Mary pointed in the direction of her chest, and the little box of ivory
atop it. Lady Huntly brought it to her and put it in her hands. As if
Mary were a child, she folded her fingers over it.
"When I draw the curtains, then you should pray to Our Lady. She will
help you. She understands." Lady Huntly's plump face was as calm as a
July evening that promised only stillness and rest.
Could this woman be truly so kind? Was this a trick? Would she stab
her in the night?
"Your lord perished because of me," Mary said.
"He perished of an apoplexy," Lady Huntly said. "I think in that way
God was signalling His displeasure with those who rebel against their
sovereign."
"Your son, John "
"Love was never meant to lead to treason, Your Majesty. Saint Paul
says, "Love is long suffering and kind," and Saint John says, "He who
says he loves God and hates his brother is a liar." No, it was not for
love that my son perished, but for lust and rebellion."
Could she truly feel this way? Was it safe to trust her?
"You are good, Queen Mary. You have showered my eldest son George with
honours, and restored him to the Huntly estates. We are entirely
loyal."
So this remarkable woman was so able to bend her natural affection to
God's commands that she had become an ally?
"I believe I can serve you. I can perhaps carry messages from the
chamber.
They do not suspect me. The Earl of Bothwell and my son, the young
Earl, await your command. They managed to escape from Holyrood after
the clash in the courtyard with the Douglases, and can be counted on to
be at the ready with horsemen and troops should you so desire." She
laughed. "They had to escape through Bothwell's window and out through
the den of wild animals Your Majesty keeps here. Lord Bothwell got a
nip in his breeches from the lioness."
Mary giggled.
"Now rest, Your Majesty, and talk to our Blessed Mother. She awaits
you." She closed the curtains resolutely.
Mary lay in the darkness. She heard the soft rustle of Lady Huntly's
gown as she crossed the room. Then she heard her find the little
truckle bed and pull it out, and lie down upon it. In a few minutes
she heard the gentle snoring.
Assassins do not snore, she thought. So she means what she said. She
is loyal, in spite of my having bereaved her of her husband and a son..
.. How strange are the ways of God. How demanding, and how heavy ..
.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us, now and at the hour of our death
.. .
Is my death nigh?
Only if I allow it.
Hail Mary, full of grace. Blessed art thou
What are their plans?
amongst women and blessed
Will they imprison me? Who is the leader of this insurrection? Morton?
It is not Darnley or Douglas. They have not the brains. Maitland?
Knox? Surely a clergyman would not .. . Lord James? He was not here.
But messengers .. .
I must escape. It is all very well that Bothwell and Huntly stand
ready on the outside. But it is a long way to the outside. I must
make my way there. Those hundred yards to the outskirts of the palace
are as long as the distance to Muscovy. Darnley, my husband. I must
win him to my side. I must. He alone can act as surety for me.
He still loves me. It was his vanity that was betrayed, not his love.
I can win him to my will.
A sudden picture, so vivid it seemed to have come from Hell, flashed
across her mind: Riccio, his blood settling, his open eyes staring, his
limbs stiff and cold. Where did he lie, even now? Abed, fast askep,
the evil Douglas had said.
Let him at least be laid in a grave, she prayed. They are not above
feeding him to beasts.
But if the beasts had been satisfied, they would not have nipped at
Bothwell.. ..
Her head spun suddenly, and she was carried off in sleep. The rosary
fell from her fingers.
She dreamed of her rubies in the Great Harry turning to globules of
blood and oozing out and soaking into her bodice. She dreamed of being
locked in a turret and seeing a knight outside waiting to rescue her,
but his visor was down and she could not see him as Henri II's visor
had been down during the fatal tournament. She dreamed of Riccio,
playing for her on his ebony lute, and his voice was so sweet she sat
upright and awoke.
"I must have him play that again," she murmured, drawing aside her bed
curtains and seeing a dull grey light coming into her chamber.
Then she saw the blood on the floor.
"No!" she cried. He had been so alive, so alive and singing, only
just now.. ..
She lay back down in her bed.
Riccio is dead and I am a prisoner, she thought. I even have a turret
here. But there is no knight outside. Only Darnley to rescue me, and
first I must convince him. It is not the same as the dream.
Beside her on the floor, Lady Huntly was sleeping, a smile on her
face.
Your troubles are over, Mary thought. How long did it take before you
could sleep soundly again? It has been more than three years since
your lord died.
Where will I be in three years?
Where I will be in three years is where I put myself. It all lies in
my own hands.
She was dressed and waiting when Damley appeared at her chamber. She
had chosen a dress she knew he liked, a greenish blue with lace at the
neck, and had pulled only part of her hair back. She wore no
jewellery.
Darnley had clearly not slept.
Good, thought Mary.
He smiled when he saw her, but it was a hesitant smile. He crossed the
room and took her hands in his.
"Ah, my Mary," he cried. He looked into her eyes.
"Good my lord," she said, "you appear troubled, and well should you."
She wanted to take her hands away, but to do so would reveal her
revulsion. Instead she indicated that they should take their places on
the bench near one window.
Once seated, she turned to him, willing her eyes to be wide open and
show nothing but concern for him.
Else I am doomed, she thought.
"Dear husband, I am distraught when I think what danger you are in,"
she began. "I know not what their plans are for me...." She
hesitated, to allow him to tell her. But he was silent. "But the fact
that I am an anointed queen will stay, or at least slow, their hands. I
fear it will prove not so for you."
Damley's pale face grew ghostly. The planes of his countenance looked
lumpy.
"They are murderers," she continued. "And not just ordinary murderers,
but torturers. Else why slay David in my presence? They could have
set on him whilst you played tennis, or attacked him at night when he
was alone. Nay, you must question why they chose to dispatch him as
they did. Twas not a simple killing, but a strike of terror." She
looked deeply into Damley's eyes. "These are twisted and desperate
men. They used you .. . did you sign a bond?"
"Yes," he admitted miserably.
"They have it in their keeping?"
"Yes."
"Ah! Then they have what they wanted: the King's signature on the
murder bond, the King's dagger in their victim. Now they can dispose
of you," she said lightly.
As she had expected, he stiffened beside her.
"Yes, dispose of you. You don't imagine they will let you be a
figurehead ruler, when they can have him instead?" She grasped her
belly. "However acquiescent you are, a baby is more acquiescent. No,
you have served your purpose."
She ceased talking to allow this to sink in.
"And what mean they to do with me?" she asked, telling her voice to
sound unconcerned, as if she knew already.
"To transport you to Stirling tomorrow, or the next day."
"And then?"
"To allow the birth to take place there."
"And then?"
"I know not." He hung his head, showing that he knew all too well.
"Ah." She allowed silence to fill the room. "Are we to be separated,
then?"
He shrugged. They had not told him.
"For if we are separated, we are doomed. Together we can outwit them
and escape the deaths they have planned for us."
At the word deaths, he started.
"Henry" she had not called him that except in their most intimate
shared moments "they have shown they respect neither our royal persons
nor our sacred rank. They have attempted to divide us, knowing that
together we can withstand them. They have succeeded in the first part
of their plan: to frighten us and make us their prisoners. But the
rest of their plan, to divide us and then kill us, is long from
fulfillment. It depends on your helping them, until they no longer
need you. But if we could escape "
"It is impossible," he said. "There are guards everywhere. All your
people have fled."
"All our people," she said, taking his long bony hand in hers and
squeezing it. "But they trust you. If they thought you would act as
my guard "
"They would never dismiss all the guards."
"Is there no way to persuade them to vacate the palace? Suppose I
promised them a pardon?"
"They would never believe you."
"But if you convinced them?"
He shook his head.
I have not convinced you, she thought. Natural coward that you are,
you need something more to move you.
"Ah, Henry," she said, leaning over to kiss him. It was the first time
she had kissed him on the lips in months, and she could feel them
tremble under hers. He sighed and put his arm around her.
Now I will have to lead him to the bed, she thought wearily. Lady
Huntly was nowhere to be seen in the chamber, having gone to take the
messages to Bothwell and her son.
Obediently he followed her, and once in bed he threw off his clothes
with great enthusiasm and drew the bed curtains like a boy playing at
forts-and-soldiers. He ignored her stomach and instead gushed words of
appreciation and adoration. Tears came to his eyes before he lost
himself in action.
"Ah, my Mary," he wept.
In her presence chamber, Mary stood demurely as the Earl of Morton eyed
her. Could he know?
"The Lord James, Earl of Moray, is back in Scotland," he said.
"And I did not call him," she stated.
"Parliament is dissolved by proclamation of the King." Morton shot a
look at Darnley, who smiled back brightly.
He dissembles well, thought Mary. But then, I knew that.
"So there will be no attainders passed against the rebel lords of the
Chaseabout Raid. How convenient." She opened her hands and gestured,
palms upward. "It is good the King is so magnanimous. For it was
against him they rebelled, it was his person they evidently could not
stomach. It is indeed kingly to overlook this failing."