Spy for the Queen of Scots

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Perhaps, in itself, it is a worthy thing to do,’ I said.

  ‘Surely one’s faith, above all, should rule one’s life,’ she replied. ‘And yet, my mother sought a way to have both religions co-exist in Scotland.’

  Duncan Alexander nodded. ‘We should be able to follow a personal faith without imposing our beliefs on another.’

  For the first time in many months Mary stood up straight and raised her head. ‘Do you think that I might achieve this if I returned to Scotland to rule as queen?’

  Chapter 20

  IN THE SPRING of 1561 Mary was approached by a representative of the Catholic Earl of Huntly. He’d heard that she might return to Scotland and asked her to land in Aberdeen, where he’d meet her with his army. They could then march on the capital together.

  With few advisers and even fewer people she completely trusted, Mary had to come to a decision on her own.

  ‘I do not want to enter my kingdom at the head of an army,’ she said to me, ‘be it Catholic or Protestant. I see how my own family of Guise are disliked in France for their ruthless suppression of those who disagree with them. My former mother-in-law is engineering a more temperate solution for the religious problems in France. Perhaps I can follow her example.’

  I agreed with Mary that taking Scotland by force was not a good idea but privately doubted whether she could ever be as devious as Catherine de’ Medici.

  Then Duncan returned to say that an envoy of Protestant Scots lords were on their way to consult with Mary. They were led by her half-brother, Lord James Stuart.

  ‘Scotland is weary of wars,’ Lord James addressed Mary. ‘You are undisputedly the heir of our former king and recognized as such by those of differing beliefs.’

  ‘Yet you did not recognize my mother as my appointed regent,’ Mary replied caustically.

  ‘It was a very difficult situation.’ Lord James spread his hands. ‘If the Protestant cause had remained officially unrecognized, the country would have descended into anarchy. I tried very hard to mediate between the two sides. When she was dying, her majesty summoned me to Edinburgh Castle and asked me to forgive her if she had done any wrong and begged me to protect the kingdom. I stayed with her to the end. Truly a brave and noble woman.’ He bowed his head. ‘God rest her soul.’

  ‘Amen,’ said Mary, and openly blessed herself.

  Lord James controlled his irritation at this gesture but said, ‘The Scots will not accept a Catholic ruler.’

  ‘You tell me what others will not accept. I tell you that the presence of John Knox in my country is repellent to me. I’ve heard he mocked my mother’s death and yet is now appointed minister of the cathedral church of St Giles in Edinburgh.’

  ‘John Knox will not go away,’ Lord James replied, ‘nor will he remain silent. If he were executed, then he would become a martyr and you would lose the love of your subjects for ever.’

  ‘Much as I dislike him, I do not desire his execution.’

  ‘What other alternative is there?’ Lord James Stuart said reasonably. ‘Banishment? There are those who would support him in a coup to overthrow us.’

  I drew in a breath. By using the word ‘us’, Lord James Stuart was subtly manoeuvring himself into Mary’s favour.

  ‘It would also be necessary for you to agree a Bill to go through parliament absolving all those engaged in the previous . . . unpleasantness,’ he added.

  ‘You want me to agree that those who rebelled against my mother should go unpunished?’ Mary asked him.

  ‘For the good of Scotland it is something she herself would have done,’ Lord James replied. ‘And indeed similar to what Catherine de’ Medici is doing at this moment in France.’

  Duncan made a movement that indicated he wished to say something. Mary looked at him and inclined her head.

  ‘Majesty, you may wish to keep those who disagree with you near at hand, so that you may hear what they are saying and watch what they are doing.’

  Mary pondered this. It was a strategy employed by Catherine de’ Medici in her recent rearrangement of the offices of government within France. But I shivered, remembering the fate of Duke Fernand, and the scene in the shed at Fontainebleau. The difference between Mary and her mother-in-law was that Catherine de’ Medici would not hesitate to remove, by any means, someone who obstructed her.

  ‘It may be that if you met John Knox you would be convinced by his arguments,’ Lord James pressed her.

  ‘I have no wish to meet him,’ said Mary. ‘I will not be swayed by anything he has to say against the faith of my forefathers.’

  ‘I beg of you,’ he pleaded, ‘give it up. Convert to Protestantism.’

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ Mary tried to explain. ‘I cannot cast off my faith as I would a cloak that I’d no more use for. My mother and King Henri, in name my father-in-law, but in fact the only father I knew, are dead. I have lost my husband, dearest Francis, my companion since childhood. All these people I loved. I find both solace and support in my religion.’

  ‘To be Catholic is to be a puppet of the Pope in Rome.’

  ‘My faith is more to me than politics, James.’ Mary’s voice became surprisingly firm. ‘It is my life. I know there are men who would make me their puppet. They want me as a doll to be dressed up and brought out and made to play sweet music and say pleasant things. But I have a higher purpose in life, and when I meditate I reflect upon the will of God. I was scarce out of my mother’s womb when I was crowned Queen of Scots and that, with my faith, is who and what I am.’

  ‘Then have your religion,’ James Stuart said suddenly. ‘Return to Scotland and I’ll guarantee that you may practise your faith, and I will help you keep a guiding hand on government.’

  ‘Truly?’ Mary said in astonishment.

  ‘Yes. Truly.’ He spoke gruffly, but seemingly with sincerity. ‘It must be private worship, mind. No flaunting of icons and other trumpery.’

  ‘Oh, I promise that I will be most discreet.’ Mary blinked back tears of gratitude.

  I was impressed with Lord James Stuart’s change of heart and commented on it to Duncan Alexander afterwards.

  ‘Lord James is so good that he would risk the wrath of the Protestant lords to support Mary in this.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘You do not?’

  ‘I see a woman manipulated into accepting conditions to claim her rightful kingdom.’

  ‘But there was no other way,’ I protested. ‘One must be practical. If the people do not wish a Catholic to be their queen . . .’

  ‘This is not about the ordinary people. It’s about lords and nobles seeking position and money.’

  ‘Given the laws being passed in the Scottish parliament to affirm the country as Protestant, it seems a reasonable compromise.’

  ‘I suppose . . .’ Duncan reluctantly conceded the point. ‘But she’d be safer if she were his cousin.’

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘Then he could marry her. I do believe if he were not her half-brother that’s what he’d do, for he is an ambitious man.’

  ‘You think Mary is vulnerable?’

  ‘Very. Why suddenly does he, a staunch Protestant and friend of John Knox, who loathes Catholicism, agree that Mary may hear mass privately and have a priest among her attendants to minister to her? It is because Lord James Stuart, being illegitimate, cannot contest the claims of the Hamilton Stuarts to be next in line to the throne. If they establish themselves as leaders of a governing council they will fill every government post with members of their own clan. To counteract this, Lord James hopes to rule the realm through Mary.’

  ‘With Catherine de’ Medici hostile to her remaining in France, Mary has few options,’ I said. ‘But if Lord James is strong then it might be good for her, for Scotland, and for the people. And Mary is determined to succeed where her mother failed; to have differences reconciled for the peace of her realm.’

  ‘At the moment there are more Catholics than Protestants in Scotland,
’ said Duncan, ‘and in the north the Catholic Earl of Huntly holds true to the Old Faith. I think James Stuart means to use Mary as the buffer between both sides, and wait and see who gains ascendancy. But he will entrap her, and then, if she chooses to make a step not part of the dance he has designed in the complicated game he is playing, he’ll turn against her. Now that he has insinuated himself as her chief adviser, he’s in a position to work against her at every level.’

  ‘You do not trust him?’

  ‘Who can one trust? In this situation, who can one trust?’

  I had no answer for him, for as he went away I was thinking, Who indeed? Who can one trust? Could I even fully trust Duncan Alexander?

  There was one last duty for Mary to perform before she left France. Her mother’s coffined body, returned from Scotland, was to be interred within her Aunt Renée’s convent of St Pierre in Rheims.

  I spent the night before the funeral service keeping vigil there with Mary. In the morning a calm came over her and, although our farewells to her relatives and friends were tearful, Mary was resolved on where her duty lay.

  ‘I feel my mother is with me,’ she said as we prepared for our journey to Scotland. ‘But what about you, Jenny? Are you happy to come to Scotland? If you would rather go and live on your family estate at Hautepré, you are free to do so.’

  ‘The manager appointed by my father has run the estate honestly and efficiently for the last twenty years so I have no need to be there.’

  ‘Yes, but it is your family home,’ Mary replied. For a moment she looked sad. ‘I do not have such a thing as a family home.’ Then she brightened. ‘But I do not begrudge you yours.’

  It was one of the reasons I loved her so much. She had no jealousy within her and found pleasure in the happiness of others.

  ‘You are my family!’ I held out my arms to her and we hugged. ‘I want to remain with you, and in Scotland I can visit my father’s grave and see the places he saw during the last months of his life.’ And, I thought to myself, I will also be near Duncan, the one other person whom I love.

  On the road north, Duncan met us with worrying news.

  ‘Once we are clear of the French coast the English may try to waylay our ships,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard they seek revenge, angered that Francis and Mary’s arms were quartered with that of the English crown. They may try to capture the queen.’

  ‘But Lord James Stuart assured Mary that he would approach England and secure a safe passage,’ I said.

  Duncan grimaced. ‘I should have anticipated that our smooth-tongued James Stuart had already spoken to the English government.’

  We waited in Calais while he went off in search of more information. He returned with a message from Throckmorton, the English ambassador, which said that Elizabeth was still considering the request for the ships to travel unhindered.

  ‘It appears the English court was subjected to one of their queen’s famous temper tantrums,’ Duncan told us. ‘When she received the letter asking for an assurance that Mary could travel safely home, Elizabeth shouted that if Mary of Scotland wanted to return to her own country, then she must sign the Treaty of Edinburgh and renounce all claim to the English throne.’

  ‘I instructed my ambassador to reassure Elizabeth of my best intentions,’ Mary protested. ‘I wrote most particularly to say that it was the late King Henri of France who decided that I and his son be addressed as the queen and king of England. Now that he and my beloved Francis are dead, I do not use this title, nor do I wear the English coat of arms among my colours.’

  ‘These facts were communicated to Queen Elizabeth and her advisers,’ Duncan reassured her.

  ‘In any case,’ she went on, ‘I cannot ratify such an important document until I reach Scotland and appoint a privy council of my own men to advise me on this matter.’

  ‘Mary has made up her mind on this,’ I told him when I spoke to him later. ‘She thinks this treaty surrenders Scotland’s independence as a nation and ruins the inheritance she holds in trust for those who will reign after her. She hopes, when in Scotland, to collect around her men who will be sympathetic to her way of thinking on this.’

  ‘As you would expect, the Lords Seton and Fleming will support her, and most likely William Maitland, who was her mother’s secretary of state. He has a steady hand and she could do worse. There’s Lord Herries in the south-west of Scotland too, and Sir David of Cairncross, but the rest . . .’ Duncan’s voice tailed off. ‘In any case, Lord James Stuart has probably already decided the make-up of the privy council.’

  ‘Can he do that?’ I asked in surprise.

  ‘Mary has no real knowledge of her lords, and Lord James will tell her only what he wishes her to know. She has to be very strong to resist his will, and wily as a fox to find out what that is. You must help her.’ He made to go, then turned back and said, ‘Although I fear for your safety, I am glad you are coming to Scotland, Jenny.’

  My heart lifted with happiness. I searched his face, but I could see only worry there. It came to me then that to go with Mary was to place myself in danger. But instead of feeling gloomy at the prospect, my spirits were high with anticipation of this new adventure. Duncan’s words were all I needed to convince me that I had made the right decision to make Scotland my home.

  The English ambassador followed us to Calais to speak to Mary. It was obvious that he too was concerned on her behalf. He tried to persuade her to await the outcome of a further appeal that had been sent to the English queen.

  However, in an impressive show of her queenship and bravery, Mary declared, ‘My good Throckmorton, may I remind you that Elizabeth’s own father tried to kidnap me as a child, which is why my mother sent me to France for safekeeping. He failed – just as his daughter will now. I am queen of an independent Scotland. I do not need the permission of another to sail upon the open sea. I am confident that our Scottish sailors can elude this famous Elizabethan fleet.’

  ‘Oh, well spoken, your majesty!’

  I whirled round. Another man had entered the room. James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, wearing his insignia of Scottish Lord High Admiral of the Seas.

  ‘Excuse my boldness in interrupting. I am sorry if I have offended,’ he said, sounding not at all sorry. ‘But I do admire your majesty’s courage in being prepared to face down the aggression of the English navy.’

  Throckmorton coughed. ‘I am assured, informally of course, that we have no fleet in the North Sea. Just a few ships that patrol those waters to protect our coasts and merchant galleys from pirates.’

  ‘Pirates!’ Bothwell laughed out loud. ‘The English claim that they must protect themselves from pirates! Elizabeth of England turns a blind eye to her own sailors who fly the black flag and harry the Spanish galleons bringing spices and silver from the New World. Why, English ships are the biggest pirates on the high seas!’

  ‘My Lord Bothwell, I do believe you say this with a touch of admiration,’ Mary commented shrewdly.

  He tilted his head and had the audacity to wink at her.

  She ignored this. ‘It would appear,’ Mary spoke equably but amusement trembled in her voice, ‘that the best way to protect myself against these piratical sailors is to have a gallant buccaneer of my own.’

  With a grand dramatic gesture Bothwell swept off his hat in a low bow to his queen. ‘While I am Lord High Admiral of your fleet, no English ship will delay your passage home to Scotland.’

  PART TWO

  MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS

  Scotland 1561

  Chapter 21

  Leith, the port of Edinburgh, Tuesday 19 August

  THE EARL OF Bothwell was true to his word.

  Although we spotted English ships and they certainly saw us, none tried to delay us or interfere with our progress. We learned later that Elizabeth had grudgingly agreed not to impede Mary’s journey from France to Scotland, the message sent to arrive after we’d sailed.

  Once beyond the shelter of the Channel we headed up into th
e North Sea. This was a different sea from any other we had known. The waters were grey and cold and full of dangerous currents and treacherous sandbanks. As we ploughed northwards a strange grey fog enveloped the ships so that we couldn’t make out the lanterns of our neighbours. The bells of the watch clanged, and shouts and hails were exchanged, but we soon lost contact with the other vessels bringing the livestock and household furniture.

  Early on the morning of Tuesday 19 August we were roused to prepare for landing. On deck most of the courtiers began to shiver, begged to be excused, and retreated to their cabins. I stayed outside with Mary and one of her younger Guise uncles, the Duke of Aumale, who’d volunteered to be part of her escort to Scotland. Sir Duncan Alexander looked as if he might leave us too, but then changed his mind and, wrapping his cloak about him, stood apart. The white mist writhing around the masts made ghosts of us all.

  ‘It is haar!’ Mary exclaimed suddenly.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ I said in surprise.

  ‘I remember now.’ She was laughing. ‘It’s the Scots word for sea fog.’

  ‘In August?’ the Duke of Aumale complained. ‘Fog? In August? What kind of country are we in?’

  ‘A very beautiful country, albeit more rugged and less warm than your own,’ Duncan replied immediately. His voice was eerie, coming disembodied as it did.

  ‘Stand forward, Sir Duncan,’ Mary commanded. ‘You lurk there in the shade like an assassin.’

  She was joking, but her words had an instant effect on him and on her uncle. Duncan stepped forward at once, while the duke moved to one side.

  If Mary noticed that her uncle had shifted in order to protect himself against possible harm, she gave no sign of it. My spirits plummeted. Here was a member of the French nobility, her close relative, who thought more of his own life than that of the woman he was supposed to guide and protect. If this was how she was treated by her own attendants, then what kind of reception could we expect from the Scots who hadn’t seen her for many years?

  ‘I am no assassin, your majesty.’ Duncan Alexander regarded the duke with contempt. ‘I have been charged to guard you, and that is what I will do.’