She climbed hills and went down into small glens, passed swamps where
strange, foul odours hung in the air, but there was no sign of any
castle. As the dawn came up, she saw that she was utterly lost in a
wild district of moor and moss and thorny brakes. Her head was
swimming, and she at last stopped the horse a thin nag, she could now
see and sat down by the edge of a bog. The frogs were calling, and
crows sat on the branches of the twisted trees and cocked their heads
at her as if they found her a curious sight. She sank her head down on
her lifted knees and wondered what to do next.
She sat for half an hour, half napping, when suddenly she heard sounds.
She leapt to her feet and climbed into the saddle. The horse perked up
his ears. She wished she had a pistol with her, or even a dagger. If
it was the Lords, she would have no defence. Why had she not
remembered to take a weapon?
Over the rise rode Bothwell, accompanied by some twenty men. He
galloped over to her, careless of the uneven terrain.
"Thank God!" he cried. "When you did not come "
"You neglected to tell me where Black Castle was," she said. "I had no
idea in what direction it lay. When you said it was at Cakermuir, I
assumed it must be on the moor somewhere, but "
"You make a fine soldier boy," he said admiringly. "And I see you have
ridden using a man's saddle."
"What was I supposed to do? Return to the stables and request another
saddle? It was a miracle there was any horse there, let alone with a
saddle."
"Where was he?"
"Near the postern gate."
"Lord Borthwick may have left him there for you." He jerked the reins
of his horse. "How bad is it?"
"They are still surrounding the castle. I sent two messengers with a
summons to Huntly, but I do not know if they got through."
"Probably not. There were over a thousand of them. Come, let us
proceed on to Dunbar. We will go the long southern way over the Fala
Moor. From there we will summon Huntly and the Hamiltons." Only then
did he smile. "My knight," he said. "I think you have well earned
your spurs. How did you get out?"
"I knotted a bedsheet and let myself down out of the banquet hall
window."
He laughed. "There is no prison that can hold us, so it seems. No
prison yet constructed. Heart of my heart, bone of my bone, spirit of
my spirit, we cannot be held."
The way to Dunbar, over the moors, seemed to take an eternity. As Mary
rode along behind him, she felt as if this were all familiar, had been
rehearsed; the sight of Bothwell bobbing along ahead, the sucking noise
of the wind as it travelled across the flattened heather and low,
thorny bushes, the smell of the wet bogs and mires all around.
Of course, she thought. I have done this before. It was on just such
a ride that I first began to love him. Or began to know that I loved
him. Only eight months ago.
She could not help smiling a tired, crooked smile. It had been a very
full eight months; no man could ever have lived a fuller eight months.
But now she was tired. She wished to live quietly and even have a
chance to become bored.
But not yet. First there were the rebels to be put down. But she
would prevail, as she had all the other times.
This is the fourth rebellion against me, after Huntly's initial one,
she thought. There was Lord James's Chaseabout Raid, and the Riccio
murder, and the Darnley murder. If I made a chart, which Lords would
show up as being a party to all four? The Earl of Morton, that
red-haired bear of covetousness and piety; the Earl of Argyll, who is
little credit to any side, as he does so little; Kirkcaldy of Grange,
who kissed my hand when I landed but is a spy for the English. Those
three for certain. Maitland and Lord James are too clever, they've
never been caught outright in any except the Chaseabout Rebellion. Lord
James especially leaves others to do his secret and foul business.
Why did they all hate me so much and wish to plague my rule? Have I
ever done anything to earn their hatred? I gave the Protestants
control and never attempted in any way to thwart them. I gave these
lords estates and honours. I kept Scotland out of war, and refused to
aid the Pope in his attempt to win Scotland back by putting heretics to
death. I do not know what else I could have done, or what else could
be required of me. I used my own dower money to pay for many of the
crown's expenses, rather than ask the people for taxes.
Is it all due to John Knox? Did he set his goal to drive me from the
throne? But even he cannot do that. He must obey his Scripture, which
is that an anointed ruler cannot be harmed.
She sighed and urged her horse along. She was so tired that she felt
she might topple over against the horse's neck at any moment. The sun
was still high overhead. They had a long way to go, and once there,
there were plans to be made and, most likely, battles to be fought.
Their men would be gathering at Melrose, and supposedly the Hamiltons
and the Gordons would be bringing reinforcements. They would be able
to fashion together a formidable royal army of at least five thousand
or perhaps even ten thousand.
The day would be theirs. But it would be a long day.
When at length they reached Dunbar, and saw the mighty walls of the
castle rearing up, it felt like home to her. Dunbar, where Bothwell
always took her at moments of peril, and where they always emerged
victorious.
FIFTY-SIX
They stumbled into the courtyard, and then Bothwell seemed to revive.
He dismounted and posted his guards around the entrances and
approaches, and seemed in no particular hurry to eat or make his way to
his quarters. Mary stayed in the saddle, waiting for him to finish his
instructions, aching to get down, eat, collapse. His clothes were
uncomfortable on her now, tight in all the wrong places and baggy where
she wished they were tight. At length Bothwell indicated that they
should go into the castle. This time they went into the newer wing,
which had been built within living memory and boasted large windows,
window seats, wooden panelling, and ceiling decorations.
"As my wife I welcome you to the lord's quarters," he said. "As a
captive, you were housed accordingly." He ushered her into a
comfortable chamber with a marble fireplace, and winked at her.
"Although I do not know if a boy in such soiled clothing should be
allowed in here."
"A soiled boy!" She looked down at her torn, mud-smeared legs.
He reached out and unpinned her hair. "When you look like a boy, then
I treat you as one."
"Your clothes have served me well," she said. "But now I wish I could
discard them."
"Then do."
"I have no others!" She laughed. "I left everything behind at
Borthwick." Suddenly she had an ominous thought. She had fled and
left everything behind: her papers, her jewels, her personal
belongings. They were now all in the hands of the rebels. "Our
things! They have our things!"
"Not for long," he said. "And it will take them a while to find them.
But ..." His face changed as realization crept over him. "My papers!
My personal papers! My deeds and my property titles, and my my " His
voice was rising in panic. "I still have your letters!" he blurted
out.
"What letters?"
"The ones you wrote from Glasgow, and the poems "
She clapped her hands over her mouth. "I instructed you to burn them!
In the selfsame letters I told you! How could you? How could you have
kept them?" Her stomach was churning, as she tried to remember exactly
what she had said in them. There was the description of Damley when he
was sick, that whole threatening trip to Glasgow, the ominous Balfour,
the fear of her intimacy with Bothwell being discovered, the necessity
of bringing Darnley back to Edinburgh. She felt nauseated.
"I know not," he admitted. "I think, because I wished to have
something of you to remember if ever we parted, to convince myself that
it had really happened. I was sure that you would leave me, that you
were just toying with me. I never thought you loved me as I now know
you do."
"The moment we return to Edinburgh, they must be destroyed! Do you
hear? O God! If they are found where do you have them?"
"In that silver box you gave me. The one from France. It is in my
quarters in Edinburgh Castle."
She groaned. Not even locked up! And in a container that advertised
the presence of something precious inside! O God, what had she done?
Had she hanged herself with her own pen? And him to have kept them!
This man who was so intelligent, who excelled in out thinking his
opponents, who was a master of strategy to have made the blunder of a
village oaf! "O God," she kept repeating. She could only pray they
would not be found. God, be merciful! Spare us!
"We must defeat them swiftly," said Bothwell, in his old confident
voice. "They must be run out of Edinburgh. We must strike as soon as
possible."
She jumped up and paced the chamber. Her hunger and fatigue were gone,
replaced by nervous shaking.
When a substantial supper was brought in to them and set down on the
table, Bothwell had to order her to sit down and eat. "You are
exhausted and half-starved," he said. "You must keep your strength up
for the coming battle." Like a stern father, he lifted the lid over
the bowl of jugged hare, uncovered the dish of turnips, and broke
pieces of bread for her.
After she had eaten, at least the lightheadedness left her, although
her limbs felt heavy. "What do we do?" she asked.
"Sleep," he said, draining his goblet. "Don't you think we've earned
it?"
"I meant tomorrow."
"I will tell you tomorrow," he said. "When you are better able to
listen and understand. Now we must sleep." He picked up a candle in
the now-dark chamber and gestured to her to follow him into the
adjoining one.
A beautifully carved bed awaited them, with fresh linens and covers of
the finest virgin wool. On a little inlaid table, a silver vase of
roses gave off a deep scent. The windows were open, and they could
hear the roar of the sea outside.
"Oh," she said, leaning against the bed. Bothwell pulled off her boots
and then, as if he were undressing a child, he lifted the little coat
over her head and unbuttoned his own shirt, removing it from her. He
pulled off the breeches and the hose.
"What will I sleep in?" she asked, her voice slurred with tiredness.
"Nothing," he said. "No one will see you but me. And in the morning I
will borrow some woman's clothes for you." He picked her up and
settled her in the bed, then climbed in himself, drawing the covers
over them.
She put her head on his shoulder, feeling as if she had been drugged.
Bothwell was here. She need have no fear. No fear, no fear .. . He
stood between her and all misfortune.
Morning found them wide awake long before the sun was up. Gone was
Bothwell's calmness of the day before; he seemed in an agitated hurry
to get dressed and begin receiving information about their resources.
He quickly threw open the windows to let in the breeze and left her
alone while he went into the outer chambers to confer with his people.
She lay in bed, naked, feeling a prisoner inside the covers. During
the time he was gone, she had time to think about the circumstances.
The Lords where were they now? Were they still surrounding Borthwick?
Exactly who had joined them? And, more crucial, who could be counted
on to support the royal side? Was there anyone left in Scotland whose
loyalty to the crown was unalloyed? And again, the tearing thought:
Why has it come to this? And its forbidden brother: What if we lose?
What will become of us?