She had planned this escape to Alloa, not secretly perhaps, but she had
not told Damley. Seven weeks had passed since the birth of the little
James Charles, and at last her physicians and court etiquette had
released her from her literal confinement in Edinburgh Castle. But
what they had released her to was the duty to return to Darnley's bed
or let him return to hers. And Damley had been eagerly waiting, he had
made it all too plain.
She shuddered. The thought of it was now worse than ever, since she
had been spared it for so long. It was like an abominable habit that,
once broken, cannot be resumed without utter debasement and revulsion.
Perhaps this retreat would give her the strength, or the courage, to
submit, or else the final resolution to flee from his embraces
forever.
John Erskine, the Earl of Mar, had offered her his castle on the north
shore of the Forth, near Stirling. She would sleep, read, stroll in
the fields, gather midsummer flowers to make chains and potpourris,
daydream. And pray pray for direction. She felt so lost, just when
she should feel most triumphant.
She glanced over at Lady Reres, a relative of Beaton's, who was rocking
little James gently. She was acting as the baby's wet nurse, and her
great bulk seemed to provide him with comfort in itself. Mary was
going to be entrusting him to Erskine soon, for that family was
traditional keeper of the royal children, as his father had been hers.
But until the day when she must be parted from him, she kept the baby
in her own room, listening to his every whimper and sigh, studying his
features for family likenesses.
No sign of Darnley. But also, no sign of the ship Bothwell had
promised to have waiting for her if she came to the docks before
sunrise. Mary turned to Madame Rallay and began to murmur under her
breath.
"He will come, Madam. That is not your worry," Madame Rallay said.
"Can I trust no one?" Mary burst out. If Bothwell was not to be
relied on, who was? He alone had not accepted bribes or turned coat on
her, Protestant though he was. He had seen her through the Riccio
horror.
Two rough-looking men came toward them; one had a beard so bushy and
streaked with red it looked false. The other man was thin and dressed
so lightly Mary wondered if he had any blood, or whether he had
hardened himself by sleeping out in the snow; she had heard of such
people.
"Yer Maj'sty?" said the false-bearded one. He swept off his hat. "Yer
ship awaits, on th' other dock. I'm the captain. Captain William
Blackadder, at yer service."
Black Adder. Never was a man better named, Mary thought. He looked
like a blackguard, poisonous as a snake.
"Lord Bothwell sent me," he said stubbornly, as if it should not be
necessary to add this.
"Indeed I did." Both well's head poked up from a piling, where he had
climbed up the iron rungs. He clambered up on the dock and gave
Black-adder a shove. "Is the leak plugged?" he asked, then, seeing
the look on Mary's face, he laughed. "I jest," he said. "Truth is,
Blackadder's ship is quite seaworthy. A pirate's must be, if he is to
ply his trade."
Laughing, Bothwell gestured toward Mary and her ladies. "Come. The
ship is ready, the sailors await, and the tide swells." He looked
around pointedly. "I see I did not need to procure such a large
vessel."
"Others may come afterwards. Perhaps by land," said Mary.
"Do we await the King?" Bothwell asked bluntly.
"No."
"Then let us depart."
He led the way across two wharves to where a well-trimmed ship was tied
up. It was called the Defiance, and it had brown sails. Suddenly Mary
remembered hearing that name ... it had been a pirate vessel!
Bothwell strode up the gangplank, the captain following. The sailors,
dressed in dark homespun, greeted him with affection and respect. They
merely glowered at Blackadder.
With Bothwell commanding, his voice carrying clear and far over the
water and the creaking of the ropes as the sails were maneuvered, the
ship cast off, seemingly effortlessly. The shore receded as they made
for the mid-channel of the Forth. Was that a movement on the road? Was
Darnley arriving, but too late?
Then he'll follow me on land, she thought, miserably. Is there no
escape from him, no respite, even for a few days? His behaviour never
improves, it only worsens.. ..
Bothwell, having turned over the sailing to Blackadder, came and stood
beside her at the railing. "I will be at my other duties soon," he
said. "I mean the ones on land."
"It is hard for you to be responsible for two such different realms,"
she said. "It is as if we asked a sea serpent to hunt in the jungle as
well as at sea."
He laughed. "I could be compared to worse things than a serpent, so
I'll hold my peace. The Borders need discipline and a heavy hand just
now. Ever since Lord James got tangled up in the first rebellion,
there's been little order down there. I am afraid, in plain language,
that they have got quite out of hand. I can administer my own justice,
but the truth is, they need the royal presence. You should come on a
progress there, and hold courts of justice to try the worst criminals,
and then hang them on the spot. They understand nothing else. There
have been no hangings there in years. Just blood-feuds and murders."
"Do you truly think I should go there?"
Now the sun had risen and was making a glittering path on the waters.
She pushed back her hood and let the wind touch her hair. The chill
was leaving the air.
"Aye. They need to know they have a queen. At present they feel they
have to answer to no one but the head of their clan. They answer to
me, somewhat or rather, to my sword arm. But they should feel your
presence, and now they do not. I'll round them up, if you will judge
them."
"And hang them? You'd have me do that?"
"It's the only way to get their attention." He laughed again.
"It would earn their hatred, not their respect," she objected.
"In the Borders, they are the same thing. Besides, once they had seen
you, they might become your liege men. They're a sentimental lot.
Courtly, in a strange way. You might win them over."
"With smiles and fair words? Or hangings and beatings?"
"You could try both and see which is more effective."
She could not tell whether he was serious or not. "I will come, after
you have rounded up the bandits, murderers, and thieves."
"A fine assignment. I'd best be about it, then, whilst you take the
cool summer breezes and forest paths at Alloa." He turned from the
railing and waved a signal to one of the seamen.
"Perhaps you should stay at Alloa a few days yourself. We could confer
I wish you would tell me about the Borders!" she burst out. "You know
more than anyone else, and I need to learn!"
"You could never understand about the Borders," he said. "It is
impossible for an outsider ever to understand."
"I cannot stomach that any longer!" she cried. "Calling me an
outsider has been everyone's excuse to exclude me from everything! "You
cannot understand Scotland, you're a Frenchwoman!" " she mimicked
perfectly. " "You cannot understand the Scriptures, you're a
Catholic!" "You cannot understand warfare, you're a woman!" "You
cannot be trusted to rule, you're a daughter!" Well, I can tell you
that an outsider can learn more than anyone born to the thing whatever
that thing is!"
He looked as though her words had blown him back an inch or two. "Well
spoken. So you do understand. I too am an outsider in some ways. You
speak the truth. We will have to talk more. Another time. When you
visit the Borders to try my malefactors!"
It was a week before Darnley came to Alloa. Until then, Mary was able
to luxuriate in the freedom that came from being away from him a
freedom she had taken for granted before she knew him, but this was
different.
She was sitting out in the castle forecourt, just watching the birds
flying overhead, the hawks circling in the dappled blue sky, when Lord
Erskine came out.
"A messenger has told me the King has been seen leaving Edinburgh this
morning. I imagine we can expect him here tonight." As befitted the
game everyone was playing about "the King," he made no faces, had no
meaningful expression in his words. His long face mournful-looking
under normal circumstances did not look less mournful now.
"Oh. I see. Thank you for telling me."
Mary tried to read something else in Erskine's face. She had known him
so long his father had been one of her childhood guardians, and he
himself had attended her at court since the beginning. But he was also
Lord James's uncle, and an early member of the Lords of the
Congregation. In some ways all the contradictions and mysteries of
Scotland were contained in this one inscrutable man. If I could
understand him, thought Mary, I could understand everything here.
"Shall I make his quarters ready adjoining yours, Your Majesty?"
"No. I prefer that he have separate quarters."
"As you wish." Erskine gave a little bow of obedience. "I am so happy
you have come here!" he burst out.
"I am happy, too," she said.
And she was. The fresh air, the quiet, the rest and sleep, had been
completely restorative. And Erskine, who would become the guardian and
keeper of her most precious possession, the baby Prince, had had an
opportunity to hold the baby, to play with him and watch him, as if he
were any ordinary child.
"I greatly appreciate your bringing the Prince to me now, privately, so
that I can come to know him. Rest assured I will guard him and cherish
him," Erskine said.
"Promise me that you will protect him!" Mary suddenly said. "Promise
me that no matter what happens, no matter what turmoil or fighting or
disruption, you will not surrender him into anyone else's hands not the
English, nor the French, nor nor anyone who might claim possession of
the throne."
"It is my hereditary duty and privilege to be able to promise this," he
assured her. "But are you so troubled "
"Yes!" She grasped his hand. She should not be talking to Erskine,
she should not confide her thoughts to anyone, she knew that, but the
words seemed to come of themselves. "Everything is murky, since Riccio
was murdered. Even the Chaseabout Raid was different Lord James and
the others openly declared themselves enemies, and an honest
confrontation occurred. It was a manly manner of treason, so to
speak."
I must not say anything against Lord James, this man is his uncle and
undoubtedly loyal to him, she thought. But he seems so kindly, so
sympathetic.. .. That has been the problem all along here in Scotland
for me. I cannot read what is.
"But this killing, and secret bonds, and bribe money " She shuddered.
"I fear it is not over yet, that some monstrous thing is yet
unfinished." There, she had given voice to her deepest fears. "It
hangs over me like a cloud, and I feel choked and enveloped in it!"