"Yes. Ask me again tomorrow, on Monday. Remind me, lest I forget."
When Bourgoing reported this back to Mary, she was puzzled. "No one
has been allowed beyond the castle walls since we arrived," she said.
"And to think, it is no ruse. Perhaps this proves that it is always
best to be truthful." She laughed.
That evening, as the last prayers were being said, Willie Douglas
waited and then whispered to her, "Someone has arived from the
outside."
She continued with her prayers, but indicated to him to wait. When the
few remaining servants were dismissed, she drew Willie aside.
"Ah, Willie, what did you see? Your eyes remain as sharp as ever."
"Someone whose arrival has created a great stir. Paulet and Drury met
him in the courtyard, and whisked him in quickly, looking up
continually to see if anyone was watching."
"Did you recognize him?"
"No. I have never seen him before."
The next afternoon, Bourgoing sought out Paulet about the herbs.
"Have I your permission to go, sir?" he asked brightly.
Paulet refused to meet his eyes. "Not at this time," he replied.
"Perad-venture the Queen will not need them."
".. . and so I am not allowed to go," said Bourgoing bitterly.
"I see, then, that I will have no need of the herbs. You may cease
your searching for them," said Mary.
It was Monday, February sixth. Outside of the exchange between Paulet
and Bourgoing, nothing unusual happened. Had the summons indeed come?
Mary wondered. Perhaps the mysterious man was just on routine
business. Fotheringhay was a building, and a building had many needs,
especially in winter. There were leaking roofs, plugged-up chimneys,
flooded stables. All these things have nothing to do with me, she told
herself.
I will bide here forever, so it seems, she thought, lying on her bed,
feigning sleep. Each day will melt into the next, and finally weeds
and briars will smother the entire castle and we will be utterly
forgotten .. . forever and ever.
Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry til I come, what is that
to thee?
If You wish me to wait and wait and wait, why, then, I must obey, she
thought wearily.
The next day was gloomy, with swirling mists on the ground and a sun
that showed only as a fuzzy grey light. With great difficulty, Mary
rose and took her breakfast, then read quietly until time for the
midday meal. It was a meagre one, as little was available this time of
year: some limp carrots, musty cabbage, and dried fish. But she had
little appetite.
I must lie down, she thought. I hate to give in to it, but I need to
stretch out.
Slowly she rose and, and bracing the small of her back, felt the bumps
of her backbone. They were tender and aching.
"Madam, there is someone here," said Willie, coming from the outer
chamber. "Someone you know well."
"Who?" A sudden stab of fear gripped her.
"It is the Earl of Shrewsbury. He would fain speak with you."
"I was going to take my rest. I must lie down, I fear. But allow me
to settle myself, and then admit him to my bedside."
Shrewsbury! What was he doing here? Surely not no, Elizabeth would
not require that of him of either of them!
She arranged a coverlet over her swollen feet, and pushed a large
pillow behind her head. "Pray, admit the Earl," she told Jane, and lay
back and waited for the door to open.
Shrewsbury came in hesitantly. Behind him were two other men, as well
as Paulet and Drury.
"Welcome, friend," she said. She was surprised at how very good it was
to see him; she had missed him without being consciously aware of it.
He looked stricken; his eyes were puffy and streaked with dark rings.
"It grieves me to have come on this mission," he finally mumbled,
"although it gives me great joy to see you."
Robert Beale now stepped up to the bed. "As you know, I am clerk of
Her Majesty's Privy Council," he said softly. "I bring " he opened a
velvet pouch and extracted a square piece of parchment with the yellow
Great Seal dangling from it.
There it was. The warrant. Mary had never imagined how it would
actually feel to see it. It looked enormous, deadly. For an instant
her courage drained away. This was real, not a story.
"The warrant for my execution," she said in a faint voice. "Fear not
to read it to me. That soul is not worthy of the joys of Heaven
forever, whose body cannot endure for a moment the stroke of the
executioner."
Beale read the warrant, word for word.
Mary listened attentively. Also with all humbleness require, solicit,
and press us to direct such further execution against her Person .. .
taking her into your charge, cause by your commandment execution to be
done upon her person .. . as you think by your discretion convenient..
..
She bowed her head. "In the name of God, these tidings are welcome,
and I bless and praise Him that the end to all my bitter sufferings is
at hand." Her knee was throbbing. Now it was of no moment; soon it
would be stopped forever. "When is it to be?" she asked.
"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock," said Shrewsbury, his voice
unsteady.
"Eight o'clock? This time tomorrow, I shall have been dead four hours
already?" she cried. "That is not enough time to prepare!"
"Madam, it is two months since you were read the sentence," said
Paulet. "You should have prepared already."
"I have no power to prolong the time. You must die tomorrow at the
time we have named," said Shrewsbury apologetically.
"I will have to there are my servants to be provided for, they who have
sacrificed everything for my sake, and who, in losing me, will lose
everything; my will to be written I could not do it until the very last
minute, as I knew not from day to day what money or possessions I would
retain," she said. "I will need my papers and account books."
"That is not possible. They are still in London, whence they were
taken from Chartley," said Paulet.
"Pray, restore my dear chaplain, Father de Preau. You have separated
us for the last few weeks. Now I need him to help me in the
preparations my church deems necessary before death."
"No, that cannot be allowed. It is against the law of the land, and
our consciences. However, we will permit a Protestant chaplain to
attend you," said Paulet.
"Nay, that avails me nothing!" she said. "I must die in the religion
in which I have been baptized."
"Madam, your life would be the death of our religion, and your death
will be its preservation!" burst out the Earl of Kent.
She smiled, as if he had given her a great gift. "Ah! I did not
flatter myself that I was worthy of such a death, and I humbly receive
it as a token that I am one of God's chosen servants at the last." Her
joy transformed her face.
The men made ready to leave her bedside.
"Has the Queen sent any reply to my requests?" asked Mary. "Am I to
be buried in France?"
"We do not know," said Shrewsbury. His voice quavered, and Paulet shot
a look at him.
"Oh, sir!" cried Bourgoing, tears streaming down his face. "The
humblest individual, nay, the greatest criminal, would have been
granted a longer time to prepare for death! If you have no pity on
this noble Queen, at least have some on us, her servants, who will be
rendered destitute if she has no means of providing for us!"
"I have no power to prolong the time!" said Shrewsbury, leaving the
chamber. The door slammed shut.
Jane Kennedy fell weeping on the bed.
Mary looked around at all her grieving servants. Suddenly she was
strong again; she had work to do.
She touched Jane's head. "Up, Jane Kennedy!" she said in a loud
voice. "Leave weeping, and be doing, for the time is short!"
She clapped her hands to get the attention of the others. "Did I not
tell you, my children, that it would come to this? Blessed be God that
it has come, and fear and sorrow are at an end. Weep not, neither
lament, for it will avail nothing, but rejoice rather that you see me
so near the end of my long troubles and afflictions!"
She swung herself out of bed and went to her desk, where she busied
herself in dividing up her few remaining things, the little money she
had left, and wrote the name of each recipient on little pieces of
paper. She tried to account for every object, wishing she had more to
give them than these trinkets.
"Bring supper early," she told Bourgoing. "I wish to eat my last meal
and then attend to the truly important things."
The meal was served without ceremony, as her rod and her dais had been
taken away, along with her priest. Everyone sat weeping, choking and
unable to eat.
"Did you mark how they said I was to die for my religion?" said Mary.
"Oh, glorious thought, that I should be chosen to die for such a
cause!" She took a large cup and filled it with wine, and handed it to
Bourgoing.
"Now I wish each of you to drink to me, and pledge to me for the last
time," she said.
Bourgoing fell to his knees before her, and raising the cup, scarcely
able to speak, he whispered, "God grant you peace."
Jane Kennedy followed him, likewise kneeling. "I will follow you even
to the block, and I will never be unfaithful, nor forget you," she
said. Her eyes were brimming, but she kept her voice steady. She
passed the cup to Elizabeth Curie.
"I hereby swear to keep your name burnished bright before all men, and
to carry on your cause until the end of my days," she said.
"I helped you to escape from Lochleven," said Willie Douglas, "and now
I must stand by helplessly as you go to a worse fate you cannot
escape."
"Ah, Willie, you are indeed a faithful servant. But remember, I am
escaping from my troubles. The Queen my cousin does me a great
benefit."
Old Balthazzar knelt. "I have it ready," he said. "The dress. Would
that I had some other gift to offer."
"There is none I would so gladly accept," she said.
After all had passed before her, she took the cup herself and drank to
them. "Farewell, my good friends all. If I have done you any wrong,
pray forgive me."
The supper over, Mary took her place in a chair in the farther end of
the room and asked Jane to bring her her few remaining jewels and
treasures, so that she might assign them. One by one she held them up
and examined them.
"These are the relics of my former splendour," she said. "And they
will go out as my envoys from this place." She took a sapphire ring
from her hand, having a large square-cut stone. "This is for my brave
kinsman, Lord Claud Hamilton."
Other jewels were to go to the King and Queen of France, to Catherine
de Medicis, and to the Guises. Bourgoing was given her velvet-bound
music book. "Pray remember all our winter evenings, singing," she
said.