Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (156 page)
It was the destiny of England and Scotland to be united under her son,
James, and this would help cement it, and lay to rest the bad feelings
and suspicions about her own intentions toward the crown. When
Elizabeth received her, it would be tantamount to recognizing James as
her successor.
I can rest in safety in England and receive my people there
conveniently. Going to England will also prove to Elizabeth that I
have no wish to bring foreigners like the French onto our soil. I have
chosen England above them.
She dispatched the letter to go along with the one to Lowther. They
would take several days to reach their destination, and then an unknown
time after that before a reply was received. Mary stood on the little
pier at the foot of the Abbey Burn, from which the monks of old had
traded with England and Ireland, and watched the boat making its way
out into open water. Around her the pastures were filled with cattle
and singing birds.
Suddenly she was seized with a desire not to wait. It came upon her so
completely and so overwhelmingly that it felt like a supernatural
message, one that had her in its grip.
Go now, it urged her. Do not wait for a reply. Waiting is dangerous.
Surprise is the best element. If you are already there, then they must
give permission. After all, have you considered what you would do if
they refused? You be the master. You decide where you will go, and kt
them adjust themselves to that decision. Your instinct has never
failed you yet. Your instinct is to go. Go now.
"When is the next tide?" she asked Herries calmly. Boats could only
leave during high tide, as during low tide there were long, exposed mud
flats.
"At three o'clock," he replied.
"Find me a boat," she said. "I wish to cross this afternoon."
Herries stared at her as if she were demented. "No!"
"It has come to me that this is the right thing to do. I know it. Obey
me, for it must be so."
They walked, following the Abbey Burn as it gushed for two miles
through a grove of ash and alder trees, making its way to the Solway.
Everyone was silent, as if they were going to a funeral. Only Mary
felt lighthearted and at ease.
Almost twenty people insisted on accompanying her, determined to
protect her and share her fate: George and Willie, of course, but also
Lord Livingston, Lord Fleming, Lord Claud Hamilton, Lord Boyd, and Lord
Herries, with their attendants.
Lord Herries had procured a common fishing boat that was also used for
transporting coal and lime across the Solway, and it awaited them at
the pier. It was a shabby-looking vessel, stained and weatherbeaten.
Mary saw it without comment, then turned to look once more across the
fields and back up at the Abbey, silhouetted against the sky. Then,
without lingering over her farewell look at Scotland, she stepped into
the boat.
"Come!" She motioned to her party. They filed down the pier and got
in, wordlessly. The boat was packed; it rode very low in the water.
Those staying behind stood forlornly on the shore and dock. Suddenly
the Archbishop of St. Andrews waded into the water and grasped the
sides of the boat.
"Don't go!" he said in a fierce voice. "Dear lady, I beg you! I
implore you! This is folly! Misfortune awaits you!"
Mary laughed uneasily. She nudged the boatman to cast off. "Why, you
will ruin your clothes!" she said.
The boat started to move, being pulled by the heavy surf at the
confluence of the creek and the open water. The Archbishop hung on,
and attempted to stop the boat's drift. But the current was stronger,
and he was pulled by the boat.
"Stop! Stop, before it is too late!" His knuckles were white from
grasping the wooden sides.
"Farewell, my dear Archbishop," said Mary. "I shall be back in
Scotland soon, restored to my throne by my cousin. We shall meet again
in a few weeks. Now, I pray you, do not ruin your garments!"
The Archbishop was now up to his chest in the water. "I care not for
the garments!" he cried, but the boat was torn out of his grip,
drifting seaward. Unable to swim, he stood in the cold current and
watched it until it was out of sight, upon the Forth proper.
The sea, which could be dangerous in that area, today was calm and
inviting. The winds were fair, and conjoined with the tide, escorting
them toward England. All omens were favourable. Mary turned to look
back once more at the receding shore of Scotland.
"To England let us go, and merrily!" she said, more loudly than was
necessary.
It took four hours to make the crossing. At seven that evening, they
came into the harbour of the little fishing village of Workington. As
they beached the boat, Mary noticed how unusual the stones on the
seashore were: they were all egg-shaped, of various sizes, and in a
rainbow of colours, pale blue, cream, brownish pink. She kept staring
at them, as if this proved that England was indeed very different from
Scotland. As she climbed out of the boat and alighted, she stumbled
and fell on her hands and knees on the stones, seeing them very close
up. She closed her fist around a handful of them.
" Tis not an omen of stumbling," said Herries loudly, "but that she
comes to take possession of England."
There was an embarrassed silence. Fishermen had started to gather in
curiosity.
"Nay, that is not so!" said Mary. "I do not come to take possession
of England, but merely to be restored to what is rightfully mine in
Scotland." How could Herries say such a thing? What if it was
repeated to Elizabeth?
More and more people were gathering on the beach. It was a Sunday
evening, and after a day of leisure, people were enjoying one of the
first warm spring nights. It was imperative that they identify
themselves.
"Where lives Sir Henry Curwen, lord of this town?" asked Herries. "I
have brought hither from Scotland an heiress we hope to marry to his
son. I pray you, direct me to his home, good people."
The fishermen spoke amongst themselves for a moment. "He lives at
Workington Hall, to the east of town. Here, we will show you."
All the while Mary was looking around, expecting to see something
unusual or symbolic of her decision. But it was an ordinary little
fishing village with an ordinary pier. The spring evening was an
ordinary evening. All the portents and warnings and implorings seemed
terribly wasted on this moment.
England. I have crossed to England. This is English soil. It should
feel to me the way it felt to Caesar crossing the Rubicon, she thought.
But it feels like .. . nothing at all.
Sir Henry Curwen who was an old acquaintance of Herries's was in
London, but his family welcomed the refugees. Once safely within the
house, Mary revealed herself, and was relieved to find that the family,
which was Catholic, almost trembled with admiration for her. She was
warmly welcomed, fussed over, fed, and stared at. She asked Herries if
there was any token she could give, and he had only an agate drinking
cup he had brought from Dundrennan, but they received it as if it were
a holy relic.
She had not been prepared for such idolization. Why were they treating
her like a goddess? Of all the surprises she had received in the
course of the last few weeks, this was one of the most unlocked for.
But it buoyed her, making her feel that all would be well.
The change from whore to goddess was dizzying.
That night she asked for a paper and pen. The awestruck Lady Curwen
brought her the finest creamy paper they had, and in addition insisted
that she take a leather bound book with blank pages.
"For you to use, and to remember us by. My cousin, who is a devoted
son of the Church our Church cured and embossed the leather himself."
"I thank you."
"Oh, it is our pleasure, our delight! If only you could know oh, if
only Sir Henry were here! We are your greatest admirers!" She backed
out of the room, her head bobbing like a ducking stool.
Mary had almost forgotten what it was to be admired in an unqualified
manner. But now it seemed as unrelated to her real self as the curses
had been. Both were directed at a symbol, and the person inside the
symbol walked and breathed and slept as if in a suit of armour.
Now Elizabeth must be formally told of her arrival. She spread out the
good paper gratefully. No more handkerchiefs and charcoal.
She began writing, slowly. She would explain it all to Elizabeth. She
started as far back as Riccio, and in the telling, the letter grew and
grew. She felt as if she were already before Elizabeth, that Elizabeth
was actually hearing the words, as if by sympathetic magic.
BOOK THREE
Queen of Exile
1568-1587
ONE
Elizabeth was sitting before an open window at Greenwich, trying to do
two things at once. Her councillors claimed she could actually do four
listen to one person talk, compose a letter, make plans, and speak
herself. She encouraged them to think this, as it made her more
formidable in their eyes; they were like little children who actually
believed their mother had "eyes in the back of her head" and could see
them stealing sugar. But today she was having difficulty doing even
two things: looking out the window at her ships at anchor in the
Thames, and composing a letter to her remarkable cousin, the Scots
Queen. The breeze was gently blowing in, and the smell of the water
was inviting. Only a queen would choose to be inside on a fine spring
day like this. All normal people would be outside, savouring the
delicate May warmth of the sun, smelling the new-turned earth. Well,
after this letter was done .. . she would order the barge brought
round, and she and Robert would go out on the river. They would trail
their hands in the water and sing. Songs always sounded better
outdoors even banal lyrics seemed sweet and original.
She sighed. Now, as to this letter .. .
The Scots Queen had escaped from Lochleven! Another of her daring
ventures, so it seemed. One could not help but admire her. She had
courage and tenacity, and always seemed to find sympathizers, even
among her gaolers. Curious, that. She made enemies of her
councillors, and friends of her gaolers. But what did it mean, that
Mary was at large? Could she oust the Regent? Would her son's
anointing be undone? Thank God that, in her usual delaying manner,
Elizabeth had "neglected" to recognize the new King. Hence she could
afford to wait and see what developed.
They chide me for it, all of them Cecil and Robert and Norfolk, she
thought. For my caution and delay. But as often as not, it serves me
as well as action.
Wind was filling the sails of the boats down below. Time to get on
with it. She spread out the paper and began.
Madam,
I have just received your letter from Lochleven, but before its arrival
came the news of your deliverance and timely escape. We must give
thanks that God in His mercy has seen fit to hear your prayers. I
rejoice at your freedom, and that subjects who seek to bind their true
princes may be made to see, by this example, that heaven does not smile
on it. It is to be regretted that your love for one who was an
unworthy ruffian made you so careless of your state and honour and
caused you to lose so many of your friends.
I, as your kinswoman and sister queen, will do all that lies in my
power to restore you to your throne, but only if you will place
yourself in my hands and not traffick with the French with an end to
employing them on Scottish soil. Think not to toy with them in secret,
my not knowing: those who have two strings to their bow may shoot
stronger, but they rarely shoot straight.
Your assured cousin and sister, Elizabeth R. There. Did that put the
warning strongly enough? The French must not set foot or the embossed
boot they so favoured in Scotland. But the Lords would not just step
aside meekly. There would be another civil war in Scotland.
She shuddered. Civil war in Scotland. Civil war in France. Now civil
war was looming in the Netherlands as the Dutch rose up against
Spain.
I will do anything to prevent civil war here in England, she thought. I
will feint, and promise, and prevaricate, and threaten, and compromise,
and sacrifice. There must not be civil war here. If posterity can
give me no other credit, saying "there was peace in her land in her
reign" will be enough for me.
Now she was free to go outside and take the air. She always felt oddly
ill at ease when dealing with the Scots Queen, as if there were
something she had overlooked. Now that unpleasant task was over for
the present.
Just as she was rising to go to the door, an urgent knocking came. It
was a messenger, with two letters addressed in the same hand. He held
them out apologetically.
She took them. One was lumpy, the other slim. She opened the lumpy
one first. Out fell a ring bearing a heart-shaped diamond held by a
hand. It was meant to fit together with another one. What was this?
The letter was from the Scots Queen. It was written at Dundrennan.
Elizabeth sat back down and read it carefully. She exhaled to steady
herself.
Mary was asking permission to seek sanctuary in England! She had met
the Regent's forces in battle near Glasgow and had been utterly
defeated. Now she was fleeing, and asked her sister Queen for refuge
on the strength of this diamond ring.
Elizabeth turned the ring around and stared at it. She could not even
remember sending it to her. If she had, it was only a token, not to be
taken seriously, like all the portraits and miniatures and other such
things that royalty exchanged routinely. Surely.. . surely Mary had
not put faith in it? No. No one could be that naive. The Scots Queen
was only playing a deep game.
She could not come here! It was unthinkable! Yet ... if she went to
France, that would be bad for England. She would stir up her French
relatives to make trouble in Scotland. Spain .. . no, that was
impossible. O God! Best to have her .. . where?
She tore open the second letter, and as her eyes flew over it, she
actually felt the blood draining out of her face until it felt cold.
Mary was already here! That woman she had not waited for a reply, but
had just come ahead, in her own imperious way. Never thinking of me,
and what position it puts me in! she thought angrily. How dare she?
Hating herself for feeling only anger and no sympathy, she forced
herself to reread the letter, this time slowly. . My people seeing
this, and moved by that extreme malice of my enemies, encountered them
without order, so that, though they were twice their number, they were
at so great a disadvantage, that God permitted them to be discomfited,
and several taken and killed. The pursuit was immediately interrupted,
in order to take me on my way to Dumbarton; they stationed people in
every direction, either to kill or take me.
But God, in His infinite goodness, has preserved me, and I escaped to
my Lord Herries's, who, as well as other gentlemen, have come with me
into your country. I am assured that, hearing of the cruelty of my
enemies, and how they have treated me, you will, conform ably to your
kind disposition and the confidence I have in you, not only receive for
the safety of my life, but also aid and assist me in my just quarrel,
and I shall solicit other princes to do the same.
I entreat you to send to fetch me as soon as you possibly can, for I am
in a pitiable condition, not only for a queen, but for an ordinary
woman. I have nothing in this world but what I had on my person when I
made my escape, travelling across the country sixty miles the first
day, and not having since ever ventured to proceed, except by night, as
I hope to declare before you, if it pleases you to have pity, as I
trust you will, upon my extreme misfortune; of which I will forbear
complaining, in order not to importune you. I pray God that he may
give to you a happy state of health and long life, and me patience, and
that consolation which I expect to receive from you, to whom I present
my humble commendations.
Your most faithful and affectionate good sister, and cousin, and
escaped prisoner,
Mary R. Where was she now? Elizabeth saw that the letter was written
from Workington. That was a coastal town near Carlisle. Mary must
have come by boat. Suddenly she could picture it: the dishevelled
queen, a hasty council, not knowing which way to turn.. .. Like a
person running naked from a burning building out into the snow, there
to perish from the cold. She must have taken leave of her senses. Or
her courage and resourcefulness had failed her at last. Everyone had a
limit as the inventors of the rack and the iron maiden knew only too
well. Mary had been living in a nightmare for so long it must have
destroyed her reason.
I must send for her, thought Elizabeth. Yes, I must. Charity alone
demands it. I must not add to her torment.
But of course I will first have to announce this extraordinary news to
the Privy Council. They must be informed.
The Council did not enjoy being summoned to sit inside on this glorious
May day. Occasionally a bee would fly in the window, buzz around in
confusion, and eventually bump its way back out again. The councillors
envied the bees. They had to sit, elaborately dressed, and stay as
long as their mistress and sovereign demanded. And today she seemed
agitated.
"My dear advisers," she began, glancing especially at Cecil, "a matter
of great consequence has occurred on our northern border. Yea, I will
not keep it from you: the Queen of Scots has fled into England." She
waited to make sure they all comprehended. "She is even now at
Carlisle, having been taken there in custody by the deputy governor,
Sir Richard Lowther. She flings herself on our mercy, and desires to
come to us."
The men looked around at each other as if the one sitting next to him
would be privy to special insight. Only Cecil, Elizabeth's foremost
adviser and councillor since the very beginning, stared straight ahead,
impassive.
"She awaits an answer. Shall I send for her?" asked Elizabeth.
"Why does she wish to come?" asked Robert Dudley.
"To explain everything to me, so she says, so that I will be convinced
of the righteousness of her cause and help her regain her throne."
"And what is your own, wise feeling about this?" asked Cecil. He
fingered his forked beard.
"That I should send for her," said Elizabeth. "Poor lady, she is
destitute."
"Ah," he said.
Elizabeth looked at the Duke of Norfolk. "And what say you, as the
first peer of England, and premier estate holder in the land?"
The Duke, a thirty-year-old veteran of three marriages, looked
startled. "I say I say that you must examine her carefully before
admitting her to your presence. Do not look at her directly; let
someone else do it. I have heard that she has the power to enchant and
work others to her power."
Elizabeth laughed. "So we should send some victims north and see what
becomes of them? Perhaps they should walk backwards in to see her,
holding up a mirror! Do you wish to go?"
"N-no, Your Majesty." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rising
pointedly in his long, narrow throat.
"If I sent for her, where should she be lodged?" asked Elizabeth.
"Should I prepare a palace for her?"
"No, Your Majesty. That would be too generous. It would also be an
implicit recognition of her as your chosen successor," said Robert
Dudley.
"Oh. Then I should give her apartments within one of my own
palaces?"
"That you should not!" said Sir Francis Knollys, Elizabeth's
uncle-in-law and a leading Protestant. "She should not be granted
access to your august presence until she has .. . shown herself worthy.
I mean by that, that she has been acquitted of the crimes that drove
her from her own country and not by such blatant injustice as that mock
trial the Earl of Bothwell went through. That trial was a shameful
sham that merely confirmed his guilt!" His face was flushed with
emotion and disgust.