The Ballad of the Five Marys

by Donald Smith

  There are, of course, long connections between Beaton’s family and the Ogilvies. Her affections were engaged when we went north to Aberdeen.

  Seton

  This wedding is very sudden. Has Beaton been reproved for her fondness with the English Ambassador? She did not share her thoughts, but left in the bustle as everyone arrived for Parliament. We shall not see her again before the marriage. How can we continue writing?

  Fleming

  The Queen is suddenly astir with much business. I think the marriage was decided some while ago, and then brought forward before Parliament’s affairs overtook her. I was present at their parting. Mary and Beaton clung to each other and swore undying friendship. We shall miss Beaton sorely – mistress of humour, lashing everyone with her wicked, satiric tongue. Only a fit of the giggles could subdue her sharp wits. I wish we were not losing her, for we shall be left dull. Beaton was always able to keep her own thoughts private when she wished, even when she was very small. She is the brightest of us all and the best author of this book. She wrote more than anyone else, when you read back. Who will keep the book now that Seton and I are the only two?

  Seton

  Fleming’s heart and mind are already elsewhere. I will never leave Mary’s side by my own will or desire. And I shall always keep this book safe and treasure it. All our precious happy days are pressed between its pages.

  Mary

  STRETCHED AND SMOOTH, further and rounder. So fine under my palm and soft till the bump, the kick, poking through my skin, our skin. Feel it. Touch on the palm. This life is getting stronger, man child or woman. A kicking boy, or a leaping girl like Livingston, living and growing in my body, as I did in yours. You cannot imagine what this is like until it is happening. And then you cannot describe it because you are inside too, enfolded. The mothers, only they can understand.

  What do we want for you, my little womb child?

  A happy life in your own land. What do we want for you?

  A kingdom secure and strong. What do we want for you, my little baby?

  Skill, wise learning and courage. What do we want for you, my unborn treasure?

  A loving father on earth as well as heaven. Amen. Amen.

  He cannot spoil your future. You will be the tie that unites and reconciles. You are the bond of peace between families, queens and nations. And you are child of my own flesh, fruit of my womb.

  I shall not allow your father’s ambitions to thwart our happiness, or his discordant boasting. He shall not receive the crown until he proves himself worthy to share in government. He will not make free any longer with our body. This is our land, your native place, and you are safe here and protected.

  I shall make peace for this kingdom by my own right, and yours that is to come. I shall pardon the rebels in due course, but not yet. Let them wait a while on my good pleasure.

  Your uncle Moray is obdurate. He is a Stewart, but must renounce all pretensions before he can return. My own good brother must acknowledge that kingship cannot be usurped. He drinks from Knox’s cup when it suits his purpose, unaware that he is spreading poison. Without authority there is only chaos and destruction, which is why God has appointed monarchs to rule and subjects to obey. ‘Beware the Bastard,’ Rizzio has warned, but this Bastard will remain in exile till his choler is cooled and his lesson learned.

  Lady Moray though will have my personal protection and a place at my side. Hamilton was banished to France for his part in the rebellion but is pardoned without confiscations. I show mercy as well as statecraft. The old Duke has suffered enough, and his family is a counterweight to the Lennox claims. We shall always have Hamiltons close to the crown.

  As for Argyll, he is loyal at heart, though earnest in religion. He shall be recalled and reconciled to my dear sister Jean. I know what aggravation she has endured amongst these Highlanders. You marry the clan and not the chief alone: we can confide in each other’s troubles. However, I shall take Bute from Argyll and give the island to Lennox. That will teach the Chief a lesson that he understands. And sweeten the bitter taste of Hamilton’s pardon for Darnley and his besotted father.

  Bothwell should be rewarded for his part. He wants the rich acres of Haddington Abbey to join to Hailes and Crichton. But these lands were promised to Maitland and are the cause of some new quarrel. Were ever two men so unlike? Neighbours and rivals, there is no end to the bickering. Fleming will hear nothing said against her William, yet he is in the sulks with Rizzio and keeps his distance, gazing soulfully from afar at his true love. Is he still Moray’s man at heart?

  When I turn twenty-five, I can revoke all grants of land to replenish the exchequer. That is what my father would have done, which makes these nobles sweat, unmoved by religion and its holy obligations. My Scottish lords, who believe they have the right to share the government and despoil the Church for private gain. With Rizzio and Balfour at my side I shall manage them, despite Cecil and all England’s interfering. Let them learn from Randolph’s ignominious exit and cease meddling.

  I shall make God’s peace, my little one, and give the ministers their livings. But let each practice their belief free from persecution. If all faiths in these islands are tolerant, then our kingdoms can unite. Blessed are the peacemakers. This Parliament inaugurates a new age of harmony, heralded by your birth. I shall make the way smooth and glad for you and for our people.

  Beaton will be missed. She was our eyes and sharpened wits. When all else failed we could be merry in her jests. Yet it was wise of Fleming to see the danger and avert it through this marriage. Her departure will close the Book of Marys. I can at least depend on Fleming. We shall see Beaton back at court ere long with Lord Ogilvie in attendance.

  The poets will write of new dawns, new birth, and I shall be lightened of this blessed cargo. Together we make the age again.

  We are here alone. My bedchamber in darkness and the whole palace eerily quiet. Old Lady Huntly has gone with the message, but I have no idea who is still here, who has escaped. All other attendants have been denied me. Calm. I must remain calm till this beating pulse lessens, this thumping of my blood around you.

  He strolled in as is his way, coming and going as he pleases. Had he eaten? Will he join our little party – Jean, Rizzio, Erskine – round a supper table, there in the little chamber?

  I can never sit in that room again.

  When he touched you at my waist I thought he was in a better mood, wanting to come up later to my bed. Everything seemed easy. Even when Ruthven appeared like a gaunt apparition in his grey flesh and armour, I thought he had wandered through illness. But then the nightmare was ours.

  ‘Let that man Davie come out?’ croaked Ruthven hoarsely.

  ‘Why? What has he done?’

  ‘He has offended your honour, shut off your husband from the crown, and come between you and the nobility of this realm.’

  ‘Is this your work?’

  Darnley looks stupid and avoids my eye.

  ‘If my Secretary has done wrong then he will be tried in Parliament.’

  ‘Let him come out,’ Ruthven snarls.

  ‘Justice, Your Majesty, please, justice. Save my life.’

  Rizzio is on his knees, clutching my legs. Ruthven starts forward. Erskine tries to stop him, then the furies break. Men crashing in, more crowding at the door. Morton, Lindsay, Kerr, gun in hand, and many more. Over goes the table with a smash of dishes. Jean grabs the candles, darkness sways.

  ‘Sir, take the Queen to you.’ I feel his arms hold me from behind. I feel a dagger pass my cheek and strike below. Screams, more blows as he is torn from my flesh. Cold metal on my womb, Kerr’s pistol at me. As he is dragged out, they fall on him like animals rending their prey, stabbed, slashed beyond bearing. Darnley keeps by me the whole time but his dagger is left sticking out of Rizzio’s bloody corpse.

  My poor David. Soul of wit and music, a lifeless heap of rags.

  The room empties. Ruthven slumps into a chair ghostly pale. Am I to be next? I shal
l show them no fear. My weak, stupid, vicious husband has spoiled everything beyond repair.

  ‘These are the wages of tyranny. Depriving the nobility of their rights, exiling some, and treating with foreign Catholic princes without our consent.’ Ruthven wheezes through his grey skin.

  ‘Are you not a member of my Council?’

  ‘It is because of this base servant, nestling like an adder in your bosom, that your husband has not been made King in his own right. Now the venom is drawn.’

  ‘I have been denied my rights.’ Henry finds his injured voice.

  ‘How can you say so much? I took you from a low estate and made you my consort.’

  ‘But that loathsome toad enjoyed your company. You played cards with him in your bedchamber into the night, while I am shut away without entertainment.’

  Resentful jealous child.

  ‘Is this the conversation of a gentleman, of a king before his subjects?’

  Ruthven has taken to studying the floor.

  ‘I dare not speak of such matters. I am not so bold.’

  ‘Whenever I come you are sick or unwilling. Is that the entertainment of a gentleman?’ Henry has found his usual vein.

  ‘Only when he lacks the loyalty and chastity of a husband.’

  ‘What have I done to disappoint you? Where have I failed in my offices? Are the fruits not plain to see? I am willing to do whatever becomes a good husband. Though I may be of low estate in your haughty eyes, yet I am the husband you promised to obey, and make me equal in all things. But that Italian vermin came between us and stained my honour. See my dagger sticking from his flesh. That wipes all clean.’

  Do not weep, do not rage, Mary. Above all, show no hint of weakness.

  ‘My Lord, whatever offence has been done to me, you are the cause. I shall be your wife no longer, nor ever lie with you, nor ever like you more, until I find the way to make your heart as sorrowful as mine is now.’

  Ruthven cannot bear this. The old brute is embarrassed.

  ‘Please, Your Majesty, be of good comfort. Receive your husband, and the counsel of your nobility. Then your government will be as prosperous as in the days of any King.’

  ‘Or in the days of the Queen, my mother. You had some hand in that too, Lord Ruthven.’

  He claws at his throat. ‘Please God, some wine, a cup of wine, for saving of my life.’

  ‘Is that your sickness, to be quaffing wine in full armour?’

  ‘God forbid Your Majesty should ever sicken as I do.’

  ‘If I die through this child, or my kingdom perish, then my friends in France and Spain will take revenge on you and all your kin.’

  ‘Why would great princes meddle with a poor man such as me, a mere subject? As for your child or kingdom, they cannot perish except by your own hand since there is not a man in this palace who would permit harm to come to Your Majesty more than to their own hearts. If anyone is to be blamed for causing harm this night it is the King, your husband.’

  Hauling himself painfully to his feet, Ruthven departs without even as a glance at Darnley. Then he follows the old man’s clanking footsteps. I sit on alone, frozen as my mind revolves.

  Within the hour there is tumult in the palace yards: the Provost and his men are at the gates. Darnley is sent out to quiet them and assure them of my safety. He, not poor bloodied Rizzio, is the viper whose poison must be purged.

  Lady Huntly returns unchallenged. Bothwell and her son have escaped by leaping from the rear apartments. They stand ready to aid my flight if it can be contrived. Athol, Maitland, Balfour, Melville, have been let away; they are not needed for Morton’s brutal work, nor can they help me here.

  I sit here through the hours of night to devise a way. I am on my own, with only wit to shield us from destruction. I am like my mother now, besieged in her own house. How she fought to save me from this. Why did we ever leave our France for these black shores? God preserve me through the dark. I will not lay down my head, lest these black events break back into my mind. I won’t go back into the nightmare.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  The narrow head peers down over my couch.

  ‘The midwife is attending me.’ I thought that face was handsome and alluring once. ‘Are my ladies to be allowed through?’

  ‘Yes, it’s done, but you’re not to try and escape in disguise.’

  ‘How would I escape in this condition? ’

  ‘Will the child be alright?’

  ‘I have no idea. If you are so concerned for the child you should have spared me last night’s bloodshed. It seems peaceful enough, considering.’

  ‘We can have another. I don’t want it to die.’

  ‘Or put my life in danger?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve thought better of it then. If I die you’re nothing. Just another pretender to the throne of Scotland. You wouldn’t last six months.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘You’d be fleeing back to England with your tail between your legs, begging Elizabeth’s forgiveness, like Moray.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. My father will protect me. And anyway Moray is on his way back to Edinburgh.’

  ‘With all the exiled lords?’

  ‘Yes, to meet with me. And Morton’

  This was worse than I had imagined, no casual brutality, but carefully planned, bloody rebellion.

  ‘A Parliament of all the rebels,’ I mocked.

  ‘Don’t twist everything round. That’s what you always do. We’re restoring the government. I’m dissolving Parliament.’

  ‘So all their lands are safe. And how will you get your precious Crown without Parliament? Don’t you see you’re being used?’

  ‘They need me to secure their pardon.’

  ‘And then your part is over. They’ll brush you aside if you don’t do their will.’

  ‘Shut up, you bitch; stop twisting it all.’

  He goes off to the window to sulk. Shouts down for wine. But he’s turning it over, beginning to worry.

  ‘What about your religion?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to impress the world by restoring Scotland’s religion?’

  ‘Well I had to promise the Protestants to leave things as they are. What else could I do for now? At least I tried which is more than can be said for you. And don’t think that hasn’t been noticed by the people who matter, because it has. The Pope’s ambassador brought me a personal message.’

  ‘Your faith in exchange for your Crown – there’s a bargain. But you’re still Catholic. Do you really think they’ll let you continue in power? They’ll bring in their godly kingdom and make Moray its King.’

  ‘It’s Morton that’s in command.’

  ‘So why are they bringing back Moray?’

  That hits home. He looks uneasy.

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Offer them the pardon, and then escape out of their power.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I can get messages out of here.’

  ‘To Bothwell? I don’t trust him, or Huntly.’

  ‘Would you rather stay here with Morton after I’ve gone?’

  ‘You wouldn’t leave me behind.’

  ‘Of course not, Harry. You’re my husband and the father of my child. We can reign together as we always planned before these stupid quarrels. When our heir is safely born then we can inherit England’s crown as well. Your mother always wanted this.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple. How do I know I can trust you?’

  ‘Come to my bed tonight, my love, and I’ll prove my faithfulness But not a word to anyone. They must believe you are still with them, or we will both be ruined. And ask Moray to come and see me.’

  ‘I knew you would come round, when we had got rid of Rizzio.’

  Finally I am able to wash and take refreshment. Lady Huntly brings messages urging me to escape over the wall in a chair lowered by ropes. I cannot flee until I have lulled their suspicions. B
y taking Darnley with me I remove their figurehead and excuse. They will be exposed as traitors without cause.

  When Moray comes I throw my arms about his neck and weep. If you had been here, I would not have been treated in this way. He looks uncomfortable. Did he know? Even so I need him now to divide the ranks of my enemies. He retires believing his return is welcome.

  We slip out through the wine cellars after curfew and creep past Rizzio’s newly dug grave. Their guards have been withdrawn, since the rebel had agreed to my departure tomorrow with their pardon sealed. Due to fatigue and nausea, and being early abed, I delayed signing until the morning. I would like to see their faces when they find the bird has flown with its quill.

  And I have Darnley under my wing, for now at least. In his drunken stupor he failed to make his assignation, coming up the private stair instead at first light. It was easy then to fend him off with morning sickness. I will not sleep beside that man again. He makes my skin prickle with disgust and loathing.

  Even riding for Dunbar, he could not keep his nerve, whipping the horses beyond endurance, panic stricken that we might be overtaken. ‘Come on, come on,’ he screeches like one demented, regardless of my pregnant belly or pillion saddle. ‘Why don’t you ride ahead?’ I mock, and without a word he gallops away, leaving us to face pursuers. Must I always take the man’s part by myself?

  Crossing a sea bridge between the massive towers, we pass into the castle yard. I feel the nightmare begin to fade. But I will not stop. I am lifted bodily from the horse. Bothwell is there. I am in the arms of Lady Hepburn, carried to the hall. Let me stand. I am well, the bairn unhurt. Let us warm ourselves by the kitchen fire; we can make eggs in the French style; let us joke and deride, and plan their demise. Where is Darnley? Good, good, within the walls. Yes, take my arm, yes let me lean, and slide, and fall in safety.

  What has to be done is done. Within days it is accomplished. But there is no triumph in this, no satisfaction. I have been imprisoned, pursued in my own kingdom. A loyal servant is violently killed before my eyes, my life threatened. And the root cause is my own husband.