The Queen's Almoner

by Tonya Ulynn Brown

  “Congratulations to you and His Royal Highness. Perhaps he will be born on William’s birthday; he was born on the first of June.” That was about all the enthusiasm I could muster.

  “Oh, Thomas, how lovely that would be.”

  Just then, William arrived in the arms of his wet nurse; just in time to save me from making a total fool of myself.

  Mary exclaimed and cooed over William, taking him into her arms and kissing his small head and sniffing his hair. I could not help it; my mind wandered to what it would have been like if Mary had been William’s mother. How happy we could have been.

  “…what do you think, Thomas?”

  Roused from my daydreaming, I had to admit that I did not hear anything she had just said.

  “Let me take him back to Edinburgh with me. Let him be raised in my courts. He could be trained as a page for my son and maybe eventually become a squire. That would be a great honor, and he and my son could be great friends, just as you and I were growing up.”

  “And what if you do not have a son? What shall you do with him if you have a daughter?”

  “Well, they can still be friends, can they not?” Her eyes shone a mischievous golden green as a smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

  Nay, I would not do that to him. I would not place him in such close proximity to a beautiful woman only to tell him he cannot have her.

  When I did not reply, she continued, “Then we will find some other place for him to serve. You know I would treat him as my own, Thomas.”

  With Isobel’s words flooding my mind, I hesitated to tell Mary. She seemed so intent on William coming to Edinburgh. Finally, I had to confess, “Nay, I’m sorry, but it was not his mother’s wish.”

  “Not his mother’s wish?” She repeated the words as if saying them again would make the words make more sense. “I do not understand. Is it an almoner she wishes for her son? Does she want him to follow in his father’s footsteps? Oh, Thomas, I can understand if that is her wish. We can accommodate him—and his mother’s wishes. He can be raised in my courts and be trained at the best universities when the time is right.”

  “Nay, it is not the almonry that Isobel wished for William.” How was I going to tell her Isobel’s words? I couldn’t mention her request to not let him serve in the queen’s court, but to wait and ask the king for favor when he is older. “She would like for me to keep him close until he is a little older. Then perhaps we can discuss a position and training that might be appropriate for him.”

  Mary seemed to be satisfied with that answer. “I cannot argue the wishes of his dying mother. I cannot say I understand them, but I cannot argue them. Do you wish for him to be an almoner, Thomas? Would you like to see him follow in your footsteps?”

  I do not. I want the best for him, but I do not want him to feel an obligation to a calling that is not his own. I want him to be free to love and live whatever life he wishes and not be tied to strict rules of the church that dictate his every move and behavior.

  “Only if it is his calling. I would not want him to feel obligated.”

  “Did you feel obligated? Do you regret the path your father laid out for you?”

  I looked away from her and her probing questions. I did not want to discuss it any further. “How long will you be in St. Andrews?”

  She took the hint and answered cautiously, “Until my husband leaves for Falkland Palace.”

  I detected a sourness to her tone and cocked my head in question.

  She sighed, “Aye, Thomas, it seems the wedded bliss has come to an end. He is increasingly belligerent and demanding. He is not happy enough to be king consort, he wants the crown matrimonial, which I refuse to give him. Especially now that I am with child. My son will be my heir, not him.”

  “Does he mistreat you, Mary?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she just twirled a wisp of William’s hair around her finger, first clockwise, then counterclockwise.

  “Mary, does he mistreat you?” I repeated.

  “He has never laid a hand on me, but he can be quite cruel. He is disrespectful to me and to my friends in general. I’m starting to realize that no one likes him.”

  I could have told her that, and might have, had I not been called away so suddenly in the spring.

  “What does Lord James say of him? Surely he will not allow you to be treated thus.”

  Mary stiffened her back and lifted her head. “James has been outlawed. He has repeatedly spoken out against my decisions and even raised an army against me.”

  Alarmed, I stood. “An army?”

  “Aye. It started really, before we even wed. He has been increasingly hostile toward me and Darnley. He did not come to the wedding, and after we were married, it was made known to me that he had begun building an army against me. What he did not know was that I too, was building an army. It came to a head in August as he and I chased each other all over the lowlands, never really meeting up. I finally returned to Stirling Castle in September and have not heard from him since.”

  I walked to the fireplace and stood with both hands on the hearth. Staring into the fire, I pondered the ramifications of this rebellion. I had not heard about this skirmish, but then again, I had been so consumed with my own loss and life in the past few months, that not much news of the outside world penetrated my thinking. Turning suddenly, I spoke with authority. “Mary, you must not persist in this chasing about. You are with child, and it is extremely dangerous. Please promise me that you will let the king fight your battles from now on.” At the sound of my lifted voice, William craned his neck to look at me and then squealed. Up to that point he had been enthralled with Mary and had not taken his eyes off her face.

  “Aye, now that I know that I bear the heir to the throne, I will not put myself in harm’s way,” she said, burying her face in the soft tendrils of William’s hair. Standing, she crossed the room to where I stood, carrying William with her. She kissed him on the cheek then handed him back to me. “He is precious,” she whispered, but it wasn’t what she said that arrested my attention. She laid a slender finger against the side of his cheek and just looked at us for a moment, her eyes saying more than what her lips ever could. With her other hand she steadied herself on my arm, and it ached to my very bone to have her so near. Her closeness sparked a flood of memories in me, and I was left once again to wonder what it would have been like if she were the mother of my son.

  “Please remember he is always welcome at my court.” Then clearing her throat, she abruptly changed the subject, “Now, if you please, I must freshen up before supper. Won’t you and William join me tonight?”

  I nodded in affirmation, for I had been struck dumb in the preceding moment. She crossed the room and picked up her shawl that she had laid over the back of her chair. Wrapping it about her shoulders she smiled at us, but the air was heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Then suddenly, as if some heavenly intervention were needed to bring me back to reality, her carriage pulled up outside and without any further words between us, she was gone.

  ~29~

  March 1566

  I sequestered myself at St. Andrews for the next year. In the spring of the year of our Lord, one thousand five hundred and sixty-six, I received a most disturbing letter from Mary.

  My Dearest Thomas,

  My heart is sick! One of my closest friends is dead, and I am ashamed to say that it is at the hand of someone else whom I had counted very close to me.

  On the night of 9 March, Rizzio and I, and a few other friends sat at supper in my private chamber. I was shocked at once when in burst my misguided husband, making himself known to me by way of a secret passage into my chamber. He came and spoke calm assurances to me, I having no idea what was about to take place.

  While he spoke to me, Lord Ruthven, entered behind Darnley, then proceeded to unlock the chamber door, enabling entrance of at least 20 other men. They began to speak to me of my dear friend, David Rizzio, accusing him of some great offenc
e toward me, the king, and Scotland.

  I tried to persuade them that any offence they spoke of would need to be dealt with by the Lords of Parliament, but they were having none of it. They began stabbing at Rizzio, who was hiding behind me. I shouted at them of their treasonous deeds, as I myself felt the coldness of their iron and sensed my life was in danger. Lord Ruthven shouted for Darnley to see to me, giving indication that he had some part in this scheme. When I was no longer a hindrance, they grabbed Rizzio and drug him from my supper chamber. One man, whose name has escaped me, pointed a pistol at me, or more specifically, at my unborn child, preventing me from offering any protection to Rizzio.

  What happened next, Thomas, was utter butchery. I still cannot believe, as I write these words to you, that it has actually happened. When Rizzio was come to the threshold of my chamber, they attacked him again, inflicting upon the poor soul fifty-six strokes with their daggers. When Darnley would not lend his aid to the attack, another grabbed his dagger and inflicted the final blow that ended Rizzio’s life.

  I asked Darnley why he should do this thing to me and a great argument ensued. He denied to my face his part in this plot, but it came to light afterward, that he did indeed have a hand in Rizzio’s demise.

  Thomas, if I thought it were safe for you, I would beg your presence here at Holyroodhouse immediately. But, nay, I fear that you too would be brought to danger, should you find yourself within the limits of Edinburgh.

  I will write more to you when I am able. I am sick with the depravity of it all and do not feel at my best.

  Give my love to William with a kiss on his cheek. Stay safe,

  M.R.

  I was not afraid of Darnley, and therefore, I began to pack my things to go to Mary immediately. However, a most providential visit from a friend waylaid my plans. I had just finished writing a missive to Anne Spottiswoode concerning William’s care, when I heard a knock on my door.

  I opened to find William Maitland standing before me.

  “Now this is a most curious development,” I said, patting him on the back as he entered my home.

  “Aye, well, I wish I were here for a social call,” he said, removing his hat from his head and taking a seat near the hearth.

  “It is most fortunate timing. Another half hour or so and you probably would have missed me.”

  “You’re going on a journey?” He looked about him in curiosity, but somehow I knew that was why he was here.

  “Aye, and I would venture to say that you already know where and why.”

  Maitland nodded his head, then stood again. “I will admit that I had a suspicion that the queen had probably written to you. And that is why I came. Thomas, you must not pursue this course of action. Edinburgh is a dangerous place for you right now.”

  I chuckled at his touching concern. “You know I do not fear that scoundrel.”

  “Well, you should. Fear not what injury he would inflict upon you personally, for I dare say that wouldn’t be much. But fear what influence he has on others. It is the madness of the masses that I would fear if I were you.”

  “What are you talking about exactly?”

  Sighing, he sat back down in his chair. “The king has a way of, shall we say, manipulating people. Making them think what he wants them to believe. You know of Rizzio’s murder, yes?”

  “Aye, I received a letter from Her Grace this very day concerning the matter.”

  “Haven’t you wondered how Rizzio went from chummy hunting buddy to hated enemy in just a matter of months?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought. I just figured Darnley was jealous of Rizzio’s friendship with Mary.” I know I had been.

  “Well it was more than that.” He paused considering his next words. “Darnley accused Rizzio of seducing the queen.”

  Blistering heat pulsed through my veins at his words. I walked across the room, steeling myself against the rage that burned inside me. How could a man who took an oath to honor and protect this ethereal being, shame her in such a way. I slammed my fist into the wall. “Something must be done,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, there’s more, my friend. When Darnley became suspicious, he threatened Rizzio, warning him to remove himself from Mary’s court, or there would be a reckoning. They got into a heated exchange of words, and Darnley even took a swing at Rizzio before falling flat on his face, rendering him a cut on his forehead and a bruise on his ego, I dare say. He belligerently began calling out names of other men of whom it had been said that Mary had relations with. All untrue, of course. When he named you,” here Maitland paused, presumably to gauge my temper, “he launched into a ten minute diatribe, in which he cursed the day you were begat and swore he would have your head should you dare come within a day’s ride of Edinburgh, or any city for that matter, in which Mary and he might be residing.”

  I stood in silence for a moment. Finally, I said, “I fail to see how any of this would prevent me from going to the queen’s aid.”

  “Listen to me. He is a madman. He will have his way, regardless of how he gets it. Think of your son, man! You have a child now. Do not endanger yourself. Yes, Her Majesty is upset, but she shall recover. And when this has all blown over, and the king is appeased, you can come back to Edinburgh. I’m surprised the queen asked you to risk your safety. She knows how Darnley feels about you.”

  “She didn’t,” I admitted. “Her final words were for me to stay safe.” I thought about Maitland’s words. Out of everything he said, there was only one thing that stood out to me that gave me pause. Think of my son. Could I really risk leaving him an orphan should something happen to me?

  “Well, there you have it then, Thomas. She wants you to stay safe. You should not disregard the queen’s wishes. And you have your son to think about. Please, I’m begging you, stay put for now.”

  I sighed and sat down in the chair beside him. I wished Mary had never written me that letter. It was bad enough to know she was unhappy, but for the first time since she had returned to Scotland I made the decision to not go to her. I had William to think about. I owed Isobel that much.

  ~30~

  June 1566-February 1567

  “Poppy, we have come for a visit.” Anne Spottiswoode was making her way slowly to my door, with a toddling William in tow. He was growing in strength and had begun to walk and chatter excessively.

  “Look at my handsome son,” I said, kneeling down to catch him when he finally reached me.

  “I think I have finally found a young nursemaid that can join your household once William is fully weaned. This will allow him to live with you yet be cared for while you teach at the university during the day.”

  “I appreciate all that you and John have done to help, Anne. I know you have loved and cared for William as if he were your own child.”

  “He is a sweet boy, and it has been our pleasure to have him with us. However, I’m sure you must be anxious to have him finally living with you.”

  “Aye, I look forward to the day when I can set him upon my knee and tell him the stories that I enjoyed in my own childhood. And we will ride horses and swing the sword, won’t we, William?” I swooped him up into the air on the word swing. He shrieked then began to giggle.

  “Well, it won’t be long now. He is already beginning to eat parritch in the mornings with Mr. Spottiswoode. John says that he hopes you have set aside some savings, as he believes the child will eat you out of house and home once he is fully weaned.”

  I smiled at her jest but the sobering thought was never far from my mind: one day he would go to court, and I would never know what he ate. Fortunately, there was plenty of time before that happened.

  “Have you heard from the queen since she gave birth to her son?”

  “What makes you think I would hear from the queen?”

  “Forgive me, sir. I believe I have misspoken.” Anne, like her husband, was a person who spoke her mind. Anything that was spoken, was done so with much thought aforehand. It wasn’t lik
e her to take back anything she might say. “It’s just that, I spent many afternoons in conversation with Isobel. I know that you and the queen were childhood friends, and that you still keep in close touch.”

  I nodded in understanding then gave William a quick hug before setting him down on the floor to play. “I had a letter from her after the child was born. It seems he is a fair-haired prince whom she has named James. From all accounts he is lively and full-fleshed with a hearty set of lungs to announce his birth. As different as night and day from my William, I suppose.” I smiled at her briefly, but there was nothing more to say on the matter. I hoped I had satisfied her curiosity and that the topic wouldn’t be brought up again. It was hard to think about Mary when I had made the deliberate choice to stay away.

  ***

  In November, I received a letter from Mary, inviting William and me to a Christmas celebration at Sterling Castle. She also reiterated her wish for William to come and live at court that he and James may be raised as brothers. This, of course, was out of the question. Mostly, because it was his mother’s wish, but furthermore, he had just come to live with me, and I was not about to give him up so quickly. Additionally, the warning words of Maitland at his last visit although received almost 7 months earlier, permeated my memory, and filled me with uneasiness at the thought of exposing my son to such menacing threats and unpredictable behavior of a madman the likes of our newly crowned king.

  I penned a short, yet friendly letter to Mary.

  Dear Mary,

  I am touched that you would think of William and I during this special time of celebration. That you would wish for us to commemorate the birth of our Lord with you and the prince is touching and appreciated.

  However, I must beg your forgiveness. William has only recently come to live with me, and we are still getting used to each other on a more permanent basis. Unfortunately, I feel such a trip would not be in his best interest.