Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (147 page)

"Yes," George had mused. "Perhaps she could change clothes with one of
the servants. But how would she get out? The gates are always
guarded, except when the soldiers are eating, between half past seven
and nine at night, and then they are locked." George had found himself
spending more and more time thinking of the Queen: of her low, intimate
voice, of her slender, delicate hands. She was starting to invade his
dreams as well, giving him things in them that he dared not think of in
the daylight.

"She could jump from that oriel window in the round tower," said
Willie. "It is only about eight feet from the ground."

But when Mary Seton tried it as an experiment, she injured her leg.
There were boulders underneath the window, with crevices and gaping
cracks that afforded no safe footing.

Then, as George was sitting on the landing dock one day in late
February,

he watched the boat with the laundresses approaching. They were making
their weekly visit, and the vessel carried hampers of clean linen in
the middle. Four boatmen rowed, straining at the oars in the choppy
grey water.

The laundresses! There were three of them, and they wore shapeless
dark mantles; their faces were plain and almost colourless. Underneath
the mantles George could see their heavy, stained wooden clog-shoes.
They looked monumental, dark, foreboding, like the Three Fates, as they
trudged slowly up the path to the castle, balancing their hampers with
great slow dignity. George found himself hurrying after them,
compelled to glimpse their faces, to see if oh, strange thought! they
actually resembled Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Was there a Clotho
there she who spun the bright threads of youth? For she surely might
hold the Queen's in her power.

The women turned and glared at him, and he felt foolish. Once again he
had imbued an ordinary person or situation with mythic grandeur. He
merely nodded at them and turned away.

But his heart was racing. This was the way! Mary could disguise
herself and simply walk out with them, keeping her face hidden. That
should be easy, as they were enveloped in those voluminous mantles. It
would have to be arranged while it was still cold.

He bribed the laundresses, and the Three Fates took the money in an
all-too-human fashion. On Mary's instructions, he sent messages to
John Bea-ton, a relative of Mary Beaton's from a staunchly loyal family
who had served Mary at Holyrood, to Lord Seton, and to the Laird of
Riccarton, one of Bothwell's loyalists. They were to gather with
men-at-arms in a mountain glen near Kinross and wait for the signal
that the escape had been successful. Then they would make off for a
Hamilton stronghold.

"All depends on your being able to walk unobserved that hundred feet
from the tower, through the gate, and then to the boat," said George.
"Make sure you evade my sisters."

The two youngest Douglas girls, aged fourteen and fifteen, had been
assigned to "keep Mary company," and in rebellion against their parents
had conceived a worship of her; as a result, they watched her every
movement, to Mary's secret despair.

Mary laughed. "That will be the most difficult part. I have noticed
them watching me even when they think I am asleep."

"I cannot blame them," said George.

She felt a tremor of warning pass through her. She did not dare look
at him, lest she encourage him in his burgeoning affection. Yet she
was touched and flattered.

"It is tiring to be regarded as a goddess," she finally said. "It is
not nearly as enjoyable as one would imagine." There, she thought. I
have warned him.

"As the laundresses leave by three o'clock, I will try to distract my
sisters or give them some task, like .. . like sorting the threads and
darning, about that time," George said quickly, and then she knew it
was now safe to look at him.

He was very handsome, so handsome he was known as "Pretty Geordie" to
his family. She wondered why he did not already have a wife, or even a
betrothed. Certainly he came from a wealthy family, high in standing,
ambitious. He himself was well spoken, learned, and athletic. Was he
religious? Saving himself for God? But no, the Protestants did not do
that. Look at Knox!

"What are you smiling at?" He watched her as intently as his
sisters.

"I was wondering if you had a secret desire to be a monk," she said
teasingly.

"Do you mean, am I religious? Or do you mean, am I abstinent?"

He was so serious, as only the very young can be, she thought. She
waited to answer. "Either," she finally said.

"I am not saving myself for religious reasons, if that is what you
think." He sounded insulted. "Nor for any reason, other than that
there has never been anyone worthy of my love." His intense blue eyes
seemed to glow in his face, incandescent.

"Ah, then you do seek to worship," she said, smiling gently. "Beware
of that in love."

"As I suppose you know only too well!" he said with hurt in his voice,
then immediately fell to apologizing.

She stopped him. "Yes, as I know only too well," she said. "You have
spoken true."

The day was fixed for March twenty-fifth. Mary prayed that a storm
would not arise, or one of the girls take sick, or she herself take
sick. Let nothing happen to spoil it! she begged God.

As if in answer to her prayer, March twenty-fifth was exactly the sort
of day she desired: it was dull and overcast, so that people would not
want to linger outside, and would grow drowsy and sleep in midday, but
not so unpleasant that the laundresses would have to postpone their
journey.

All day she had to force herself to walk slowly, eat slowly, seem to
have no reason to hurry or step lightly. Of her own attendants, only
Mary Seton was allowed to know. Time enough later for them to know if
the plan worked; until then, she had learned, every person who knew had
the potential to betray her inadvertently.

To be free! This time tomorrow, would she be riding, a free Queen,
among her subjects? It was now two years since Riccio's murder, and
since then she had been kept as someone's captive three times, not to
mention the vague captivity of threats and murmurs and illness. Let
this be the end of it!

They dined quietly at midday, and Mary forced herself to eat the boiled
trout. She was weary of the Lochleven specialty, and associated it
with her imprisonment. I will never eat trout again, she vowed, if
only I am freed.

Under her bed was the shabby mantle that she was to wrap herself in,
with a long scarf which she would pull across her face. As the dishes
were being cleared away, George appeared at the doorway and called to
his sisters.

"Arabella! Meggie! You are wanted in the sewing room!"

It was the signal! Reluctantly the girls rose and left the room,
saying to Mary, "Remember, afterwards you promised to help us sketch
the next part of our pattern."

Mary looked out the window and saw the three laundresses making their
way toward the castle. She knew they took only about a half hour to
deliver their goods and to collect next week's washing. She had to
hide her hands to keep others from seeing them tremble. How could she
endure the next fifteen minutes?

She excused herself and went and sat on her bed, clasping her hands to
calm herself. She said a rosary, then recited several prayers in
Latin. Then she knew it must be time. Dropping to her knees, she drew
out the cloak and put it on. Then, as quietly as she could, she passed
through the main room and down the stairs. She did not pause or give
anyone a chance to notice her.

Out she went, from the base of the tower and then across the grass,
dull brown and matted now. The soldiers were leaning against the wall,
too bored to talk to each other. Some even slept, cradling their heads
on their arms. Some were cleaning their guns.

The gate stood open. Two of the laundresses were already near the
boat. What luck that the third was evidently lingering behind. Mary
made her way to the boat, carrying her bundle of bedsheets. Quietly
they took their places in the boat. Mary nodded slightly to the other
two, but kept her face down and the hood well forward so that she was
hidden. She pulled the scarf up to muffle her mouth.

Now the boatmen were ready to cast off. Where was the fourth woman?
George must have paid her to stay behind of course! lest the men
notice their extra passenger.

Achingly slowly, the men untied the boat and pushed off. There was one
foot between them and the dock, then two, then three .. . then the gap
of water widened, and they shot forward as the men rowed.

Free! Free! The hateful island was now fifty feet away, seventy. The
walls of the castle grew smaller, dwarfed by the trees around them. The
boat rocked and made its way across the water.

"Oh, look!" one of the men was saying. "Is this a new one?"

"Looky here!"

Mary kept her eyes on the bottom of the boat and hunched her shoulders,
ignoring them.

"Let's see!" another voice said, and suddenly the boat lurched. One
of the men had left off rowing and leaned forward, trying to pull off
her scarf.

"I'll warrant she's a bonny one, maybe wants a man " He tugged at her
scarf. "Come here, sweeting, I just want to see!"

Mary jerked the scarf out of his hand and fumbled with it, trying to
readjust it. In the wind, her fingers got entwined with it and she had
to disentangle them.

Suddenly she heard a low, startled sound from the man.

"It's you're not a washerwoman, look at those hands!" he cried,
grabbing them. He turned them over and inspected them as if they were
exotic jewels. "So white, and slender-fingered, and the skin is too
soft, it's never been in water."

She started fighting with him to get her hands away, and stood up. The
boat rocked madly. She pulled away from him, but as she did so, the
wind ripped the hood from her face. The men stopped rowing and
stared.

"Yes, I am the Queen!" she said. "And I command you to continue
rowing. Row me to the shore!"

The men sat there. Finally one said, "Madam, we dare not."

"I am the Queen!" she cried. "You dare not disobey! Row, I tell
you!"

"We may not," the same man said. "The Laird would punish us
dreadfully, us and our families."

"I will reward you!"

"Madam, here is our home. We would not be in disgrace here." The man
clearly the boat's owner turned to the other men. "Turn around," he
said. "Return to the island."

"No! No!" Could she not stop them? Was there nothing she could do to
persuade them? "Good sirs, please have pity on me! You are my only
hope!"

"We have served the Laird and his family for generations, and we will
do nothing to imperil him," the man insisted. "He has been good to us,
and deserves our loyalty."

Mary burst into tears as the boat swung around and the island began
growing bigger again. "Please, please!" she cried. She could not
bear to return there.