Mary, Queen of Scots (43 page)

The main problem with this evidence is that, if the door to the Queen’s chamber was shut and the other downstairs doors locked, the only window through which the flame could have been seen was that in the Queen’s chamber, which looked out on to the quadrangle. There is no way that the conspirators could have seen this from the east garden. Moreover, would Bothwell have been so stupid as to risk going back to the house when it could blow up at any moment?

More pertinently, if gunpowder with weak and unpredictable properties was left in a heap, it might have quickly burnt itself out, or, if it did explode, it would never have destroyed the whole building down to the foundations. The damage would have been limited mainly to the room it was in and the floor above it. Therefore the Old Provost’s Lodging could not have been blown up by this means.

Bothwell and his men aimed to scale the Flodden Wall at Leith Wynd, a good way to the north, but it was too high, so they made their way back to the Netherbow Port, brazenly woke the porter and demanded admission, then split up into two groups: Bothwell and Paris went down the Canongate, while the rest returned via St. Mary’s Wynd and the Cowgate to the palace. They cannot therefore have been the men whom Mrs. Merton and Mrs. Stirling saw running up Blackfriars Wynd and splitting into two groups; these were probably members of the Douglas party. Why Bothwell and his men chose to go so far out of their way to Leith Wynd is a mystery; they could have got over the wall near the Blackfriars gardens, for a good stretch of it was ruinous there, as the city records testify.

When challenged, Bothwell and his followers gave the Earl’s name, not only to John Galloway, but also to the sentries at Holyrood, who also asked them, “What was that crack?,” to which they replied, “We know not.” In the circumstances, their indiscretion seems staggering, but neither the porter nor the sentries were ever brought forward as witnesses against them. At Holyrood, Bothwell “called for a draught,” undressed and went to bed, feigning innocence when he was disturbed half an hour later by George Halket with news of the explosion.
²⁶
Since there was widespread panic in the palace at the time of his return, it is hard to believe that he reached his lodgings without meeting anyone. It is also hard to accept that he walked all the way from Kirk o’Field to Leith Wynd, then back to the Netherbow Port and by the back route to the palace, then prepared for bed, in the time before he was disturbed, and without anybody knowing anything of his movements; most of the city had been aroused by the explosion.

At some point during the return journey, Hay’s conscience had begun to trouble him, and he muttered to Paris, “We have given offence to God, but there is nothing to be done save live virtuously and pray.”

“Alas!” wailed Paris, whereupon Hay shut him up by threatening him with a pistol. Once he reached Holyrood, Paris lay sleepless on a bed in Bothwell’s hall, then left when Hay invited him to spend the night at his house in the Canongate. When he returned to Holyrood in the morning, Paris gave way to terror, but Bothwell assured him that no one would trouble themselves with him when most of the great Lords of Scotland were involved in the plot. But Paris was not reassured, and Bothwell soon lost patience with him.

“Why do you look like that?” he snapped, and pointed out that the other conspirators had “lands, rents and revenues, wives and children, and were willing to give up everything in my service. If you think you have offended God, the sin is not yours but mine.”

Later on, still brooding, Paris saw the Queen, but when he told her that people were giving him odd looks, and asked her why she thought this should be, she merely told him not to worry.

That day, Hepburn dropped the counterfeit keys down a hole in a quarry between Holyrood and Leith. Bothwell later gave fine horses to Hay and Hepburn by way of reward for their services, and promised Powrie, Dalgleish and Wilson well-remunerated positions at Hermitage Castle. He assured all his accomplices that, if they held their tongues, “they should never want so long as he had anything.”

It is clear that the depositions on which this reconstructed sequence of events is based are so seriously flawed that they cannot be accepted as reliable evidence of what actually happened. All were carefully conjured and doctored so as to attach the responsibility for Darnley’s murder exclusively to Bothwell and, later, to Mary and to other persons who had fallen from favour in the interim. What incriminates Bothwell are not these contrived accounts, but the evidence that relates to the conferences at Craigmillar and Whittinghame and the events that took place after Darnley’s murder, of which we will shortly be hearing. Although it seems likely that Bothwell and his named followers did engineer the explosion at Kirk o’Field, there is serious doubt as to whether it was carried out in the manner described in the depositions, and as to whether Bothwell was acting alone. He himself told others that the Lords, and even the Queen, were involved in the conspiracy, and whether the latter was true or not, there is good evidence for the former; he must therefore have believed that no one could touch him.

The depositions reveal a plot that was ill conceived, careless and staggeringly amateurish. There was no reason why Hay and Hepburn could not have lit the fuse as soon as the Queen’s entourage was clear of Kirk o’Field, or at least as soon as the house was quiet. Nor did Bothwell and the others have any good cause for going back to the house to supervise matters. Going around Edinburgh in a large group at the dead of night and leaving clues to their identity in various places were the acts of fools who seemed to be deliberately trying to attract attention to themselves. Bothwell’s past record is one of efficiency and military expertise, and he had demonstrated good qualities of leadership in often difficult situations; it is therefore inconceivable that he had devised this shambles of a conspiracy. Even if he had believed himself so powerful that he did not need to cover his tracks—which does not appear to have been the case—he was certainly aware that he had influential enemies who would seize upon any excuse to destroy him, and that the penalty for regicide was death.

Hence, it is almost certain that Bothwell was not acting on just his own account at Kirk o’Field that night, and that the events that took place there were rather different from those recounted in the depositions.

“THE CONTRIVERS OF THE PLOT”

THE PROTESTATION OF HUNTLY AND Argyll reads: “We judge in our conscience, and hold for certain and truth, that Moray and Lethington were authors, inventors, devisers counsellors and causers of the murder, in what manner and by whatsoever persons the same was executed.”

It was Maitland and Moray who first broached the question of the removal of Darnley at Craigmillar, and who took Huntly, Argyll and Bothwell into their confidence. When Mary pointed out that an annulment would impugn her son’s legitimacy, Maitland assured her that the Lords would think of other means of freeing her. A bond for Darnley’s murder was almost certainly drawn up at Craigmillar, therefore the inevitable conclusion must be that Maitland and Moray were its instigators. Their conversation with Mary suggests that they had thought the whole matter through before involving the other Lords, and the fact that they enlisted the support of their enemy, Bothwell, whose power had become insupportable, probably indicates that he was to be the scapegoat. What they could not have envisaged was the enthusiasm with which Bothwell applied himself to the murder plans, an enthusiasm that derived from his unstated ambition to marry the Queen. Thus he played unwittingly into their hands, enabling them to distance themselves from the actual deed of murder. There is little doubt that he was betrayed into believing that he had their moral support.

Maitland was no stranger to intrigue. He had been at least privy to the plot against Rizzio, for it was he who had warned Cecil that the Italian was about to be murdered. Maitland’s cherished political goal was union with England under a Protestant government, and Darnley, with his Catholic pretensions, was an unwelcome obstacle to that. All the sources agree that Maitland signed the Craigmillar Bond; furthermore, his presence with Bothwell at Whittinghame, when Darnley’s murder was discussed, proves that he was deeply implicated. There is also some evidence that he chose the Old Provost’s Lodging for Darnley, and he may even have prevented Mary from staying there on the fateful night. Darnley had warned Mary, three days before the murder, to be on her guard against Maitland, for he was out to ruin them both. Maitland was undoubtedly involved in the plot, if not its mastermind.

There is no question that most of the Scottish Lords hated Darnley, and even those not directly involved in the plot would have lifted no finger to save him. He had alienated many of them, dishonoured the Queen, intrigued incessantly to disastrous effect and brought scandal upon Scotland, and they were not prepared to tolerate any restoration of his influence. It is no coincidence that the plans that had been laid at Craigmillar were speedily expedited after the Queen and her husband were reconciled.

The evidence against Moray is largely circumstantial, but he certainly had compelling reasons for wanting Darnley taken out. Nau claimed that Moray “had told several Englishmen that it was necessary to get rid of the King, not only because he was a Catholic, but also because he was an enemy to the Queen of England. But there had been private feuds of an old standing between them, both before and after the marriage. The King never forgot the ambuscade before he married the Queen, and wanted to kill him.”

Moray was adept at distancing himself from unpleasant events in which he might be implicated and at “looking through his fingers” at what was going on in his absence. His departure from Edinburgh on the eve of the murder is unlikely to have been coincidental, and the contradictory descriptions of his wife’s illness suggest that this was a contrived excuse. Nau claimed that Moray left “after having matured all his plans necessary for his success in seizing the crown and ruining the Queen,” while Paris said that, when he heard that Moray was leaving Edinburgh, he immediately concluded that the Earl had resolved to be away while the crime was being committed.

Moray had been noticeably silent when the problem of Darnley was raised at Craigmillar: it was Maitland who had done most of the talking. Yet, by his presence, he had made it known that he was involved in the matter. He strongly denied signing the Craigmillar Bond, and the depositions extracted during his regency predictably do not list him among the signatories, but both Leslie and Nau state that he did sign the Bond, and Nau may have got his information from the Queen, who had almost certainly seen it.

Moray took no part in the commission of the murder itself, but there are strong grounds for believing that it had his moral support. According to Paris, Bothwell believed Moray to be neutral, which implies that Moray was aware of what was going on; certainly he made no attempt to save Darnley. Mondovi reported that most people imputed the crime to Moray, “who has always had the throne in view,”
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while Cecil received an anonymous letter stating that Archbishop Beaton had alleged that Moray was the author of the King’s death.
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Even Moray had to admit to Cecil, “I am touched myself.”
³

Moray had more to gain than anyone else from Darnley’s death and the removal of Bothwell. Suited both by bearing and abilities to kingship, only his bastardy had lain between him and the throne. He had been involved in every major plot against his sister, determined to hold on to the political dominance he had come to enjoy, and which had been threatened, in turn, by the ascendancy of unsuitable men promoted by Mary—Rizzio, Darnley and now Bothwell. Some people, including Mondovi, believed that Moray wanted the throne itself, but the evidence suggests that it was power he desired, not a crown. He was also committed to the success of the Protestant Reformation, and would have regarded any means to that end as acceptable. The ultimate consequence of the Kirk o’Field conspiracy was that Moray attained the political supremacy he desired and was able to firmly establish the reformed religion in Scotland.

Buchanan later claimed that, after the murder, “messengers were at once sent to England to spread the report that the King of Scots had been foully done to death by the direct means of the Earls of Moray and Morton”; there is, however, no record of any messenger saying this. Buchanan also asserted that, in Scotland, rumours were “spread by the regicides to the effect that the King had been murdered by the means of Moray and Morton.” There certainly were rumours to that effect, and some probably had their basis in truth. After a discussion with Moretta, Giovanni Correr, the Venetian ambassador in Paris, wrote:

It was widely rumoured that the principal persons in the kingdom were implicated because they were dissatisfied with the King, and above all a bastard brother of the Queen’s is suspected because, at the time when she was at variance with her husband, the bastard told her that the King had boasted to him of having had intimacy with her before she was his wife. The Queen, exasperated, asked the King if it was true; the King gave the lie to the bastard, who repeated the accusation to the King’s face. From this private quarrel, the report arose that the bastard had desired to revenge himself.
⁴

How true this is there is no way of knowing, but there
was
speculation in 1565 that Mary and Darnley had anticipated their marriage, and a puritanical man like Moray would not have relished hearing Darnley boast of it. Indeed, it may have been this that initially caused the rift between Darnley and Moray. But Moray had far more and greater reasons than that for wishing to be rid of Darnley. Of course, Correr could have been referring not to Moray but to Lord Robert Stewart, who had quarrelled with Darnley a day or so before the murder, but that quarrel had had nothing to do with Mary’s private relations with Darnley, and there is no suggestion in any source that Lord Robert was involved in the murder.

Correr also claimed that the assassination of Darnley was the work of heretics who had meant to kill Mary too and bring up the Prince in the new faith. Most of this is pretty accurate, but it is unlikely that the murder of the Queen was intended: Maitland had prevented Mary from staying at Kirk o’Field, and Moray later balked at executing her, or doing away with her by other means, even when he had the opportunity.

Mary herself was always to believe that the Protestant Lords had been behind the plot. Nau, whose work almost certainly reflects her views, stated that “it was afterwards made public that [the murder] had been done by the command and device of the Earls of Bothwell and Morton, James Balfour and some others, who always afterwards pretended to be most diligent in searching out the murder which they themselves had committed.” Interestingly, no mention is made of Moray and Maitland, who had both died before it was written, but Morton was Regent of Scotland at the time and one of Mary’s most virulent enemies. Nau also states that, “if we may judge by the plots, deeds and contrivances of [Bothwell’s] associates, it would seem that, after having used him to rid themselves of the King, they designed to make him their instrument to ruin the Queen.” Elsewhere, in speaking of the Lords, Nau refers to “the murder which they themselves had committed,” and speaks of Bothwell, Morton and Balfour as the guilty parties.

In January 1568, Hepburn and Hay, in their confessions, “accused the greatest and chiefest of [Moray’s] Council, who were at that time sitting beside him, especially Morton, Lethington and Balfour, and their own Master the Earl [Bothwell]” of the murder.
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A report in the secret archives of the Society of Jesus claimed that Maitland was “present at this conference between Moray” and one of the prisoners, who is not named, and, “being very farsighted, he feared that if the criminal were permitted to make [a public] confession, he would name him, or some of his accomplices, for Lethington’s conscience accused him of many crimes.” Maitland therefore prepared a speech for the condemned man to recite on the scaffold, but to his dismay, the wretch refused, saying “he had reached that frame of mind when threats and compliments are equally worthless, and that nothing should hinder him from saying what his conscience told him to say.” Addressing Moray, he said, “Since you, my Lord Regent, occupy the position in which I now find you, of you I will say nothing, and I spare you because of your dignity.” Then, turning to Maitland and some others who are not named, he asked, “Who is there among you who either can or dare accuse me of this crime?—a crime of which you are quite as guilty as I am. For you planned what these Lords of mine put into execution, as is attested by the signatures of all of you, which would establish the truth of all my words if they could be produced.” At his words, “all were so struck that for a time there was silence.”

On the scaffold, “whatever charges he brought openly against the Secretary, the Earls of Morton and Bothwell and James Balfour, whom he affirmed to be the first inventors of this crime, the very same he insinuated sufficiently plainly against Moray. Everyone who knows anything about this affair knows how true is the statement made about him and the others mentioned.”
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The man concerned may have been Hay for, on the scaffold, Hay incriminated Maitland, Bothwell, Huntly, Argyll and Balfour, stating “that Balfour and Maitland were notoriously known as the principal advisers and counsellors,” and although he had not seen Morton’s signature on the Craigmillar Bond, Bothwell had told him it was there.
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The report in the Jesuit archives states that the other men executed that day “bore witness not only that the Queen was guiltless of this crime, but that the individuals mentioned above were the authors of the King’s murder.” Buchanan also says that both Maitland and Balfour, “it is believed, were privy to the plot to murder the King.” In his confession, John Binning accused Maitland’s brother John of also being involved.

Many believed that Morton had helped to commit the murder,
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and his indictment of 1581 asserts that he had personally placed the gunpowder “under the ground and angular stones and within the vaults” of Darnley’s house, but, in his confession, made that same year, Morton would only admit to having foreknowledge of the murder, not to taking any part in it; he added that nothing had been done to prevent the murder because it was known that the Queen desired it. Morton was not in Edinburgh when it was committed, yet his kinsmen were at the scene of the crime. Possibly Archibald Douglas was there on his own initiative, but his intervention may well have had Morton’s blessing. Morton admitted having received Douglas after the murder, even though he knew Douglas had been involved in it. Yet the evidence collectively suggests that, in his confession, Morton was telling the truth. When he was found guilty in 1581 of being “art and part” in the murder, “he showed himself much grieved and, beating the ground once or twice with his staff, said, ‘Art and part? God knoweth the contrary.’ ”
⁹

Huntly and Argyll were certainly involved in the conspiracy. According to Morton’s confession, Huntly went with Bothwell to Kirk o’Field on the night of the murder, while Argyll was in Edinburgh at the time. He had allegedly patted Paris’s shoulder after the preparations for the explosion were completed. There is no reliable evidence to connect any other noble with the murder. Glencairn, Fleming, Kirkcaldy of Grange, Livingston, Melville, Eglinton and Atholl were definitely not involved.

Another man who was to be executed for complicity in Darnley’s murder was Archbishop Hamilton. Buchanan was especially eager to condemn him for it. The Archbishop had been in residence in the Duke’s House on the night of the murder, and it is from Buchanan that we learn the seemingly ominous detail of the light being extinguished in the window after the explosion. Buchanan claims that the good Bishop [
sic
] not only conspired with the Earl Bothwell, but came with the Queen to Glasgow and conveyed the King to the place of his murder, the Bishop being lodged as he was seldom or never before, where he might perceive the pleasure of that cruelty, and help the murderers, and sent four of his familiar servants to the execution of the murder, watching all the night and thinking long to have the joy of the coming of the crown a degree nearer to the House of Hamilton.