It was to this atmosphere of religious ferment and seething rebellion that Mary returned in August 1561. Ironically, she landed at Leith where French and English blood had been spilled so copiously in the name of Scotland. She was eighteen years of age now, a slender, pale-skinned, red-haired beauty, dressed in widow's black, for her husband, the French King Francis, had died just a few months earlier of a brain tumour. It is hoped, for the sake of her vanity, that black suited her because she would seldom be out of it during the next six years.
John Knox never liked his queen, which is not surprising because he was, like many of his contemporaries, a bigoted old hypocrite who gave misogynists a bad name. He had already published his First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, a tract attacking the rule of women, specifically the two Marys – Tudor and Guise. It was his belief that a woman at the helm of the ship of state was an abomination before God. Naturally, his views endeared him to neither Queen Elizabeth, nor the third Mary, now home from France. The fact that she was a woman was bad enough for the rabid old rabble-rouser but to have the audacity to be both female and Roman Catholic had him apoplectic with religious rage.
The two had at least four face-to-face meetings over the next few years during which Knox foamed and spat sanctimony like it was going out of style. For her part, Mary listened to his ravings, parried his arguments in her soft French accent and tried to assure her Protestant subjects that she would not be launching a murderous attack on the reformed Church as her cousin, Mary, had done in England. She had already discussed the matter with her half-brother, Lord James Stewart, who had been acting as regent following her mother's death. He had wanted her to embrace the new religion publicly while following the old one in private but Mary's principles would not allow this. She had no desire to kiss her mass goodbye but she did agree not to rub her beliefs in the faces of her people. This was not enough for Knox who upbraided her for celebrating mass and for the sin of dancing, which was seen as the work of the devil by the solemn Presbyterians.
The ordinary people warmly welcomed her but many of her lords were less than rapturous, still fearing that she would wish the power of her Church re-established. However, she had other plans. Scotland, Mary hoped, would merely be a stepping stone to a greater power for she believed that she, and not Elizabeth, was the rightful ruler of England. It was this desire to have herself, or her heirs, holding court in the palaces of Westminster that guided her during her brief time in Scotland.
Mary's claim to the throne of England stemmed from the controversy over Elizabeth's birth. As the daughter of Anne Boleyn, the English queen was viewed as illegitimate because Henry had, in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church, bigamously married the lady of the thousand days. This view was held on account of the Pope's refusal to sanction either his divorce from Catherine of Aragon or the annulment of their marriage. Therefore, on the death of Bloody Mary, Roman Catholics believed that the crown of England should fall to Mary Stuart, through her descent from Margaret Tudor, daughter of Henry VII of England and wife of James IV of Scotland. Elizabeth's claim to the throne was never recognised by the Pope or his loyal followers and Mary was even declared queen of England by her father-in-law Henry II of France. One of the provisos of the 1560 Treaty of Edinburgh, which ended the hostilities between England and France on Scottish soil, was that Mary renounce any claim she had on the English throne. However, Mary point blank refused to ratify the treaty and continued to claim she was England's true queen. This might have seemed like a good idea at the time, given the Stuart (or Stewart) lust for power and wealth, but it would prove to be the death of the Scottish monarch.
Another fatal flaw in her personality, at least according to her many biographers, was her tendency to let her heart rule her head when it came to men although, in some cases, this is a charitable way of looking at her actions. Her romantic decisions, her first marriage apart, can be seen as being totally self-serving and even cynically manipulative.
The subject of marriage was uppermost in the minds of the men who surrounded her at the Scottish court. Uninvited the queen may have been but, now that she was here, they must turn their minds to finding her a husband. She was reckoned to be a fine-looking woman and her beauty had inflamed the hearts and groins of many a man. Even old John Knox – who, despite his outspoken views, had quite an eye for the ladies – commented on her beauty between torrents of religious abuse. He may have seen her as the Whore of Babylon but she was quite a fetching one. One French admirer, the poet Pierre de Chatelard, became too ardent in his attentions and hid himself in her Holyrood bedchamber with a view to taking his love on to a more physical plane. He was caught before he could unfasten his doublet and he was banished from Scotland. However, he followed the queen on one of her many tours of the realm – or royal progresses – and, while she was visiting Rossend Castle in Burntisland, he once more forced his way into her room and tried to rape her. Again he was caught and, this time, he was carted off in chains to St Andrews where, on 22 February 1563, he was beheaded in the town market place. Mary watched the proceedings although her half-brother, James Stewart, now Earl of Moray, may have forced her into this.
De Chatelard was not the only young man with such an interest in the queen but it was vital that she be married off to someone of influence. Among the matches mooted were Don Carlos, son of the King of Spain, and Charles, Archduke of Austria. Mary's French in-laws met neither suggestion with much enthusiasm.
Elizabeth of England, meanwhile, put forward her former lover Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. He was, however, suspected of having murdered his first wife by assisting her in a fall down some stairs. Elizabeth hinted that, if Mary would consider marrying an Englishman, then she would, in turn, consider naming her as heir to the throne. Mary, though, was suspicious of Elizabeth's motives, as well she might have been, and, in any case, she did not want any of the so-called Virgin Queen's cast-offs. What she did not know was that good Queen Bess had a fall-back position.
In February 1564, at Wemyss Castle on the Fife coast during one of her many progresses, Mary met Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. He was the son of the Earl of Lennox, who had been banished from Scotland for having ill-advisedly sided with the English during one of the many disagreements between the two countries. His lands had been declared forfeit to the Crown and he had settled in England, where Henry and his brother, Charles, were born. Henry was educated in France, he had adopted the French spelling of his surname and, by the time he met Mary, he was a good-looking, if slightly effeminate, eighteen-year-old. Surrounded as she was by older men, Mary would have noticed him immediately. Later she described him as the ‘lustiest and best proportionat lang man’ she had ever seen.
He came to Scotland with his father who had returned to petition for the return of family lands. Darnley had other ideas though – he fancied himself king. He was of royal blood himself – his grandmother had been the sister of Henry VIII – and so he had a strong claim to the throne of England. Mary would have known this, of course, and the thought of taking yet another step closer to the English crown may well have influenced her affections towards him. Whatever the case, a relationship developed. This did not please the Earl of Moray as he had disliked Darnley from the start. The young man, though handsome, was a spoilt brat with a tendency to throw childish tantrums whenever he failed to get his own way. Moray's views, of course, could have been influenced by the thought of losing power over the queen.
Elizabeth was also displaying some opposition to the match. Darnley was a Roman Catholic and such a marriage was not necessarily good news for Protestant England. But Elizabeth, the cunning vixen, was playing a double bluff. She knew that Mary would be attracted to the charming, if vain, young man and she also knew that, by pulling against the match, Mary was likely to pull the other way. Elizabeth also believed that, although Darnley was a Catholic, he was sympathetic to the Protestant cause and having him in a position of authority in Scotland would, in fact, be excellent news for England. So
, just to give the Scottish queen a nudge in the right direction, Elizabeth issued an ultimatum regarding the Dudley suit. The ploy worked for, despite advice to the contrary from her half-brother and other nobles – or perhaps even because of it – Mary finally announced she was going to marry Darnley. She appeared to be unaware that she had, perhaps, been manoeuvred into the decision by her more politically astute cousin in the south, who was counting on Mary's unfailing Stuart ambition.
Things had not exactly been easy for Mary up until now. But they were about to become a great deal worse.
While Darnley was courting Mary, he became friendly with a hunchbacked little Italian musician who had managed, through his ingratiating manner and enjoyable company, to worm his way into Mary's confidence.
Much has been suggested about David Rizzio or Riccio. It is claimed he was a papal spy, which was probably not true, but he was a foreigner and a Catholic and, as such, far too close to Mary for the comfort of many Scots barons. His rise through the ranks of the queen's staff was swift and, eventually, he became her personal secretary. Soon he was insisting that any business with the queen should be cleared with him first. And a little bribery was always welcome.
Moray had already fallen out of favour with his half-sister, Mary, thanks to his opposition to the royal marriage. Had his criticisms remained verbal then he could perhaps have ridden out the storm. However, he, along with other Lords of the Congregation, had the audacity to raise a standard against her and Mary personally led a small army to pursue them across the country. There were no real hostilities during this rebellion, merely a catch-me-if-you-can gallop across moss and heather that became known as the ‘Chaseabout Raid’. Moray and his Presbyterian lords eventually found sanctuary in England and Mary returned to Edinburgh, her legend further strengthened by the fact that she had donned armour and pistol to protect her throne. What was not so well known, though, was that she had secretly arranged to get assistance from Catholic Spain if she needed it and that she had vowed to protect the Roman Church in Scotland as part of the price for permission to marry from the Pope.
When Mary fell pregnant, she began to neglect matters of state and left many of them to her grasping little secretary. This irritated not only the remaining nobles but also Darnley, who saw the power that he had lusted after was now in Rizzio's hands. He had married Mary but had not been declared king. That prompted a momentous sulk so, when wagging tongues suggested that his wife was cuckolding him with the upstart Italian musician, he was more than ready to believe it. He even began to believe that the child Mary was carrying was not his.
A movement towards granting him the Crown Matrimonial, and so making him king of Scotland, gathered impetus, backed by Moray in exile in Newcastle. A number of their lordships still in Scotland put their names to a document backing the plan. Only James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, and John Gordon, Earl of Huntly, remained loyal to the queen. All that was needed to seal the document was blood. And Darnley's old friend David Rizzio was selected to provide it.
On a dark and wet evening in March 1566, the six-months pregnant Mary was enjoying a private supper in an anteroom off her chambers on the second floor of Holyrood Palace. Bothwell and Huntly had been decoyed elsewhere and Moray was, at that time, en route from Newcastle with a company of soldiers.
It was – and is – a tiny space and must have been particularly cramped that night, for dining with Her Majesty were her half-sister the Countess of Argyll, another half-brother, Lord Robert Stewart, Commendator of Holyrood, and a few other friends, including David Rizzio. The first sign of impending trouble came in the shape of Darnley, who appeared through the tapestry that hid a private staircase leading to his own rooms directly below the queen's. He was filled with good humour and copious amounts of wine. His high spirits alone, considering his recent petulance, were enough to create suspicion.
Then the others began to arrive. First came Lord Ruthven, his body armoured, his face sallow and drawn through illness. But he was well enough to point to the queen's secretary at the far end of the table and say, ‘May it please Your Majesty to let yon man Davie come forth of your presence, for he has been ower long here.’
It did not please Her Majesty to let Davie go anywhere and certainly not with an armed and armoured man. She asked what offence Rizzio had given and the red-eyed Ruthven replied, ‘Great offence.’
Mary ordered Ruthven to leave but he refused. She stood up and was grabbed by Darnley. Rizzio, smelling death in the air, drew his dagger and stepped behind his friend and queen. Ruthven made a grab for him but, when blocked by Mary's companions, he turned and spat angrily, ‘Lay no haunds on me for I'll no be handlit.’
And then the others, including Lord George Douglas, Darnley's uncle, arrived. If space was limited before their arrival, it was now a veritable crowd scene. There was a struggle, during which every candle but one was knocked over as Rizzio tried to evade the assassins. Lady Argyll grabbed the only remaining candle and the grisly scene that followed was played out in the flickering of the solo flame. Shadows danced across the walls as the various voices merged in a cantata of death – Rizzio screaming, the gruff nobles rasping oaths, the queen calling for order.
Mary tried to save her friend but one of the men pointed a pistol at her belly making her fear she was also a target. Rizzio tried once again to shield himself behind her but his fingers were prised away from her skirts and he was dragged away, struggling and screaming for help. But no one helped. No one could. Mary ordered the men to stop but they were on a mission. Also, they had the permission of her husband, who stood behind his wife, his face flushed red from the wine and the excitement. As Rizzio was carried from the small room, Ruthven told Darnley to comfort his wife and assure her they meant her no harm. They must have known that such trauma could well have brought on a miscarriage, which would have played into Darnley's hands, considering he had chosen to believe the child was not his. And, should Mary die in the process, then he would, naturally, finally become king.
David Rizzio suffered a horrific death. He dragged himself across the hallway, still trying to avoid the fate these men had decided for him. He screamed for help in French, appealing to Mary, ‘Save my life, Madame, save my life!’ But that life was not for the saving. The grim-faced men stalked him as he pulled himself along by his fingertips, lashing out with their daggers again and again, Rizzio's lifeblood dripping to the wooden floor. They stabbed him fifty-six times that night, the final stroke coming from a dagger belonging to Darnley which was left, buried to the hilt, in the already lifeless body. Then he was tossed down the stairs and stripped before finally being tipped into a pauper's grave in Holyrood Cemetery.
Lord Ruthven returned first to the queen and collapsed into a chair, his hands wet with Rizzio's blood. He asked for wine and the queen, having already been told that her secretary was dead, turned her now cold gaze on him and said, ‘I trust that God, who beholdeth all things from the high heaven, will avenge my wrongs and move that which shall be born of me to root out you and your treacherous posterity.’ Years later, her son James VI did, in fact, root out the Ruthven line and wipe it from existence. But he had reasons of his own for doing so, including revenge for being abducted by the family as a youth and then, later, claiming they had tried to assassinate him.
Meanwhile, the assassins sought out Bothwell and Huntly, as they were considered dangers to their plans, but they had already made their escape. News of the murder and the threat to the queen reached the city of Edinburgh and the provost gathered together a small army of townsfolk to march down the High Street to save her. However, the conspirators had foreseen this and the palace gates were closed against them. The mob demanded news of the queen but only Darnley appeared at a window to reassure them. Meanwhile, a dagger was held at Mary and she was warned she would be ‘cut into collops’ if she made any sound. However, her husband did not convince the people and he angrily said to them, ‘Do you not know I am king? I command you to pass home to your house.’ F
inally the people's army dispersed.
Mary knew her husband was part of the murder chain but she also recognised him as the weakest link. Within hours of Rizzio's death she was playing up to him, flattering him, telling him she believed dangerous men had used him and even now were probably plotting against him. Darnley, perhaps shocked at the ferocity of the attack on his former friend, fell for it.
The following day Mary received Moray, apparently unaware that he was a prime mover in the conspiracy. She smiled with him and drank with him and discussed the situation with him. She told the assassins there would be no action taken against them. But all the while she was plotting her escape. Along with Darnley, she stole out of Holyrood Palace in the dead of night and galloped for Seton House near Tranent. After resting there, they headed for Dunbar where Bothwell and Huntly waited with a strong body of supporters.
Mary had played the game and played it well. By managing to bring Darnley over to her side she had put the fear of death into the principal conspirators. His support was vital to their plan and his being back at his wife's side could only mean their lives were forfeit. Then, as news that an 8000-strong army heading their way reached them, discretion was deemed the better part of valour and they fled south. Even John Knox wisely took himself off to Ayr where he continued to rant against the woman he saw as the royal whore. Moray, though, stayed where he was, secure in the knowledge that the queen did not suspect his part in the plot.
With her husband back in the fold, at least for the moment, Mary declared that Rizzio's murderers must be brought to justice. Two of the murderous band, Tom Scott, Under-Sheriff of Perth, and Henry Yair were caught, tried and beheaded.
The question remains over what Mary thought of Darnley. She knew he was a fickle, weak young man who could change sides as soon as things were not going his way. He was also a womaniser and stories of his infidelities were legion. And then there was her unborn child to consider. Darnley had proved willing to risk a miscarriage both during the Rizzio murder and the subsequent wild ride to Dunbar, when he had parried her objections over the effect it could have on the child in her womb with the statement that, if she miscarried, they could have more. He had been badly frightened then and desperate to get away from the men who had so recently been his co-conspirators. What were his plans for that child now? These are questions she would have pondered as she went into confinement in Edinburgh Castle. She may have reached a somewhat desperate solution.
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