"Is this a true likeness?" she asked Maitland.
He took it back and looked at it carefully, his intelligent brown eyes
narrowed.
"Yes, and no," he finally said. "It was painted when my Queen was in
mourning for both her mother and her father-in-law. The white veil is
the French devil. She was weighted with sorrow, and that shows upon
her countenance. She is much more beautiful than that, for her beauty
is joined with motion and spirit."
"These deaths made her doubly a queen, did they not?" asked Elizabeth.
"Therefore her sorrow must have been ameliorated somewhat."
"She mourned them greatly," Maitland replied. "And within a few months
more, she had to mourn her husband's death. Three blows within
eighteen months "
"These blows brought her back to Scotland." Elizabeth motioned for him
to seat himself. He did, gratefully. Standing for long periods of
time hurt his knees. Cecil and Dudley took seats also. "For which the
people must surely rejoice."
Was that a question? Only if he cared to treat it as such, he decided.
"Indeed they do. It has been long since we have had a sovereign with
us. A regent," he said, "is not the same."
"So it would appear." Elizabeth sat back and folded her hands. She
stared at him with her black, birdlike eyes.
Cecil leaned forward. "Dear Mr. Secretary," he began, "when last I
wrote to you, in Scotland, you assured me that your Queen would approve
the treaty we so laboriously contrived, regarding the French, the
English, and the Scots. We have abided by our word; we have withdrawn
from Scotland. The French likewise. But your Queen has never ratified
it, giving, quite frankly, vague and flimsy reasons. As you know, she
was to renounce her pretensions to the throne of our glorious Queen
here present."
Maitland welcomed the opening. He smoothed his sleek beard, so evenly
trimmed; he was quite proud of it. "That is because, as the treaty was
written, my dear Queen was obliged to surrender not only any present
claim to the throne of England, but also any rights to the succession,
even if you God forbid! died without leaving heirs. That she cannot
do, in good conscience. For that would mean renouncing the rights of
her successors which, God be willing, she will be granted regardless of
how they might be needed should the occasion require."
"What occasion?" Dudley asked suddenly. His voice was loud, and
bordered on the blustering. This was attractive to women?
"Neither of these fair Queens is wed," replied Maitland, in his
smoothest, most soothing tone. "In the next generation, who will rule,
failing an heir on either side? It is only prudent that each could
step in to save the throne of the other in such straits."
"Prudent!" snorted Elizabeth. "Dangerous temptation! Not that I am
tempted by Scotland, mind you!"
"But your son might be," said Dudley. "And if Mary were childless "
"Exactly. Or vice versa," said Maitland. "You should choose each
other's kin before all others. You do not want to resort to
strangers."
"Mary Stuart is a stranger," Elizabeth said stubbornly.
"Not by blood," Maitland persisted. "And if you would agree to a
meeting, that would end such concerns."
"Oh, I agree to a meeting," said Elizabeth airily.
"When?" Maitland pressed.
"Not until after the next Parliament," Cecil cautioned. "You must not
leave until then."
"Next summer, then," said Elizabeth. "We can meet .. . somewhere in
the north. Perhaps Nottingham?"
"She will meet you anywhere, and gladly," said Maitland. He hoped he
was right. "In July, then?"
"August. I can combine it with a progress."
Both wily Cecil and handsome Dudley looked surprised.
"The young Duke of Norfolk will have to provide the hospitality and
entertainment, then," said Dudley. "Who else is up there? The Earl of
Northumberland, the Earl of Westmoreland .. . but they are so
unpractised."
"Therefore more resourceful and resilient," said Cecil.
There was amiable chuckling all around. Elizabeth motioned to one of
her ladies, and soon a servi to appeared with a bowl of crystal, a
plate of flat bread, and glasses of fresh cider.
"The autumn has been generous," said Elizabeth. She took a glass and
sipped from it.
Maitland realized with horror that the interview was at an end, and he
had not yet received an answer to his main business.
"This blackberry comfit is made from berries brought me by my dear
Robert," said Elizabeth, indicating the contents of the crystal bowl.
She smiled at him.
Maitland helped himself to the bread and comfit only after Cecil and
Dudley had partaken. He made sure to eat slowly and give no hint of
haste. At length he wiped his mouth with his linen handkerchief.
"Most gracious Queen, to continue on the topic of such interest to us
all: my mistress will gladly sign the Treaty of Edinburgh if it is
amended to recognize her now as your successor to the throne failing
your own issue, that is."
Elizabeth turned and stared at him. There was nothing soft or dainty
about her face now; her mouth grew so tight and small it looked like an
old scar.
"What! Think you I could love my own winding sheet?" she finally
said, in a low hiss. "The moment I name Mary Stuart my heir, I should
be forced to hate her, as every time I looked at her" she glared at the
miniature "I would be seeing deep into my grave."
"So must everyone think who makes a will," Dudley said lightly. "Yet
lawyers tell us we must. Sure, 'tis unpleasant to read those
too-explicit phrases: 'upon the moment of my death," 'within ten days
of my death," 'my body shall be embalmed with," yet we shudder and
sign, because not to do so is ... irresponsible."
"Robert!" she snapped. "Do you say do you imply that I am
irresponsible toward my throne and my people?"
"To refuse to marry and refuse to name an heir .. . yes, it is
irresponsible!"
"Ah!" Elizabeth cried in exasperation.
She must truly love him, thought Maitland. No one else could dare
speak to her in such a manner. Yet it is needful. Perhaps .. . thank
God for Dudley?
"Robert!" She laughed and caressed his hair.
Maitland was shocked.
"You know that cannot be," she said fondly. Then, quickly, she was as
imperious as before. "The moment I name my heir," she said seriously
to Maitland, "I lose control. Plures ado rat sol em orient em quam
occident em Most people are ever prone to worship the rising rather
than the setting sun. The heir becomes the focus of all the
unfulfilled dreams of the people. I saw it in my sister's reign, when
I was the heir. Let me explain something to you."
She drew Maitland off into an alcove of the chamber, where there was a
window seat, well furnished with cushions. She sat, and indicated that
he was to do likewise.
"A future ruler is a dream," she said. "A present ruler is the waking
world. Children dream of apples in December, and cry when they awaken
and have none. Just so subjects will dream of what a prince will give
them when he comes into his inheritance, and cry when they find it is
but a lost dream. For I tell you this: there is no prince living, or
who ever lived, including Solomon, who is rich enough to satisfy the
cupidity of the people. So subjects always long for the future prince,
and never love the present one according to his deserts. Unless the
present one is their only hope."
How well she understands the ugliness of human nature, thought
Maitland. Yet if she refuses to marry, she will eventually undo her
people. For no one lives forever to be anyone's only hope.
"I see," he said.
"However, if at this moment I were forced to choose an heir, I should
choose Mary Stuart above all others," she said unexpectedly. "I prefer
not to choose, but if I were forced to .. ." She arched her thin, pale
eyebrows.
"Are you willing to commit that to paper? I fear my mistress will ask
me to repeat it so often my brain will wear out."
"It looks healthy enough to bear a few repetitions," said Elizabeth,
smiling. The smile changed her face and made her look mysterious and
fetching. Even her sharp, dark eyes seemed sympathetic rather than
interrogating. "And no, I will not put it in writing. Your Queen must
trust your memory and my intentions. Besides, soon enough she will be
able to ask me face to face. Just a few months! In the meantime, tell
her I will send her a portrait soon, and I give her this diamond
friendship ring."
She pulled a ring off her finger. It was a double ring, made in two
intertwined parts: two hands clasped two diamonds in the middle, which
together formed a heart. She separated the two parts and gave one to
Maitland.
"This is an English custom," she explained. "If the Queen of Scots
would be my heir, she must begin to understand English customs. We
give a diamond ring that fits a mate. It can be returned to the giver
in time of distress, to presume upon the friendship. When the two
halves are fitted together again, then I am obligated to come to her
aid."
"She will be deeply honoured," said Maitland, examining the ring.
"Tell her not to presume upon it, nor to return it to me for a trifle,
like Master Knox," said Elizabeth, laughing and rising. The interview
was at an end.
EIGHT
Mary felt her hat fly off as she galloped through the forest of
Falkland ) on this last day of October. It lifted and spun like one of
the leaves 'falling lazily, landing who knew where? At the same time
her hair came loose and streamed out behind her, like an untidy
schoolgirl's. Panting and laughing, she kept on riding, not slowing to
let the rest of her party catch up.
The French were, she knew, comparing this forest to the ones at
Chambord and Fontainebleau, and she did not want to stop and let them
make snide remarks to her about Falkland. This was her forest, and a
forest that her father had loved, and by now the Frenchmen her uncles
the Marquis d'Elboeuf, the Duc d'Aumale, and the Grand Prior Francois,
as well as the writers Brantome and Chastelard who had accompanied them
seemed like intruders. Or rather, people she had to pretend in front
of. And she disliked always having to defend Scotland to them. The
unkind thoughts she herself harboured she kept to herself, for the
courtiers would magnify them and report them gleefully to Catherine de
Medicis.
She caught herself using the word gleefully and felt ashamed. That is
my own interpretation, she thought. I cannot know how they really
feel. But I know I will be relieved when they return to France.
Now she reined in her horse on an open knoll and let the others catch
up to her. The great forest of Falkland, beneath the Lomond Hills,
spread out golden on all sides of her. Down in the hollow the hounds
were baying had they cornered something? She and her party had already
taken a roe and several hares and had no need of more today. Besides,
the sun was halfway down the sky, and they had all been warned that
they should be back at the palace well before dark on this night of all
nights.