I must think of this. To whom would I turn for help to be restored to
the throne? For I would not meekly submit and go quietly into exile,
retiring to a convent like who was it? A deposed king of some sort, a
discarded queen. Was it Joan of Valois? I cannot think ... I would go
to France. Yes, France. They would help restore me. They would send
a force, an army. But then they would have to fight England would they
be willing to risk that? My family, the Guises, do not have the power
they once did in the land, and Catherine de Medicis is cautious and
self-seeking. The little King Charles IX, for all that he's seventeen
now, is completely ruled by his mother. He would have no say-so at
all.
Philip of Spain? He is even more calculating and slow-moving than
Catherine de Medicis, and fancies himself the champion of the Church;
now that the Pope has condemned me, he would never lift a finger or a
sword or a harquebus to restore me. No, not Spain.
The Scandinavian countries .. . Bothwell has connections there, he has
performed naval services for Sweden. But they are Protestants and
would never restore a Catholic monarch to a throne. Even a disgraced
one!
She started to laugh, nervously. The Catholics would take the Pope's
condemnation seriously and for that reason refuse to restore her, while
the Protestants would consider it a family squabble and still regard
her as a Catholic and therefore an enemy.
There might be no help at all outside of Scotland. This might be
final.
England? There was always England, Scotland's traditional enemy, but
now things had changed. James was Elizabeth's godson, and so far
although she might not formally admit it heir to her throne. And
Elizabeth was her own close kinswoman and one who took royal
prerogatives seriously. She, who feared uprisings and rebels, could
hardly countenance a group of traitorous Lords taking control in
Scotland. And she had given Mary the ring, which meant
"I have clothes," said Bothwell, stepping into the room, his arms full
of material that was black and red. "I borrowed these from a
tradesman's wife." He held them up. "They will doubtless be a little
short, for there are few ladies in the land as tall as you."
"I do not care," she said. "I am just grateful to stop being a boy for
today." Quickly she got out of bed and retreated behind a
silk-embroidered screen by an alcove to dress. While she did so, she
could hear Bothwell talking to himself and pacing.
The petticoat and skirt, in black and red, came only just below her
knees. There was a bodice, a white ruff for her neck, and some ribbons
to tie up the sleeves. Cautiously she stepped out from behind the
screen. The skirt, hitting against her knees, felt strange.
Bothwell burst into laughter. "You look like a milkmaid."
"Wearing a skirt this short makes me feel halfway naked," she said.
"Will anyone follow a Queen who looks like this?"
Bothwell gestured to the breakfast tray of ale, cheese, strawberries,
and bread. He was eating standing up. "On horseback you will look
regal enough." He paused between bites. "I have sent French Paris
south to Melrose to bring back my troopers, however many have gathered
by now."
She sat down and poured herself some ale, then ate three of the little
wild strawberries. "It is only June fourteenth, and barely has morning
broken," she said. "They were not required to be there until
tomorrow."
"We can possibly wait. It depends on how many others we can count on
to join us, and who has joined the Lords. Of course, the best thing we
could hope for is that our forces come together before theirs."
Just then Geordie Dalgleish, Bothwell's personal servant and tailor,
entered the room. "You wish to speak to me?" he asked. He was an
ungraceful, large-featured fellow. But he spoke with a delicate voice,
all at odds with his appearance.
"Yes. I need to know what has become of Huntly and the force of Ham-il
tons They were supposedly coming from the north and west with their
army. But they do not arrive. At the same time, Atholl and Glencairn
were on the march with their Highlanders for the Lords, coming in the
same direction. Have they met on their way? Why this delay?"
"Aye. I will go to Edinburgh," he said.
"When you go, tell Balfour I command him to fire on the rebels if they
try to take refuge in Edinburgh," said Mary suddenly. "We must retain
Edinburgh for ourselves, and Balfour must carry out his duty as captain
of the castle."
After he was gone, Mary said, "It will be all right."
He shot her a look of gratitude. "You have a stout and kingly
courage,"
he said. "Let it not fail in the hours before us." He motioned to the
tray of food. "Eat. We may not get another meal before battle."
She felt alarm. "So soon? It might be so soon?"
"That depends on the reports we receive."
French Paris returned with a force of about a thousand Borderers, far
below the number Bothwell had expected. Geordie Dalgleish came soon
after with a confusing report: Huntly and the Hamiltons had indeed
reached Edinburgh, but they had stopped there and were arguing with
each other about which route to take to Dunbar. Another servant,
William Powrie, reported that on the road between Dunbar and Edinburgh,
Lord Seton and Lord Borthwick were preparing to join them. While
Bothwell was going over these reports, there was a knock. Edmund Hay,
Bothwell's attorney in Edinburgh, stood waiting just outside the
door.
"Why, what is it?" asked Bothwell. "Surely you do not have papers for
me to sign about property and suchlike? You lawyers are a devoted lot
always business as usual. Even funerals provide much of it."
Hay, who was sweating profusely, began to fan himself. "Forgive me. It
is hot, unseasonably hot. "
Indeed it was, Mary suddenly noticed. Until then, she had not even
been aware of the hot puffs of air coming in the windows.
"Yes, what is it? You have worked up a sweat in coming," said
Both-well.
"I bring an important, private message from Balfour in Edinburgh
Castle. It is this: The rebels will not stand their ground in
Edinburgh, where they are now starting to mass, if they know the Castle
will open fire on them. But they are pouring in so rapidly, and soon
their numbers will be so great, that if the royal army lingers longer
at Dunbar, Lord Balfour will be forced to come to terms with them.
Therefore he begs you to delay no longer, but to strike out immediately
and attack them forthwith, before they grow stronger. "
"Is this even so? Have the Highlanders arrived yet for the Lords?"
"No, Your Grace."
"Ah!" He turned to Mary. "Then indeed we must strike. The fates have
delivered them into our hands!"
Balfour sat on the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle, enjoying the wind.
Usually it was uncomfortable to stand there, as the wind was always
cool, as if it had been chilled against ice and then released. But
today it felt refreshing; the heat was oppressive down in the city.
Beside him, Morton sat sweating in his heavy black clothes, the ones he
always wore because he imagined they gave his bulk dignity and made him
look sombre and pious.
"Do you think it will work?" Morton was saying. "Do you think Hay
will convince them?"
"I imagine so. Bothwell will trust his own lawyer. After all why
would he lie?"
Both men burst into laughter.
"They will be lured away from Dunbar and brought back here. We, our
forces, will stand between them and any from the west and north who
might wish, belatedly, to join them. Before the battle, Atholl and
Glencairn will have arrived with their Highlanders for us. In the
meantime, let us call all good citizens to be ready to march out at
three hours' notice to give battle," said Morton.
"Let me word it," said Balfour. "I do enjoy composing things."
A notice calling "all who would not be esteemed parties to the
aforesaid crimes and treasons to join the Lords in taking up arms" was
read out at Mercat Cross. It stated that "all who will not take part
in this righteous and loyal enterprise must quit Edinburgh within four
hours."
By noon, the royal forces left Dunbar and began marching westward. In
addition to the Borderers, they had two hundred harquebusiers and sixty
cavalrymen. Bothwell had ordered the three brass field guns from
Dunbar to be taken with them. Along the way, attracted by the
fluttering red and yellow royal standard, six hundred more horsemen
joined, along with villagers and peasants armed only with farm
implements. By the time they reached Haddington, they had a following
of almost two thousand. Just beyond Haddington, at Gladsmuir, Mary
halted and had a proclamation read.
"A number of conspirators, under pretext of preserving the Prince,
although he is in their keeping, have shown their latent malice. With
intent to dethrone the Queen, that they might rule all things at their
pleasure, they have taken up arms against their anointed ruler.
Therefore very necessity compels the Queen to likewise take up arms,
and place her hopes in the help of all faithful subjects, who will be
rewarded with the lands and possessions of the rebels according to the
merit of each man."
The crowds grew larger and the ranks of the royal army swelled, but not
with professional fighters. As they approached Edinburgh, the sun was
setting and the mob, hungry and dusty, needed to stop.
Bothwell looked at their ranks. "I am satisfied," he said. "We can
halt here. Seton House is not far away. Let us overnight there. Then,
before it even grows light, we will march on to Edinburgh and overwhelm
them by surprise. "
Kirkcaldy of Grange, who fancied himself a handsome knight, in spite of
his balding head and lined face, was enjoying drawing plans for the
coming battle. Should his cavalry flank and then charge into the
centre of the royal forces, killing and trampling and causing a
stampede? Or should he aim directly for Bothwell, ignoring the lesser
men, as warriors of old did? Which would demoralize the Queen more?
Humming, he drew another plan. If he divided the cavalry .. .
Someone drew aside the curtain. Annoyed, Grange looked up, already
scowling. It was a nephew of one of the Setons.
"Yes?" he barked. He hid the wooden soldiers he had been maneuvering
and covered up the plans.
"They are at Seton House. Lord Seton has joined them, giving them
forces of almost three thousand. The body of the army is camped around
Seton. They plan to move out early tomorrow morning, by five if
possible, to take Edinburgh by surprise," he said.
"How do I know this is true?" Grange asked. "You could be lying to
mislead us."
"I cannot prove it. But Ruthven will vouch for my loyalty to the
Congregation. And Lindsay."
"Very well. I will send for them."
Grange did, and they identified the man as Peter Simmons, who had never
trafficked with the royalists and had joined the Congregation years
earlier, but who lived near Seton.