Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (148 page)

"It is not our wish to cause you sorrow," said the man. "We will not
reveal this to the Laird. No one shall ever know. When we land, go
inside quietly and send out the woman left behind. We will pretend
that she forgot something."

Mary watched as the boat approached the island and tied up once more.
Rearing up in front of her was the ugly wall and its gate. Numbly she
got out of the boat and walked slowly back into her prison. The
yawning guards barely even looked up. It had indeed been a perfectly
executed escape. That made it all the more painful.

As she was walking back across the green, wadding up her mantle so that
it would not arouse questions, George came out of the attached building
where the soldiers dined. He stopped stock-still and stared at her.
His face grew even whiter than usual. She walked past him, ignoring
him, the tears welling up in her eyes.

Making her way back into the privacy of her quarters, she flung herself
down on the bed. She would pretend to be asleep; she could not bear to
talk to anyone or try to keep her tears at bay. If she kept her face
down in the pillow and let her hair fall over her face, she would have
privacy for her sorrow.

Failed! She could scarcely credit it. Never had she failed in any of
these escape attempts, and it had seemed natural that this one would be
as successful as the rest. What had Bothwell said? No prison can hold
us. And so it had seemed. Yet now he was in custody of the King of
Denmark, and she was shut up on the island. Forever? Did they mean it
to be forever? The Lords had not said anything to indicate their
ultimate plans for her.

She was so stunned by the very nearness of the escape that she felt
weak. Everyone was so loyal to the Laird. Only George dared cross
him. But George required accomplices, and they were evidently not
easily found. Who was it that had betrayed their earlier plan to steal
his boat?

She was truly frightened now. What if she could not escape? What
then?

"My dearest sovereign." George was kneeling near her bed. "What what
has happened?"

"Oh, George!" She sat up, throwing back her hair. "They saw my
hands!" She held them out and he took one. "They knew I did no
washing. Then they insisted on returning me here, even though I
commanded them to row me to shore. It seems they are loyal to their
Laird before their monarch."

"Ah." He sounded heartbroken. "And you were halfway there! I saw
it." He kept caressing her hand. She took it away.

"Never have I felt more bereft."

"We will try again. There will have to be another plan. This time we
will supply our own rowers."

She could not help laughing a little. "And who will that be? The men
of the garrison?"

"I will find someone," he said stubbornly. "Perhaps your people "

"George, I think I should give you something that can always serve as a
signal between us, if perchance it becomes difficult for us to
communicate, as well it may. It is a miracle there is no one here
now." She unfastened one of her pearl earrings. "Earrings are easily
lost, easily found, and if ever you return this to me, I will know it
means "I have received your message' or 'all is ready." In short, it
will stand for 'yes." " She dropped it into his hand.

The next day, George was nowhere to be seen. Nor was he to be seen the
next. At length, on the third day, she inquired of Lady Douglas about
him.

"My son has been sent from the island, Madam, on account of his
overfamiliarity with you. It has come to the attention of several
persons that he has become how shall I say it? captive to the Stuart
charm. I myself know how difficult it can be to resist." She
smirked.

"How fortunate for Scotland that you did not," Mary said. "Else now,
in her hour of need, there would be no Regent." Had she managed to
keep the sarcasm out of her voice? But what of George? "But history
does not repeat itself. I do not know to what you refer, in regards to
George."

"He has fallen into a fantasy of love with you, and you have encouraged
it," said Lady Douglas, "a fact that has greatly distressed his half
brother, Lord James. However, as a mother I must think of all my
children and their futures...." She arched her eyebrow in her aging
face and gave that smirk again. "I only want what is best for George,"
she said with mock humility.

"As do I, Lady Douglas. I am most fond of him" she let the phrase
dangle temptingly "and find him most pleasant company. But I had no
idea he might have entertained deeper feelings toward me. This bears
some consideration, some reflection.... In the meantime, it is best
that he not be here until a conclusion has been reached, some way found
to ... Hmmm .. . You are very wise!"

Lady Douglas smiled. The fortunes of the Douglases might rise higher
yet.

March, with its ugly grey skies and constant fogs and rains, gave way
to April. Mary and her household attempted to keep Lent, and in their
dejected state of mind, it was easy for them to put away all merriment
and wear long faces. Only Mary Seton knew about the failed escape
attempt, but everyone knew about the banishment of George for his
partiality to the Queen. It seemed that anyone suspected of showing
interest or pity for Mary was to be removed. First Ruthven, now
George.

Mary managed to get one letter out to France. She wrote to Catherine
de Me'dicis:

It is with extreme difficulty I have been able to send a faithful
servant to explain the extent of my misery, and to beseech you to have
compassion on me, inasmuch as Lord James the Regent has caused me to be
told, in confidence, that the King your son is going to make peace with
the French Huguenots, and one of the conditions of the treaty is that
he shall not give me any help. This I cannot believe, for, next to
God, I place my whole reliance on the King and you, as this bearer can
tell you. I beg you to give credit to him as if it were myself, for I
dare not write more, save to entreat God to have you in his holy
care.

From my prison this last of March.

The disciples of Calvin! First they had converted and ruined Scotland,
and now they were attempting to do the same to France. In Scotland
they were called the Kirk, in France the Huguenots. It was said that
in France they numbered in the thousands, and were organized like an
army. Wave after wave of violence had washed over France as the
Catholic Church and the Huguenots fought for supremacy. It was the
Huguenots who had killed the Duc de Guise and the Constable
Montmorency, and had become powerful enough that Catherine de Medicis
sought to find an accommodation with them.

Everywhere the battle lines were being drawn. The Dutch also
Protestants were rebelling against Spanish rule. In Spain, the
Inquisition sought to exterminate any Protestants hidden in their
midst. The earlier, softer Reformers and the easygoing Catholicism
they had sparred against were replaced by intransigents on both sides.
The Council of Trent, which had ended only five years earlier, had
belligerently concluded that there could be no accommodation with the
Protestants. Everything the Protestants had questioned confession to a
priest, praying to the saints, the supremacy of the Pope was embraced
and declared to be absolutely necessary to salvation. A Catholic could
not even attend a Protestant service without endangering his soul. The
battlefield was open, the trumpets sounding. On the Protestant side,
like players in a village football game, were the Scandinavian
countries, England, Scotland, the Netherlands. On the Catholic, Italy,
Portugal, and Spain. Split down the middle, Germany and France.

And to think it is my misfortune to be trapped thus, thought Mary. My
fate depends on the actions of religious zealots I, who have always
practised toleration!

She would have laughed, had it not been so ironic and painful.

There had been no further word of BothweU's fate. She knew that he had
been transferred to Copenhagen. The Lords had attempted to convince
King Frederick that Bothwell should be delivered up to justice, but
Frederick had continued to hold Bothwell. For what reason? As far as
she knew, no ransom had been asked, and no one had approached her
representatives, like the Archbishop of Glasgow, her trusted ambassador
in France, with any demands. Why could Bothwell not escape, or talk
his way out? She had written a letter to King Frederick protesting
against BothweU's extradition, and managed to smuggle it out just
before George had been banished. She had no way of knowing whether it
had ever reached him. She also wrote to Bothwell, pouring out her
pent-up feelings and bidding him to be of good cheer. Of her own
troubles she said little, not wanting to cause him any more pain than
he already had. She had even less idea of whether this letter ever
reached its addressee.

George had told her there was a rumour that Bothwell had offered the
Orkneys and Shetlands to Denmark in exchange for his freedom, and that
Frederick had been interested, but that, in spite of BothweU's titles
to them, he realized the Lords would have to recognize the transfer.
Perhaps that was what was detaining Bothwell perhaps Frederick was
going to offer them BothweU's person in exchange for the islands.

In mid-April, just before Holy Week, Willie showed his ingenuity. He
managed to bring Mary two precious letters. One was a copy of a letter
Bothwell had written to Charles IX so we are both throwing ourselves,
begging, at his feet! thought Mary and the other was just to her.

"They say his prison is not as bleak as yours," Willie whispered, when
they were walking together in the little kitchen garden. Some of the
soldiers had been put to work turning the soil to ready it for
planting. "He's been moved to Malmo, in Sweden, to a castle there the
same room that housed Christian II of Denmark, a deposed tyrant. It is
large and vaulted, so they say, and on a ground floor. They had to put
extra bars on the windows in preparing it for Bothwell."

So they knew his skill at escaping! Her heart sank a little.

Willie passed her two papers, and she quickly hid them in her sleeve.
The soldiers seemed to be busy digging, but they were undoubtedly
watching closely. She would have to wait until she was in the
garderobe to read them.

"I miss George," she said loudly enough to be heard.

"Yes," said Willie. "I have heard that he plans to go to France. He
says he cannot make his fortune here, and if he is to be banished, he
prefers to go abroad, as at least there are new sights there."

"Oh!" she gasped. To lose George, too! Then she saw Willie make a
hint of a wink at her.

"His mother and father will be grieved," Willie said. "But that is how
young men are."

That night she feigned stomach pains and a nausea that required her to
spend an unusual amount of time in the garderobe of the tower. The
hovering young girls were more solicitous of her health, and wanted to
bring her cold compresses and stroke her forehead. Perhaps, she told
them, but only after the most violent, purging stage of the attack was
over. In the meantime, they should stay away, as it was an ugly
sight.