Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (150 page)

"George," said the Laird, "you look well, but you know you are "

"My conscience would not let me depart for France without a formal
leave-taking," he said. "I will not stay long. Where is my mother?"

"I will bring her. She will be pleased to see you."

George bowed and, seemingly just looking about to amuse himself in the
meantime, caught Mary's eye. He nodded all but imperceptibly. Then he
looked away.

Lady Douglas was hurrying toward her son, and then they embraced. Her
arm about his shoulder, they walked off together across the green.

Was that a signal he had given her? Would they have no opportunity to
speak? Mary decided to wait in the open and hope to see George as he
was leaving.

But George was accompanied back to the boat by his parents, and all he
could do was give a courtly bow in her direction.

That night, after supper, Willie was skulking about in the yard,
kicking a ball and humming to himself. Mary descended from the
stairway and walked casually over to him. His head was down and he was
practising aiming at a specific stone at the base of the wall. Three
out of four times he hit it.

"Very good," said Mary, quietly, and Willie looked up and grinned. He
reached down and picked up the ball and tucked it under his arm.
Together they walked over to the gate, which was still open in the
twilight.

"Only a few minutes," warned one of the guards. "We leave for supper
and lock the gates soon."

Willie and Mary made their way down to the water's edge. The setting
sun had left the sky laced with garish pink clouds, which were
reflected in the loch.

"No bonfires for the witches tonight," said Willie. "But they'll be
blazing up in the Highlands, I've no doubt. We're too civilized down
here." He laughed.

"Tomorrow is May Day," said Mary. "Do you is it celebrated here?"

May Day with Darnley, gathering flowers. May Day with Bothwell, shut
up in tine tower at Dunbar. May Day in France, riding in the
countryside, when I was first a widow. May Day seems always to be
linked with turning points in my life.

"This year it will be," he said. "I am to be Abbot of Misrule. And
everyone is to do exactly as I say. They are to follow me and obey my
commands."

"Good evening," said a voice from near the boats, which were tied up
nearby.

Mary jumped. She had not even been aware of anyone. But Willie had
been. That must have been why his speech was so formal and distant. He
replied, "Good evening, sir."

A soldier came toward them in the gathering twilight. "Just securing
the boats," he said pointedly.

"Good," said Willie.

The man disappeared inside the gate.

"We flushed him out," said Willie quickly. "Good. Now we are alone,
for two or three minutes. Now listen: all is in readiness for your
escape. That is why George came. He is not going to France, but
needed an excuse to be seen in the vicinity."

A creak from the gate. The soldiers were getting ready to close it.
"Come inside!" someone called.

"We come," said Mary.

"During the May Day celebrations, I will steal the keys from the Laird
during dinner. When I have them, I will signal to you. Be inside the
tower and disguised, ready for flight. Do exactly what I say."

Even walking as slowly as possible, they were now approaching the gate.
"I will disable their boats. We will escape in one boat. Bring no one
with you. Tell no one. I will Good evening, officer." He greeted the
guard. "Sleep well, Your Majesty."

Mary lay awake in the dawn, hearing the birds begin to chatter even
before it grew light. So this was the day. She dared not dwell on it,
lest she grow so excited she somehow betray all the plans. Best not to
think about it. But as she arose, she could not help glancing round
the tower room and wondering if she had spent her last night in it.
Pray God that I never waken in here again! she thought.

She readied her shabby clothes once again, hoping they did not retain
the bad luck of the last failed attempt. The absence of the Douglas
women made it so much easier to make ready. She gathered up a few of
her things, putting them inconspicuously in a pile that, if opportunity
afforded, she could scoop up and carry with her.

Now there was the day to get through. Never had an ordinary day seemed
so long. There were the morning prayers she and her household always
recited, followed by breakfast, then sewing, then walking outside.

Today there was bustling as the Great Hall was being readied for the
feast, and decorations coloured banners and sashes were being hung on
the walls and trees. Musicians practised out on the green in the
sunshine, already drinking ale. Much ale had been provided, and the
soldiers were helping themselves by noon. Mary prayed that it would
last until the crucial time. How ironic if it ran out in time for the
soldiers to sober up just as she tried to run away.

"Now follow me!" Willie was parading out in a multicoloured coat of
satin, with a high conical hat like a magician's. He crawled on all
fours, and the people following him had to do so as well. Then he
jumped up and whirled, and they had to follow suit.

"You there!" He pointed to one of the soldiers on the wall. "Stand on
your head."

"What?" The soldier looked around. "From here?"

"Indeed, if you dare!" said Willie. " Tis only ten feet to the
ground. It won't crack your head open!"

The soldier actually a boy not much older than Willie gingerly
attempted to obey, but he toppled over and had to clutch at the stones
to keep from falling all the way to the ground.

"Ah, too bad! Now you must be punished!" said Willie, while everyone
was laughing. "You shall carry Mistress Meggie about on your back
until dinner time."

More people had joined the line behind Willie, following him about,
laughing and shouting.

The game went on all afternoon, with Willie exhausting himself trying
to think of tasks and rewards and punishments. Everyone got drunker,
and miraculously, the ale did not run out. How had Willie paid for it
all?

Mary dropped out of the line. Her side was hurting. She stood for a
few moments with her arms clasped around her sides, hoping the pain
would subside. She could not be sick now, no, she could not!

One of the castle servants, a young girl, came to Mary. She handed her
the pearl earring. Mary just stared at it.

"Your Majesty, George Douglas sends this to you. He says one of the
other servants found it and tried to sell it to him, but he recognized
it as being yours and ordered it returned to you. Is it indeed
yours?"

"Yes," said Mary. "I had lost it some time ago. Thank you."

The girl curtseyed and said, "My honour is to return it, Madam."

The signal! All was in order, then! Mary felt dizzy with excitement,
and the pain vanished from her side.

"I am so tired from all this," she said. "I must needs rest before
dinner." She made her way back to the tower apartment, which was
another miracle! deserted. Quickly she put on her servant-skirt
underneath her own, and changed her shoes. Then she lay down, trying
to calm herself.

In an hour she emerged. The revellers were nowhere to be seen, but she
could hear them. They seemed to have retired to the great hall, where
they could drink and sing.

Lady Douglas was pacing in the courtyard. Mary's heart sank, and she
would have withdrawn quickly back into her room, but she had been seen.
So she had to smile and make her way over to Lady Douglas, hoping that
her shoes would not show beneath her skirt.

"Happy May to you," said Lady Douglas. "Have you ever seen such
foolishness?" Her voice was not lighthearted.

"For me, in this prison, any departure from routine is pleasant," said
Mary.

"Prison. Yes. Arabella has been troubled by dreams about a great
raven carrying you away, across the water. She dreamed that Willie had
brought the raven."

Arabella! That foolish girl, who doted on her!

"She was most upset. It seems she would hate to lose you," said Lady
Douglas.

"I am most fond of her," said Mary carefully. "And her dream is not
like to come true. I am rather heavy for a raven to lift!" She gave
what she hoped was a silly giggle.

"Perhaps a company of ravens would be employed. But, Madam, I beg you,
remember my family. We would be ruined if you escaped. The Lords
would think what's that?" She pointed to a movement on the shore.

A company of horsemen! Mary could see them plainly near Kinross.

"Your family!" said Mary, answering her first statement and not her
second. "You mean your darling the Lord James! Is he all you care
about? You have ten other children! Why is it that only he occupies
your heart? He is cruel, greedy, grasping did you know that when I was
on my deathbed, and he thought I could not see, he began to inventory
my jewels? That is your favourite son! You see what you have given
birth to!"

"Lord James is a deeply deVout man who has Scotland's interests always
at the forefront of his mind!" Lady Douglas's face darkened and she
stopped looking at the shore. The horsemen disappeared.

"He has the Lord James at the forefront of his mind! And, Madam, think
how it sits with your family's honour to be his puppets and servants!"
She dared not let Lady Douglas look back at the shore; only baiting her
about James would distract her enough to make her forget what she had
just seen.

"How dare you speak that way?" Lady Douglas attacked like a mother
tiger, listing all Mary's sins and shortcomings.

Mary listened and pretended to be shocked and hurt, all the while
keeping her own face toward the shore to make sure that her antagonist
could not look that way.

As was his custom, the Laird brought Mary's dinner to her in the tower,
where she took her meals. Tonight was no exception, and the shuffling
master of the island, wearing a paper cap Willie had clapped on him,
and belching from the ale, set before her a springtime meal: roast
lamb, spinach tart, baked butter pudding, and an astringent drink
called "spring tonic": fresh green leaves of agrimony and the juice of
wild cresses, blended in new ale.

"I trust this will be pleasing," he said.

"Indeed, I am sure it will." Mary smiled at him.

I will not be sorry to leave, she thought. But the Laird has always
been kindly and harmless. It is difficult to reconcile this
self-effacing, ineffectual man with a gaoler. Is Willie his bastard?
What story lies behind that?

The Laird began to pace her room, as if he was loath to leave. He
stood for a moment, contemplating the crucifix on the wall near her
prayer-window with sad eyes. Suddenly he started as he saw something
out the window.

"Ehh!" he said. "What's that stupid Willie doing?"