The Captive Queen of Scots

by Jean Plaidy

  “Nor shall he,” murmured Mary fervently, “if I can prevent it.”

  It had been some time before Sir William noticed the loss of his keys and gave the alarm; by that time Mary was on the mainland. The commotion in the castle had been tremendous. Sir William’s great concern had been how to break out and give the alarm, and to send guards in search of the escaping party.

  “As for Will Drysdale,” went on Seton, “when he returned he swore that if George and Willie Douglas ever fell into his hands he would cut them into collops and wash his hands in their hearts’ blood.”

  Mary shuddered. “I must make sure they never do,” she answered.

  There was little good news Seton had to impart, so she changed the subject of what was happening in Scotland and expressed her displeasure at the Queen’s appearance.

  “Your Majesty’s hair!”

  “Yes,” Mary agreed. “It has suffered without you. I know you are the best busker in Scotland—and, I doubt not, in England also. Seton, when we go to Hampton Court you must not let Elizabeth lure you from me.”

  “As if anyone could ever lure me from Your Majesty!”

  “They say she is very vain, Seton. She will doubtless envy me my busker.”

  “Then she may envy all she wishes. I should like to get to work on your hair at once.”

  “All in good time, Seton. You must not let Jane Kennedy notice your contempt though. She believes herself to be a very good busker. So we must have a care.” Then Mary sighed. “Why do I talk of frivolous things when my heart is so full? But I must go on or I shall weep. So Seton, how will you dress my hair? What are you going to say when you see that I have but one red brocade dress, given me by Lady Curwen who took pity on my poverty? And thirteen ells of red velvet . . . also a gift of pity. How shall we make up those thirteen ells . . . eh, Seton?”

  Then Mary took her closest friend in her arms and they laughed and cried together.

  THE NEXT DAY, sitting alone with the Queen, Seton spoke of Bothwell.

  “There is news of him,” he told Mary, “and I have been wondering whether it would grieve you to hear it.”

  “It may grieve me,” said Mary, “but I must know it.”

  “He is alive.”

  Mary was silent. Speaking of him brought back such vivid memories; and yet she was not sure that she wished to see him. Her experiences since Carberry Hill had changed her so much; how could she know what the woman she had become would feel toward the bold Borderer?

  “And,” went on Seton, “the prisoner of the King of Denmark.”

  “A prisoner! That will not please his bold spirit.”

  “Moray has made efforts to have him sent back to Scotland.”

  “That he might kill him,” said Mary expressionlessly.

  “I have heard that the King of Denmark is a little inclined in his favor because Bothwell wrote to him after he had been seized, saying that he was on his way to him to lay before him and the King of France the wrongs you had been forced to suffer, and to ask their help. He assured the King of Denmark that he had been acquitted of the murder of Darnley; therefore that King would not send him back to Scotland, but satisfied himself by keeping Bothwell in prison.”

  “He will suffer in prison,” Mary murmured. “I believe he would endure death rather.”

  “I heard too that he had promised the King of Denmark the Islands of Orkney and Shetland in return for his liberty.”

  “Ah! He would risk his life for freedom, I am sure, so should we be surprised that he offers the islands? And the King of Denmark?”

  “Doubtless he knows that it would be too difficult to hold those islands. So Bothwell remains a prisoner. It is said that he has now been moved to a new prison at Malmoe—to one from which it would be well nigh impossible to escape.”

  Mary was silent thinking: Tonight I shall dream of him. It will be as though he is beside me, as though we are back in the days before Carberry Hill.

  Thus it had always been when others had talked of him with her, and she believed that she would never escape from her memories as long as she lived. But that night she did not dream of Bothwell. She dreamed of arriving at Hampton Court and being embraced by Elizabeth who said: “Give me Mary Seton to dress my hair and I will return your kingdom.”

  She awoke laughing.

  Then she knew that she was indeed changed. She had escaped from the spell of James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell.

  NEWS CAME TO THE CASTLE that Queen Elizabeth was sending two trusted noblemen to the Queen of Scotland that she might be assured of her dear sister’s comfort. These were Lord Scrope and Sir Francis Knollys.

  When he heard that they were coming, Lord Herries discussed the meaning of their appointments with Livingstone and Fleming.

  “I do not like the sound of this,” said Herries.

  Fleming and Livingstone agreed.

  “The delay is too long,” added Fleming. “Something is afoot. I would I knew what.”

  “At least we know,” put in Livingstone, “that if the Queen attempted now to go back to Scotland, she would be prevented from doing so.”

  “And therefore,” went on Fleming, “she is virtually a prisoner. Carlisle is a little more pleasant than Lochleven, but it is imprisonment all the same—even though the Queen is unaware of it.”

  “We can only say that she appears to be a prisoner,” said Herries. “Do not let us make her aware of our suspicions until we know them to be justified. She has suffered so much already, and is hoping for so much from this interview with the Queen.”

  “Why do you think Scrope and Knollys are being sent?” asked Fleming.

  “To replace Lowther who has offended the Queen by allowing Norfolk to visit Her Majesty.”

  “Elizabeth is notoriously jealous of our Queen,” said Livingstone. “She does not wish her to receive the gentlemen of England in her apartments. It may be that Norfolk has prated of her beauty. Oddly enough that could upset Elizabeth more than anything else.”

  “I feel sure it is the reason for Lowther’s dismissal from his post as jailor,” Herries said. “I suggest that I go out to meet them. If I can have a quiet talk with them before they arrive, it may well be that I can discover the true state of Elizabeth’s feelings toward the Queen.”

  The others agreed that it would be an excellent idea if he set out at once and made contact with the new jailors before they reached Carlisle Castle.

  LORD HERRIES MET Sir Francis Knollys and Lord Scrope about six miles from Carlisle Castle. He introduced himself and told them that if they were willing he proposed to make the journey back with them, as there were certain matters he wished to discuss on the way.

  Both Knollys and Scrope were uneasy. They had their instructions direct from Sir William Cecil. They were to keep watch over the Queen of Scots and prevent her slipping back over the Border to Scotland; they were to intercept all letters which came to her; they were to report any remark which might be used against her and give the Queen and her ministers an excuse for holding her a prisoner; they were to prevent her seeking help from foreign powers; and while they performed these duties it was considered desirable to make her believe that she was not being held prisoner.

  It was by no means an easy task, and both men would have been happy to avoid it.

  Sir Francis Knollys was a favorite of Elizabeth, partly because he had married her maternal cousin, Catherine Carey; she had made him her vice-chamberlain and he was a member of her Privy Council.

  Henry Scrope, Baron Scrope of Bolton, was also a man of whom Elizabeth had a high opinion; he had been an intermediary between Elizabeth and Moray and was aware of facts not known to many. He also was a member of the Privy Council.

  Herries regarded these men anxiously, wondering what their arrival was going to mean to his mistress; but they greeted him cordially and told him that they appreciated his coming to meet them.

  “You will find my mistress in a sorry state,” Herries told them. “She has been treated with
great disrespect and has been accused of crimes of which she is innocent.”

  Neither Knollys nor Scrope offered comment on this, but replied by saying that they were eager to meet the Queen of whose beauty and charm they had heard much.

  “I and her friends are hoping that you bring her an invitation to the English Court.”

  Herries was looking eagerly into the faces of the men as he asked this important question.

  Knollys answered: “There are matters which have to be settled before such an invitation could be given.”

  “How so?” demanded Herries. “Should not these matters be settled between the Queens at their meeting?”

  “There have been evil rumors concerning the Queen of Scots. She has been accused of playing a part in her husband’s murder.”

  “Lies! Calumnies! The Queen is completely innocent.”

  Scrope said: “Our Queen is jealous of her reputation.”

  Jealous of her reputation! It was all Herries could do to stop himself shouting: I seem to remember a little matter in which your Queen was concerned. Her lover, Dudley, had a wife who was found dead at the bottom of a staircase. Oh, she did not marry Dudley then . . . She was too wise. Too cold, too hard, too determined to stay on the throne. But is she in a position to question what part the Queen of Scots played in the murder of Darnley while there is a doubt as to what part Elizabeth of England played in the mysterious death of Amy Robsart?

  But he must be careful. To alienate the sympathies of Elizabeth and her subjects now could be fatal to Mary’s cause. Of one thing he was certain. There was going to be no easy way for Mary to reach the English Court.

  Knollys went on: “It might be necessary for the Queen of Scots to clear her name before the Queen of England could receive her.”

  “I must go to the Queen of England as soon as it can be arranged,” said Herries. “I must myself make her understand the innocence of my Queen.”

  “That might be an excellent plan,” admitted Scrope, looking at Knollys. And Herries wondered: Are they eager for me to be gone? Do they want to see me out of the way? And what would happen to me when I reached London? Should I be sent to a lonely cell, there to regret my zeal for what they hope to make the lost cause of the Queen of Scots?

  “Our mistress has heard that her cousin of Scotland has need of garments. We have with us a box of clothes—a present to the Queen of Scotland from the Queen of England.”

  “I am sure my mistress will receive this gift with pleasure.”

  And as they came nearer to Carlisle Castle Herries’ spirit sank still further. It seemed to him that the arrival of Knollys and Scrope confirmed what he had always feared; it had been a mistake to expect help from the Queen of England.

  MARY RECEIVED SCROPE and Knollys in her apartments in the tower of the castle. She was wearing the red brocade dress, having no other, but Mary Seton’s work on her hair had transformed her appearance. She looked very beautiful, and Knollys to a large degree, Scrope to a lesser, felt a sudden loathing of the part they had to play.

  Rumor had certainly not lied about the Queen’s appearance; and the sweetness of her expression and the gracious way in which she received them made them understand why so many of her servants had wished to come to England to be with her.

  “Well,” she said, “I trust you bring me news of my good sister.”

  “The Queen of England sends affectionate greetings to Your Majesty.”

  “I hope soon to thank her for them with my own lips.”

  Knollys and Scrope hesitated, and Mary said sharply: “Do you bring me an invitation to her Court?”

  “No, Your Majesty.” Scrope was leaving Knollys to explain. “Your Majesty will understand . . . . You come to England under a sad suspicion.”

  “Suspicion?” cried Mary.

  “Your Majesty, your second husband died mysteriously, and rumor has it that, since you married so quickly after his death . . . .”

  Mary lifted a hand. In that moment she was very regal and almost forbidding. “Say no more,” she said. “All who know me are certain of my innocence in that matter, and I have not come to England to defend myself.”

  “Your Majesty, the Queen of England is jealous of her reputation.”

  “She has need to be,” answered Mary promptly.

  “As a virgin Queen she is eager that no scandal shall attach to her name, as might be the case if she entertained at her Court one who . . . ”

  Mary laughed. She wanted to say: It is not so long ago that Robert Dudley and the Queen were concerned in a similar matter. But she did not mention this, because she understood that one of the reasons why Elizabeth was so eager to protect what she called her good name was because there must be many who remembered the Amy Robsart mystery and were asking themselves if that name was so spotless, if the Queen, who so eagerly proclaimed herself a virgin, was not too emphatic on this matter.

  But she was hurt, and the tears of anger momentarily gleamed in her eyes.

  Knollys felt his pity touched by the sight of her, and he said gently: “Our Queen is sorry that she cannot do you the honor of admitting you to her presence as yet. But the time will come when Your Majesty is purged of this slander of murder. But the affection of our royal mistress toward Your Majesty is very great and you may depend on her favor. But she would not be pleased if you brought strangers into Scotland. If you do not do this she will use all her means to make you comfortable during your stay in her realm.”

  “But do you not see,” persisted Mary, “that I have come here for a temporary refuge, that I hope for help to regain my kingdom? If the Queen will not see me, how can I hope to make her understand my case?”

  “Her Majesty of England will admit Your Majesty of Scotland to her presence when you are cleared of the slander, which we all trust you will be ere long. To show her friendship Her Majesty has sent you a gift.”

  Lord Scrope said: “My servants will bring it up at once.”

  Knollys felt sick with shame. He did not know what was in the box, but Elizabeth had sent for him and Scrope and told them that she was eager to know exactly what the Queen of Scotland’s reactions were on opening the box; and because of the malicious smile which had been on Elizabeth’s face when she had said this, he was apprehensive.

  The box was brought in and Mary called for Seton to come and help unpack it.

  While this was done Knollys and Scrope stood by.

  Seton gasped as she lifted out two shifts that were frayed at the edges and in holes. Mary looked with astonishment from these garments to Scrope and Knollys, neither of whom could meet her gaze. There were some pieces of black velvet almost rusty with age; there were shoes scuffed at the toes and almost falling to pieces; and undergarments badly in need of patching.

  “Is this what the Queen of England sends me for my wardrobe?” asked Mary, and the quietness of her tone betrayed to those who knew her what restraint she had to exercise to subdue her anger. She had had a vision of herself at the Court of France in blue velvet and gold, and the courtiers and the King of France with Madame de Poitiers, and young François telling her that she was the loveliest girl at the Court; that she had a way with a gown which transformed it into a thing of beauty when it clothed her form. Then she heard the cheers of the crowds as she rode through the streets of Paris. “Long live the Dauphine! Long live the Queen of England!”

  How careless she had been then! What had her redheaded rival in England said of her, thought of her, when she had heard that in Paris she, Mary, was being called the Queen of England? Was she determined on revenge? Was this that revenge? Two pieces of mangy velvet, patched shift, worn out shoes! Was this a symbol of the help she must expect from the Queen of England?

  She scarcely glanced at the things in the box and Knollys began to stammer: “The Queen of England understood that your maids were in need of clothes. These were intended for them.”

  “Perhaps she intended them for my scullions,” said Mary sharply. “But do you know, when
I had my own Court, I wished to see my lowest servants decently clad.”

  She signed that the interview was over, and Knollys at least was glad. He felt ashamed.

  Scrope eyed him warily. That remark about the contents of the box being intended for the maids was extraordinary. Was Knollys, like so many others, about to become a victim of the fascinating Queen of Scots?

  SHORTLY AFTER Knollys and Scrope had left her, and before she had recovered from her anger, the Lords Herries and Fleming were asking for an audience.

  She admitted them at once and saw from their grim looks that their fears equaled her own.

  She smiled wanly at Herries. “You do not say, my lord, that you warned me not to come to England. But I remember that you did.”

  Herries shook his head sadly. “Who can say what would have befallen us if we had tried to reach France, Your Majesty?”

  “Nothing worse than that which could happen to us in England. Why, my lords, I feel almost as much a prisoner here as I did in Lochleven. Remember how long I have been here. I have made no progress through England at all. I have merely changed Lochleven for Carlisle.”

  “We have a suggestion to put to Your Majesty,” said Fleming. “Someone must plead your cause with Queen Elizabeth and, since it cannot be yourself, we propose that one of us should go to London and try to obtain an audience with her.”

  Mary looked from one to the other.

  “I should go, Your Majesty, with your permission,” Herries told her.

  “I shall miss you, my good and faithful counselor.”

  “You have a bigger retinue than when you came—all faithful friends,” said Herries. “I can now leave Your Majesty with confidence, knowing that you have about you those who will protect you with their lives.”