The Danish Queen

by Lynda M Andrews

  The witches were brought to trial. In the main they were demented old hags but their spokeswoman was a grave and respectable (though no doubt also demented) woman by the name of Annis Simpson. James was very impressed with this woman and listened intently to her replies. She stated that she had a familiar spirit whom she could conjure up at will and maintained that Bothwell had consulted her as to how long James would reign and what would happen after his death. Her spirit had promised to ‘make away’ with the Queen but when pressed about the fate of the King, she had been unable to understand its reply.

  “Can ye remember the exact words this critter used, woman?” James enquired.

  “I can that. It said ‘Il est un homme de Dieu’,” she replied. James’ face was a picture of incredibility and there were gasps and stifled cries from members of the council.

  “Did it indeed? D’ ye ken what the words mean, Mistress?”

  “Nay, Your Lordship, I d’ not!”

  “Majesty, Mistress Simpson, Majesty,” James corrected her. “I’ll enlighten ye then. It seems the evil one has a vera high opinion o’ God’s Anointed. ‘Il est un homme de Dieu’ means in French, ‘he is a man o’ God!’”

  Annis Simpson remained unimpressed.

  “Go on?”

  “The spirit told me, Your Majesty, that great would be the skaith by land and sea and that the Queen would never come t’ Scotland wi’out Your Majesty went to fetch her and I did write t’ Marion Leuchop, the witch o’ Leith, bidding her to warn the rest o’ our sisterhood t’ raise the wind t’ stop the Queen’s coming!”

  “Did ye now!” James muttered, not at all convinced and leaning forward in his chair to scrutinise the woman. “I dinna find this evidence conclusive!” he stated at last.

  The woman became agitated. “Your Majesty, if I could hae a private word…?”

  James nodded and, rising from his chair, ambled over to her, took her by the arm and drew her to one side.

  In furtive whispers she told him all that had passed between himself and Anne when they had first met at Upslo, whereupon James was suitably impressed as to her authenticity. “It seems t’ me, Mistress, that ye are ower eager t’ die!” he muttered, then he went back to his chair and proclaimed:

  “I do find this woman, Annis Simpson, guilty o’ the foul and evil crime o’ witchcraft an’ o’ conspiring wi’ the devil t’ bring harm t’ the Queen’s person!”

  This verdict did not seem to upset the woman who maintained her composure as she was led away to endure the horrible consequences of her actions.

  The next day she was strangled and her body burnt to ashes!

  Bothwell effected an escape when he heard of Annis Simpson’s evidence against him and from then on the seventeen-year-old Queen was to know few quiet moments. The Lords of Scotland were divided—those for Bothwell and those against—and civil strife once again reared its ugly head. Anne soon lost count of the times she was roused from sleep or half terrified out of her wits by the tidings that the ‘Black Bothwell’ was at her very gates. One of Bothwell’s closest supporters was the Earl of Moray, a young man whose charm, gallantry and handsome appearance had for a time fascinated Anne and she had roused James’ jealousy by remarking upon Moray’s manly virtues in her husband’s hearing. James naturally had taken exception to her remarks and in reply had remarked indignantly,

  “Ye might hae excepted me!”

  In June, 1592, while Anne was residing at Falkland, Bothwell did indeed attack the palace. The summer evening was warm and the casements were open, letting in the sweet air, heavy with the perfume of the flowers that grew in profusion in the Queen’s formal garden beyond the leaded windows. Anne was seated at a small inlaid table with the Duchess of Lennox and Lady Huntley passing the time away with a game of ‘Pope Julius’. Her other ladies were seated around the room talking and Anka was seated in the window fingering a lute. The candles had just been lit and the room presented a scene of glowing, colourful tranquillity.

  Suddenly Anka stopped playing and raised her head, listening intently.

  “What is it?” Katrine asked.

  Anka remained thoughtful but then with a shrug returned to her lute. “’Tis nothing, I thought I heard a faint disturbance.”

  “Ah, Jeanne, I have bested you!” Anne cried delightedly, gathering up the cards.

  “Madam, you learn quickly, if we continue to play I can see that I shall be a pauper before the evening is over!” Jeanne Lennox smiled.

  “We shall play again?” Anne enquired, but before Jeanne could reply the air was shattered by loud shouts and the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal.

  Anne jumped to her feet, her hand at her throat. “My God! Anka, what was that?”

  Anka leaned out of the casement and instantly drew back, casting aside the lute and slamming the window shut. “Madam! It is he!”

  “Who… who, Anka?”

  “Black Bothwell!” Anka whispered. If she had screamed the name her words could not have produced a more terrifying effect.

  Anne’s younger maids huddled together weeping and wailing in hysterical fright while Anne remained where she was, pale and shaking. It was Jeanne Lennox with her practical common sense who finally spoke.

  “Are you quite sure, Mistress Kroas? If I had a pound for every time I have heard that ‘Black Bothwell’ is hammering at the gates I would be a wealthy woman!”

  “I am positive, Your Grace… listen!”

  The noise was indeed growing louder and it was coming closer.

  “I think this time Anka is right! Heaven help us! I fear he is not far short of reaching us!” Anne cried.

  At her words the ladies huddled around her shaking with fright. The uproar grew steadily louder until it seemed as though there was a full-scale battle being fought just beyond the door.

  Jeanne Lennox took charge. “Katrine! Margaret! Drag that chest over here and use it to barricade the door! Pull yourself together, girl and help! If you stand there weeping and swooning we shall all be murdered! That’s right… now fetch all the chairs and stools and pile them on top. Quickly, bring anything that can be moved… it may serve to delay them at least for a short time!”

  The authority in her voice galvanised the Queen’s maids and soon an effective barricade had been erected before the door. Anne ran to the far end of the chamber and called her ladies to her and they all stood in a silent group listening to the shouts and curses and ringing blows coming from the other side of the door.

  Anne silently prayed for deliverance whilst cursing the evil fate that had made her Queen of so violent a race. At last the blows grew less frequent and the shouts and oaths fainter until at last they ceased.

  “Madam? Madam, are you safe?” a voice cried from outside. It was the Captain of Anne’s guard.

  Anne’s voice shook with relief as she replied. “Yes, no one is harmed! What has happened?”

  “’Twas Bothwell and his men, they managed to gain entry unobserved, but fear not, all is well now he has been driven away!”

  “You are quite sure that it is safe?” Jeanne called.

  “Certainly, even now he is being driven from the palace.”

  Anne breathed a sigh of relief and smiled weakly at Jeanne. “Then it is safe to remove the furniture?”

  “I would think so.”

  With nervous laughter and relieved bantering the barricade was removed and the door opened to reveal the inert bodies of two of the Queen’s guards and three of what Anne presumed had been Bothwell’s supporters. Another guard sat slumped against the wall clutching his arm, the blood welling from between his fingers.

  Anne instantly took charge. “Bring that man in here. Margaret, fetch some linen to bind up the wound for it was sustained in our defence, and Katrine, you summon the surgeon. Captain, what of the others?” she enquired, nodding in the direction of the prostrate forms.

  The Captain shook his head. “Nothing can be done for them, Madam!”

  Anne was touched. “T
hey have families?”

  The Captain nodded.

  “I shall see to it that they shall not suffer for these men died bravely in defence of their Queen. What of them?” she asked averting her eyes from Bothwell’s men.

  The Captain bestowed a disdainful glance upon his fallen foes. “They deserved their fate! Aye, they deserved a far worse fate!”

  “Have them removed and decently buried.”

  Anne turned away and crossed to the injured man to inspect his wound but as she did so there came to her cars more shouts and the shrill neighing of frightened horses.

  “Now what?” she cried running to the casement followed by the Captain. They were just in time to see the remnants of Bothwell’s forces with the Earl at their head, driving off all the Queen’s horses pursued by a few of her retainers shouting and cursing and waving their swords and axes fruitlessly in the air.

  “That man is becoming outrageous!” Anne cried in anger watching her precious animals complete with their costly trappings being driven away. “Pack up! We shall join the King at Dalkeith, perhaps we shall be a little safer there… though I doubt it!”

  * * *

  She had only just installed her household at Dalkeith when one of her Danish maids—Margaret Twinslace—came to her in tears.

  “Margaret, whatever is wrong? Have you received evil tidings from Denmark?” Anne asked upon seeing the red eyes and blotched face of her maid.

  Margaret shook her head. “No, Madam. ’Tis worse than that. They… they have taken John Wemys away and confined him in the guard room. He is accused of conferring with the Earl of Bothwell!”

  Anne’s expression was one of anxiety mingled with fear. She knew John Wemys of Logic, he was one of the King’s gentlemen and he was courting her maid with honest affection, an affection which Margaret obviously returned. “Is this accusation true, Margaret?”

  “Oh, Madam! I do not know! I only know that I love him… and he might… he might…”

  “Come, pull yourself together. They will not kill him!”

  “But, Madam, he is a friend of Bothwell’s, I know that to be a true fact!”

  Margaret was in a state of great distress and Anne’s heart was touched. She thought hard for a few minutes. “Dry your eyes for I have thought of a plan to help you.”

  Margaret calmed‘ herself a little and dabbed at her swollen eyes.

  “Is it not your turn to sleep in my chamber this night?”

  Margaret nodded.

  “Listen to me carefully. When everyone is asleep, including the King, go down to the guard-room and command that John Wemys be brought to my chamber. Say that the King wishes to question him, the guards know you and will not question you. Bring him into the chamber but leave the guard outside, then let him away by means of the window!”

  Margaret stared at her open mouthed, but Anka looked concerned.

  “Madam, do you think it is wise?”

  “Am I to stand by and let him be tried and condemned? It would break her heart!” Anne replied.

  Anka shook her head with grave misgivings. “What if the King should awake?”

  “Anka, stop fretting! I shall pacify James.”

  Margaret could hardly be constrained from throwing her arms about her mistress, but settled for effusively kissing Anne’s hand.

  At the appointed hour Margaret went down to the guardroom and returned with her lover and his guards whom she instructed to wait outside. Anne feigned sleep as very quietly Margaret opened the easement and with a fond embrace, bade Godspeed to John Wemys.

  If Anne had had any doubts about her husband’s reception of the news of the escape she need not have feared for James thought the escapade highly hilarious!

  “Right under ma’ vera nose!” he guffawed as he relayed the news to James Melville. “An’ mysel’ fast asleep, aye, and Annie too!” He shot a sharp glance in the Queen’s direction. “Is it no’ amazin’ what a lassie will do for love?”

  “What do you intend to do about Wemys of Logie?” Anne asked.

  “I’ll tell ye what I intend t’ do. I hae issued a proclamation offering yon Wemys a pardon if he’ll come back ta’ his duties! Aye, a pardon!”

  Anne smiled. “Then you believe him innocent of the charges?”

  “I didna say that, Annie! But he is a guid laddie, he canna help it if friends turn traitor an’ tak’ up arms again’ their liege lord!”

  Anne nodded smugly, thinking she had handled the matter very well but later, when they were alone, James stared at her searchingly and remarked drily.

  “Dinna think ye hae fooled me, woman! Jamie Stuart sees an’ hears all—but your motives were compassionate—so I’ll let it pass!”

  It was Anne’s turn to stare and as she met his eyes she did not miss the twinkle of humour they contained and she began to feel that there was very little of what went on in the realm of Scotland that Jamie Stuart did not have some inkling about

  In a few days John Wemys returned and was duly married to Margaret Twinslace.

  Bothwell’s attacks continued with alarming and increasing regularity until in the winter of 1593, he succeeded in gaining entrance into Holyrood palace through the gate that had been opened to allow Lady Athol to pass through to visit her mother, Lady Gowry. Somehow he managed to make his way through the palace without being recognised and finally burst into the King’s chamber, a drawn sword in his hand and followed by his servant John Colville.

  James was only half dressed and jumped up in some confusion although he managed to keep his head. “Guidsakes! It’s ‘Black Bothwell’ hi’self! I warn thee, Francis Stuart, strike thy Liege Lord a’ thy peril!”

  To his surprise Bothwell dropped to his knees. “My Lord, I am driven to hard courses by the practises of my enemies. I beg thee, Sire, take this sword and strike me dead!” he cried offering James the sword.

  James stared at him. “Guidsakes man! I dinna want t’ strike thee down! Up wi’ ye.”

  “I do not deserve your mercy!”

  “That ye do not, for ye’ve made a pesky nuisance o’ yoursel’, Francis. Ye’ve fair frightened ma poor Annie t’ death wi’ yon wild raids. Up wi’ ye, man, I canna talk t’ ye lying down on the floor!”

  Bothwell rose.

  “Why did ye break an’ run? Ye should hae known ye would hae a fair trial?”

  “Sire, my enemies are powerful. Chancellor Maitland being the greatest of them all, ’twas he who drove me to such actions with his accusations!”

  James tutted. “Ye canna blame Maitland, ye hae no definite proof, but I pardon ye freely, Francis Stuart. Aye, freely!”

  James’ pardon and Bothwell’s abject humility did not, however, suit all the members of Bothwell’s faction and James soon found himself virtually a prisoner in his own house—much to his chagrin.

  Help came from the Danish ambassadors who, fearing for the safety of the Queen, requested Sir James Melville to seek entrance and find out the true situation. Sir James returned with the news that both the King and Queen were well but the ambassadors were not convinced and demanded an audience.

  Sir James conducted them to the state apartments where it was obvious that all was not well. Anne in particular was very relieved to see them.

  “Oh! Lord Brahe, it is good to see you… you, too, Lord Ranzou !”

  “Aye, I’m nigh a’ the end o’ ma patience wi’ Bothwell—ungrateful young whelp!” James cried.

  “Sire, this state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue!” Brahe stated.

  “I ken that well enough, but what are we t’ do wi’ yon factious devils? They willna go until they hae achieved their ain ends!”

  “Then we must make sure that pressure is applied to make them leave.”

  “How? What can we do? We are prisoners!” Anne wailed.

  “Perhaps your brother, King Christian, could be of some assistance?”

  “Oh, yes! He will help us, James! Denmark has a powerful navy!”

  “Am I expected t’ go to
yon Bothwell an’ say ‘Get ye gone or I’ll summon ma brother-in-law an’ his navy to remove ye all’? Wasucks, Annie, hae some sense!”

  “If we were to demand to return to Denmark for the purpose of informing His Majesty of the state of the palace it might serve!” Brahe suggested.

  Anne seized upon the idea but James remained sceptical but agreed that it was worth a try.

  Before the plan could be put into operation the whole matter was resolved. Anne had never had any liking for Chancellor Maitland whom she considered arrogant, and when he appropriated certain manors in her Dunfermline domains she flew into a rage.

  “The insolence of the man! Does he think he can appropriate my property at will?”

  “Hae ye told him to restore them?” James enquired.

  “Upon several occasions, but he refuses to do so! He refuses me!”

  “Yon’s an arrogant limmer I’ll gi’ ye that, but this time he’ll no’ get away wi’ it!” James replied determinedly.

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll dismiss him. Aye, a spell on his ain estates will do him a deal o’ good!”

  Anne was pacified to some extent but the outcome of James’ command that Maitland be banished, at once, to his estates had a surprising effect upon Bothwell’s rebellious supporters. The chief object of their enmity having been removed, they retired leaving the King and Queen in peace and liberty of movement.

  When things had returned to normal Anne informed her husband that she was expecting a child and shortly after this announcement was made public Bothwell fled to France, from which country he was never to return.

  Four

  Anne carried her child with the minimum of discomfort and early in February removed to Stirling Castle to await the birth.