But will she? What if I were to marry him, only to have her decline to
name me after all?
Why, then, I'd be in bed with Master Robert. Lord of the Horse, Robin
of Cumnor Place, Cumnor Place, broke her face, tripped on her lace,
fell in haste.. ..
"Drink something!" A bowl was being forced between her lips, and she
could feel liquid spilling down over her chin. Nothing was going
down.
In bed with Robert, Robert, Robert .. . shall I?
She lay ill for five days, sweating, coughing, and floating in and out
of consciousness. Then, abruptly, she began to feel better. She could
feel the illness ebbing in her, giving up its grip. She struggled to
sit up, but found that the exertion was more than she could bear.
Instantly, Madame Rallay was beside her.
"Oh, my lamb, my dearest! Do not struggle! Are you better? Are you
hungry?"
"Nay," said Bourgoing, staying her hand. "First liquid, then food." He
held open her eyelids and examined the inside linings, then had her
open her mouth so he could look in. "Food will be too rough on this
throat; it will remain tender for many days."
"Uhhh " Mary attempted to speak for the first time since she had
succumbed to the complete grip of the illness. Her throat felt unused,
and the voice that issued from it was not her normal one.
"Don't try to talk!" scolded Madame Rallay. "Now here, have this soup
"
By the next day she was sitting up in bed. Seton had come to brush and
arrange her hair, combing through the tangles earned in the days
tossing on a sweat-soaked pillow, and she felt presentable, attired in
a bed-mantle.
Her first visitor was Maitland. He came into the room, neatly dressed
as always, his thinning hair combed so that it did not look quite so
thin. She expected him to look around furtively for Flamina (why else
had he combed his hair that way?) but he did not; he seemed genuinely
concerned only for Mary herself. "Thank God!" he said. "Although we
knew you were healthy, and the New Acquaintance prefers her victims
feeble, still, when a Queen is ill, it is a dangerous thing." He
smiled, and extended his hand. In it was a just-opened, deep red rose.
The scent was as rich as incense. "The first blossom from your
imported roses, planted last year. Is it not a sign?"
She took the rose and held it carefully. Indeed it seemed to be. The
roses were blooming; the transplants were thriving. "Thank you, dear
Maitland."
The next day she insisted on getting up and calling for her Marys to
help her dress, although she was still shaky on her feet. But when
Beaton brought out her favourite spring-weight gown of pearl grey, she
found that it was too big. She had lost a great deal of weight in the
short time of her illness.
"We'll have new ones made, then," said Mary. The prospect of new gowns
was not displeasing.
Balthazzar took out his tape measure and slid it around her waist, and
chest, and even her upper arms, and shook his head. "Yes, you are much
thinner. I could take in the other gowns. But I think it would be
better, since, as you recover, you will regain your weight and
strength, if we simply made two or three new ones for now. Is it time
is Your Majesty ready to wear colours again?"
"No, I will keep to grey, black, white, and violet."
"Dearest Madam, if you are entertaining the suits of candidates for
your hand," said Seton, "then would not something gayer be more in
keeping?"
"I will know when it is time, Seton," Mary said quietly.
Late that afternoon Lord James arrived, bearing a letter that had come
direct from Queen Elizabeth. He could barely restrain his curiosity as
Mary broke open the seals and laboriously read the letter. She had
always loved the beautiful signature:
"She asks that I allow the Earl of Lennox to return to Scotland and
inspect his forfeited estates," she said.
"That traitor!" said James. "He who sold himself like a mercenary to
Henry VIII, to deliver Dumbarton Castle to the English! Well he
deserved to lose his lands and titles!" James's voice rose in disgust.
"And all out of spite because our royal father did not adopt him as his
heir. He did not have to, after you were born. So you see, he's been
your enemy since your birth, and doubtless still wishes you ill."
"It was a long time ago," she said. "If he now wishes to do penance,
be forgiven "
"Once a traitor, always a traitor. You are too softhearted, sister!"
"A good ruler must be merciful," she insisted.
"A good ruler must look to his own safety before showing mercy."
Her eyes returned to the letter, ignoring his comment. "And so I will
show mercy," she said, "though some mistake it for weakness. I will
pardon the Earl of Lennox and restore him to his estates, as Elizabeth
has requested me to do. It was twenty years ago that he turned and
worked against his king. Twenty years .. . may not a sin be expiated
after twenty years? How long must someone be forced to pay for a
youthful mistake, a folly?"
"This is folly!" said Lord James, flatly. "One folly does not wipe
out another. It only compounds the folly. One folly bred to another
gives birth 0 to disaster."
"She does not mention Robert Dudley in this letter," said Mary, trying
to change the subject. Lord James looked so unhappy.
"And if she did?" he asked. "What would you say?"
"Why, I would say ... that I would like to have a look at him, see what
all the fuss is about."
In spite of himself, Lord James laughed. "I have seen him."
"And?"
"He's .. . fetching, considering his low origins. Or rather, perhaps
he is fetching because of his low origins. Some women like that sort.
Queen Elizabeth herself, so it seems."
After he left the Queen's quarters, Lord James hurried away to find
Maitland. He almost forced him into a small chamber, hustling him in
and locking the door behind them. "Queen Elizabeth wants the Earl of
Lennox given leave to return. And our Queen is like to do it! Her
illness has made her lightheaded. Stop her! She listens more to you
than to me; she thinks you have less vested interest in things."
"I cannot stop her. When she sets her mind on something, she is as
stubborn as Elizabeth herself. The more I tried to argue against it,
the more she would strain to do it."
"Then pretend you are in favour of it! Oh, Maitland! If that man
returns, everything changes. He will assert his claim to being heir to
the throne, he'll bring that son of his in his wake "
"The pretty Lord Darnley?" Maitland mused. "And use him to dazzle the
Queen? Oh, Jesu!"
"The two of them would be formidable, and undo all our good work. They
care nothing for Scotland, that's plain, but only for advancing
themselves. Why, their family motto shows it: Avant Damley! Jamais
d'arriere! Forward Darnley! Never retreat! Stop her, Maitland, stop
her!"
"I tell you, I am powerless." And he was beginning to feel powerless,
too. His legs were weak, and he had a pounding headache. "Pray let me
sit down just a moment "
Maitland took to his bed that evening. The New Acquaintance,
notoriously catching, had fouhd a new friend. The secretary's kindness
in being the first to visit his Queen and bring her a rose had earned
him this reward. Consequently he vs-a? dnable to discuss Lennox with
her, and by the time he recovered, word had been sent to London
granting Queen Elizabeth's request.
FIFTEEN
Madame Rallay had surprised Mary when she casually said, "I have been
studying the stars, and great changes some good, some not, 'all of
great magnitude are pending." "Studying the stars? How do you come by
that?" she asked sharply. She looked over at her lifelong servant and
thought, Are there surprises in every person?
"At the French court, you know, Catherine de Medicis had her
astrologers and fortune-tellers. Do you not remember? She was quite
dependent on them." Madame Rallay paused. "Well, there were many
hours, especially when we were at Chaumont, when time hung heavy. I
used to talk to Ruggieri you remember him, the one in the tower?"
Yes, Mary did remember. She had climbed up there, although it had been
forbidden. There had been a mirror that he used to foretell the
future. "Yes, a little," she said.
"He taught me the rudiments of the science."
"But it is forbidden!" said Mary. She looked carefully at Madame
Rallay, who was now almost sixty. "You know Christians must not engage
in fortune-telling! And you are of an age where people might suspect
you of being a witch! For shame, Madame!"
"But astrologers are not witches," Madame Rallay said. "They hold
respectable positions in society. Why, Queen Elizabeth selected her
Coronation Day on the advice of astrologers. And if it weren't a
science, and didn't reveal the future, why would it be forbidden to
consult them concerning a king's health?" The old lady was eminently
sensible. "It was a good skill to acquire, like darning hose or being
able to dry herbs for medicines." She paused. "However, it would be
best if you did not mention this to Father Mamerot."
Mary sighed. "Very well, then. What do you see?"
"I am no expert, so all I have been able to read is that there are
major changes in the heavens."
"I do not need the stars to tell me that!" said Mary, with a laugh.
"First of all, there are always major changes afoot sometiAere. And
second, there are two in my own life: I have sent Melville to talk with
Queen Elizabeth about her proposed husband for me, Robert Dudley. And
I have also sent notice that the Earl of Lennox shall be allowed to
return to Scotland."
Both of these things had caused her much concern. She was puzzled by
Queen Elizabeth's offering her own favourite, Robert Dudley, as a
husband. Did she really mean it? If so, why? Mary had almost laughed
at it, it had seemed so ridiculous. Robert Dudley's own father and
grandfather had been executed for treason, and the family's lineage
before that was obscure. Dudley was described as coming from "a tribe
of traitors." Everything in the offer smacked of insult, except for
one thing: although the whole world snickered at Robert Dudley and
looked down upon him, it seemed that Elizabeth herself loved him above
all others and considered him her dearest friend. Whatever the rest of
the world thought, in offering him to Mary, Elizabeth was making a
sacrifice herself.
The match with Don Carlos had come to nothing; Philip himself had
withdrawn the offer and it seemed that Don Carlos was mad and had been
locked up. Erik of Sweden had sent love letters but little else, and
the Archduke Charles had suddenly been rediscovered by Elizabeth. Round
and round it went.
Mary turned and said to Madame Rallay, "Come, brush my new clothes.
They are almost ready for the ceremony and must please you, since they
are in colours. You know I will allow myself to wear colours for state
occasions."
She called for Balthazzar and asked him to bring her gown. "Indeed it
is almost ready, Your Majesty. And the coat of cloth-of-silver !" He
rolled his eyes.