The Captive Queen of Scots

by Jean Plaidy

  “What of the guards, and Scrope and Knollys?”

  “They will be fast asleep in the ante-rooms. They will not think it possible for anyone to descend through that window. As long as the affair is conducted quietly you could be almost at the Border before the alarm is given.”

  “Willie Douglas will doubtless have ideas of how this can be accomplished.”

  “I had thought to enlist his help, Your Majesty. In spite of his achievement at Lochleven he is not taken seriously here; which is doubtless what he intends in order to be ready for an occasion like this. He is a smart young fellow. Strutting about with his sword, showing that disrespect for people in high places, amuses everyone. Yes, Willie can help in this. I thought of sending him away to procure the horses. He is less likely to be missed than anyone else for, as Your Majesty knows, he sometimes goes off into the country and stays away for hours. We will send him off to find horses immediately.”

  “Immediately?”

  “Why not, Your Majesty? Fernyhirst is ready and waiting. As soon as you are safely in his castle he will send word to Huntley and the rest. I do not think that we shall then have to concern ourselves greatly about the conscience of the Queen of England.”

  “I will take Seton with me,” said Mary.

  “But no other maid. The entire success of this venture depends on its simplicity.”

  “And you will be waiting for me with Willie and the horses.”

  “I . . . or Livingstone . . . or one of us who can most easily be there. It matters not as long as you are away. You must make for the North without delay.”

  Silently they continued their walk. Each was thinking of the plan.

  It was so simple, they were sure they would succeed.

  THE QUEEN HAD RETIRED for the night, and her faithful women who shared her chamber were alert. Mary did not undress. Instead she helped Jane and Marie who were knotting sheets together. They did not speak, for each knew the importance of making this appear to be like any other night the Queen had spent in Bolton Castle. In the next room Scrope and several of his men were sleeping. The low murmur of voices which had reached the waiting women had now ceased, and this meant that the moment had come, for the earlier the escape could be made the more time there would be for putting distance between the fugitive and Bolton Castle.

  The window was high in the thick wall and a stool was silently brought so that the Queen could stand on it to climb to the scooped out aperture. Marie Courcelles firmly tied the knotted sheet about Mary’s waist. Jane Kennedy tested it and nodded.

  Then the escape began. Mary reached the window and peering down saw a dark figure below. Herries? She said nothing, but as silently as possible clambered out of the window.

  Behind her the sheet was held firmly by her waiting women; then she was swinging in mid-air, only her skirts protecting her from the rough castle wall as she was lowered.

  She was seized in a strong pair of arms and with a rush of triumph, felt her feet touch ground.

  Hastily she untied the sheet about her waist. There was no time for more. Then she and her companions were running toward the coppices, down the slope to where Willie was waiting with the horses.

  Willie grinned at her and helped her into the saddle. She felt a great joy surge over her as she whispered to her horse: “Away!” And the gallop through the soft night air began.

  As they started off she thought she heard a shout from the castle; then there was silence.

  She heard Willie’s chuckle beside her and for a few moments there was no sound other than that of the thudding of horses’ hoofs.

  IT WAS SETON’S TURN to follow. She knew that she had to catch up with the others, for the plan was that there was to be no waiting; and as soon as Mary reached the horses she was to mount and ride away.

  “Quickly!” cried Seton. The knotted sheet were hauled up, but as this was done one of the women fell backwards, and in her fall, taking the stool with her, went crashing to the floor.

  There were a few seconds of shocked silence as she lay there. Then Seton said: “Hurry. There is no time to lose.” Marie Courcelles was tying the sheets about Seton’s waist, when the door opened and Lord Scrope stood on the threshold of the room.

  He took it all in at a glance: The knotted sheets and Seton preparing to descend through the window. Then his dismay was apparent, for he had noticed the absence of the Queen.

  He said nothing, though he must have guessed that had he come in a few minutes earlier he would have caught the Queen in the act of escaping.

  He went back to the ante-room, and the frightened women heard his shouted orders.

  MARY LOOKED over her shoulder.

  Where was Seton? She should have been close to them by now, because it took only a few moments to descend from the window.

  Willie shouted: “She’ll catch us up. If not in England, in bonny Scotland. We’ll almost be there by morning.” They thundered on; but when they had ridden some two miles there was still no sign of Seton; but the night was dark, Mary told herself, and it might well be that Seton was not far behind.

  They had reached a gap in the hills and, as they were about to pass through this, a horse and rider confronted them.

  Mary thought: Seton! Then she must have come by another road to the gap.

  But almost at once she saw that it was not Seton.

  Lord Scrope said: “Well met, Your Majesty. Had you told me you wished to take a midnight ride, I should have arranged for a suitable escort to accompany you.”

  Mary was speechless with dismay. She heard Willie let out an oath.

  “And,” said Lord Scrope, “your descent from your window must have been very uncomfortable.” He laid his hand on her arm. “It shall be my pleasure now to escort you back to the castle.”

  Mary had rarely felt so mortified. Her companions said nothing as the three of them, surrounded by the guards whom Scrope had brought with him, were conducted back to the castle.

  SCROPE DID NOT retire to his bed on returning to the castle. He went to Knollys’ bedchamber and, awakening him, told him how he had prevented the Queen’s escape.

  Knollys started up from his bed in consternation.

  “You may well look alarmed,” said Scrope grimly. “If this plan had succeeded—as it so nearly did—it could have cost us our heads.”

  He hastily explained what had happened. He had had an intuition that all was not normal in the women’s chamber and consequently he had not dropped off to sleep quickly, as he usually did. He had thought the women were whispering together and this was followed by a too sudden and unnatural quiet; then when he had heard a stool overturned and gone to investigate he had discovered the knotted sheets and that the Queen was missing.

  Knollys congratulated him on his speedy action.

  “I can tell you,” said Scrope, wiping his brow at the memory, “I had some uneasy moments.”

  “What have you done now?”

  “Posted guards at the door of the Queen’s chamber and others below her window. In future we shall have to make sure that she is guarded in every possible way. I cannot imagine what will be said when our Queen knows of this.”

  “It is my belief that she will take the Queen of Scots from our care and place her in the custody of someone else.”

  “I have heard Tutbury mentioned in this connection, and that would doubtless mean that she would pass into Shrewsbury’s care. He would be more than welcome to her.”

  “What do you propose to do?”

  “Write to Secretary Cecil without delay. He has asked for a full account of all that happens here. He must be told of this attempt. It clearly indicates that some action must be taken sooner or later, because there will be other attempts to free her.”

  There was a knock at the door at that moment and, to the astonishment of both men when Knollys called “Come in,” Lady Scrope entered.

  She had wrapped a loose gown about her and had clearly come straight from her bed.

  She cried
: “What is this? I was awakened by the commotion, and now I am told that the Queen almost escaped.”

  “That is so,” her husband replied. “And you should return to your bed. You will catch cold. Remember your condition.”

  “I am not cold,” answered Lady Scrope, “and as our child is not expected until the end of the year you need have no qualms about my condition. But I have qualms on another matter. Tell me what measures are you going to take?”

  Knollys said: “Pray sit down, Lady Scrope.” And Scrope brought a stool for his wife, who sat down near the bed.

  “We are doubling the guard of course,” her husband told her.

  “But you must not let it be known that she almost eluded you!”

  “My dear,” began Lord Scrope indulgently, “you do not understand . . . .”

  “Do not understand Elizabeth!” she cried.

  Both men looked uneasily toward the door, and Lady Scrope acknowledged their furtive glances by lowering her voice. “What do you think Her Majesty will say when and if she hears of this night’s doings?” she went on. “Two members of her Privy Council, and as many men as they care to employ, to guard one woman—and they almost fail! Do you think she will say ‘Well done!’ If you do, you do not know Elizabeth. I know that if you had allowed the Queen of Scots to escape, the Tower of London might very well be your destination. As you prevented that calamity . . . but only just . . . you might avoid the Tower, but you would not win Her Majesty’s approval, I do assure you.”

  Both men were silent. There was a great deal in what Lady Scrope was saying. Naturally she was agitated; she had no wish to see her husband fall into disgrace.

  “This must be hushed up,” she said. “If you are wise you will certainly not write to the Queen or her ministers about what has taken place tonight. You will stop the news being spread. The fewer who know, the better. As for the extra guards you intend to put on duty, do so, but let it be done with stealth. If you value Elizabeth’s good opinion and her favor, for the love of God do not let her know that you almost failed in your duty.”

  Scrope came to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You must not allow yourself to become too excited,” he cautioned.

  “I shall only recover my serenity when you tell me that you will take my advice in this matter.”

  Scrope was looking at Knollys, and Margaret Scrope was clever enough to know that her words were being considered. She guessed that both men realized the wisdom of them.

  “We are thinking of this matter,” Scrope told her.

  And the gallant Knollys added: “And we should always consider your advice, which we know of old is sound.”

  Margaret sighed. “Then I will return to my bed satisfied that at least you will consider this matter.” She rose and Scrope led her to the door. She hesitated there, and looked back at Knollys who was a little discomfited to be in his bed. “Thank you both,” she said. “I feel at ease because I know that when you consider this matter you will see that I am right.”

  Back in her own room Margaret Scrope threw off her robe and lay down on her bed.

  They had understood that this attempt to escape from Bolton Castle should be hushed up. That was well, for if Elizabeth decided to move Mary to Tutbury and take her out of the charge of Scrope and Knollys what chances would Lady Scrope have of furthering a match between Norfolk and the Queen of Scots?

  That was something Lady Scrope had set her heart on; and she believed that her visit to Knollys and her husband had prevented the destruction of this cherished plan.

  ALTHOUGH there was now a stronger guard at the castle, both day and night, Mary’s attempt to escape was never openly mentioned, although it was whispered about among the guards and serving men and women; and the spot where she had been intercepted by Lord Scrope became known as “The Queen’s Gap.”

  The friendship between Mary and Lady Scrope was growing fast, and one day when they were stitching their tapestry together, Lady Scrope asked Mary if she had ever seriously considered the Protestant Faith.

  Mary replied that she had been born a Catholic and that during her childhood and girlhood, which had been spent in France, she had been brought up among Catholics and had therefore always been led to believe that that was the true faith.

  “Yet there are many good men who are Protestants, Your Majesty,” Lady Scrope reminded her.

  Mary agreed that this was so. “My own Lord Herries is a Protestant; so is George Douglas. Indeed yes, I have much for which to be grateful to Protestants.”

  Lady Scrope’s eyes sparkled. Her brother, the Duke of Norfolk, was a Protestant, having had John Foxe as tutor; and if there was to be a marriage between them, it would be wise if they both conformed to the same religion. Norfolk had written to his sister, suggesting that if Mary could be induced to change her religion she would find it easier to regain her throne, because one of the biggest grudges many of her Protestant subjects bore against her was that she was a Catholic.

  “I could answer Your Majesty’s questions on the subject as far as I am able,” Lady Scrope continued. “I also have books which might interest you.”

  Mary was enthusiastic about the project. It would be one way of occupying her mind and making her forget, temporarily, to wonder what sort of morass she was falling into, for since her attempted escape had been foiled, there could be no doubt whatever that she was Elizabeth’s prisoner.

  So now those occasions when they sat over their tapestry were enlivened by discussions between Mary and Margaret Scrope; others of the ladies joined in; and soon it became known throughout Bolton Castle that the Queen was considering becoming a Protestant.

  WHEN SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS heard the rumors he was delighted. As a stern Protestant, it pleased him that the Queen should be considering conversion to what he believed to be the true religion.

  He himself offered to give her instruction, and soon Mary was reading the English prayer book with him.

  He was persuasive, and Mary was enjoying her lessons.

  While they read together Knollys, acutely aware of her charms, thought how sad it was that she should be in her position. He would have liked to see her back on the throne; she would need a husband to help her rule, and he did not see why she should not have an English husband.

  He grew excited, believing he knew the very man for the position. This was his nephew, George Carey, a handsome young man who was surely eligible because of his relationship to Queen Elizabeth. Knollys’ wife was first cousin to the Queen, and her brother, Lord Hunsdon, was the father of George Carey. It was true that the relationship came through Anne Boleyn rather than the royal house; nevertheless the ties were there.

  He could not refrain from mentioning his young nephew to her, and immediately began to plan a meeting between them.

  “I look upon my nephew as my own son,” he told Mary. “He will shortly be in the district and will wish to call on his uncle.”

  “Naturally,” Mary agreed.

  “And if he should come to Bolton Castle, have I Your Majesty’s permission to present him to you?”

  “I should take it ill if you did not,” Mary told him; and Knollys was satisfied.

  GEORGE CAREY KNELT before the Queen of Scots. He was young and extremely personable, and when Mary told him that she was pleased to see him, she was speaking the truth.

  “I pray you be seated,” she went on. “Have you news from the English Court?”

  “None, I’ll swear, that Your Majesty does not know already,” answered the young man.

  “But I know so little. Tell me, is my sister and cousin in good health?”

  “Her health is excellent, Your Majesty.”

  “And did she, knowing you were about to visit your uncle and therefore would come to my lodging, give you any message for me?”

  “She gave me none, Your Majesty.”

  Mary was despondent, but only momentarily; it was such a novelty to have a visitor, and such a charming young man, who could not hide his admiration
for her, was very welcome.

  “Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is displeased with Scotsmen at this time,” she went on. “I have had complaints that on the Border some have been carrying out raids on English territory. I am sorry for this, but she must realize that at this moment I am in no position to enforce my rule.”

  “Her Majesty would know that, I am sure,” answered George.

  “I wonder if you would be good enough to carry a message from me to the Queen?”

  “I could take a message to my father who would see that it reached her.”

  “Then tell him that if any border robbery has been carried out by any of my followers I could have them punished. If their names are sent to me, my friends would see that, since they injure my cause, they should be suitably dealt with. But if they belong to my enemies—which I think certain—it is beyond my power to prevent their ill conduct.” She went on confidingly: “You will have heard talk of me.”

  “I have, Your Majesty.”

  “And much that is ill has been said of me, I’ll swear.”

  George flushed slightly and then said vehemently: “I would never again believe aught against Your Majesty.”

  She smiled ruefully. He had told her so much in that remark; she guessed that gossip, concerning Darnley’s murder and her hasty marriage to Bothwell, was rife and that the scandal touching herself was boundless.

  “Ah,” she said, “it is sad when evil stories are spread regarding a lonely woman who has no means of defending herself.”

  “I shall assure all I meet of your innocence,” he told her.

  “Which has not been proved to you,” she reminded him.

  “But it has, Your Majesty. Ever since I came into your presence I have known those tales to be false. I know that your conduct could never be aught but good and noble.”

  Here was adoration similar to that which she had received from George Douglas. Her spirits were raised. George Carey would be her good friend—even as that other George had been.