Spy for the Queen of Scots

by Theresa Breslin

  As I left Rizzio’s room I tried to marshal my thoughts. This was why the Count of Cluny was here in Scotland. Catherine de’ Medici must have suspicions of the Guises’ intentions, and had sent him to find out . . . and perhaps to eliminate any obstacle that might get in the way of her plans.

  I longed to discuss this with someone. Duncan? I’d hardly seen him since he’d taken on the task of watching Lord Darnley. Gavin? There was no news from him since he’d gone north. The queen herself? No, I couldn’t alarm Mary, who was already distressed by her pregnancy, but I would speak to her personal cook and food tasters and exhort them to be vigilant.

  Today was the ninth of March; parliament was already in session. On the twelfth an order would be laid down against Lord James Stuart and the rest of the rebel lords living in England to confiscate their titles and lands. That would bring a conclusion to one matter, and by then I might know what to do about the secret letter.

  Chapter 34

  ‘OH!’ MARY LET out a little squeal.

  I’d reached the great hall as the reception was ending and Mary’s attendants were preparing to escort her to her apartments.

  ‘Majesty?’ The Countess Jean was by her side at once, an anxious expression on her face.

  ‘I am well,’ Mary reassured her. She indicated her swollen belly. ‘The baby kicked me!’

  ‘Pray God it is a lusty boy.’

  Mary turned to me, her eyes big with wonder. ‘It is an amazing sensation, Jenny – the most wondrous thing – to feel life inside you. God grant that, in time, you too will have that experience.’ She looked from me to Sir Duncan Alexander.

  My face flamed red, and for once his composure too was disturbed. Mary chuckled when she saw that her teasing had found its mark.

  Jean clucked her tongue at this silliness and spoke to Mary. ‘Majesty, you should rest. If the baby is kicking, it is because it is hungry. Try to eat some food and retire early this night.’

  ‘I will not sleep,’ Mary declared, ‘for this baby is too restless for that. However,’ she went on as Jean opened her mouth to protest, ‘a few of us can take supper together in my private room. Master David Rizzio may strum his lute while we play cards. That will lull me more than tossing and turning in my bed.’

  ‘If I may be excused . . .?’ said Duncan Alexander.

  ‘Won’t you wait and play a round or two with us?’ Mary asked him.

  He glanced to where some of the Scots lords were bunched together. ‘I believe I may be needed elsewhere.’

  ‘You must assure me that you’re not off to carouse in the streets of Edinburgh,’ Mary paused, ‘as I am told other young men do.’

  She was referring to the stories that had been circulating about the behaviour of her husband. For the last few months Lord Darnley had taken to staying out to all hours visiting drinking dens and inns of low repute.

  Duncan looked at the queen very earnestly. ‘I assure you that I will not.’

  ‘Then you may take your leave, Sir Duncan.’ Mary dismissed him with a gesture and a smile.

  Having been given permission to go, I thought he would walk directly to the door, but he didn’t. As the queen, with Rizzio and the others, began to exit the hall, he fiddled with his cuffs, then inspected each finger of his gloves before putting them on. Thus it happened that by the time he was ready to quit the room he was almost in step with me. And he didn’t move to one side as he should have done to allow me to pass through the door before him. Instead, he turned his head very slightly and, scarcely moving his lips, murmured into my hair, ‘Keep the knife I gave you close at hand before you retire this night, and every other night from now on.’

  I opened my mouth to ask the meaning of this remark, but he brushed past me.

  The queen was making her way towards the royal suite. I hesitated, pondering Duncan’s words. Should I fetch the knife now from where I kept it in my rooms? He’d advised me to have it to hand when I retired. I hurried after the queen, resolving to get it as soon as she decided to change into her nightwear, and then stay close beside her with the rest of her attendants.

  The small supper room was busy with people. I was reassured when I saw among them Captain Erskine of the palace guard. The queen was already seated, with food on the table in front of her. When I entered, she called out, ‘Ah, there you are, Jenny. We could not wait for you to join us before starting to eat.’ She patted the bump that was the child growing inside her and said, ‘The future King of Scotland is demanding to be fed.’

  Along with everyone else I laughed at her remark. The noise must have masked the opening of the door to the turret staircase that connected the queen’s rooms to those of her husband.

  ‘And what of the present King of Scotland?’ said a voice. ‘Is he not also entitled to some food?’

  There was a stunned silence. The smile vanished from Mary’s face as Lord Darnley advanced into the room. Everyone tensed, expecting a spiteful remark or bad-tempered outburst.

  ‘No matter,’ he said. ‘I have already eaten,’ and he slid onto a stool beside the queen and pinched her cheek in a friendly way.

  This was extraordinary.

  ‘My lord, you do us an honour—’ she began, when the door opened again, this time with a terrific crash.

  A figure clad in full armour stood there. It was Lord Ruthven. He raised his arm and pointed at Rizzio.

  ‘So it please your majesty, let the man Davie come from your presence here.’

  It was the queen who recovered first. ‘For what reason?’ she asked.

  ‘He hath given great offence to your person and this realm.’

  There was a slight movement as Darnley tried to make a space between himself and the queen. At once Mary cried out to her husband, ‘What do you know of this? Why is this man here?’

  ‘Nothing.’ The benign look on his face had been replaced by one of trepidation. ‘I know nothing.’

  ‘Come, sire,’ Lord Ruthven called to him, ‘you cannot say you know nothing when it is clear that you know all that will come to pass this night.’

  Mary gripped the edge of the table with both hands. ‘I command you to leave now. If Master Rizzio has made offence, then I will deal with him in due course according to the law.’

  Ruthven ignored her and addressed himself to Darnley. ‘Sire, the moment has come for you to take your wife into your care.’

  She started to rise from her seat, but Darnley fastened his arms around her. In that moment those of us who had watched this, immobile with shock, leaped to her defence. Apart from Rizzio. He scuttled round behind the queen, trying to hide, cowering in terror.

  Lord Ruthven, seeing the men in the room scrambling to arrest him, pulled out a dagger, shouting, ‘Stand back! Lay not your hands upon me!’

  It was a signal. More men emerged from the turret stair, and others burst in from the main corridor. I recognized Lord Morton and Lord Lindsay before I was crushed behind the door. The table overturned, dishes cascaded to the floor as would have the candelabra, except that Jean snatched it up.

  It might have been better had darkness descended upon us.

  Rizzio screeched – the piercing high-pitched sound of a terrified animal. He retreated into a window alcove with the queen before him as he clung to her dress.

  Ruthven and another pursued him, while his fellow assassins, Morton, Lindsay and the rest, overpowered Captain Erskine and the queen’s men.

  Rizzio screamed and screamed, ‘Save me! I implore you, majesty. I am your loyal servant. Save me!’

  Hampered by the wide drapes of her maternity dress Mary tried to defend the little Italian, while he held onto the folds of her skirts. One of the assassins menaced the queen with his pistol as a Douglas kinsman of Morton pulled Darnley’s dagger from his belt. Lunging over Mary’s shoulder, he stabbed Rizzio.

  Rizzio yelled louder, ‘Justice! Justice!’

  Mary shrieked, ‘Leave him! Leave him!’

  But they dragged Rizzio, still howling, out from
behind her towards the door. There they stabbed him again and again. Darnley, who had been standing, slack-jawed, now saw that it was safe for him to act. He ran forward shouting, ‘Throw him downstairs! Throw him down the stairs!’

  Blood spurting from every part of his body, Rizzio was hauled across the floor and tossed down into the hall below. Jean and I went to the queen but were shouldered aside as a commotion sounded from the courtyard.

  Darnley looked out of the window. ‘There is a group of townsfolk with sticks and torches wanting to know if anything is amiss. What can we do?’

  ‘You are the king,’ the Douglas murderer said impatiently. ‘Command them to leave.’

  Mary tried to push her way forward to scream for help, but Darnley held her firm.

  ‘Say a word to bring them near,’ Lindsay growled, ‘and I’ll cut thee in collops. I will open the window and you will call out to them that you are safe and that they should go away.’

  Mary looked at me. If the townspeople came to her aid there would be a bloodbath. She and her child would die and the murderers could tell any story they pleased. We both knew this.

  She showed herself at the window and waved until the people dispersed.

  ‘Do you understand the situation now?’ Darnley asked her.

  She exchanged a glance with me. I gave a tiny nod of my head.

  ‘Yes,’ she said and, letting out a moan, sank to the floor.

  They led Mary’s ladies away, leaving only me to attend her while Darnley escorted Lord Ruthven down the turret staircase. As soon as he’d gone Mary bent over clutching her stomach and sobbing, ‘They would have killed me and the babe. Dear God, they might yet do it.’

  ‘This is not a time for hysterics or fainting,’ I told her. ‘When Lord Darnley returns you must speak to him and ask him what he intends to do with you. Make him take responsibility for what has happened.’

  The queen sat down upon a stool. I put my arm under her elbow. ‘Stand up,’ I said. ‘So that when he comes into the room you can look into his eyes.’

  I helped her to her feet and then said, ‘I have to leave for a few moments.’

  ‘Don’t go! Jenny, do not leave me.’

  ‘I must,’ I said, ‘but I will return as quickly as I can.’

  Mary grabbed my hand to keep me with her. In an urgent whisper I said, ‘I go to Master Rizzio’s room where he keeps your correspondence.’

  ‘I have no need of any letter at this moment.’

  ‘I think there is one there that I should destroy before it is seen by others. It was recently sent to you by the Duke of Guise.’

  Mary’s face turned grey, and I realized that Rizzio must have told her of the contents even as he was deciphering it.

  We could hear Darnley’s footsteps approaching.

  ‘Yes,’ Mary said. ‘Go, with all speed.’

  I hurried from the room.

  From downstairs came shouts and laughter: the rebels, mainly members of the Douglas clan, had control of the palace. Gavin was on Tayside and Duncan had left Holyrood earlier, so I knew that at least they were safe. I wondered what had become of those loyal to the queen. The new Earl of Huntly had been with Bothwell in the palace, but Bothwell was cunning and a fierce fighter and would not have succumbed without a struggle. I peered over the balustrade.

  David Rizzio’s lifeless body was sprawled over a chest in the hall below. As I watched, Lord Lindsay came stumbling along and plunged his dagger into the corpse. ‘Take that, you fop, you popish schemer, you flatterer, you . . .’ He slurred his words drunkenly.

  My gorge rose as he gloated over the corpse. There was an acrid taste in my mouth as I swallowed my bile. Like Mary, I didn’t realise the venom that jealousy could produce. These lords had been deeply envious of Rizzio’s charm and talents, but, more importantly, they were excluded from her private matters. They’d used Darnley to gain access to the queen and kidnap her for their own ends.

  I moved away lest Lindsay glance up and notice me. The sound of carousing continued, but it wouldn’t be long before they thought to break into Rizzio’s room and ransack his possessions. I hurried away. The letter case was on his desk. I rifled through it. There it was! The letter with the Guise seal. I took it and the cipher book and thrust them inside my dress. But when I tried to return to the queen’s apartments, Douglas clansmen were guarding the door and I was barred from entering.

  Chapter 35

  NONE OF THE queen’s friends were to be allowed to see her.

  I waited in the corridor, braving the jeers and rude remarks of the men-at-arms whose lords had taken over the palace.

  ‘The queen must have a female attendant!’ Countess Jean was loud in her entreaties. She knew the guards and used their individual names as she spoke to them. ‘You, Master Yeovil, and thyself, Ruari of Granton, shame on you that you defile the good name of your family! If you do not let us attend to the queen, then you commit not just regicide but murder of an innocent babe. The world will know of your dishonour with the blood of an unborn king upon your hands!’

  At last they relented and selected one of the maids to bring what we thought the queen might need.

  The person chosen was Rhanza. Everything she carried was thoroughly searched before she went inside. When she came out she was holding a jug of flowers. Ever since that first day, when the queen had given her the ring from her finger, the girl always made sure there were fresh flowers in Mary’s bedchamber. The wife of one of the conspirators took the jug, set it upon a table and pulled Rhanza into another room. Despite her squeals of protest, the woman stripped her and searched her again. Rhanza returned, her eyes cast down, while the men made coarse jokes. Head bent, she made to pick up the jug of flowers.

  ‘One moment!’ Master Yeovil shouted. He snatched the jug, emptied it and examined the inside and the underside. Then he thrust it at the girl. ‘Clear up that mess, then get out of here. And remember, if you speak to anyone I’ll slit your throat myself.’

  After another day of fruitless waiting I went to my room. In the fireplace I burned the Guise letter and Rizzio’s cipher book. With no access to the codes the queen’s enemies would have difficulty in understanding her private business. I knelt then to say a prayer for the repose of the soul of Rizzio – for whatever faults he might have had, Master David did not deserve to die in such a manner. I prayed also for our poor chaplain as Jean told me that he too had been murdered. And then I prayed for Duncan and for Gavin, for Mary and myself. It wasn’t until I was retiring to catch a few hours’ sleep that I noticed on the table beside my bed the jug of wild flowers. My queen was denied even that solace. I looked at it again. The stems were broken. They were the wild flowers that had been in the jug, flung on the floor, and then retrieved by Rhanza.

  The same flowers.

  I sat up in bed. Why had Rhanza removed them from Mary’s room? Had the queen asked her to do this? And why would the maid then place them in my room? Had Mary asked her to do that too?

  Taking the flowers from the jug, I inspected it. Had Mary scratched a message inside? There was no mark there, nor on the bottom either. I began to turn it right side up to set it down again when I saw that the inside of the handle was hollow. Curved round as it was, this fact wasn’t obvious. I brought it closer to examine it. Inside the handle was a spill of tightly rolled paper.

  A message from a captured queen!

  On bare feet I padded to my window. Light shone from the room where the queen was being held prisoner. I recalled one of the games we’d played in our youth in the Castle of Blois, where Mary had invented a code for signalling to Francis when the royal children were supposed to be in bed asleep. I took my candle to the window and covered and uncovered it several times. I waited, then tried again, and again. Hour after hour I did this, until finally, at about half past four in the morning there was an answering signal!

  Tears of relief ran from my eyes. It was a small comfort for me that Mary now knew I’d received her message. I hoped it was a
comfort to her.

  Afterwards Mary told me what had passed between her and her husband that evening. When he returned to her room Darnley had expected her to rail against him and to screech and cry, but Mary was composed. ‘Husband,’ she told him. ‘We are in gravest danger.’

  ‘We? I think not, madam,’ he said loftily. ‘By consorting with lower types and spending overlong in the company of that jackanapes, Rizzio, it is you who have brought disrepute to our name and caused this outcome.’

  If not brave on her own behalf, Mary was determined that nothing should harm her child. She fixed Darnley with a steely look and he faltered. He might have left her alone once more except that she detained him by placing her hand on the side of his face. ‘Do they mean to imprison me and have you rule in my stead? Would they go so far as to murder me? An attack on my person would be monstrous. Also I carry your child, the future King of Scotland, and who knows, perhaps of England too? Sixteen years will pass before the boy gains majority. We must be there to guide him and not let others do it in our stead. Would you hand over your son to these rogues? Having seen how badly they treated an anointed queen, do you trust them with the safety of your own person?’

  It was evident to her, she said, that her words caused Darnley some thought.

  She had gone on: ‘By attacking me thus they attack you, and I verily do believe Ruthven hath bewitched you to make you allow him into my presence to do this.’

  Now Darnley saw a way in which he might extricate himself from the situation. ‘Bewitched?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes,’ Mary replied. ‘With lies and half-truths they lured you to do this wickedness. And perhaps now, having no further need of you . . .’ She moved away, so that her husband stood isolated in their chamber.

  Darnley began to pluck at his sleeve. ‘What is to be done, Mary?’ he said pathetically. ‘My Mary, oh my Mary, what’s to be done?’

  ‘We must find a way to summon aid.’