"How so?" Knox spread his hands in greeting. "My Lord of the Byres."
He bowed to Lord Lindsay.
"He is vain, empty-headed, arrogant, and touchy. Oh, and he dislikes
the Bible."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. I overheard him say as much on the way to Stirling."
The church was emptying out, and Knox returned to the pulpit to gather
his notes and close the Bible there. He pointed to the hourglass on
its stand before the pulpit.
"He stole the hourglass and replaced it with this half-hour glass," he
said. "That is the level of his ingenuity. As if I cannot turn it
twice."
James shook his head. "Precisely."
"The hourglass he took was one Calvin had given me," said Knox. "It
was unkind of him to take it. There cannot be another." Calvin had
died a few months earlier.
"He plays these childish pranks," said James. "He is but a spoiled
baby, a mother's boy. And his mother will be wild with excitement when
she learns that the Queen has fallen in love with him. Why, Darnley's
mother has been scheming for him since he was born. You know she was
even sent to the Tower once for being a bit too eager to advance his
'royal claims." Now her dreams are fulfilled." Lord James paused.
"And I think he may have a tendency to depravity."
"He is not old enough for that. Thoughtlessness and selfishness are
the first steps on that road. But 'tis a long walk until one reaches
depravity." Knox ran his hand over the Bible and then reverently
draped its satin cover over it.
"He is farther along it than one would imagine," said James.
"Come home with me," said Knox, putting his hand on James's shoulder.
"Dine with me this Sabbath."
"And so you left after that first mass, the one with all the pink
vestments?" asked Knox, as they sat in his parlour after the meal of
stuffed cod and turnips and cabbage. Knox's new wife, Margaret
Stewart, a distant cousin of both Lord James and the Queen, had
withdrawn to leave them alone after bringing in a plate of figs and a
pitcher of claret. She was pretty and amiable, but little given to
chatter.
"Yes. Being safely out of Edinburgh, she was giving full rein to the
Popish ceremonies. There was incense, chanting" he saw Knox's eyebrows
rising "I could hear it clear across the courtyard! So I spoke my
objections and left. For the rest, they are still there."
"Riccio, too?"
"Need you ask?"
"She has sent Maitland to Elizabeth to ask her blessings on the
marriage. Oh you did not know?" Knox slowly stirred the sugar into
his red wine.
"No. I did not."
"He left a week ago. What will you do when this marriage comes about?
What will Scotland do, with such a king?" He sipped the wine, then
abruptly banged the goblet down. "We do not deserve this! Nay, we've
earned the right to a decent king! It is not to be borne! And we
won't bear it!"
"You have just answered your own question. I fear Henry, Lord Darnley,
cannot have long life amongst us. And as for his not being depraved
what else can you say of someone who shuts himself up in his room and
drinks? I saw him!"
"Drinking alone? You are sure of this?" Knox's eyes were boring into
James's.
"Indeed. He reeked of whisky, his doublet was undone and rumpled, and
he could scarcely talk. And all the while the Queen was dreaming sweet
dreams about him in her chamber, no doubt!"
Knox hated to imagine it. "A pity."
James nodded. "Most of the time, she is with him. She lived there
during his illness, so I heard. Her continual presence in his
bedchamber night and day gives scandal."
"She remains there even after he has recovered?" Knox shook his head.
"The shame of it! It is the scandal of David and Bathsheba!" He
paused. "Speaking of David, which brings to mind swords, did you hear
that Both-well has left France, where he has been ever since he escaped
from Edinburgh Castle, and is even now on his way back to Scotland?"
Once again Knox's news made Lord James start.
"That is all we need!" he cried. "I thought we were rid of him
forever!"
"He's a good enough Protestant," said Knox, watching James's face.
"He's not good for anything, except brawling, whoring, and
ambushing."
"And keeping order in the Borders," Knox reminded him.
"Yes, I grant that." James leaned back in his chair and hooked one arm
over its back. "Let us keep him there, then. Rounding up and hanging
those who steal sheep and reive by the full moon."
They brought in the May in the early dawn, Mary and her Marys, Riccio
and Darnley. They left Stirling Castle just as the sky was lightening
in the windows in Darnley's bedchamber, which lay in the eastern range
of the palace. The air was as chill and calm as an icy lake, and it
seemed impossible that warm weather would ever come again. But
Maypoles were being decorated in the villages as people prepared to
honour spring to force her arrival. Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
forbidden in Edinburgh by the Kirk, would strut and play openly all day
in the country, and lead the games of skill. A waning half moon was
fading out against the growing light and soon would be setting, old and
outworn.
"To the forest, to cut the branches," said Mary, touching spurs to her
horse's flanks. She hoped some early buds would be out, lest they
return with only bare sticks. She pulled her grey mantle closer about
her.
But there were many birch and rowan trees, vines of eglantine, and
hedges of hawthorn that had already opened their leaf buds and showed
miniature, sticky, translucent little leaves, shining on the branches
like dew. And in the meadows, violets and snowdrops were blooming.
Mary stopped and let her horse nibble the tender new grass while she
picked the little flowers and wove a chaplet with them.
"Here, let me," said Damley, taking it from her. He placed it on her
head, admiring the way the little starry wildflowers became her. "No
amethysts or diamonds could be fairer," he said. "No Queen of the May
could ever be more beautiful than you, wearing the flowers of the
meadow." He leaned over and kissed her. "This moment is privileged,"
he said in a hushed tone. "I am happier than I have ever been." He
looked around the meadow, watched the light on the dew, saw a small dun
rabbit waiting for him to move. "Stay, moment. Never change or
leave." He looked into her eyes.
"How solemn you are," she said, smiling. She moved her left hand and
brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The rabbit started and bounded
away.
"Now you have ruined it," he said. "The perfect moment. It is
gone."
"Only statues cannot move," she finally said. "And things move around
them, and moss grows on them, and ice covers them, and at last they
themselves move topple over or crumble. There's no help for it, I
fear." She took a small vine of myrtle she had cut; its bright
periwinkle flowers glowed against the shiny dark oval leaves. "Here's
a crown for you," she said, twining it around his head. "Now you are
King of the May, king of the perfect moment."
"To the Queen:
Be governor both good and gracious; Be loyal and love some to thy
lieges all; Be large of freedom and of nothinf desirous;
Be just to the pure for anything may befall; Be firm of faith and
constant as a wail...."
he recited. "I wrote it for you. There is more."
"I am touched," she said. "Pray walk with me and recite the rest. But
not if it is dolorous. I will hear only happy things today."
When the company returned from the Maying, wearing their garlands and
playing the horn and tab or they festooned the Great Hall with the
flowering branches and held the holiday feast. Afterwards they went
their ways to their chambers to rest; they had been up for many
hours.
Mary was looking forward to a short sleep and then, perhaps, a
surreptitious visit to Darnley. They would tease and romp in the royal
bed, while Riccio stood guard at the door. She wanted to lie in his
arms and watch the birds flying and wheeling in the sky outside, to
turn her head and marvel at his perfect profile.
The day had warmed considerably and she had opened her mantle at the
neck. As she walked along she sang to herself:
"As Robin Hood in the forest stood All under the greenwood tree There
was he aware of a brave young man, As fine as fine might be.
"And when he came bold Robin before, Robin asked him courteously, O
hast thou any money "
"Your Majesty!" The voice rang out over the courtyard stones. A tall,
red-haired man, dressed for travelling, walked toward her.
"Nicholas Throckmorton!" she exclaimed. The young English ambassador
had served in France when she was Queen there. "How delightful to see
you again!"
He smiled and kissed her hand. "More beautiful here than even you were
in France," he said. "Your native land agrees with you. The air, the
food, the water all seem to enhance you."
"But those were magic days in France," she said. Just looking at him
brought them back. Exactly so had they stood and talked in Paris, at
Chenonceau, at Chambord.
"Yes. Before the present troubles. It all seems so far away."
"But .. . why have you come?" Suddenly it seemed very odd to see him
there.
"Queen Elizabeth sent me. With personal instructions and messages."
"Tell me!"
He looked around. "What here?" He had envisioned an audience, a meal,
pleasant conversation first to stave off the official business.
"Yes!" Before he could answer, she grabbed his hands and squeezed them
with surprising strength. She looked as eager as a child going to bed
the night before a holiday. "What does she say? Is she pleased? I
know this match with Lord Darnley is exactly what she had in mind when
she suggested I marry an English subject. She sent him up here, but
she could not have foretold how I would have loved him! Oh, I know she
rejoices with me. Will she attend the wedding? Will she travel to
Scotland?"
Throckmorton cleared his throat to steer himself in this sea of words.
"Good Madam .. . Your Majesty .. . the Queen forbids the marriage. She
orders Lord Darnley and his father, the Earl, to return to England
under pain of treason. She has committed the Countess of Lennox to the
Tower for promoting the marriage. She absolutely forbids it."
"Wh what?"
"The Queen is in a rage."
Mary shook her head in stunned bewilderment. "She says I must have her
approval to wed, but there will never be a man to meet her approval. No
foreigners, no Catholics, no English subjects, no lowborn men, no kings
.. . well, then. I see that I shall never please her, and therefore I
must please myself. As I shall, and marry the Lord Darnley."
"He can never return to England if you do."
"Poor Darnley! First he is forbidden to return to Scotland, and now he
will be forbidden to return to England. Strange, when he himself has
done no harm to either country." She stood looking at him, her eyes
bright and hard. Behind her stretched the valley of the Forth, and, as
it was a clear day, Edinburgh was just visible by the smoke from its
chimneys far to the east.