-the-way where a party wouldn’t be noticed. Get Rizzio involved, perhaps?”
“Oh, Sir William, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” cooed one of the ladies as he hauled her to her feet. Sarah MacDonald, James’ sister, had come to the Castle on hearing the report of his death in the Lang Siege, and, finding it to be true, had been so heartbroken that she simply ceased eating and drinking until she soon followed him into an early grave. Now reunited with her brother, she had become one of the more cheerful ghosts, and highly popular with the soldiers of the garrison.
“You only say that because you wish to be led out by another successi
on of handsome young men,” teased her companion Jessie, another who had been bereaved by the Lang Siege. But her beloved fiancé’s spirit had never shown up, despite many of the soldiers reporting that they had seen him fall from the battlements, and could have sworn his spirit had joined them in their new ‘life’. There were so many women who had joined them after each battle, the population within the Castle’s walls was easily into the hundreds, and that was just the permanent ones.
Sir Thomas, still not convinced to be a permanent resident, and just as happy on the road, moved to the middle of the room, and began looking around him, as though measuring up for an event. “It could work in here, but there are too many living people; surely, too great a risk we’d be spotted? Would it not be easier just to ‘gate crash’, as they say, somebody else’s party? Or, just wait until Hogmanay, and go out in full visibility, take part in those festivities?”
“Rather than hiding ourselves away? We have not gone out for New Year in full visibility for so long – perhaps you are right. It was fun at Hallowe’en. Maybe if we all wore our heaviest cloaks, and stayed broadly together, we could get away with it?”
“I agree with the cloaks, but I think surely dividing up would be more appropriate in this instance – there are so many of us, after all. If we split into smaller groups, we will be able to mingle more easily, get into the parties.”
“We’ll need wristbands if we are to get into the Gardens in full sight,” said Janet, pointing out a flaw in their otherwise wonderful-sounding idea.
“Janet is right, and to be honest, I prefer the atmosphere up here, on the Mile,” said Mary. “Maybe we can give people the option. Those who wish to attend the Gardens can enter out of sight, but must remain unobtrusive once visible within. The rest of us shall remain up on the Mile. You can still see the fireworks, and hear most of the music anyway, so anyone who stays here won’t really be missing much.”
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 14