The Captive Queen of Scots

by Виктория Холт

  She knew that some of her friends deplored the fact that she had allowed matters to go so far in such a direction. Seton was one who believed that the Queen of Scotland should never have put herself in such a position as to allow herself to be judged by a court set up by the Queen of England and her ministers.

  How right Seton was! thought Mary. And yet, what could she do? When she had fled to England she had placed herself in Elizabeth’s power.

  Lady Scrope, now far advanced in pregnancy, came to her one day with news that Elizabeth had named her Commissioners.

  The Earl of Sussex was to be one, and Sir Ralph Sadler another.

  Mary was horrified to hear that the latter had been appointed. Sadler had been one of Cecil’s agents, and she knew that he had long been engaged in negotiations with Moray. Cecil was her enemy and sought to keep her in England, she knew, so that Moray might hold the Regency. And this man—who was assuredly one of her most bitter enemies—had been appointed a Commissioner of the Queen!

  Why therefore was Lady Scrope—who had always shown herself to be a friend—looking so pleased?

  “There is one other who has been appointed with these men,” Margaret Scrope explained. “It is natural that he should be. Even the Queen must realize that he is the premier peer of England.”

  A smile was slowly spreading across Mary’s face. “You mean?”

  Margaret nodded. “His Grace the Duke of Norfolk is also among Elizabeth’s Commissioners, and Your Majesty may be sure that he will apply himself to your cause with all the zeal of which he is capable.”

  In her relief Mary embraced her friend. Margaret smiled, well content.

  She was certain that a marriage between them would not be displeasing to Mary.

  NOW THAT MARY HEARD that Elizabeth’s Commissioners were chosen she decided on her own: Lord Herries should be one, and he, with Livingstone and Boyd, should be assisted by Sir John Gordon, the Laird of Lochinvar, Sir James Cockburn of Skirling and Gavin Hamilton, the Abbot of Kilwinning.

  There was one other whom she was anxious to consult—the Bishop of Ross, John Lesley—and she lost no time in sending a messenger to London, where she knew he was, asking him to come to her with all speed.

  Lesley arrived at Bolton Castle during early September, and as soon as she talked to him Mary realized what a grave view he took of her case.

  He had been endeavoring to obtain permission from Elizabeth for the Duke of Châtelherault to come to England that he might be present at the inquiry; but Elizabeth had made continual excuses not to grant this.

  Lesley shook his head sadly. “The reason being of course that she fears the appearance of one of royal blood at the hearing might sway opinion in your favor.”

  “You believe then,” said Mary, “that it is the Queen of England’s desire that I should appear guilty?”

  Lesley lifted his shoulders noncommittally, but he continued to look grave and Mary went on impulsively: “But this hearing of the case is being conducted that the disobedient lairds shall answer before the Queen of England’s Commissioners for their ill-treatment of me. When they have admitted their offenses, it is agreed that they shall be forgiven, and we shall all be reconciled and I regain my throne.”

  But Lesley, a man of wider experience than Herries, was not so easily deceived by Elizabeth; and he did not believe in evading the truth for the Queen’s comfort.

  “It was a grave mistake, I fear,” he told her, “to have allowed the English to interfere in this matter. This reconciliation which we all fervently hope will come about, should be a matter between you and Scotsmen, and should be achieved without meddling by the English. I fear Your Majesty has many enemies and they will do all within their power to defame your character.”

  “Alas, I fear you are right. But I rejoice to hear from Lady Scrope that her brother, the Duke of Norfolk, has been appointed one of Elizabeth’s Commissioners. I know him to be my friend. I have had friendly messages from him, which have been delivered through Lady Scrope. And with you and my friends to represent me and yet another good friend at the head of the English Commissioners, I do not see how the verdict can fail to be in my favor.”

  “Sadler will do his best for Moray against Your Majesty.”

  “But it will be necessary for one of his standing to listen to a noble Duke,” replied Mary complacently.

  Lesley was less confident. Sir Ralph Sadler was an able and cunning man, and he was unsure of the ability of the Duke of Norfolk to stand up against him.

  However they must make the best of a bad business, and Lesley gave himself up to the task of advising the Queen.

  THE CONFERENCE OPENED at York early in October when Mary’s Commissioners began by complaining, on her behalf, of those of her subjects who had conspired against her and imprisoned her in the Castle of Lochleven. They accused Moray of taking over the Regency and ruling in the name of Mary’s baby son, while he took unlawful possession of her personal effects such as her valuable jewels, as well as the arsenals of Scotland. Mary wished these rebel subjects to confess their faults and restore the throne to her.

  Moray, Maitland and Morton were disturbed. The prevarication of the Queen of England made them unsure of what help they could expect from her. Moray had already sent to Elizabeth, asking whether the power to proclaim Mary guilty of murder should lie in the hands of the Commission. Unless it did so they were reluctant to make the accusation. Elizabeth replied that everything which took place at the Conference was to be made known to her and that judgment was to be given according to her orders.

  Moray was at a loss to know how to proceed. He was eager not to offend Elizabeth who might object to the public accusation of murder and adultery against a Queen. Therefore his answer to Mary’s statement was that Bothwell had murdered Darnley, had raped the Queen and kept her captive at Dunbar until he had divorced his wife, and a so-called marriage had taken place between him and Mary; and that he, Moray, and the Scottish lairds had taken up arms to protect Mary from this tyrant.

  Meanwhile Moray had in his possession translations of those letters which Mary was reputed to have written to Bothwell in French, and he was wondering how best he could use them.

  He began by showing them privately to Norfolk, who had been appointed president of the Conference.

  When Norfolk read those letters, with their suggestion of great passion and abandon, he felt more than ever attracted to the Queen of Scots. If she had written them she was a murderess and adulteress, but what an exciting wife she would be! He had seen her and he knew her to be beautiful; to him she had seemed generous and ready to be affectionate. He had not been unaware of the fire beneath the kindly exterior. Norfolk was a man of great vanity, and he believed that he would succeed with Mary where Darnley and Bothwell had failed.

  If the letters were not genuine—and Mary would most certainly declare they were not—she was still the most attractive woman he had ever met, and it would be piquant to endeavor to discover the truth of what had happened in Holyrood House and Kirk o’ Field during those eventful days.

  Norfolk’s desire for marriage with the Queen was intensified. He would not look too far ahead, but he was certain that she would through him regain the Scottish throne. And what of England? He was related to Elizabeth, on her mother’s side. And Elizabeth was no longer a young girl; she had not married; and there were many who said she never would. What if there were no heirs to the English throne? Mary would be next in the line of succession.

  The prospect was even more dazzling after reading those erotic letters. Not only would he have a wife who could bring him a crown—perhaps two—but a voluptuous mistress skilled in the arts of love.

  * * *

  MAITLAND OF LETHINGTON sought out Norfolk. Maitland had his own reasons for not wishing the circumstances of Darnley’s murder to be brought into the light. Darnley had been no friend of his, for it was due to Darnley that at one time his life had been in danger; and but for Mary’s intervention he might have lost it.
Mary would never forget that he was the husband of Mary Fleming—one of the four Marys who had shared her childhood—and for his wife’s sake, if not for his, she had done everything possible to save him. Therefore Darnley’s murder had been something he would not have moved a step to prevent; indeed he was strongly suspected of being in the plot to murder. Much better, thought Maitland, not to delve into the matter.

  Moreover, although a shrewd statesman, he was deeply in love with his wife and he knew that she was concerned about the Queen’s plight because she was constantly imploring him to do what he could for Mary.

  Maitland believed that he could serve himself best by preventing the accusation of murder being brought against the Queen; and he saw that the man who could be most useful was Norfolk.

  He summed up Norfolk immediately: Vain in the extreme, arrogantly aware of his position as premier peer, eager for power, anxious to add another heiress to the three he had already married and from whose estate he had benefited.

  “My lord,” said Maitland, “I have come to talk to you in secret. I believe you to be the wisest of your Queen’s Commissioners, and as you are the most highly born I am of the opinion that the plan which I shall suggest may not seem impossible of achievement.”

  Norfolk was alert.

  “The Queen of Scots is a young woman, who has not yet celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday. She is inclined to frivolity and needs a husband to guide her.”

  “I believe you to be right,” answered Norfolk.

  “I am sure that there is not another more fitted for the role than yourself.”

  Norfolk could not hide his elation. That his secret ambition should be suggested by one of the most powerful Scots might have been astonishing to one less vain. But Norfolk could immediately explain to himself: But it is true. She does need a husband. And who is more suitable to be the husband of a Queen than the premier peer of England?

  “The project is not distasteful to Your Grace?” asked Maitland.

  “Distasteful! Indeed not. I have seen the Queen and thought her most comely. And I agree with you that she is in need of a husband to look after her. She is delightfully feminine . . . and, you say, she is inclined to frivolity . . . in urgent need of a guiding hand.”

  “Let this matter remain a secret for a while,” suggested Maitland, “but I would have you know that I shall do all in my power to further it.”

  Norfolk nodded. “I shall not forget your friendship,” he said a trifle pompously. “There is of course . . . Bothwell.”

  “There would be no difficulty about that. A divorce could be arranged. There are many who believe that the marriage was no true marriage.”

  “And the Queen?”

  “Will be ready enough to rid herself of Bothwell forever at the prospect of marriage with Your Grace.”

  “You believe this to be so?” Norfolk was smiling; he believed it wholeheartedly. His sister Margaret had told him frequently that Mary enjoyed talking to him, and had asked many questions about him. With Margaret to help him at Bolton, and Maitland of Lethington secretly in favor of the match, what could prevent it?

  “I do indeed. I believe too that we should proceed with care in this inquiry. It would be well if the case brought against the Queen were merely her hasty and unseemly marriage with Bothwell. I do not think it would be wise to continue with this charge of murder. If the Queen’s innocence were not proved it could well be that the Scottish right to succession might be endangered, and that could of course be harmful to the Queen’s future.”

  “I see that you are right in this,” replied Norfolk readily.

  Maitland smiled. “We must work together in this matter, Your Grace, and, I repeat, in secret. Others may not see the great good which could come of the success of this plan.”

  Norfolk smiled his agreement.

  He was well pleased.

  MAITLAND ’S NEXT TASK was to see Moray.

  “I have sounded Norfolk on a possible marriage to your sister,” he said.

  “And the young coxcomb is delighted at the prospect of being husband to a Queen?”

  “That is so. And a good prospect it is, for it provides a solution to our problems. Married to Norfolk she would reside in England and it would be necessary to appoint a Deputy to take charge of matters in Scotland.”

  Speculation was in Moray’s eyes.

  It was a way out. He was determined to cling to his position of Regent; but he did need peace in Scotland. While the Queen was a prisoner in England there would be factions in her favor springing up throughout the length and breadth of Scotland. But if she were kept out of the way through marriage, that would be a different matter.

  “It would be necessary to suppress the more vile charges against her,” said Maitland.

  Moray was disappointed. He had looked forward to the wide circulation of those “casket” letters.

  “Norfolk could scarcely marry a murderess, even though she is a Queen,” insisted Maitland.

  Moray was thoughtful. There was a great deal in what Maitland suggested.

  LADY SCROPE was beside herself with excitement. She had heard from her brother that certain of the Scottish lairds were in favor of his marriage with Mary. In that case she believed there could not fail to be success.

  She was preoccupied with thoughts of the coming child; and Mary, although being with Lady Scrope reminded her poignantly of her own little James whom she had lost, threw herself wholeheartedly into the plans for the new baby.

  She was with Lady Scrope in the nursery, inspecting the cradle, the clothes which were being prepared, and listening to details of preparations which were being made for the lying-in, when Margaret whispered: “Who knows, perhaps ere long Your Majesty will be making similar preparations.”

  “Ah, who can say,” replied the Queen; and she thought of those months when she had been expecting James. What sad, violent months they had been! She remembered sitting at the supper table, with David Rizzio singing and paying his lute . . . and how his murderers had stormed into the room and dragged him from her side to plunge their knives into his quivering body. Poor David! And that had happened during the months of waiting for little James!

  But how different it would be to wait in serenity as Margaret Scrope waited . . . thinking of nothing but the coming of the child and the possible romance of her brother and a captive Queen.

  Yes, such serenity was enviable. Would it ever be her lot? she wondered. And wondering she found a yearning within her. She was weary of her loneliness. If this marriage ever came about she would welcome it.

  A servant came to them and announced that Lord Herries wished to see the Queen immediately.

  “It is news of the Conference,” said Mary to Margaret. And to one of the servant: “Bring him to me without delay.”

  One look at Herries’ face told Mary that he was far from pleased.

  “What news, my lord?” she demanded.

  “It is simply this, Your Majesty. The Queen of England is not pleased with the manner in which the Conference has gone at York, and she is disbanding it. There is to be a second, which will take place next month at Westminster.”

  “I see,” said Mary slowly.

  “She is not pleased that those vile accusations were withheld, I fear,” said Herries.

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. “If there is to be a conference at Westminster,” she said, “and accusations are to be made against me, I wish to go in person to answer them.”

  Herries did not reply, but continued to look sadly at his mistress.

  SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS found the Queen taking exercise in the ground of the castle, and asked if he might join her. She gave him her gracious permission and told him that he was looking a little anxious lately.

  “My wife is ill,” he said. “I am worried about her.”

  Mary was immediately all concern.

  “But you must go to see her. I am sure she would like to have you with her at such a time.”

  “Alas, I cannot do that.�
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  “But . . . ” began Mary and stopped, There was a silence for a while and then Mary went on: “So your Queen refuses to allow you to leave Bolton?”

  “She feels that my duty lies here at this time.”

  “But that is heartless.”

  Knollys was silent, and Mary lapsed into thoughts of her own. She felt that, although she was not allowed to come face-to-face with the Queen of England, that woman’s character was gradually being unfolded for her. Had she known more of Elizabeth, would she have been so eager to ignore the advice of so many of her friends and take that trip across the Solway Firth?

  She was sorry for Knollys who, in addition to having this rather objectionable task thrust upon him—and she was sure it was objectionable, for he was not a natural jailor—was not allowed to visit his sick wife.

  He seemed eager to change the subject, and Mary said: “Do you think that it is your Queen’s intention to have another conference?”

  “Indeed yes. It is to be held at Westminster.”

  “And do you think she really wishes to see me reconciled with my subjects?”

  “It is Her Majesty’s desire that this should be so. Your Majesty, I pray you forgive my asking this question . . . but . . . would you consider a proposal of marriage?”

  Mary was silent for a while. She immediately thought of Norfolk as he had been at Carlisle. Young, handsome, ardent, he had implied that he would be her staunch ally; and she believed he was. She was certain that the reason the conference at York had gone so much in her favor was due to him.

  Knollys went on eagerly: “If a proposal came from a close relative of the Queen of England, would that be to Your Majesty’s liking?”

  Mary smiled faintly. “I would not greatly mislike it,” she answered.

  She did not realize that Knollys was not thinking of the same man who was in her thoughts. Both Norfolk and George Carey were related to Elizabeth through Anne Boleyn, for Lady Elizabeth Howard had been Anne’s mother; and George Carey was the son of Mary Boleyn, Anne’s sister.