“Why… tomorrow?” she asked.
“Because I ask it, and because you will do anything in the world to please me.”
DARNLEY SAID: “Why are they taking away your velvet bed?” “It is too fine for such a room as the one below this.” “Yet… to take it away… after you took such pains to have it brought here!”
“I wish it to be cleaned and prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“For our reconciliation.”
He was smiling. “It shall be our bridal bed, for it shall be as though we are newly married. You will be here tonight, Mary?”
“I shall come to see you tonight, but I shall have to return to Holyrood as there is a wedding which I am expected to attend. Bastian is marrying Margaret Carwood. You know how fond I am of Margaret—and of Bastian. I promised Margaret I would dance at her wedding and that I would see that hers was a fine one.”
“Would that I could dance at Margaret’s wedding!”
“There was a time when you would have scorned to dance at a servants wedding.”
“I was so young. I was overproud! And look to what my folly has brought me!”
She turned away because she knew that if she tried to say more the words would choke her.
After a pause he said: “This is a strange house. Do you think it is haunted? I hear footsteps. I fancy I hear whispers. There are strange noises in the night. In the crypt, it may be. I seem to hear these sounds.”
“This is such a small house that you would naturally hear noises from without.”
“Perhaps that is it. Mary, I think much of the velvet bed.”
“Yes,” she said faintly, “the velvet bed.”
“You shall see that I have changed. I was so young, Mary, and the honor done to me was too much. You … so beautiful… so desired by all, and to be so much in love with me as you were! And then to be the King. Remember my youth. Why do you weep, Mary? Is it for the past?”
She nodded, and she thought: For the past, for the present, for the future.
ROBERT STUART, Mary’s baseborn brother, had come to see his kinsman Darnley. Robert was in a quandary. The Stuart characteristics were strong in him, and the Stuarts, if they were often weak and foolish, hated cruelty and were overwhelmingly tender and generous to their friends.
Robert was disturbed. He had heard rumors and the rumors concerned Darnley.
Why, Robert asked himself, should Darnley have been brought to a house such as this? Darnley was a fool not to see the reason. There was a plot against him and his enemies were all around him. Even the Queen hated him and wanted to be rid of him. Why could not Darnley see what was so clear to others?
“You seem disturbed,” said Darnley.
“I am,” retorted Robert. “Are you not?”
He signed to the servant to leave them alone together.
“Where does he go when he leaves this room?” asked Robert.
“To the little gallery with the garderobes. There are really only two rooms in this house. Mine and the Queens. It is a very small house.”
“You are isolated here, my lord.”
“I shall not be here long. Plans are being made for removing me.”
That was too much for Robert. “It is only too true,” he said. “Plans are being made and you will not be long on this earth if you ignore them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think, man. Why have you been brought to this desolate spot? If you are reconciled with the Queen why is it not Holyroodhouse or Edinburgh Castle? Why this little house in ruined Kirk-o’-Field?”
“Because… because I am sick. Because… because many fear my disease. I shall go to Holyrood with the Queen as soon as I am well. She has had her state bed removed this day, that it may be where we can use it together.”
“Jesus!” cried Robert. “Is it so then? Her state bed removed! Then man, do not wait another hour in this accursed house. Fly now… while you have yet time.”
“The Queen is my friend. The Queen has promised me that I shall be her husband.”
“Listen! Bothwell, Morton, Moray, Maitland … all are against you. You betrayed so many after Rizzio’s murder. They wish to free the Queen from her marriage with you. A plot to do so is afoot. Do not ask me more. Go! I am warning you.”
“I… I trust the Queen,” stammered Darnley.
“Then you are a fool. Hush! Someone comes.”
“It is the Queen herself,” said Darnley, rising from his bed.
“Say nothing of what I have told you,” said Robert.
But Darnley had not yet learned enough wisdom.
“Mary,” he cried as she came into the room, “I have just heard a terrible tale. Robert says there is a plot to kill me.”
The Queen grew pale. She looked at her brother.
Robert thought: Why did I try to help the fool? Let him wait here to die. He deserves death for his folly, if for nothing else. He laughed and protested: “I! You have misheard me, brother. I know of no plot.”
“But you have just said—” began Darnley.
Robert shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his sister. “It would seem that he wanders in his sickness.”
Darnley cried out in anger: “But you have just warned me. Mary, what does he mean? Is there some plot?”
“I … I do not know of what you speak,” said Mary.
Robert smiled patiently. “You misunderstood, my lord. I spoke of no plot.”
“It… it was meant to be a… joke?”
Oh, you fool, thought Robert. A joke! When the Queen wishes to be rid of you. When there is not a nobleman at Court who does not hate you, who has not some score to settle. Robert said coldly: “You have completely misunderstood me.”
“So … it was nothing—” began Darnley.
“It was nothing.”
“I do not like such jokes—” said Darnley angrily.
“Robert,” interrupted the Queen reprovingly, “you should remember that Henry is very weak as yet. You should not distress him so.”
Robert lifted his shoulders and smiled his charming Stuart smile. He began to talk of Bastian’s wedding.
ON SUNDAY EVENING Mary took supper at the house of Sir James Bal-four, and for company she had with her Lords Huntley, Bothwell and Cassillis. Bothwell was anxious that Mary should be where he could keep an eye on her. He had heard that Robert Stuart had warned Darnley. He could see that she was frightened tonight. She knew that her brother Moray had some reason for leaving Edinburgh other than the fact that his wife was slightly unwell. Moray—the sanctimonious man who could not look at evil except “through his fingers”—had always thought it advisable not to be on the spot when some deed was to be done which, though necessary to him, might earn the condemnation of all decent people. Moray’s departure was a sure sign that trouble was coming very near. None knew that better than the Queen.
She rose from the supper table saying that she had promised to call that night at the house in Kirk-o’-Field to see Darnley.
“Your Majesty has not forgotten the wedding?” asked Bothwell.
“Oh no. But I must see him first, for I have given him my promise to do so.”
“Then,” said Bothwell, “let us all go now to his apartment.”
“Shall we not be intruding on their Majesties?” asked Cassillis.
“Nay,” said Bothwell, “we three will play dice in a corner while the Queen talks with her husband.”
The party left, and guided by the flare of torches, passed through Black Friars Wynd to Kirk-o’-Field.
Mary was deeply aware of her lover’s presence. She knew that what happened tonight was of the utmost importance to him, and therefore to her.
Darnley was pleased to see her, but not so pleased to see her companions.
“We came, my lord,” said Bothwell, “to escort the Queen.”
“Come, sit beside me,” said Darnley eagerly to Mary.
Bothwell smiled. “Your Majesties may forget our presence. We shall b
e playing dice in this corner.”
Mary sat by the bed and Darnley said in a low voice: “Would you were staying the night.”
“I would, but I must attend the wedding, and there will be dancing till three of the morning. I could not come then.”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“Tomorrow night… if possible,” promised the Queen.
He began to talk then of his plans for the future, when he would leave this house and how happy they would be together. Mary listened, yet aware of the men playing in the corner; now and then looking up to find her lover’s eyes upon her.
She wondered: Was ever a woman asked to play such a part?
She rose at length and said: “I must not forget the wedding.”
“So soon!” complained Darnley.
She nodded and turned to the players. “My lords, I would go back now to dance at the wedding.”
They rose, bade farewell to the sick man and left him with his attendant Taylor.
As they came out of the house, Mary noticed with surprise the face of French Paris who was waiting with his master’s horse.
“How begrimed you are, Paris!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, Your Grace,” said the man, with an evil grin.
By the light of torches they rode back to Holyrood, where the wedding celebrations were in progress. Mary joined in the gaiety—dancing, singing and seeming as gay as any; but just after midnight she declared that it was a shame to keep the newly married pair from their nuptials, and she would conduct Margaret to her coucher at once that she might in person assist in the custom of breaking the benediction cake over the bride’s head, present her with the silver posset cup and throw the stocking.
When these ceremonies had been completed the Queen retired to her own chamber, and as soon as her women had prepared her for sleep, she lay on her bed, exhausted.
* * *
DARNLEY could not sleep. His room seemed to be filled with gloomy menacing shadows. He kept thinking of Robert’s words and of the uneasiness of the Queen. He had noticed the glances which Both well had sent in her direction from the dice table in the corner of the room. It was almost as though Bothwell were the King and Mary his humble subject. What had given him that impression? What had given him these uneasy thoughts? Was it this lonely, isolated house? Was it the thought of all his enemies? Was he remembering the hatred he had once seen in Mary’s eyes. He could sense evil near him. Those voices in the night—what did they mean? Were there evil spirits in the crypt below the house? Were his enemies hiding there in order to spring upon him in the dead of night? He raised himself on his elbow. He could make out the figure of Taylor lying at the foot of his bed.
“Taylor!” he whispered.
Taylor started up in alarm. “My lord?”
“I cannot sleep. I hear noises. Taylor, there is someone prowling about the house.”
Taylor was listening. “It is but the wind, my lord.”
“No, Taylor. I think not. Quiet! Listen with me.”
“My lord, shall I wake the servants?”
“How many are there in this house, Taylor?”
“Only the three, my lord: Nelson, Symonds and my own servant.”
“Have they said aught of noises in the night?”
“No, my lord.”
“They sleep deep in their little gallery. But then… any who prowl about the house would not come for them. Jesus! I shall be glad when we leave this house. I like it not. I shall leave it tomorrow.”
“My lord,” said Taylor in a whisper, “there is someone on the stairs.”
Darnley was out of bed. Taylor had seized his wrap and would have put it about him, but Darnley was at the door.
“Quick, Taylor. We must get out of this house. They come to murder me.”
“Your robe, my lord.”
But Darnley could not wait. He drew Taylor behind the door just as it was being cautiously pushed open; and two men came stealthily into the room.
They did not see the two behind the door and, as they approached the bed, Darnley, with Taylor behind him, speedily ran down the staircase and out into the garden.
Darnley heard someone cry: “After them!”
He recognized the voice as that of Archibald Douglas.
The cold night air made him gasp as it cut across his lightly covered body; he was wearing nothing but his nightgown. Dark figures moved toward him; he was caught and held in strong arms.
He gasped: “You… you could do this to a kinsman!” He was weak from his illness, but it was surprising what strength there could be in a sick man when he was fighting for his life. A damp rag was slipped across his mouth. He could scarcely breathe. He smelled vinegar as he fell unconscious to the grass.
Taylor was being suffocated by the same methods. Before he died he heard a voice ask: “Shall we take them back?”
“Nay,” came the answer. “They’re too heavy and time is short. We must be well away from Kirk-o’-Field in ten minutes’ time. Leave them here. They’re near enough to the house and there’ll be no trace of them by morning.”
STEALTHY FIGURES moved about the house.
The plans had gone awry. Darnley and his man, Taylor, were to have been strangled in their room. There was no time to take them back. There was only time to put a safe distance between the conspirators and the house in Kirk-o’-Field. They started toward Holyrood, but before they reached the palace they heard the roar of the explosion. The citizens were running out of their houses. The guards of the palace saw men with blackened faces entering it; and there was one of these whose bulk betrayed him; and on the night that Darnley was murdered and the house in Kirk-o’-Field blown sky-high, Bothwell was seen by many with his guilt upon him.
THE QUEEN was startled out of her sleep by the explosion. She rose in her bed crying out in terror. Seton was beside her.
“What is it, Seton?” demanded Mary. “What is it?”
Seton answered: “I know not.” And she ran to the window. “It looks like a great fire. The sky is brilliant and there is much smoke.”
“Where, Seton, where?”
Mary was now beside her at the window. She knew before she looked that the explosion had occurred in Kirk-o’-Field. Her teeth chattered and her body shook as with an ague.
Five
THERE WAS TUMULT THROUGHOUT EDINBURGH. THE CITIZENS were in the streets. There was speculation throughout the palace.
Bothwell had to be roused from slumber by his servants. He appeared to be sunk in a deep sleep, though he lay in his bed still dressed and with the grime on his clothes and face.
“Jesus!” he cried, rushing to the window. “What is this? It would seem as though the city is ablaze. ’Tis an explosion, I’ll warrant, somewhere near Kirk-o’-Field.”
He rode out with his followers.
“Keep clear of the fire, good people,” he cried. “Stand back and keep your distance.”
The good people of Edinburgh looked at him, and looked quickly away. Rumor traveled fast.
The guards of Holyrood had already whispered that one of those who came hurriedly into the palace soon after the explosion was Lord Bothwell himself.
IN THE DAWN LIGHT men searched the spot. The house was now a smoldering ruin. How explain the mighty explosion which had rent the place? Was it gunpowder? Explosives could easily have been stored in the crypt. And who had done this? Who would have dared stack gunpowder below a house in which the Queen’s husband lay sick?
Two men were certainly suspected of foul play! Bothwell who had been seen returning by the guards, and Archibald Douglas whose shoe had been found, marvelously intact, close to the ruins.
But there was a discovery yet to be made. The charred bodies of three servants had been found by those who searched, but where were the bodies of the King and Taylor? Could they have been completely destroyed?
It was not long before they were found. They were lying in the garden, in their nightgowns. Beside them was Darnley’s velvet gown as though it
had been dropped hurriedly.
It was certain that the explosion had not touched them, but nevertheless they lay lifeless on the grass—most mysteriously dead. The plot became clear now. Darnley and Taylor had been murdered and the explosion which had been arranged to hide the crime had completely failed to do so.
All Edinburgh was aroused to indignation. Who murdered the King? was the question to which the citizens were determined to find an answer.
THE QUEEN was numb. She did not know how to act. The whole of Scotland was talking of the murder of the King. Soon the whole world would be talking. The murderers must be found, said the people. But could Mary join with them when she knew that the murderer-in-chief was her lover?
Bothwell swaggered about the town with thousands of his men within call. No one dared show his suspicion if he had any respect for his life.
The Queen should have been plunged in mourning; but instead she was merely dazed. She took no measures for twenty-four hours to bring the murderers to justice. How could she? She was too deeply concerned. Edinburgh knew it. All Scotland knew it. And the news was being carried with all speed to England and the continent of Europe.
“You must do something,” said Seton. Poor Seton was aghast. She knew too much, yet she could not believe that her beloved mistress would have agreed to the murder of her husband. Yet Seton knew that Bothwell could do what he wished with Mary; she knew that Mary was in love with her husband’s murderer.
“What can I do?” said Mary. “I wish I were dead. I wish I were in Darnley’s place.”
“You must do something to show the people that you wish for justice,” Seton implored. “You must show them that you wish this crime to be solved.”
Mary broke into hysterical laughter which ended in sobbing.
THE NEXT morning there were crowds at the Tolbooth reading the placards which had been affixed there during the night.
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