Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (138 page)

Had she not been so debilitated, that thought would have been more
frightening, more revolutionary. But it only felt like a small part of
the enormity of her losses.

The next day the physician pronounced himself pleased with her
recovery. The hemorrhaging had ceased, and she had been able to take
nourishment, although she showed no real appetite as yet.

"Keep giving her the wine, and see if you can add a little chopped meat
to the soup," he told Seton, who had become the chief nurse. "And
allow her complete rest no disturbances."

Nau, who had been looking out the window, suddenly said, "That may be
difficult. A boat is approaching, and it is not the laundry maids or
the guards, or any of the household from the mainland." The Laird
maintained a separate large manor house directly across from the
island.

Jane Kennedy joined him at the window. She took pride in her ability
to see long distances, saying she had been born with the eyes of a bird
of prey. "It is Melville," she said. "And he has a glum look on. He's
carrying a large leather pouch."

Mary groaned and made an effort to sit up. "We must admit him, when he
comes. If he comes here. He may just speak to the Douglases and the
other gaolers." Like the unspeakable Ruthven and the vicious,
bloodthirsty Lindsay.

The boat landed and they saw Melville get out, then disappear inside
the castle grounds. It was near sunset when the expected knock came on
Mary's door down below. He was admitted and brought upstairs, where
Mary was lying in bed, unable to rise.

She was unexpectedly glad to see him; in this nest of hatred he seemed
like a true friend. "Dear Melville," she said, stretching out her
hand.

He knelt and kissed it. "Your Majesty," he said, with pain in his
voice, "I am distressed to see you in this state."

"Oh, the worst is over," she assured him. "I can only get better, as I
am doing hourly. I have had an untimely birth, and it was difficult.
But my good doctor here assures me I will fully recover my body, if not
my heart."

"Your Majesty may I possibly speak with you privately?" He looked
around at the attendants.

"Why, yes." Mary watched as her attendants silently left the room and
descended the spiral staircase to the public room below. Then she
said, "Dear friend, what is it? You look anguished. Is it is it truly
that dreadful?" She drew her breath. "I am ready to hear it, no
matter what it portends." And, surprisingly, she was.

"Your Majesty, I will be honest. I have been sent to persuade you to
agree to allow young James to be crowned King."

She exhaled. "To abdicate, you mean? Speak it plain."

"Yes." The one word hung there. Then he added, "Let me explain "

"Yes, there are always explanations. But history never remembers the
explanations, no matter how mighty they may be. Only the bare fact
stands out, undressed of explanations. But pray tell me. I wish to
know." She put her hands under her thighs and pulled herself up to a
sitting position. Pain shot through her.

He continued kneeling. "This is painful for me as well. I made the
journey, as you requested, to England, and spoke directly with
Elizabeth. She was outraged at your behaviour since the death of
Darnley, and had written a strong letter about it. But when the Lords
imprisoned you, it changed her mind. At once she was on your side; she
said that no matter what you had done, your subjects had no right to
imprison you or judge you, that they owed you obedience, and that only
God could judge you. She was ready to send an army to help you. But
then "

"Ah. There is always a 'but then." Pray rise, and take a seat. I
fear this is uncomfortable enough in the telling, without wearing your
knees out on the cold stone floor."

Stiffly he rose and brought a stool over to the bedside. He took a
long time arranging his breeches and settling himself before
continuing. He took a gulp of air and plunged in. "But then the Lords
said they would kill you if any English army set foot in Scotland. They
have you as a hostage. So Elizabeth was forced to desist, and sent
Throckmorton north as ambassador to negotiate with the Lords and talk
with you. The Lords refuse him permission to come to Lochleven. They
have kept him waiting, dangling, but finally said he may not see you.
But he has given me this letter from Elizabeth to give to you."

He fumbled with the scabbard of his sword, and pulled out a folded
piece of paper from deep within it. "Here," he said. "I have
concealed it here at peril of my own life."

She took it. Her eyes skimmed over it rapidly. Then she handed it
back to Melville for him to read.

It is my most sisterly advice that you should not irritate those who
have Your Majesty in their power, by refusing the only concession that
could save your life. Nothing that is done under your present
circumstances can be of any force once you have regained your
freedom.

"But how am I to regain my freedom, as there is no one to liberate me?
The English army cannot come, and Bothwell what news of Bothwell? Where
is he?" Her voice grew eager.

"Madam, my reports are that he has fled to his uncle the Bishop's at
Spynie, but that Balfour, who has betrayed him "

"Balfour has betrayed him?" she gasped. "When did this happen?"

"Why, he joined the Lords before the battle of Carberry Hill."

"Then his message to us it was false, and meant to lure us back to
Edinburgh! It was a trap!" It was not fate, then, that had done them
in, but human villainy.

Melville did not know to what she was referring. "Balfour caught
Both-well's servant in the act of removing certain of BothwelFs papers
and effects from the Castle. The Lords took possession of them ... of
your letters to Bothwell, which they claim incriminate you in the
King's murder. And they destroyed the rest, the ones that Bothwell was
keeping because they incriminate the Lords. Then Balfour's kin made
trouble for Bothwell in Spynie, attempted to kill him. He killed them
instead, but it drove him away. He has left the mainland now and is in
the Orkneys, trying to raise a navy. He wants to be a pirate king and
have a floating kingdom, so it seems, manned with buccaneers, traders,
and soldiers of fortune. A novel concept. He claims that his title as
Duke of Orkney, his ancestral rights, and his hereditary title of
Admiral of Scotland grant him this privilege."

She smiled. Bothwell was on the sea, where he belonged. And perhaps
he would succeed, would actually create a private naval hegemony of his
own. He was so daring, imaginative.. .. The loss of his children hit
her once again.

Seeing her smile, Melville said, "Kirkcaldy of Grange has sent ships
after him to take him dead or alive. Bothwell has five ships with
three hundred sailors, and Kirkcaldy eight ships, guns, and four
hundred harquebusiers aboard. Their commission was 'to pursue the
malefactors with fire, sword, and all other kind of hostility." It
will be a fight to the death, my lady."

It sent shivers through her. "It will be Kirkcaldy's," she said.
Bothwell could not die.

"Do you not want to hear what the Lords have pronounced about you1." he
asked gently. "They say you must resign the crown in order to save
your life and honour. If you do not, they plan to charge you with
three crimes, using the captured Bothwell letters as proof of them.
They are ..." He opened his bag and poked around in it, finally
extracting a paper. "They are these: tyranny, for breach and violation
of the common laws of the realm; the murder of the King; and
incontinency with Bothwell and others, as proved by your own
handwriting and sufficient witnesses."

"So they now paint me as a tyrant like Nero and an orgy-mistress like
Messalina? Their imaginations eclipse even Rabelais's."

"You have friends," he said. He handed her a turquoise ring. "This is
from the earls of Argyll and Huntly, and Hamilton. Maitland is a
hidden ally. They support you, but now beg you to save yourself. The
Lords of the Secret Council as the inner circle of your enemies now
call themselves have determined to take your life, either secretly or
by a mock trial among themselves. You must do as they say. Anything
you sign under duress or in prison is not binding. You may repudiate
it as soon as you are free. But to be free, you must be alive."

"Yes. I must be alive."

"Knox has proclaimed a week of fasting, and daily tells the people that
if you are not killed, God will send a plague on Scotland. He pushes
the Lords, and makes it easy for them to do this. Do not compel them
to it."

"I cannot sign. I will die Queen of Scotland."

"Your Majesty, that is just how you will die."

"Then so be it." Her jaw was set.

Melville took her hand and wrung it. "I beg you, consider
carefully!"

"I will not sign."

She had barely lain back down after Melville's departure when the door
flew open. The crash of the wood against the wall startled her and she
grabbed for her covers. Towering in the doorway was Lord Lindsay. He
marched over to the bed.

"So you won't sign?" He was waving papers, the papers. "I say you'll
sign, and sign now, and we'll have no more obstruction from you!" He
flung the papers on the little table where the doctor had set out his
medicines.

"Shall I set my hand to a deliberate falsehood, and, to gratify the
ambition of my nobles, relinquish the office that God has given me, to
my son, who is only a year old and incapable of governing the realm?
No!"

"It is you who are incapable of governing the realm; even an infant
would do better! Now, Madam, I can tell you this" he grabbed her by
the shoulder and yanked her up in bed "that if you do not sign, you
will be smothered between the mattress and these pillows, and then hung
up from your bedpost. It will look as if you have killed yourself, so
you cannot even have a Christian burial. Pity." Then he grabbed her
hand and dragged her out of the bed. She fell heavily to the floor. He
dragged her across it and heaved her up into the chair at the table.

He took out his dagger and ran his finger along its blade. Then he
licked it, and delicately put its point right up against her left
breast. "If you do not sign these documents yourself, I will sign them
in your name, using your heart's blood. Yes, I'll just plunge this in
and twist a little, dip the point of the pen into the hot red blood
that bubbles out, sign "Marie R.," and then, when you're dead, cut you
into pieces, and throw you in the loch to feed those famous Lochleven
trout." He grinned. "I would like to do this, so I hope you will make
it necessary."

His eyes were glittering as if with lust.

"No. I will not sign."

He let out a roar of anger and made a tiny X on her skin over her
heart. "Come in here!" he yelled. "It is time!"

Melville, Ruthven, and the young George Douglas emerged from the
stairwell where they had been waiting, along with the official
notaries. Lindsay flicked the knife up and down in front of Mary's
eyes.