In penance, I am sending you a small pendant which bears the image of Madonna and child surrounded by tiny stems of pink and red roses. I thought you would enjoy the image of the Virgin Mary looking lovingly down on her son. For the prince, I am including a delicately crocheted bonnet made of sheep-colored linen and cutwork lace.
I pray that one day our boys shall meet, and we shall enjoy a visit together once more. Until then, please accept these gifts and know that we are thinking of you.
Yours eternally,
Thomas
By February I could avoid Edinburgh no longer. A council of scholars and clergy was being formed, and I was summoned to Edinburgh to participate as a representative of St. Andrews. In vain I tried to remove myself from the obligation, due in cause of my young son and our extenuating circumstances. However, my superiors informed me that I could not be excused, and therefore must convene with the others by the end of the month.
I had been in Edinburgh for only two days when I was approached by a man whose appearance had been so altered that I scarcely recognized him. I had just sat down to supper when William Maitland entered the inn at which I dined, and spotting me from across the room, made straight to my table. A slight smile affected his down-turned mouth, and a lightness entered his eyes that spoke more of relief than happiness to see me.
I stood to greet him, grasping his arm in mine, and drawing him in. “Thomas,” he exhaled. “I was told that I might find you here.”
“How did you know that I was in Edinburgh?” I inquired. I had told no one, save Mary, of my whereabouts.
“When I heard a council was convening in Edinburgh, I thought perhaps you might be among the delegates. I made some inquiries, was informed of where you might be staying, and here you are.”
I motioned to the servant to bring another pitcher of ale and a platter that I might share my fair. When he returned with a charger and mug, I sliced a generous portion of roasted beef and laid it on Maitland’s plate, spooning turnips and shallots onto his plate as well.
“Have you spoken to her Majesty of late?”
“I have only had correspondence with her through writing. I have not seen her since I returned to Edinburgh.” Maitland nodded his head as he speared a piece of beef and shoved it into his mouth. “Things are not as glorious as they had once been.”
“What do you mean?” I suspected there had been trouble threatening the matrimonial bliss of the king and queen, especially with the killing of Rizzio, but I feared he intimated more pressing concerns.
“Her majesty enjoyed much support from her subjects when she confronted Lord James over a year ago. But she has been in close contact with the Pope and with Philip of Spain of late and many believe she is flirting with the idea of forcing a return to Catholicism.”
“What? It has been but six months since she reiterated her former stance concerning the Protestants, and she promised that we shall continue to enjoy the freedom to worship as our conscience finds fit. Who suspects these plans?”
“Everyone. She now has only four earls that stand behind her wholeheartedly. The others have steadily withdrawn their support and returned to their own estates. I suspect the king’s behavior has had a lot to do with that.”
“I see.” I ran my hand through my hair and sighed heavily. Mary had not shared any information with me concerning her desires or intentions concerning Rome or the church. But of course, why would she share that with a Protestant clergyman?
“Her Majesty has also pardoned Bothwell and summoned him back to Scotland. She appointed him Lieutenant General of the Borders. It was he who helped her reroute Lord James’ forces.”
The beef I had been chewing stuck in my throat. I disliked Bothwell immensely. The news of his presence in Scotland, and particularly in Edinburgh was like a rotten fish sold five days after market. Although Mary trusted him greatly, I did not. I would now not rest easily until I spoke to Mary about all that had come about since my departure.
“And what does the king think of Bothwell?” Surely the jealous Darnley would not stand idly by as Bothwell seduced his queen, for that is exactly what I suspected of him since my first meeting with him five years ago.
“Aye, he despises him. Yet, I believe he fears him as well. He has not publicly denounced him, but he secretly loathes him. Their first meeting was quite interesting. As you know, Bothwell is a man of some form. He entered court with the air of one who believes himself to be the only saving grace of the monarchy. He speaks roughly and with great condescension, and from what I understand, Darnley spoke no greater than twenty words in the course of the whole interview. And when Bothwell was seated as the guest of honor at a dinner given not long after his arrival, he dominated the conversation, allowing Darnley to express his opinion only when it agreed with his own. He had the whole of Her Majesty’s court eating out of the palm of his hand by the time the fourth course was served.”
I listened with great trepidation. I did not care for Darnley from the moment I met him. He was an arrogant boor that spoke condescendingly to Mary and pushed around anyone whom he felt was inferior to him. I did not trust him. But I did not trust Bothwell even more. For although Darnley may have had a blackened heart that could devise a wicked plan against the innocent, he could only execute his plans by enticing or bribing others to join his schemes. Bothwell, however, could devise the plan and carry out the execution of that plan unaccompanied. He too might be able to persuade others to follow him, but he was perfectly capable of producing the mayhem all by himself.
“…and then there were the terrible rumors concerning Rizzio.” He paused, looking away from my intent gaze and occupying himself with a splinter of wood on the top of the table.
“Why does Rizzio’s name keep coming up? Speak clearly, man! What are you not telling me?”
“There are many who say that the prince belongs to the murdered secretary.”
With that I stood abruptly, pushing the bench back suddenly and sending it flying across the tavern floor. “Surely you don’t believe that!” I forced the words through clenched teeth as I leaned toward him with my arms extended across the table.
“Nay, but there are those who have tried to purport that as fact.” He looked at me with shifting eyes, always keeping clearly aware of what and who was around him. “Please sit down.”
I turned my seat upright and sat down heavily, taking a gulp of the remaining ale in my cup.
“The queen has found herself in a most precarious situation,” he explained. “She has married herself to a supercilious man that no one will accept as king; at least not privately. She has borne a son that many claim to be the offspring of another man. She has placed all trust in the Earl of Bothwell, and in him alone, although no one else trusts him, or even likes him, for that matter. She has demonstrated a desire to be reconciled with the king, yet many say it is a ploy to derail him and cast suspicion from herself. She has aligned herself with Rome and appears to be ready to rip the rug of religious freedom right out from under us. She—”
“Enough. You have laid out her charges most decidedly. I want to speak to her myself before I make any judgments.”
Maitland looked at me with a pained expression. “I am on your side. I am on Her Majesty’s side. But I must make you aware of the climate into which you have entered upon arriving here in Edinburgh. Things are not the same as they were five years ago. The fragile balance of power between the Catholic queen and the Protestant Lords teeters upon an ability to make sensible decisions. Unfortunately, I fear that our lovely queen has lost all ability to think sensibly. Some blame the delicate condition of women who have given birth. Others simply accuse her of improper, even immoral behavior. Knox often finds offense at something Her Majesty has said or done and fears not to make a proclamation before his congregation every Sunday. I try my best to give sound counsel when asked, but that is rarely sought, and even less, heeded.” He finally gave up his monologue and leaned his forehead into his hand, looking the picture of
despair.
“There must be some reason that is driving her to make such unsound decisions. I must speak to her.”
“That is why I sought you out, Thomas. She has always had the utmost respect and trust in you. I had hoped perhaps you could speak to her and inspire some sensible behavior. She is presently at an estate at Kirk o’ Field, nursing the convalescent king, for he has been ill. She is watching the comings and goings of every person as there have been rumors of a plot to kill Darnley. Some rumors even pin her as the culprit. Yet, she will see you, I think, so send word to her there.”
The gravity of Maitland’s words troubled me. I may not have liked what he had to say, but I was glad he had found me and shared the information. The longer I thought on it, the more I was convinced that Mary could be in very real danger. I needed to speak to her and decided that I would try to get a message to her first thing in the morning. There was so much to talk about, but the runagate Earl of Bothwell would be the first topic of conversation. I feared he had a lot to do with the trouble that was currently brewing in Edinburgh. I was determined to find out.
~31~
February 1567
I sent a note to Mary the next morning, requesting an interview with her at her earliest convenience. I was surprised to get such a quick reply.
My Dearest Thomas,
I will be attending the wedding of one of my ladies-in-waiting this afternoon, and a masque later this evening. I will clear all other engagements so that we might meet on the morrow.
My husband is staying at Kirk o’Field, recovering from an illness, so it might be better for us to meet at Holyroodhouse to avoid any incidents.
Your devoted friend,
M.R.
She must know that he had made threats against me. I did not fear him, yet I worried about the harassment he might give Mary due to my presence. I was glad to know that he would not be a concern.
I retired to my room early that night. Yet, after making all my nighttime preparations, sleep alluded me. It had been over a year since I had seen Mary. I wondered how motherhood had changed her. I wondered what had possessed her to consider an alliance with Rome. And how would this affect her popularity with her subjects?
These and many more questions pounded my head and chased sleep from me. I lied awake for quite some time and was just beginning to drift off to sleep when suddenly there was a desperate pounding on my door. Who the devil could that be? I threw on my robe and quickly headed to it. Before I could reach it though, I heard Maitland’s voice in the loudest possible whisper, demanding that I open the door.
More than a little irritated that he had disturbed me, I was prepared to lecture him on the lateness of the hour. However, when I swung the door open, his ashen face and sweat-drenched brow declared to me that he was well aware of the time and that the matter was urgent.
“Thomas, I need you to dress quickly and come with me. There has been a terrible accident.”
“What kind of accident?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but the thought of something happening to Mary was almost more than I could bear.
“Just get dressed, and I’ll explain everything to you on the way. Quickly Thomas, time is of the utmost importance.”
I dressed as quickly as I could, then followed him into the cold, February night. Climbing into the carriage that Maitland had come in, I noticed that it was not his personal carriage, but one from Holyroodhouse.
“What is going on, Maitland?” The door had barely closed on us before I started with questioning.
“There was an explosion at Kirk o’ Field tonight.”
“Mary?” The bile that rose in my throat caused the word to rasp out in a shaky manner.
“She is safe. However, I cannot say the same for the king.”
Horror clutched my chest, and my head began to swim. What would this mean for Mary? How will this affect her? “The king is injured?”
“He is presumed dead. His body has not been located yet. It was a terrible explosion. Several of the servants have been found already.”
I rubbed my forehead as I felt a tightness rising and gripping me like a vice. “And you’re sure Mary is unharmed? How did she avoid injury? Was she not at Kirk o’ Field when the explosion occurred?”
“She was away at a masquerade being given by the groom who had married earlier yesterday morning. It had been determined that she would stay the night at Holyroodhouse, as she has an early morning appointment there and knew she would be out late tonight.”
“Yes, that appointment was with me. I had written to request an audience with her. Where is she now?”
“She is at Holyroodhouse.”
I sat back in my seat, not realizing that I was sitting on edge since we had entered the carriage. A great wave a relief swept over me, as I realized that Mary was out of harm’s way. But then another thought struck me, and I sat upright in my seat once again. “By the Almighty, you don’t think this was an assassination attempt on Mary, do you?”
Maitland cleared his throat before sitting himself up a little straighter. He looked around as if to ensure that no other ears could be listening. He then leaned forward and in a conspiratorial voice said, “There are many who say that Mary was a part of the plot to exterminate the king.”
At that, an indignation seized me, and I grabbed him by the collar of his coat. I too, spoke in a hushed tone, but there was no concern as to who heard me. “If I ever again hear you utter such treasonous words against our saintly queen, I will cut out your tongue with my dirk.”
He cleared his throat for the second time, and I loosened my hold on him.
“How many people knew the queen was staying at Holyroodhouse tonight?”
Straightening his collar, he said, “I am not certain. I only learned of her morning appointment and choice to stay there a couple of hours ago.”
“And when was she last at Kirk o’ Field?”
“Approximately four and a half hours ago. She attended the king until around ten o’clock. From what has been explained, she suddenly remembered the masque she was supposed to attend.”
“What do you mean, suddenly remembered?”
“The queen attended Sebastien and Christina’s wedding yesterday morning. Later that afternoon, we attended a feast given in their honor. By early evening we accompanied the queen to Kirk o’ Field where she passed the evening with His Majesty. It had been a very busy day, and the evening was quite relaxed. Her Grace spent time with the king while we played a game and probably would have retired there for the evening but then she spoke of wishing to attend the masquerade. The king asked Bothwell to accompany the queen to her destination and ensure that he would deliver her safely back to him afterward. That is when Her Majesty stated that she had an early morning appointment, and Bothwell suggested she just stay at Holyroodhouse instead of returning at such a late hour.”
“Bothwell was in attendance at this little party?”
“Aye.”
“Who else? Who else was in the house with the king?” My agitation was quickly rising, and it was evident in the tone of my voice.
“Well, the Earls of Argyll and Cassilis, and Gordon.”
“Gordon? Adam Gordon? The Earl of Huntly’s son?”
“Nay, his brother, George. He is Bothwell’s brother by marriage.” Maitland stared at me. “What are you about, Thomas?”
“I’m looking for someone who was within close proximity of the king last night who might have a good reason to want him dead. Everyone you mentioned has either a good reason to want to do harm or is just brute enough to do it for someone else.”
“The king had many enemies. You will be hard pressed to find one culprit to pin the blame on. I would venture to say there were probably many men involved in this plot.”
I eyed Maitland as he spoke about the king. He didn’t seem too disturbed by the fact that Darnley was dead, but I assumed there weren’t too many in Edinburgh that would mourn the loss of Lord Darnley.
He shifted in
his seat and opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again.
“What? You have something more to tell me?”
Maitland looked nervous and didn’t speak at first.
“I’ll keep my wits about me, you have my word. Just tell me what you know.”
“There are whispers that the lords have someone in mind for the queen.”
“What do you mean? To do her harm?”
“I mean, they took one man out to put another in his place.”
I stared, dumbfounded. “Who? Who do they want in Darnley’s place?”
“Well, I can’t say that everyone is in agreement with it, but—”
“For the love of God, man! What are you trying to say?” I sprang forward in my seat once more but resisted the urge to grab him by the collar again.
He sighed, possibly resigned to the fact that what he was about to say could send me over the edge. “There is a strong suspicion that there is something going on between the queen and Lord Bothwell,” he finally admitted.
Now I was the one who opened my mouth with nothing to say. I sat back against the seat and rubbed my palms across my knees. A tightness gripped my chest, and I felt the air in the carriage grow thin.
We rode along in silence until I worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning in my mind. “Are these just rumors, or have you seen something that would lead you to believe this to be true?”
“It’s hard to say. They have spent a lot of time together lately. But then again, he is her Lieutenant General.”
The carriage finally came to a stop and the footman opened the door. Standing before us was Holyroodhouse. I did not wait for Maitland to disembark but ran to the entrance where I was abruptly stopped by two palace guards, their halberds crossed in front of me, blocking my way into the castle. I did not recognize the guards, and I do not believe they knew me either, for when I told them my name they stared at me blankly. It wasn’t until Maitland caught up with me at the door and spoke a word to them, that I was permitted entrance.
The Queen's Almoner Page 24
