“Meaning that you didn’t?”
“Not this year – I haven’t been in the mood for socialising.” Her father looked down at his hands.
Queen Mary grimaced. She could swear that his melancholy was getting worse. For years now, he had been increasingly reclusive, hardly speaking to a soul, even ignoring the calmer, quiet ghosts who had made the Abbey their home. He certainly wasn’t the man he had been in life. She would think on it during her visit, and see if she could come up with a plan. Although, she thought privately, it would probably not include Lady Glamis.
After a few moments, her father broke the silence.
“Are you visiting anyone else down here?”
“Yes, but not today. I wanted to come and see you, see how you were, but then I am going up to the Castle, see how things are there, get myself settled in for my visit. Tomorrow, I think I will begin a tour of the Mile, see what is happening, what needs attending to.”
“I overheard Rizzio asking to see you. Kirkcaldy was down here, and they got chatting.”
“Janet mentioned it. If you see him, tell him I will come again as soon as possible, and will make the time to see him. He hasn’t started haunting his blood stain, has he?” Suddenly, she was worried. David Rizzio had never been much of a haunter, preferring to keep the company of other ghosts rather than disturbing the living. If he had started haunting the odd stain on the floor where his body was found after his horrific murder, that was not a good sign of his state of mind.
“No, I think he just has something to discuss. He hasn’t said what. I would imagine it has something to do with that wretch of a husband of yours.”
Mary closed her eyes and nodded. It was too soon to be dealing with Darnley, but she had known it would come up at some point; she imagined he was the reason for Kirkcaldy’s visit to the Palace, hopefully warning him to stay clear of her during her time in the city.
“I shall see David shortly. For now, though, Father, I shall take my leave of you, and return to the Castle. Please do try and come out of your tomb more.” She rose from the bench, and curtsied in front of James to receive his blessing, before making her way back across the lawn, leaving him to continue watching the tourists come and go. Feeling reckless, she passed directly through a group of teenagers, sending shivers down each of their spines.
She smiled; there was nothing quite like an easy haunt to cheer her up after a day’s travelling. On the train, she had kept herself to herself, not disturbing the tourists and businessmen making their way north from Peterborough to Edinburgh. Looking around her, there had been the usual mix of hen parties, stag dos, and birthday groups, all jumping on or off as the train sped north; most, though, had come all the way to Waverley, and alighted with her. From her perch in the buffet car, she’d enjoyed her regular past-time of people-watching, whilst planning her activities once she reached Edinburgh.
Chapter Three
As the crowds began to make their way from museums and sightseeing into hotels and restaurants, Queen Mary made her own way up the hill of the Mile towards Edinburgh Castle. Seeing some people struggling, she was glad of her ability to drift. She had rarely walked this street in life, she thought, usually being transported by horse, coach or litter, and looking at those making the whole journey on foot, she was grateful for the fact. As she passed the various buildings and sights, she made a mental list of the places and people she intended to visit during her stay, and those who should be her priority the next day, along with her poor Rizzio.
Without meaning to, her mind slipped from Rizzio to Darnley, her second husband, himself buried within the walls of Holyrood Abbey. He never was on her list of people to visit, but not a single trip to Edinburgh passed without him making his presence felt. Even in death, Darnley was vain and ambitious, always seeking out the next person who could improve his lot, and he still held his former wife responsible for his downfall and death. As she watched a happy couple strolling up the hill, hand-in-hand, she wished them a happier time than she had shared with Darnley. Almost as soon as they were married, she had seen his true colours, and realised the mistake she had made. Not that his replacement had been much better…
On thinking of the man, she instinctively glanced around for Bothwell. From what she had been able to gather, he had never been sighted in the capital – or indeed anywhere in Scotland – but she still kept looking. She wasn’t even sure why, if she was being honest with herself. He had abandoned her, fleeing on his horse, with not a backward glance that she was aware of. She was left to face her rebel lords, and miscarry twins, without her third husband by her side. Still, Bothwell had been her husband, and the strongest of the three, if truth be told. And there were still things she needed to ask him, to tell him.
“Your Grace!”
A sudden call jolted Mary from her thoughts. It took a moment to notice the dark-clothed, elderly gentleman standing on the corner, with a cairn terrier sitting patiently at his feet.
“John! And Bobby!” Having recognised the pair, she called over to them, delighted that these two were some of the first local ghosts to hail her.
The former night-watchman John Gray removed his cap, revealing his greying hair, and bowed stiffly to the lady who had never been his own monarch. Smiling, she raised him up, and offered him her hand to kiss, before crouching to pet his beloved dog, the world-famous Greyfriars Bobby.
“It’s good to see you back in Edinburgh, Your Grace. Please, accept my apologies for calling over to you like that. Most inappropriate, so it was.”
“Do not apologise, John; it is good to see you too. I hope all is well with you both. I shall be visiting Greyfriars soon enough to get a full report from you, but for now, I am retiring to the Castle – it feels as if it has been a very long day, starting in Peterborough this morning.”
“Very good, Your Grace, I shall prepare my report, and will be ready when you wish to see me,” said John, bowing low again, as Bobby leapt up at the Queen’s skirts. “Bobby! No!” he shouted, reaching to grab the dog, but the Queen waved him away. She was, after all, no stranger to a loyal terrier; her own had hidden in her skirts through her execution, and remained with her body until physically carried away, still covered in her blood. Even now, she took every opportunity to make a fuss over a living dog, hoping his owners wouldn’t notice any odd behaviour.
“Leave him be, John; he is one of the least annoying subjects I have in Edinburgh. I am happy to see he is glad to see me. Goodbye for now, I will be back with you shortly.” With a final smile, she continued on her way up the Castle, staying as incognito as possible, close to the walls, so as to avoid the odd spirit she saw drifting in and out of the buildings. She would be seeing enough of people in the coming days and weeks; she didn’t need to be social on her first day, as she acclimatised to being back in Scotland. Westminster was so busy, so hectic, so different from the calm of Edinburgh, even with the dozens, if not hundreds, of ghosts who occupied the city. At least here, though, there were fewer egos, fewer people competing for power and position.
She slowed as she reached the Esplanade, currently half-covered with seating for the Tattoo and the various concerts which took place during the summer. She would have to find a list of entertainments, Mary thought, work out which she would attend, and for which she would find herself conveniently previously engaged. In life, her love of music, dance and entertainments in general had been well-known, and the city, especially in August, certainly knew how to put on a good show. There was everything from newcomers, tentatively making their first steps onto the stage, to established stars. Ghosts in Edinburgh were never lacking something to do of an evening.
A gang of teenagers were taking group selfies in front of the Castle’s main entrance, grinning in the warmth of the evening as they all tried to fit in a single photograph. Suddenly feeling mischievous, Mary slipped around the back of the group, standing between two tall boys, one of whom had been designated as the photographer. Making sure she would be in the centre
of the shot, as he pressed the camera’s button, she flashed into full visibility, just for a moment, staring right into the lens. Fading just as quickly, she stepped back as the group shrieked with laughter at the image on their screen, spinning around to try and find the culprit in period-dress who had photobombed them. Seeing nobody anywhere near, the laughter turned nervous, as they zoomed into the image, trying to work out what might have happened. Still confused, they hurried as one off the Esplanade, suddenly keen to get as far away from the Castle as they could.
Mary smiled to herself, pulling the same trick twice more with other groups, before eventually making her way through the gate and into the main body of the Castle. Soldiers of every era, warned of her imminent arrival, lined her route, bowing as she passed them – all invisible to the final dribs and drabs of tourists making their way down the cobbled path and out of the Castle. Pleased at their appearance, she nodded generously to each of them as she walked by, delighting in the glamour of royal attention and honour. At least up here, she didn’t have any competition. Westminster certainly was too full of royal spirits to contend with.
At any other time of year, the spirits would soon have the place almost to themselves, but since the seating went up, the tourists were soon replaced by technical teams carrying leads, equipment and instruments. Mary tried to catch a glimpse of the evening’s group themselves, or at least a band name, but with no luck. She was distracted as Janet came into view at the top of the hill, by the entrance to the upper courtyard.
“Did you find your father, Your Grace?” Janet asked, falling easily into step beside the monarch as she approached. As the highest-ranking, permanently-resident non-royal lady along the Mile, she felt a certain level of ease with the Queen, but was always keenly aware of their different ranks in both life and death, as well as the occasionally awkward relationship due to Mary’s father.
“I did, thank you. I’m afraid you are in his bad books again – he asks that you stay away from the Abbey.”
“But I hardly go down there at all. Once or twice a year, maximum, usually just for the garden parties, which your father rarely attends anyway. And I never go anywhere near the Abbey, or his tomb – only ever to the Palace itself, and the grounds.” Janet protested her innocence to the Queen.
Mary waved her excuses away with her hand as she drew level.
“I know, I know. But he seems more sensitive this year. I don’t know why. I know you don’t antagonise him, but perhaps give him a wider berth for the next couple of months? I’m going to try and get somebody to go and visit him once in a while; see if I can cheer him up.”
“Thank you for seeing my side, Your Grace.”
Mary nodded, and stood still, taking in her surroundings. “It is good to be home, back in my capital.”
“You still consider it home, Your Grace, with all your palaces, the grand places you have lived and visited?”
“Mais oui!” Mary emphasised the French accent which had never truly left her, and gestured to the courtyard with her hand. “Yes, it is different in so many ways, but it is still my city, my Castle. It is where I gave birth to my son, after all. It is important to me.” She glanced over to a small door to her left. “Are the jewels still on display?”
“They are, Your Grace, and the whole exhibition is looking good. Only light haunting in there, now and then – we don’t tend to trouble the visitors, and when it’s busy, you cannot really get around easily anyway, not without walking through so many people. It’s easier to haunt elsewhere; the Prisoner of War exhibition, for example.”
“Very good. I think I shall pay a visit to both at some point. I thought I would stay until the end of the season now, at least, and then, perhaps, a bit of a Royal Progress, get out around the country again. There are so many of my subjects still present in their various castles and palaces, I thought I would spend the winter travelling, and see who I can visit.”
Janet nodded, hoping that, as with the previously-mentioned visit to France, she would be invited to join the monarch on her Progress. Yes, Edinburgh was a wonderful city, but getting out into the countryside would be a pleasant way to spend the colder, damper winter. Rain, after all, did not bother ghosts, but it reduced the number of visitors around, and those who did come were less likely to spend time outdoors, preferring to huddle in warm cafes and bars, where the haunting was less straightforward. A Royal Progress would be a chance to re-live the glory days, when monarchs would travel throughout their realms, visiting courtiers, taking in the best hunting grounds and generally enjoying the closest thing to a holiday they were able to have.
Mary was already making her way into the Royal Palace, lined along the left-hand side of the courtyard. Janet hurried to catch up with her, just in time to hear her instructions for the morning.
“If you could arrange it, I would like to meet with everyone before the Castle opens tomorrow morning. It will be good to speak to everyone here together, before I make my way around the rest of the Mile. Would you arrange that please?”
“Of course, I will see to it at once. Are you now retiring for the evening?”
“Yes, it has been a long day. I will be in my usual chamber. Goodnight, Janet.”
“Goodnight, Your Grace.” Janet curtsied, staying in position as Mary drifted through the wall into the small chamber in which she had given birth to her son, James, so many centuries before. Once the Queen was out of sight, Janet rose, and made her way to the Castle’s main gate, to press the soldiers into service in passing the message around the multitude of buildings within the walls.
Chapter Four
“Is Sir William around?” Mary asked as she walked into the great hall the next morning. The ghosts of the Castle were gathering, as requested, to meet her on her first full day back in Edinburgh.
“Kirkcaldy, Your Grace?” asked Janet, as she welcomed Mary. “He has been seen in the Castle within the last couple of days, but he is not here this morning. Or not yet, at any rate. I shall ask the guards if they know his whereabouts.”
Mary nodded. Sir William Kirkcaldy of Grange, for all their previous fall-out, had defended the Castle for her during the infamous Lang Siege, and been hanged for his efforts when the siege fell. After a tense few months following her first return to Edinburgh on her death, Sir William was now one of her most trusted advisors, always present when she visited the city. But not this morning. He must have his reasons, she thought, as she flattened imaginary creases out of the front of her gown, and nodded to the young guard, hovering nervously at the entrance to the great hall.
At her command, the young man strode into the vast chamber. As he made his way to the front of the hall, the ghosts fell silent, one by one, until the whole gathering was watching, waiting for the Queen to make her way through the break he had made in the group. It is true that she could have made her way to the front of the room whether they had moved or not, having the capacity to control her physical self, but she preferred the ceremony of parting the ways. Even after almost five centuries, her sense of drama had never deserted her.
Even compared to some of the more modern ghosts present in the Castle, Mary was still among the tallest in the room, including the men. At 44 years old, she had a commanding presence, glittering with jewels she had managed to gather from her belongings in the hours after her death, and continued to wear, her status clear to anyone who saw her. The scarlet skirts she had worn at her execution, coupled with black over-gown and white ruffles at her sleeves and neckline, made her a sight to behold, and she could still captivate a room with a glance or a single word.
She looked around the room now, smiling on old friends and narrowing her eyes at those who had not always granted her the respect she deserved. Her gaze finally came to rest on Lady Janet, right at the back, now accompanied by Sir William, who was hurriedly pulling his jacket into smarter shape in the company of his queen, as Janet fussed tenderly with his collar, both trying not to be noticed by Queen Mary. Finally, with her contingent comple
te, Mary smiled, and drew herself up to her full height.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming this morning; it is good to see you all, and I appreciate your time. As you know, my absence from Edinburgh has been longer this time, and I will be taking the time over the next few weeks and months to visit everyone, and as many as possible of the buildings on the Mile and in the surrounding areas. I intend to stay here for the rest of the season, and then go on Progress around some of my other residences. If anybody has anything to report to me, please go through Lady Glamis, as usual, and I shall look forward to hearing from all of you. Thank you again, and I shall also look forward to a good season’s haunting.”
She finished talking just as they heard the first members of staff wandering up the hill to their first positions of the day, and nodded to the young guard who had escorted her to the front of the room. Taking his cue, he stepped forward into the crowd, and once again, led the Queen through her former great hall.
“Sir William! You had me wondering there whether you were going to show up,” said Mary, admonishing her former knight with a smile, and offering him her hand.
“Your Grace, I can only apologise. There were, shall we say, difficulties, in the Greyfriars Kirkyard, and I wanted to see to them myself.”
“Difficulties?”
Bowing low over her hand, he offered his explanation. “The Covenanters again, Madame. It is all very well them spooking the people who choose to go in there and be terrified, but they keep going after the more genteel tourist groups, who merely pass the gated entrance, and are not looking to be scared.”
“And did you resolve it?”
“For now, I believe. But if you will forgive me for being so bold as to advise you, it may be prudent for you to make a visit yourself, and remind them who is in charge.”
Mary nodded. Of all the monarchs, lords and ladies who had passed through Edinburgh in its time, Mary and her father were the highest-ranking individuals who haunted the city on a regular basis. No other monarchs chose to make the city their home, however temporary. With her father being such a recluse, Mary tended to take the lead in decision-making and authority. Whether she had been their monarch in life or not, she presided over the city and its ghostly residents, and most deferred to her, regardless of their political or religious leanings.
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 2
