“I saw you approach, you brought no guards with you,” Darnley sneered.
“I do not need to bring guards, Darnley. I am Queen: I simply ‘have’ guards, people who watch for my safety at all times. I say again, leave.” Mary was relieved her single guard had remained out of sight of the Palace; seeing her arrive with only one soldier would reduce any level of threat she was aiming to imply. Her mind raced through the soldiers who were often to be found loitering around the Palace, and hoped some might be nearby should the need arise.
For a moment, he held her gaze, desperate not to have to stand down. She tilted her head, blinked at him, slowly and deliberately. “I am waiting.”
As Darnley glanced around the room, fear in his eyes, Mary knew she had him. “Well?”
“Madame, I will not forget this.”
“I sincerely hope not, Darnley, for my threat stands. If you trouble me again, or for that matter, if you trouble Rizzio, my secretary, I will have you detained.”
“He is more than your secretary; clearly he always has been. I had evidence back then—”
“Enough!” Finally raising her voice, Mary cut him off before he could start repeating the same old lies. She had never had an affair with Rizzio, although given the man she had stupidly chosen as her husband, she doubted whether anyone would have blamed her for taking a lover of some sort. But she hadn't. And certainly not her own, trusted secretary.
Her shout made Darnley jump. With a final glare at Rizzio, he spun on his heel and flounced out of the room.
Furious and exhausted, but refusing to let it show, Mary collapsed into the nearest chair, as Rizzio leapt from the bed to kneel at her side. Suddenly aware how weak she would appear, she rose again, shaking her head at Rizzio.
“That is it, David, I have had enough. For years, he has been like this – harassing you, and me. I won’t take it anymore. I won’t.”
Shocked at her anger, Rizzio shrank away from her. “Your Grace, if there is anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “There is nothing, David. You focus on your task with my father; leave Darnley to me. I shall deal with him.” She steadied herself against the bed, laughing at herself to try and brighten the situation. “We should do some haunting, David. Give me time to think of something worthy of my former husband.” She shot him a sideways glance, her lashes still thick, despite her ageing.
“I agree entirely, Madame. Your outer chamber, I presume?” David gingerly offered her his elbow, which she gladly accepted, as they made their way from her chamber. Her outer chamber had become a museum within a museum, full of fascinating artefacts from within the Royal Collection, many of which had connections to her, such as the Darnley Jewel, a lock of her hair, or samples of her embroidery. And when people were already absorbed in reading about the small items in the beautiful glass cabinets, they were far more susceptible to the briefest of appearances of Mary herself. A glimpse of a reflection in the glass, a tiny movement out of the corner of their eye; the lady in full 'Tudor' garb was sure to raise an eyebrow or two, as she flitted about the place.
By now, the people from the bus trip had reached the chamber, and were being advised that no, they still couldn't take photographs, because yes, this still counted as 'inside the Palace'. Mary enjoyed such rules. With photographic evidence, things could be proven, whether they had or hadn't seen a lady walk across the corner of the room, and vanish into the wall. With only their memories to rely on, visitors were far more entertaining.
For once, she did not reprimand Rizzio for hovering over his bloodstain, half-covered by the wooden wall, the reddish-stained floor panels eerily close to where he had lain, all those years before. Now, he waited patiently for the room to quieten, and moaned, ever so softly, but sufficiently loud enough for those standing right next to the window and wall to hear him. As they turned to the source of the noise, for a brief moment he flickered into visibility, before vanishing again. The visitors could not get out of the room quickly enough, only to encounter Mary herself blocking the doorway, for a moment, before she too disappeared.
“Thank you for that, David, the perfect antidote to my ridiculous husband,” she said, as the last visitor of the day left the room; the afternoon had gone in a flash, with their combined haunting of the museum room. Only the Palace staff had remained un-harassed. Now, as the final sweep of the rooms began, Mary and Rizzio were met by Mary's parents.
“Where have you been all afternoon?” she asked them, keen to know whether they had heard her row with Darnley. This was something she had to deal with herself, with perhaps some Castle-based help, but certainly not the involvement of her parents.
“We went back out to the Abbey, and loitered around the royal crypt. Always a nice, easy haunt, and also so nice and peaceful when you cannot be bothered,” replied her mother. “We did hear the shouting though. We presumed that since you had remained within, that he had heeded your warning to make himself scarce?”
Mary nodded. “For how long, I do not know, but I will not sully what is left of a lovely day by mentioning him again. I have plans I must attend to at the Castle, so I must leave you. But thank you for a truly wonderful visit. Father, it was so good to see you.” She took both her parents' hands in hers, before curtsying for her blessing.
“You will return soon?” her father asked her, as she rose.
“I will, I promise.”
With a final nod of her head, she made her way slowly back up to the Castle. Darnley had been right, she had no guards with her today; happily, he hadn't pressed her. There were one or two soldiers present in the Palace, and she was fairly sure that there were always a couple within shouting distance of her, ordered by Sir William, but all the same, she was glad she hadn't had to take the chance of looking ridiculous in front of her husband.
Looking ridiculous was his territory, after all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Having successfully started to resolve one of her problems (her father’s seclusion), even as another (Darnley) finally came to a head, Mary turned her mind to Boy. If she could bring her father out of his shell, surely solving the problems of a small child would be easy by comparison?
As she strolled past Boy’s manhole cover, she strained to see whether she could hear his pipes over the sound of the crowds, but there was nothing. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the silence, or the pitiful strains of the pipes, drifting into the cool air.
At seven o'clock that evening, she entered the great hall, to find, as James MacDonald had promised her, all the soldiers from the Castle had gathered, and were waiting for her. She greeted each who met her eye with a gracious smile; some of these men had served her in life, and they had all served in her in one way or another in death. Somehow, she had managed to cut through the personal, political and religious arguments, and now it was as though she had always ruled here, with nobody filling her place on her death. It helped, she supposed, that no subsequent Scottish or British monarch had been buried in the Scottish capital, everyone else choosing London or elsewhere as their final resting place. As hers had been, after a fashion.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming this evening, it is much appreciated, and I hope that, once you hear what I am going to request from you, you will not let me down.” She paused for effect, allowing the murmurs of “Of course not, Your Grace” rise and fall before continuing. “As you know, young Boy has been an important, though invisible, part of our little community for years. But now, I believe, is the time to act. Granted, the success with my father is the main reason I wanted to do something about Boy, but we must all agree that having that poor little child alone and scared down that tunnel, day after day, is a bad reflection on all of us. So, I have an idea that should help him, and will certainly keep him from being so constantly lonely.”
As she expected, the men now eyed her warily; not one would volunteer to go down that tunnel if they didn't have to. Knowing what they thought she was going to ask of them, she hurriedly put their minds at eas
e.
“Do not worry. I am not going to ask that of you. I would not choose to go down there, so it is hardly fair for me to force it on any of you. What I ask is this: that between myself, James here, and Sirs William and Thomas, we establish a rota. There are enough of you, and others I am sure, that we would only ask a couple of hours at a time from you to carry out my proposal. It is my intention that poor Boy will not be left alone again, not unless he deliberately seeks it. Between us, we can ensure that there is always somebody at the manhole cover, keeping him company, should he wish it. Does that sound reasonable?”
Around the room, there were firmer nods and murmurs of agreement; this plan was much more agreeable to that which they had been anticipating and dreading. One man tentatively raised his hand, receiving a nod of approval to speak from James MacDonald.
“Your Grace, Sir, if we are allocated shifts, might we pair up, so that we are not necessarily on our own throughout our watch?”
“An excellent suggestion, my man,” Queen Mary replied. “I see no reason at all why you shouldn’t make the task as bearable as possible for yourselves, and, you never know, having more than one of you there may make poor Boy feel more at ease. But please be aware that the aim of this venture is to make Boy feel comforted, so please ensure that you do not accidentally intimidate him by large numbers or boisterous conversation, or worse, simply sit there talking amongst yourselves, and ignoring the poor lad.”
The man who had raised his hand nodded in agreement, along with those surrounding him.
“Very well, I shall hand you over to Captain MacDonald, and if you have any further questions, please direct them to him.” Smiling over at James, she made her way to the back of the Hall, where Sir William and Sir Thomas were waiting for her.
“It sounds an excellent idea, Your Grace,” said Sir William, sweeping her a low bow as he kissed her offered hand.
“Let us hope it makes a difference to the poor lad,” agreed Sir Thomas, as the trio exited into the cold, dark night.
“I thought I would ask a few of the women to help us as well, to bring a maternal element to the situation. I know Robert has blossomed under Lady Janet’s care, and I believe she has also benefitted from having a ‘project’ of sorts.” Mary thought of the way the young lad had grown in confidence since the night of the Festival’s finale; he now happily ran errands up and down the Mile, carrying messages, and passing information between the many residences. A change of clothes, borrowed from various serving boys whose spirits had remained on the Mile, had smartened him up, and with his new laced shirt and smarter boots, he walked the cobbles of the Castle and beyond with pride.
The memory of her former army of pages jolted her back to her argument with Darnley.
“Sir William, I am sorry, I must change the subject. To Darnley.”
“Again?”
“This afternoon, at Holyrood. I fear this time, I lost my temper. Threatened him that if he ever caused me trouble again, I would have him detained.”
“Detained, Your Grace? Forgive me, but how do we go about detaining one of our own? I don’t believe we’ve ever tried it before, even with the worst of the Covenanters.”
“I know, but now I’ve threatened him with it, I actually want him to do it, to push me, so we can try something at least. Have a think about it, would you though? Let’s see if we can’t come up with something.”
Sir William nodded. Another task to add to helping sort Boy out; but anything he could do to serve his Queen…
But how do you detain a ghost? This would keep his mind busy for a while.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next offence came sooner than anyone had anticipated, in the middle of November.
“Kirkcaldy! Where are you?” Mary’s shouts broke the calm silence of the early morning, as she stormed out of the Royal Palace and across the courtyard, all protocol and royal dignity forgotten. “Guards! Guards!”
As one, a guard of honour scrambled, appearing from the café, great hall and War Memorial, pulling their jackets into order and attempting to stand in a straight line without one of their commanders to smarten them up.
“Your Grace? What is it, what’s happened?” Sir William appeared through the wall of the great hall, followed closely by Janet, herself hurrying to the Queen’s side.
“Darnley. Darnley was there, in my chamber, when I woke. His face, he was leaning over me glaring at me, sneering at me. I felt… I felt exposed – I wasn’t quick enough to disappear, but then he did, and now I don’t know where he is, or what to do next…” She looked frantically around her, as though to catch a glimpse of her tormentor.
Instinctively, Janet reached out and pulled the Queen into an embrace, trying to calm her as the words tumbled out and she began to sob. In that moment, there was no time for monarch/courtier niceties to be considered; this was one woman comforting another. As though to recognise Janet’s compassion, Mary accepted the reassurance, resting her head on the shoulder of the woman who had served her so well in the centuries they had spent together.
Uneasy about leaving the two women unguarded, William barked orders at the gathered soldiers.
“You two – find Randolph, and Argyle, if he’s about – get them to manage the search. The rest of you – fan out, search the entire Castle. If you see or hear any trace of Darnley, call out my name three times, and we’ll come directly to you. I’ll be staying here. If you discover nothing in an hour, return here and report where you tried.” In a heartbeat, the commander in Kirkcaldy returned, ensuring his men knew what was expected of them. They obeyed to a man, clearing the courtyard in less than a minute, the most senior calling out who should search where, and how.
Seeing that his orders would be followed, Sir William turned his attention back to the women.
“Your Grace, are you recovered? The men will find any trace of him, I assure you – we have been training them for such an eventuality.”
Mary raised her head from Janet’s shoulder. “Training them? What?”
“Forgive me, but Rizzio told me exactly what happened in your chamber at Holyrood, and I had a feeling Darnley wouldn’t let you ‘get away with it’, as he saw things. Insulting him and all. The fool, trying to come against you, here, now you’ve been in charge for so long. Anyway, Randolph and I had an idea that having the guards trained for a rapid search of the Castle would be a good idea.”
Janet smiled warmly at the knight, and loosened her grip on Mary’s shoulders as her Queen wiped her face with her hands, trying to pull herself together. “I have to confess, Your Grace, I was aware of their plan; we did hope you wouldn’t be offended?”
Mary shook her head, and looked about at the empty courtyard. “No, no of course not. I am offended by my idiot husband, but even now, I fear I have only myself to blame for that. I just don’t know what to do about him.”
Sir William cleared his throat. “We did have one idea; we just need to work it out a bit more.” The look on Mary’s face encouraged him to continue. “We’d need to plan it, but, well, if a group of soldiers materialised, then surrounded Darnley, they would effectively create a prison. If he tried to escape, even if he de-materialised, he would cause a chill through the circle, so we would know at least which direction he was moving in.”
Janet moved to stand next to Sir William. “I thought about adding a second, outer layer as well, so that if he did make it through the first, then we would know even more about the direction he moved in, and perhaps be able to follow him, at least.”
“How long-term a situation it would be, we weren’t sure, but perhaps short-term, it might give him some time to consider things,” Sir William finished outlining the plan. “I suppose it stands or falls on whether we can find him in the first place.” He looked out around the courtyard, as though hoping to conjure up a troop of soldiers marching in with Darnley already their prisoner. It didn’t work.
“They’ll find him, Sir William,” said Janet, hugging his arm. “It is a go
od plan, don’t you think, Your Grace?”
“Well, I certainly think it is worth a try – let us hope they find him, before he slinks back to whichever hole he occupies these days.”
It took them two full days of searching, but early in the morning of the third day the comfortable winter’s silence was broken by shouts of “Kirkcaldy! Kirkcaldy! Kirkcaldy!”
Mary jumped from her chair at the sound, before hurrying down to the main gate, where a gang of soldiers were gathered, forming a perfect circle, facing inwards and outwards alternately. For a moment, she saw nobody within the group, then her former husband slowly materialised into view. Instinctively, she reached out, assuming that somebody would be at her side. Janet did not disappoint, her arm slipping around the Queen’s; supportive, but not letting any sign of weakness show to outsiders.
Sir William took charge.
“Lads, you know the drill – just as we practised. We march the prisoner to the store rooms, remaining in formation at all times. If you feel the pace getting too fast, you shout, and we slow briefly, but we do not stop. Your Grace, I shall report back on our success.”
Mary nodded at him to leave, before turning to Janet. “He will be in the Castle? I do not want him in the Castle. I do not want him anywhere near me.”
“I am sorry, Your Grace, we had arranged the best location for his imprisonment at every place we could think of, so that there was a plan for wherever he may be found. The store rooms were the best option for the Castle.” Gently, she squeezed the monarch’s arm in reassurance. “We wondered, if he were to be found up here, whether you might temporarily relocate to Holyrood, until we either find a more permanent solution, or you feel he can be released?”
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 12
