The Queen's Almoner

by Tonya Ulynn Brown

  “What surprise have ye brought me, Douglas?” His eyes danced in a glassy fervor as he finished setting himself to rights.

  “My lord, ye requested Reverend Thomas Broune be brought to ye straightway should he arrive at Dunbar. I have brought him without delay.”

  “So ye have.” He took a step closer, grabbing two cups and a flask from the tray the servant had brought forward.

  “Thank ye, Douglas. I wish to speak to Priest alone for a spell. Go grab yourself a pint from the kitchens for a job well done.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Douglas swept a bow and turned to go.

  Turning to the servant already present, he said, “Go, and tell Cook that we will be ready to dine in a half hour.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord.”

  Then, in an afterthought, Bothwell added, “Oh, and please send a maid to check on the queen. She seemed a bit overwrought.”

  I wished the breath I drug through my nostrils at hearing his words was enough to calm my temper, but alas, it was not. I took a step forward with my fists clenched, but I was stopped short at his peremptory words. “The queen has been brought to reason.”

  “And how did you manage that?” I asked, not hiding my annoyance.

  “I can be very persuasive,” he thrummed, as he extended a drink to me. I did not take the proffered cup, but took another step closer, leveling my eyes with his. I could smell the whiskey on his breath and could now see the red rim of his eyes. I was slightly taller than he but noticed he felt no intimidation at my advantage.

  “If I find out you hurt her—”

  “You’ll do what, Priest? I would advise you to hold your tongue and practice that constraint you were taught in seminary. I have 500 armed men below stairs, all at my command. Lift a finger toward your future king, and I may have to summon them.”

  “You’ll never be king. The Lords of the Congregation will never allow it.”

  “Oh? Think ye? I am in possession of a bond, signed at Ainslie’s tavern by more than thirty lords and clergy, that says otherwise.”

  “And I am in possession of a list of many of those same men, who have come to their senses and retracted their support of your endeavors, despite your pitiful threats.”

  The smug look on his face fell for only an instant before recovering his glib expression. “I have their signed word that they are all in support of this marriage. Any man who so chooses to go back on his word will now face legal action for his betrayal. They can and shall see things my way.”

  “I want to see the queen.” I changed the subject.

  Bothwell raised an eyebrow, then tilted his head slightly. “Aye. That is the real reason ye are here, is it not? How silly of me to think ye came to have a drink with me.” He filled his cup again and took another hearty drink. “Mary has had a long day. I feel it is in her best interest for her to rest. Perhaps tomorrow you may join us for breakfast. You may speak to her then.”

  “I want to speak to her now and alone.”

  He chortled as he took another sip, then set the cup down on a nearby table. “And what makes ye think I would allow her to speak to you unsupervised?”

  “Is she your prisoner? Is she not free still to choose with whom she converses and where? What do you have to hide? If she has been brought to reason, as you say, then you have nothing to fear.”

  Bothwell was silent for a moment, rotating the cup he had just deposited on the table in a clock-like fashion as he was thinking.

  “Allow me a small space of time, tonight, alone with her. I shall be out of your hair before you rise in the morning, and you shall not have to see my face again.”

  After several more minutes, the earl left his cup and crossed to the other side of the room. He reached out and pulled a cord to call for a servant.

  “I will allow you to speak to Mary. But ye must remember she has agreed to be my wife. Any attempt on your part to convince her otherwise, or remove her from my premises, and I will have ye hanged.”

  I did not agree. I didn’t even speak. I stared a hole through the devil-of-a-man’s blood-shot eyes, working the muscles in my jaw. The door opened, and a footman entered.

  “I would like that list. I want to see who signed it.”

  I still did not speak and wondered if he would prevent me from seeing Mary because of it. He raised his cup to his lips then threw back the rest of his whiskey and laughed. “Malcolm, show this man to the queen’s chambers.”

  The man bowed his head slightly then motioned for me to exit first.

  He turned to close the door behind us when Bothwell’s voice paused him. “Oh, and don’t worry about me hurting the queen, Priest. I think she found my persuasion quite gratifying.” Another drunken laugh followed, and Malcolm closed the door.

  ~33~

  April 1567

  Malcolm led me to a door not far from where Bothwell’s chambers had been. He rapped lightly on the door and stood silently, awaiting the maid to open to us. I could hear muffled voices, but no one came to the door. After several moments Malcolm knocked again a little harder, then waited.

  Finally, a petite maid with unruly red hair opened the door slightly, but she did not bid us to come in. Her strained expression alarmed me, and I immediately went for the door. She closed it slightly when I moved toward her, then spoke stiffly. “I am sorry, but Her Majesty will see no one. She is tired, and her wish is to be left alone. Perhaps tomorrow—”

  “I am sorry too, miss,” I interrupted. “But I must see the queen immediately. Please tell her Thomas is here to see her.”

  She stared at me; her little black eyes boring into mine. She shifted on her feet, leaning heavily upon the door. “You do not understand. The queen is indisposed, and even if she were receiving visitors, Lord Bothwell has instructed that she is not to be disturbed.”

  At this Malcolm spoke in a low voice. “Lord Bothwell has sent Reverend Broune to Her Grace.”

  A look of surprise overtook her face, yet she still did not open the door any further, nor make a move. “The queen is indisposed,” she repeated.

  I stepped even closer, gripping the door frame with one hand, and flattening my other against the smooth grain of the wooden door. I spoke as slowly and calmly as I could. “Tell Her Majesty that Thomas Broune has traveled all day and half the night to see her. Tell her Achaius will be greatly offended if she does not receive me, for he put a lot of effort into getting me here as quickly as he could.”

  “And who is Achaius?”

  “My horse,” I said through clenched teeth.

  She drew back at my harsh tone. “Wait here,” she said, closing the door and leaving Malcolm and I standing in the corridor.

  When she returned a moment later, she opened the door only slightly and motioned for me to enter. I looked at Malcolm to see if he too would enter, perhaps to keep an eye on me, but he nodded his consent for me to go ahead, then turned and stood at the entryway to bar any further intruders.

  I nodded my thanks to Malcolm, then entered the door to follow the maid. She motioned to a chair, but I could not sit down. She disappeared behind another door, and once again I could hear the muffled voices of women.

  The next sound I heard was Mary’s voice, with a slight lift of happiness in her otherwise calm lilt. “Thomas,” she said softly, and I could tell she had been crying. I expected her to come running to me, to bury her face in my chest as she had done on other occasions. But this wasn’t a skinned knee or a broken toy. Instead, she slowly walked toward me and reached out her hands toward mine. “Thomas,” she said again, then kissed me gently on the cheek.

  “What has happened?” I demanded.

  Mary looked at the little maid, then spoke quietly. “Fiona, will you and Amelia see to the disposal of the clothing we discussed earlier?”

  Fiona curtsied, then hurried from the room to see to the task Mary had given her. Mary directed me to an antechamber where we could talk undisturbed. Dunbar was drab, and Mary’s rooms were no exception. A fire burned i
n the hearth, but instead of sparking a cheerful atmosphere, it cast dark shadows on the barely adorned walls. Dingy, narrow windows dotted the wall facing the harbor, and a centuries-old tapestry hung crookedly on the opposite wall. Heavy iron rings hung from the high ceiling, holding half-burnt candles that looked as though they had not been lit for centuries. Instead, wall sconces dripped melted wax down the blackened walls and gave the only other light in the grim room.

  “Is this Bothwell’s idea of a queen’s welcome?” I asked. Another sweeping glance of the room revealed that we were not alone. A small ball of fluff lifted himself from a pillow thrown into the corner and stretched lazily before coming to sniff my shoes. Mary bent to pick him up, then tucked him under the shawl she had draped over her shoulders.

  “How did Tom Tom get here?” I inquired.

  “He was tucked into my coat on the ride back from Stirling when we were…” she left off speaking.

  “Abducted?” I finished for her.

  She looked up sharply at me as she continued to scratch the pup behind the ears. “I was going to say escorted here.”

  “Is that what you call it? Escorted? Were you not overtaken unexpectedly on your way back to Edinburgh?”

  “Aye, it was unexpected. But James warned there was trouble in Edinburgh. He brought me to Dunbar for my protection.”

  “The gossipmongers are already putting it about that you came willingly. You sent Maitland away, and your emissary, James Melville. Was this your plan all along? To come with Bothwell here? To marry him?”

  “Thomas, please!” Mary stroked her forehead as if to ease the tension there. “What are you saying? Do you think I designed this? That I am somehow a part of his sinister plan?”

  “Why did you dismiss your retinue? They would have protected you.”

  “James had hundreds of men with him. We were few in comparison. I didn’t want unnecessary bloodshed. I agreed to come with him and told the others to return to Edinburgh in hopes of gathering my men, should I come to need them.”

  “Did you know about the bond and his designs to marry you?”

  Mary walked over to a wide wooden chair that stood by the fire, still stroking Tom Tom. She sat down in the chair and laid her lips on the soft curls of the dog’s head. Finally, she spoke. “Bothwell came to me a few days ago with the bond and his idea of marriage. I refused him. I told him there is too much scandal about him pertaining to Darnley’s murder, and that a marriage to him would surely bring ruination to my crown. Furthermore, he is married and a Protestant.”

  At that, I stiffened and felt the color drain from my face. The fact that she equated his Protestant beliefs with the adulterous sin he was proposing, dealt a blow to my pride. She glanced up at me and her face softened. “Thomas, I am sorry, truly, but you know I could never marry a Protestant.”

  I did know. But that did nothing to make me feel better. I strove over to the chair where she sat and knelt before her. Grabbing her free hand, I offered, “Mary, I can get you out of here. I know men, a lot of men, who do not support what Bothwell is doing.” She looked at me but did not see me. Tears clouded her eyes, and one dropped on top of Tom Tom’s head without even rolling down her face.

  She shook her head vigorously. “My hands are tied. My fate is sealed. I do not know what the future will hold for me, my kingdom, or my son. I only wish people knew the truth. I’ve heard the whispers. I know what people think of me. I know what I think of myself. I am ashamed, and I am appalled at what I have allowed my kingdom to become.”

  “Mary, you speak as if you did something wrong. The blame is not yours. Come, it is not too late. We will make a plan. I’ve thought about this all the way to Dunbar.”

  “I cannot.” She rose to her feet and set the little dog on the chair she had vacated. Wringing her hands, she walked to the fireplace but then crumpled onto the floor before it. “I have repented, but I find no forgiveness. My sins are many; too many to expect the Almighty to absolve me of them all.” By now her dress was soaked with the tears that had begun to slip down her distraught face. I fell to my knees beside her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Mary, come with me,” I pleaded. “We will figure out something; some way for you to extricate yourself from this situation.”

  “You don’t understand.” She looked at me again, but this time I felt the watery green pools of her eyes penetrate my soul. “I am bound to James Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, in the unholiest of ways. It cannot be undone.”

  A burning substance, rather real or imagined—I could not ascertain—began to rise in my throat at the question that tormented my mind. I gripped her arms tighter and turned her completely toward me.

  “Mary, did you lie with him?”

  She did not speak, but when her eyes faltered, I perceived the unspoken shame. She lifted her hand and cupped my cheek gently. “Oh, Thomas…”

  “Did you lie with him?” I repeated, shaking her shoulders as if that would bring the response I had to hear for myself. My voice was harsher than I intended, and she dropped her head into her hands and wept uncontrollably.

  “Mary, I…I never knew that you held such amorous feelings for the earl.”

  “He forced me, Thomas! Now I have no choice.” She stood and turned her back to me. I sat stunned at her revelation for a moment.

  “Are you telling me that Bothwell forced himself upon you? You did not consent?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She suddenly sounded very tired.

  I stood abruptly and headed for the door, for Bothwell, but Mary rushed to me, barring the door in her efforts.

  “Thomas, listen to me! You cannot fix this. He is too powerful. He has manipulated the Lords of the Congregation, and some of my closest advisors. He has used my weaknesses against me and taken advantage of my volatile situation. You ask me why I sent Maitland and Melville away—why I didn’t allow my guards to accompany me. I’ll tell you why: I can trust no one. Did you know that Maitland knew about and supported Rizzio’s murder? And it has since come to light that he and my brother James were involved in the plotting of Darnley’s murder as well. How am I to know that it was not me they wanted dead? These were good men, friends that sat at my table, ate my food, and enjoyed my generosity, that have turned against me. All for their own selfish gains. Then I am told that a bond has been signed, approval from some of the most powerful statesmen and churchmen in all of Scotland, encouraging me to take Bothwell as my husband, make him my king. These men speak from both sides of their mouth, telling me in one breath that I must charge Bothwell for the murder of my husband, and in the next breath telling me to make him my husband. He’s good, I’ll give him that. For he has managed to align himself with my friends and enemies alike, and I no longer know in whom I can trust. I’m surprised he has not gotten to you too.”

  At that, anger shot through me. “I would never betray you!”

  Mary shrank back against the door and searched my face. “No, I don’t suppose you would,” she said softly. Still, I heard uncertainty in her voice.

  “So, let me help you, Mary. Surely you aren’t going to just follow this man heedlessly into the disaster he has waiting for you.”

  “I must. It is God’s will.” The lack of emotion in her voice, mixed with her expressionless face, gave an eerie impression of resolution.

  I grabbed her by the arms and shook her once again. “Mary, stop this. Listen to yourself. This is not like you to give up so easily. The Mary I know would fight for the sake of Scotland, and her crown, and her child. What would become of the prince if you were to marry this man? Do you actually think he would allow an offspring not his own to inherit the throne?”

  At that Mary’s head shot up, and a fearful look contorted her face. “You don’t think he would allow any harm to come to my son, do you?”

  “Mary, I do not know what this mad man has planned. I would have never thought he, being married still, would be so presumptuous as to ravish the queen of Scotland
. Who knows what other designs he has taken into his head? But one thing I do know: he has given me very little time to speak with you. He has threatened me that I am not to speak to you about leaving, nor am I to attempt to take you with me. He has every intention of seeing this through, and he neither fears, nor respects you. If he treats you thus now, what will become of you and the prince once he has the crown?”

  For a moment I could see her eyes cloud with doubt as reason fought to take hold. She stooped to pick up the pup, who had begun whining and pawing at her skirts. She stepped around me, and with a voice of urgency, she spoke quickly and quietly.

  “You must leave for Edinburgh at once. Ride on ahead and tell no one but my brother James what has befallen me. We have been at odds, but I know how much he hates Bothwell. Together you and he can gather my army and return post haste to retrieve me.”

  “Mary, you cannot stay here. I will not leave you.” Panic filled my heart, and a desperation took hold. “If I leave Dunbar without you, it will be the end. There will be no hope, no way out of your circumstances.”

  “I must try to speak to Bothwell first, Thomas. I must attempt to make him see reason…”

  “Mary!” I cried in desperation. “No, we must go now! The man cannot be brought to reason. He has his eyes on the crown and on you, and he will stop at nothing to have you both.”

  “I must…”

  “Mary, my God!” I dropped to my knees and took hold of her skirt. Balling the material in my fist, I clung to her. “Please,” I cried. “I cannot bear the thought of what you are about to do. You are sealing your fate, and I fear that you will lose your kingdom, and possibly your life.” I pressed my face into her skirt, trying, without success to breathe deeply. By now, tears were falling down my face, and I could not control their departure.