Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (81 page)

Read Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles Online

Authors: Margaret George

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

 

"I can go no faster without endangering the child," said Mary. The
sound of their horses' hooves punctuated every word.

 

"It is no matter; if it dies we can make another!" he yelled.

 

"Then leave me and save yourself," said Mary, and he did.

 

He is beyond even hating, thought Mary. Beyond pity, beyond any human
consideration.

 

Bothwell shot her a look, but she refused to be pitied or disdained,
and she hated him for having overheard. She turned her head and looked
straight ahead, as if she could see all the way to Seton. The bouncing
and thudding of the horses' hooves reverberated through her belly.

 

Poor baby, she thought. Blessed Mother, protect him.

 

She looked behind her into the dark. No one seemed to be following.

 

The night was still completely black, and as they galloped toward the
Forth and Seton House, they had to trust the horses' instincts to avoid
dips and loose ground on the uneven terrain. Low-hanging branches were
a constant hazard, and the riders had to keep ducking to avoid them;
nonetheless they were often sideswiped or whipped across the face in
the darkness.

 

It was twelve miles to Seton House, and by the time they reached the
gatehouse, Mary's fingers were stiff from clutching Erskine's clothing,
and she was chilled through and through. But as they clattered into
the court yard, she saw the flare of torches, heard and smelled a great
company of horses, and knew that a contingent of loyal riders awaited
her. She was safe.

 

Erskine's horse stopped. Bothwell lifted her down, and Lord George
Seton Mary Seton's brother and the new Earl of Huntly came forward.

 

"Welcome, Your Majesty!" cried Seton. "Thank God you are safe! We
all await your command."

 

She looked around. On her feet after the long ride, she felt a little
dizzy, but exuberant. "It is not safe here," she said. "It is too
near yet to Edinburgh. We must make for some truly fast fortress."

 

"Dunbar," said Bothwell decisively. "It's guarded on three sides by
the sea, and as near impregnable as any stronghold can be. It's
another thirteen miles to the coast. Can you "

 

"Of course I can ride! And on my own, too! Bring me a horse." Did he
think she would need to be carried in a litter?

 

He looked doubtful, but nodded to Lord Seton. "Bring the Queen a fleet
palfrey," he said. Lord Seton looked surprised to be given orders in
his own home.

 

"Away!" cried Mary, after she was mounted. Two hundred men lifted
their torches, shouted, and followed her.

 

In the three hours it took to reach Dunbar, the sky began to lighten,
and as they approached the grey, boxy fortress it was lit from the
ocean side by the rising sun, surrounded by an aureole of fire. A
chorus of seagulls sang their entrance.

 

"Who goes there?" called the watch from the crenellated battlements.

 

"The Queen!" called Mary. "Open in my name!"

 

Once inside, Mary, Bothwell, and Seton ascertained that the keeper,
Simon Preston, the Provost of Edinburgh, was absent. Whose side was he
on? In spite of his timely appearance leading the citizens to the
gates of Holyrood, had he known about the Riccio plot in advance? Why
had he allowed himself to be dismissed so easily by Darnley's lies?
Where was he now?

 

No matter, thought Mary. He was scant aid to me in my hour of need,
and settled for the easy way out. Therefore he is keeper here no
longer. Such a fortress belongs in the hands of someone I can trust.
Bothwell. Yes, he has surely earned it.

 

The cry of the gulls outside the windows sounded like the shrieks of
hungry children.

 

"I pray you," she said to a servant, "bring me two dozen eggs, some
butter, some cheese, some ale, and an iron skillet. And light the fire
in this fireplace." She turned to the leaders and said, "Gentlemen, I
shall make you breakfast!"

 

As they sat at a small table eating what Lord Seton called "eggs a la
Reine d'Ecosse," "cheese Royale," and "Her Majesty's ale," Mary
announced that henceforth Bothwell would serve as Dunbar's keeper, and
in the same breath asked the men to raise an army of loyal soldiers to
march on Edinburgh with them.

 

"However many you believe are needed," she said, "to chase the rebels
out." She looked to Bothwell as the most experienced soldier.

 

"We'll get the Scotts, and that's all the fighters you'll need," he
said with a laugh. "Aye, they'll be loyal, and "

 

"We'll put out a call to all Scotland," Huntly corrected. His clear
blue eyes were steady and cool.

 

"And what do you suppose my lords of Morion, Ruthven, and Lindsay are
having for breakfast?" Mary asked suddenly, passing a second bowl of
eggs. She grinned.

 

"They are eating crow, as the saying goes," said Lord Seton. "And not
served as prettily, I warrant."

 

"Is there pen and ink here?" she said. "I must needs write
immediately to Charles IX in France and Elizabeth in England! They
must be informed!"

 

TWENTY-NINE

 

The sun came up gilded in a bank of clouds.

 

"Rain today," muttered Bothwell, taking only one glance of the sky. The
wind was chilled, and outside the castle windows the sea looked thick
from cold.

 

Darnley was huddled in front of the fire in the hall, shivering. "What
are we to do?" he asked.

 

"I'll send out the call for my Borderers," said Bothwell. "As soon as
they come, we'll march back to Edinburgh in strength."

 

"And drive the rebels out!" cried Mary. She looked at both men;
Bothwell was clearly exhausted, but Darnley looked worse. "Drive them
right into England, or wherever they want to run and hide!"

 

"Aye!" Bothwell almost shouted.

 

The evil, cold-blooded murderers .. . and the foremost among them was
sitting right here, in front of the fire. Mary ran her hand over her
stomach, gently, as if afraid that only one more touch could kill the
baby.

 

And after you are born, I shall have my revenge, she thought, looking
at Darnley out of the corner of her eye. No, I'll not ever be wife to
you again, traitor!

 

By that afternoon, word reached Mary that other lords, made bold by her
courage and Bothwell's strategy, were coming to Dunbar to offer
themselves and their men in her service.

 

Bothwell entered the room where she was sitting and reading the
dispatch.

 

"Do you not ever sleep?" he asked, staring. "Do you not need your
rest for ... for the child?"

 

"The child will be a true Stewart, and be most at home in action and
high deeds," she said, repressing a sigh of exhaustion. "But look the
earls of Atholl, Sutherland, and Crawford, and the lords, brothers of
my Marys, Fleming, Seton, and Livingston are coming to Dunbar. We have
prevailed!"

 

"Not yet," said Bothwell. "There has been no fighting yet."

 

At last Mary allowed herself to rest, stretched out on one of the beds
in the old quarters. She had been awake now for how many hours forty?
She was not sure. Everything blended together, from the moment she had
alighted on the plan of escaping at night, to the ride through the
countryside.. .. She was abruptly, heavily weary. She slept.

 

When she awoke, it was to a new feeling: a cold, certain fear. It was
only now that she could see all the events together and realize how
precarious her situation was. She was utterly surrounded by traitors
and murderers. Her innermost guarding circle had turned out to be a
dangerous circle of enemies rather than safety. And these were the
powerful nobles, the ones with intelligence and many men-at-arms.

 

I always knew Knox was my enemy, she thought. To his credit, he
proclaimed himself so from the beginning. And whatever he preached, he
never wielded a dagger himself. I could invite him to my chamber
without fear of being stabbed.

 

But Ruthven .. . Morton .. . Douglas .. . the foremost names in
Scotland! And then there is my brother, Lord James, the highest in the
land .. . how quickly he appeared on the scene! He must have directed
the whole plan from England. For one thing is certain this was
planned. It was not done on sudden impulse. It took place on the day
before Parliament was to punish the rebels from the Chaseabout Raid.

 

She found herself shaking. She pulled a fur over herself.

 

It is with the cold, she told herself. It is not from fear.

 

Outside the wind was moaning, and she could see rain falling in a
steady pelting from the skies.

 

Whom can I trust? Is Bothwell the only loyal lord in the land? He has
never abandoned the crown, and supported my mother against her
enemies.. ..

 

"I wish I had my armour."

 

Mary heard a familiar, revolting voice nearby: Darnley's. Wearily she
turned her head and beheld him, standing forlornly in the middle of the
sparse stone chamber. This was a chamber for rough warriors, not
perfumed courtiers.

 

"I left the armour behind in Edinburgh. How can I ride out with the
troops without armour?" he was whining.

 

That was all he had enjoyed about the Chaseabout Raid: wearing his
armour.

 

"Borrow some from Bothwell," she replied.

 

Darnley threw back his head and laughed, a braying, high-pitched,
unpleasant sound. It echoed in a peculiar way off the uneven stones in
the chamber. "It wouldn't fit. I'm taller," he said disdainfully.

 

"I meant from the military stores here," she said, equally
disdainfully. "This is a royal arsenal and supplies of armour,
artillery, and gunpowder are stored here."

 

"Oh, yes." He looked around vaguely. "Well, I shall see to it."

 

She sat up. "Has anyone arrived yet?"

 

"Atholl is already here, with a thousand men. And some of Bothwell's
troopers "

 

"Aye, the Scotts have arrived." Bothwell stood in the doorway, his
blocky form almost filling it up. "I came to tell you."

 

"With how many men?" asked Mary. She arose from the bed.

 

"Several hundred. And they sent word that the Robsons and Taits are on
their way, and with some of their best men: Crack-spear and
Cleave-the-crune you can guess how they got their names!"

 

Mary laughed. "They can cleave as many crowns as they wish, and with
my blessings!"

 

"What a disgusting celebration of violence!" said Darnley.

 

"The names are very descriptive," said Bothwell. "There's Curst Eckie,
111 Will Armstrong, Buggerback Elliot, and Bangtail Armstrong. Perhaps
if you went to the Borders, they'd find the proper name for you as
well."

 

Darnley turned and left the room, his back stiff.

 

"Yes," said Mary. "They could call him Craven Henry." She shuddered.
Now that he had left the room, she felt as if an ugly spirit had
departed.

 

"Are you rested?" Bothwell asked. "You should make sure that you
are."

 

"What will we do now?" she asked. She was ready to do whatever he
said.

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