Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles (199 page)

"Ah," said Mary, understanding the meaning. "Those are to house the
men who are coming to judge me."

A week after her arrival, Paulet stepped into the room. He looked
triumphant as he said, "Madam, your misdeeds are now to be punished.
You will be interrogated by the lords of the land. I advise you,
therefore, to confess your crime now and beg pardon before you are
formally convicted by a court of law."

She looked at him, standing there so earnestly. She herself was
seated, and did not rise. "You treat me like a child," she said, "who
should confess to its parents and so avoid a spanking. I have nothing
to confess."

His mouth dropped open and anger tore across his face. "Why, you "

"As a sinner," she cut him off, "I am truly conscious of having often
offended my Creator, and I beg Him to forgive me. But as Queen and
sovereign, I am aware of no fault or offence for which I have to render
account to anyone here below."

"Queen! Sovereign!" he sputtered.

"As therefore I could not offend, I do not wish for pardon; I do not
seek it, nor would I accept it from anyone living."

He shook his head angrily. "Pride, Madam, pride! You drown in
pride!"

After he had left, Jane said to her, "You will be made to pay for those
words, I fear."

"What words I say now mean nothing. The Act for the Queen's Safety was
framed to destroy me. It is true, they have no legal right to judge me
or try me. But they hold my body, and will punish it regardless."

On October twelfth, a small deputation of lords, including Paulet
again, visited Mary in her rooms. They came to announce what Mary
already knew, simply by looking out her windows: that the commissioners
had arrived at Fotheringhay, bolstered by a force of two thousand
soldiers. There would be a trial, and Mary would have to answer to the
charge of joining a conspiracy to hurt Elizabeth. She would be judged
as "a person that shall or may pretend to the title to the Crown of
this realm." The punishment was, first, to be deprived of her title to
the English crown forever, and second, to be put to death.

"You know you have no legal right to try me," said Mary calmly. "As a
sovereign Queen, there are no peers to sit in judgement of me but
fellow monarchs. Are the stands to be filled with the kings and queens
of the earth? If so, I welcome them. If not, I refuse to appear."

Paulet thrust a letter into her hands. "The Queen commands you to
appear."

"The Queen cannot 'command' me. I am not her subject." Mary read the
letter quickly and handed it back to Paulet. "I am not subject to the
laws of England."

The Lord Chancellor, Thomas Bromley, snapped, "Yes, you are! You have
lived under protection of them, and are therefore subject to them."

Mary could not help laughing quietly. "I came to England to seek
Elizabeth's aid, and instead was put in prison. So I have not enjoyed
either protection or benefit from these laws nor have I understood from
any man what manner of laws they were. They seem strange laws
indeed."

"Your prerogative as a sovereign avails you nothing in the realm,"
replied

Cecil. "And if you fail to appear, it makes no difference! You will
simply be judged in absentia."

Mary had not anticipated that. "Is it even so?" she murmured. "Judged
even if I do not appear? How you twist the laws! I have begged to be
heard. For twenty years I have asked to speak to Elizabeth, and to
answer questions before a free Parliament. But to appear before a
closed, secret tribunal .. . what are you so afraid of others
hearing?"

Cecil, who had dreaded her arguments and recalcitrance, now broke in.
"Never fear, all your words will be heard throughout the land and all
your deeds made known. You will have cause to wish they had been kept
secret!"

Sir Christopher Hatton suddenly spoke up. Mary saw how the
once-handsome courtier had aged since he had come to Scotland for the
baptism. The baptism .. . "If you do not appear, it will be thought
that you are hiding shameful things. If you are innocent, you have
nothing to fear. But by avoiding a trial, you stain your reputation
with an eternal blot."

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than acknowledge myself subject
to the authority of the Queen of England in any way, to the prejudice
of regal majesty," answered Mary. "I cannot thus submit to the laws of
the land without injury to myself, the King my son, and all other
sovereign princes. I do not recognize the laws of England; I do not
know or understand them. And as for a trial, I am alone, without
counsel or representation. My papers and notes have all been taken
from me, so I cannot even prepare my own defense, except from memory.
You have all my papers to use against me, whereas I am denied them to
defend myself."

"No treason trial permits counsel for the accused," said Bromley.

"Enough of this," said Cecil. "Hear the words which the Queen
addresses directly to you. She foresaw just this arguing and
resistance. "You have planned in divers ways and manners to take my
life and to ruin my kingdom by the shedding of blood." "

Mary gasped. The words were blunt, rude, and addressed not from one
sovereign to another, but from a master to his disobedient slave. "Was
there no salutation?" she interrupted him to ask.

"No. No greeting, no titles."

The note of a master to a slave, indeed.

" "I have never proceeded so harshly against you," " Cecil continued.
"On the contrary, I have maintained you and preserved your life with
the same care which I use for myself." "

Mary indicated the cramped, dark room. "Is this how she maintains
herself?" she asked.

" "These treasons will be proved to you, and all made manifest. Yet it
is my will that you answer the nobles and peers of the kingdom, as if I
myself were present. I therefore require, charge, and command that you
make answer, for I have been informed of your arrogance," " Cecil read.
" "Act candidly, and you will receive the greater favour from me." "
He held up the paper and slowly rotated it for all to see.

Mary looked around at all the faces forming a semicircle around her.

"I

am already fore judged and condemned to die by this assembly here
convened, yet I adjure you to look to your consciences and remember
that the theatre of the world is wider than the realm of England!" she
cried. "Remind your Queen of it!"

After they were gone, Mary motioned to Jane. "I pray you," she said,
"bring me warm cloths for my head. I have a pounding pain in the
forehead."

"Forgive me, but I could not help overhearing," she said.

Mary smiled. "You were meant to. I wish Elizabeth could have heard my
very words rather than have them repeated to her in a twisted manner
later."

"Their words were harsh."

"Yes, and they meant them. You know, Jane, that they will never permit
me to live. I know this and am ready." She sighed as she bent her
head back and Jane laid the soothing warm cloths across her forehead.
"I only pray that my courage will not fail at the test. It is easy to
be brave here in my own chambers; every man is a hero before his own
private mirror."

"So you will appear?" Jane was rubbing the cloth methodically, sending
the warmth deep inside Mary's skull.

"Yes. Not for legal reasons, but for higher ones. I need to speak at
last; I will not go silently into their prepared grave for me." She
gave a long, regretful sigh. "My courage has always been of the
physical type run, fight, ride. The kind that comes from pounding
blood and anger. This requires courage of a different order. And, I
beg you whatever happens, when you leave this place, tell my story. Do
not let my words and actions perish, or be snuffed out in this
castle."

Jane shuddered. "I cannot bear to think of it! Yet you plan it all so
calmly."

"For once in my life I must anticipate. I know it will be their aim to
silence me, and I must counter that. I come from an ancient and
honourable line of kings, and it is imperative that I die worthy of my
blood."

Even if I have not always lived worthy of it, she added silently to
herself.

The night before the opening of the trial, she spent an hour in prayer
before sending for Father de Pre'au. When the old priest came, she
took his hand and withdrew into one of the tiny closets for privacy.
"Bless me," she said. "Strengthen me for tomorrow!" "I do," he said.
"Remember not to worry about what you shall say or not say, that in the
necessary moment it shall be given to you what to say. Believe
that."

"I am frightened." Her hands were cold, and she knew she would not
sleep that night. "Frightened that I will be made to betray myself, my
faith, my royal blood. For those are the things of which I am found
guilty, those are the things that affront them." She was shaking. "I
will be all alone against the multitude of them."

"Not all alone," said the priest. "He will be there, right beside
you."

"I wish I could actually lean against Him. I wish there were something
solid there." She clasped her hands and dug the nails into her palms
to steady herself with the pain. "Oh, rather, I have made such
mistakes! Yet, in each choice I made, I made it in good faith,
thinking it was for the best. I acted according to the knowledge I
then had, which was limited. I saw that I should marry, and I loved
Darnley, and he had royal blood to make him acceptable to my nobles. On
paper, he was the perfect husband! but the things I did not know
..."

"That is past," said de Preau firmly. "No human being is God, to see
into another's heart, or into the future. Forgive yourself; God has.
And never forget that out of that 'sin' came James, who will unite the
two kingdoms someday. Leave these things to God."

Mary lay wide awake all that night, all the while fearing that her wits
would be blunted by fatigue.

Sunlight, diluted but golden, poured through the tiny windows as Mary
was being dressed on the morning of October fifteenth. She felt
tremulous but no longer afraid; everything seemed already to have
happened, and it would unfold before her in the trial chamber. She
therefore had no fear of ruining what had already been written, but
only curiosity to know what it was.

The trial was to take place in a chamber directly above the Great Hall.
She found her legs to be unusually swollen and stiff on this morning of
all mornings, much to her embarrassment. That meant she would have to
lean on two people, using them as crutches hardly a regal entrance. But
that, too, was written. So she selected Melville and Bourgoing, and
twined her arms about them so she could walk slowly into the chamber,
passing between two files of armed halberdiers to the entrance of the
judgement hall.

Stretching before her, seventy feet to the end of the chamber, sat her
judges. Two long benches ran the length of the chamber, and in the
middle, a smaller table with the law officers of the crown: an inner
and an outer rectangle, crowded with men. She was the only woman in
the room. As she entered, forty-four faces turned to stare at her. She
counted them, slowly, deliberately, as if to steady hers eL