Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (195 page)

"I offer You what has been offered to me," she whispered. "Young
Anthony Babington wishes to free me from this prison, and he has found
friends who are willing to risk their lives to achieve it. Just think
what bonds of kinship and blood have failed to call forth, this person
is willing to undertake. Did You is it possible that You sent him to
begin with, to my very household? I know that You have the ordering of
all things under Your mighty hand. He appeared in Shrewsbury's house
as if he were sent. Yet I cannot believe it would be right for me to
agree to such a scheme. You have said, in the very commandments, "Thou
shalt not kill." "

She bent her head down and rested her forehead on her arms. "Help me,"
she prayed. But she no longer expected a direct answer, as she had
long ago. She knew the crucifix, and God, and herself, so much better
than that now.

Lying in bed, she tried to sleep. Idly she turned her wedding ring on
her hand, the ring that Bothwell had put on her finger so very long
ago. Bothwell .. . Would he let scruples stand between himself and
freedom, when those holding him had sinned in doing so? She did not
even have to answer the question. Bothwell would be ashamed of her for
lying here so still, for meekly turning aside the offer, for obediently
following Elizabeth's stingy dictates. Once I was as brave as he, she
thought. What did he call me? "Heart of my heart, bone of my bone,
spirit of my spirit, we cannot be held." Yes, he died in prison, but
only because he had made a daring escape from another prison. Only the
harshest dungeon could hold him, whereas I sit here in a chamber
saying, "I dare not, I dare not!" Prison has robbed me of my
courage.

She turned over, her heart heavy. Thinking of Bothwell and how she was
betraying his memory of her was painful.

Perhaps I owe it to him, and to my loyal supporters, she thought
wearily. James has abandoned me, but there are others who have not.

Suddenly she did not feel so old and outworn. She had not been
entirely forgotten. Perhaps she was more than just a scarecrow wearing
a crucifix, standing guard in a barren field.

She closed her eyes. She would not have to answer the letter for days.
In the meantime .. .

The letter was waiting for her in the morning; indeed, it had not even
waited until morning, but had invaded her consciousness even as she
slept. She had dreamed of it, of its tantalizing words, of Anthony,
grown now to manhood. Flashing images of England's proud young men
like the Earl of Essex and Sir Philip Sidney, fighting in the
Netherlands, were superimposed on another secret band of equally daring
young men. Not everyone had answered Elizabeth's call to take up the
Protestant banner; other battlefields still beckoned, commanding
loyalty.

She found that the interval of sleep had given her a fierce longing for
action the first action that had been possible in years. Swept away
were the hours and days of patient praying and resignation that had
enveloped her so comfortably and felt so natural; resurrected was the
old self that she had thought long dead.

Yet she knew the letter for what it was, a mirage and a temptation.
Desperately she threw herself on her knees before the little altar and
begged to be prevented from yielding to it. Never had she felt more
acutely the two sides of her own nature: the spiritual, which sought to
transcend the limitations of the earthly, and the natural, strong and
vital and unable to die except when the heart actually stopped
beating.

The letter was visible, folded neatly on her desk nearby. She could
see it out of the corner of her eye. She focused more intently on the
crucifix.

"So, as Saint Paul said, I find this law at work," she whispered, "when
I want to do good, evil is right here with me. What a wretched woman I
am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

She buried her face in the soft velvet of the priedieu.

Rescue me from this body of death.

That is what this letter is about. One way or another, it will rescue
me from this body of death. My summons has come at last.

She found Nau's mood to have changed from enthusiasm to caution
overnight.

"My friend," she said, strangely calm, possessed of an otherworldly
resolution, "this is a timely offer. I am minded to give myself to
it."

The little Frenchman, his pointed beard neatly combed, shook his head.
His beard did not quiver, so oiled was it. "No, Madam, I have
misgivings."

"Yesterday you were enthusiastic."

"But in the night, other thoughts came to me. All these plots have
failed. This one is no different from the others."

"With this one exception: this one specifies the death of Elizabeth."

"Yes, and that is what gives me pause."

"In truth, all the others would have had to come to that," said Mary.
"For Elizabeth would not be contented to retire to the country. Queens
do not; I myself am all the example one needs of that. I do not wish
her death, but I do wish my freedom. Pray take my answer, and take it
now."

"Very well." Nau seated himself to take the dictation she would give
in French, the language she always used best for expressing herself.

Mary stood beside him, and began reciting in a mechanical voice, "
"Dear Friend, with all my heart I give you leave to act in my name, and
will endeavour to direct your proceedings. As to my rescue, there
could be three means of it: the first, as I am taking the air on
horseback on a plain between this place and Stafford, where few people
are ordinarily met, some fifty or sixty men, well armed and mounted,
might come and seize me.. .. The second is to come at midnight and set
fire to the barns, stables, and outbuildings.. .. The third is that
when the carts, which generally come very early in the morning, arrive
here, you could join them in disguise.. .." "

Her detailed plans tumbled forth without rehearsal, making her realize
that she had been forming them, hidden from her vigilant conscience,
for some time already. She was startled, almost frightened, by their
completeness.

Nau was writing furiously. At length he said, "Perhaps, Madam, it were
best not to be specific. Do not reply to their plans; ignore them, as
you have similar ones in times past. What if it is a trap?"

"This may be my last chance; sooner or later Paulet will discover the
secret post, or the brewer will decide to stop helping us," she said.

"But it is unwise to commit yourself in writing this way!" he
protested.

"Pray continue," she said firmly. " "When the troops have landed from
Spain, affairs being thus prepared, and forces in readiness, both
outside and inside the realm, then shall it be time to set the six
gentlemen to work, taking order, upon the accomplishment of the said
design, I may be suddenly transported out of this place." "

She stopped and caught her breath. Set the six gentlemen to work. It
sounded so businesslike, like carrying a litter. Or a coffin. Were
there not always six pallbearers to a coffin?

Nau was clutching his sleeve. "My hand trembles to write it," he
said.

"My heart trembles to think it," she answered. "But to continue. "Now
since there can be no certain day appointed for the accomplishment of
the said gentlemen's design, so that others may be in readiness to take
me from hence, I would that the said gentlemen had always about them,
or at least at court, four stout men furnished with good and speedy
horses, to come with all diligence as soon as the said design shall be
accomplished, to inform all who have been appointed for my rescue,
before my keeper can have knowledge of the execution of the said
design, or time to fortify this house." "

"Why do you keep saying 'said design'?" asked Nau, his voice
trembling. "Do you think that will fool anyone? Or save yourself if
our enemies read it?"

"I know not what else to call it. I will not say ... the word," she
said. "But I do not wish it to take place! Perhaps I can be rescued
without it, and I must lay out those plans as well. Continue: "Do not
allow any English uprising to take place without the support of foreign
help, neither stir without having first made sure I am safe, either
taken from my prison, or safeguarded there by a good army. Otherwise
the Queen would simply capture me again, incarcerating me in some hole
from whence I should never come forth again. And she would persecute
with the utmost extremity all who had assisted me in my escape, which I
should regret much more than any ill that might befall me myself." "

"Now you are confusing them," said Nau. "First you say Elizabeth must
be killed first, then you say you must be rescued first. Which way
will you have it?"

"The way fate will have it!" she said, about to scream with the
torture of it. "Whatever way fate will go I know not her death or
mine, or neither, or both "

"Then, Madam, you are better off not replying at all, or returning a
vague answer. This tells them nothing, but tells your enemies
everything," he said sternly.

"I care not!" she burst out. "I care not! Let my enemies take me, I
give them leave, only this must be ended, I cannot go on like this, a
living death, my punishment is too great! Welcome, therefore, my
ultimate misfortune!"

Nau rose. "I will send for rather de Preau. You are speaking now of
suicide; it is a mortal sin to bring about your own death in
despair."

Mary grabbed his arm. "I forbid you to go. I am not contemplating
suicide, nor am I in despair. This is my last decision, the decision
that ends all others for me, and thereby I embrace my fate. I embrace
Rate like a lover. All my life, Fate has wished to be my lover, and
tried to govern me. Now I turn to submit to his embraces."

"To reply to this letter is the utmost folly," he said.

"My friend, it is not folly, but a gamble. But it is a gamble I am
willing to take, for, no matter what happens, I shall be the victor. If
I am freed, then I shall rejoice. And if I am caught, tried, and
executed, then I shall also be free, and shall rejoice. I will be no
more a prisoner!"

"But, good Madam, your loyal supporters "

"I owe this to my loyal supporters. They are willing to die for me;
they are brave indeed. Shall I not be equally willing to die for them,
and witness to the truth the truth that I have been held here not
because of what befell Darnley twenty years ago in Scotland, but
because of my faith and my royal blood?"

"Do not give in to this temptation!" said Nau. "I beg you!"

She felt calm, delivered from fear. She knew this was what she must
do,

and she knew it in the part of herself that was beyond words or
thinking.

"Give the letter to Curie and have it ciphered. Make it ready to go
out with the brewer next time." She burst into tears of relief.

TWENTY-FIVE

The letter was taken by Nau to the page; the page took it down to the
cellar and inserted it into the secret box on July sixteenth, the day
the brewer was due to return. That afternoon the empty barrel was
rolled out and put on the wagon, and driven out of sight of the castle.
Then the brewer dismounted and retrieved the letter. Paulet and
Phelippes were waiting nearby, and took it.