“Nowhere nearby at all, Father, I promise. She will be up at the Castle, in charge of the festivities there. However, I am hopeful that Marie and Madeleine will be there. It would only be a quiet event, not even any music, or not much, I wouldn’t have thought, given how open we would be – just a group of like-minded ghosts, gathering to make a poor, lonely child feel a little happier on Christmas Day. You would be back here and able to carry on with your own day within no more than, what, two or three hours? And, we would be remaining out of sight to the living the entire time, so no attention drawn to you at all.”
“Well, I think it sounds reasonable enough. Very well, I shall be there, simply let me know the allotted hour, and we shall attend.”
Mary squeezed his arm, delighted that he should even consider attending a party. It showed in one simple movement how far he had come since the end of the Festival.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Eventually Christmas Day arrived. As the sun rose, it lit up a crisp, dry morning, with a thick frost left everywhere from the night before. The ghosts drifted around, ensuring their physical form left no trace on the ground they passed over.
As her young page Robert greeted her with a bunch of plastic flowers, acquired from the Mile, Queen Mary blinked in the low sunshine coming through the windows. “It looks a promising start to the day, I believe. Robert, will you go to Holyrood, ensure that all is in place for my father to come up to visit Boy, as arranged, at eleven o’clock?”
At her command, Robert dropped into a low bow, then raced off down the hill to see to her wishes. Despite herself, she held the flowers up to her nose, imagining for a glorious moment that she could inhale the scent of a Scottish springtime, before laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. After all, she would have plenty of opportunities to experience the Scottish springtime once her Progress began. The more she thought about it, the more she looked forward to revisiting so many of the castles she had stayed at when she was alive.
But that would have to wait. Today, the focus was on Boy, still down in the tunnels, and unaware of the royal party which was about to descend on him. She could only hope he would be as grateful about her interventions as her father had been.
At just before eleven, as agreed, the select party gathered on the Esplanade, mingling with the few hardy individuals who had come up for a view over the city on Christmas morning, before the indulgences of the day got too much. Mary’s arrival was awaited by the finest gentlemen, the most elegant of noblewomen, and the smartest soldiers available. All were invisible to the living, and as she Queen herself swept (literally) through the main gate of the Castle, she knew she had chosen the best possible group of people for the task in hand. The women could mother Boy through the grate, and, all being well, the men present could engage her father in talk of the old days, hopefully encouraging him to stay in contact with at least some of them after their party had finished. A few, well-selected memories of the battles he had fought and won would keep his spirits high, as long as they refrained from mentioning any of the more painful memories.
Staying invisible, they made their way to the grate, meeting the Holyrood party heading up the hill with perfect timing. Mary smiled as she saw that Queens Marie and Madeleine had indeed left the Castle early that morning to meet with their former husband, both giving him company, and little excuse for not attending, as he had promised.
“Merry Christmas, Father! I trust you have had a pleasant morning thus far?” Mary beamed at King James, before taking the plunge and embracing him in a hug. Royals they may be, but given the change in him this year, she was determined to maintain a level of closeness as they moved through the season and into the New Year. He had never had a chance to know her in life; in death, she valued his companionship and advice.
“Well met, my dearest, and Yuletide Felicitations to you, and to the rest of you.” He gestured to the rest of the Castle group, who bowed and curtsied perfectly in return. All were perfectly aware that regardless of Queen Mary’s usual position as the leading monarch in Edinburgh, for centuries a King would have been classed as being of higher rank than a Queen, and if King James decided to take up his position fully, being on his good side would not do any of them any harm.
Mary smirked, guessing their motives; after all, she was not always in the city, whereas her father had never left since his death. But she wasn’t worried; she suspected this was still as sociable as he would risk being, for a while at least.
“An odd Christmas party, compared to what we used to have, but strangely, it feels quite homely, comforting, to be trying to raise a subject’s spirit, even if he was never one of ours.” Mary peered down into the darkness beyond the grate, hoping Boy would arrive. Throughout all the planning, she had decided not to tell Boy that they were intending to visit him, for fear of scaring him off. Now they were here, she wasn’t so sure that this particular idea had been a good one. She hoped she would be proved wrong.
“Boy! Boy, are you there? Can you hear me?” Crouching down at the grate, happily, her eyes just managed to pick out a movement in the shadows. He was visible, at least. That was a start.
“Merry Christmas, Boy.” Another of the ladies crouched down beside Mary, shading her eyes against the low sun to see through the darkness.
After a few more moments, he appeared in the small slit of light which cut through, down into the depths of the tunnel.
“Your Grace? M-merry Christmas, is it?” he stuttered out of the black, his eyes closed against the sun.
“It is, Boy, and I know it’s probably asking too much for you to come out and join us, so we thought we would come here and join you instead. Are you well?”
To her surprise, he crept further forward into the light. His face lit up, even in what was getting through of the pale winter sun. Despite herself, Mary put her hand to her chest, and gasped with joy. In all her visits to the grate, she had never fully seen his face. To see the youngster, his blue-grey eyes against his pale skin, framed by a short crop of black hair, was almost too much. She had never seen her own son at this age. She had spent months, years, imagining what he looked like at each passing age, and now she realised she had been doing the same lately with Boy. He was a mystery to the whole city, even to the ghosts, yet here was, as clear as day before her eyes.
Clara, in her position as lady-in-waiting in Lady Glamis’ absence, saw the tears beginning to well in Queen Mary’s eyes, and gestured as politely as she could to her mistress’ mother. Queen Marie, seeing her daughter’s emotion building, nodded to the young woman, and crouched down herself, placing her arm gently around Mary’s shoulders.
“Greetings, Boy. I do not think we have met, but I am Queen Marie, Queen Mary’s mother. It is good to see you, and I wish you a merry Christmas. I think you would prefer the company of some of the younger soldiers, so we will step back.” After greeting the lonely boy, she squeezed Mary’s shoulders, encouraging her to rise.
Mary nodded, and stood, allowing a couple of the lads to step forward. Over the last few months, they had built a relationship of sorts with Boy, exchanging tales of adventures, both real and imagined. Now, with their mistress’ permission, they encouraged him to join them in explaining to Queen Mary more about himself, and tell her of his family, despite the fact that she had received all their reports with great keenness, and always been desperate to hear of anything he had found the courage to share.
She glanced over at her father, happy to see that King James had struck up conversation with Sir Thomas, discussing the method and approach the latter had taken in his now famous attack on Edinburgh Castle, taking the fortress back from the English with only thirty men, and significant stealth and cunning.
“And all because of some young soldier and his lady friend?” King James was asking.
“Aye, Sir – he used to sneak away from his duty to meet her in the town below, and so knew of a comparatively easy way straight up the rock. At any other time, we would have severely reprimanded
him, but on this occasion, he was our saviour, no question about it.” Even after so many centuries, Sir Thomas never bored of telling people about his great success, especially as it had gone down as such a famous victory for him and his men. To be telling a King about the day was particularly thrilling for him.
The little group passed a couple of hours at the grate, chatting between themselves and Boy, keeping the conversation including the young man at all times, to ensure he didn’t feel that they were simply having their party ‘around him’. There were few people to disturb them, but as hours passed, the occasional group wandered past them on their way to the Castle, to take advantage of the views across the city.
After a couple of hours, Sir Thomas sensed the young lad was starting to tire, and advised Queen Mary, out of earshot, that bringing the ‘party’ to a close might be a good idea. Mary nodded, and made her way through the group to the cover.
“Well, all of you, and Boy, thank you so much for attending here today. I am afraid that some of us must be elsewhere shortly, but please, if some of you would like to remain, and spend more time here, it would, I am sure, be most appreciated by our young friend.” She beamed at all of them. “I am so grateful that you all came here today, I truly am.”
With a nod of farewell, her father gathered his entourage, and bade farewell to the Castle party. “May you all have an excellent Christmas Day. And a happy New Year to you all, also,” he said, waving his hand as he turned.
Mary too, took the opportunity to depart, citing an engagement with Lady Glamis, and turned from the party, which she suspected would include significantly taller and more inappropriate tales, once the two monarchs had departed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
As the tales did indeed grow suspiciously tall around the grate, the rest of the ghosts began to drift away to their respective ‘haunts’, either back towards the Castle, the Palace, or the many other residences along the Mile. Queen Mary returned to the Castle for the traditional gift-giving, delayed to allow for Boy’s distraction party. She smiled as Sir William and Janet loitered at the main gate, watching for her arrival.
“Merry Christmas, Your Grace,” said Janet, dropping into a curtsy, as Sir William swept her a deep bow. “I trust all went well with Boy?”
“As well as we might have hoped. Better, actually; we have left him chatting with the soldiers, and hopefully, starting a very pleasant day for himself.” The three fell into step, making their way up to their usual rooms above the café in the courtyard. Squirrelled away were their gifts for exchanging, hidden from even the most careful and watchful of staff members.
Mary beamed as Sir William and Janet swapped their tokens; a small penknife keyring for him, and a replica of the sceptre, set into a pin, for her. As for Mary, she had been found a joint present from the pair of them; a beautiful new notebook and pen.
“A journal,” Janet explained, “for when we finally get out on our Progress. I cannot wait, and there are bound to be plenty of adventures to tell of whilst we are out and about in the country, don’t you think?”
“I certainly hope so. Thank you both – I do love it, and the pattern is simply stunning.” She stroked the material-bound book, thinking that she would ensure something worth writing about did indeed happen as they passed through the various castles, houses and historical sites she was planning to visit.
Their contented peace was shattered by shouts in the courtyard below.
“Queen Mary? Your Grace? Please, are you near? Come quick!” A solder was standing in the yard, shouting at each of the four sides in turn.
Queen Mary, Janet and Sir William hurriedly dropped their gifts and passed through the walls, their quickest route to the man, now peering into each of the windows on the ground floors of the buildings.
“Soldier, what’s wrong?” asked Sir William, as the parties met outside the café’s door.
“It’s Boy, Sir, Your Grace – he’s talking of a white light. We didn’t know what to do.”
“You did the right thing to come to us,” said Mary, already hurrying across the courtyard, making her way towards the most direct route out of the Castle; out through the thick stone walls and down onto the Esplanade. “Come, both of you – if he chooses to leave, we should be there to see him off.”
Exiting the spirit world wasn’t anywhere near as traumatic as entering it could be, but for those whose white light had taken its time to arrive, the sudden pull to leave could be almost too much to bear. So many of the Mile’s residents had reported seeing theirs over the years, and choosing instead to stay behind with friends they had made since death, rather than passing through it to see what awaited them on the ‘other side’. There had been reports of ghosts being able to come back after passing through, but these were few and far between. For those who were happy where they were, it was a big risk to take.
As they reached the grate, the small crowd of soldiers were still gathered, but all edging nearer the cover now, peering down into the once-darkness. As they saw the Queen’s group approach, they parted to let her through.
Queen Mary crouched at the grate once more, and leaned over. “Boy, Boy, are you there? Are you alright?”
“I…I can see the light,” he stammered.
So could Mary. It filled the void, showing the extent of the poor lad’s confinement over the years. Her heart filled with both sorrow and joy: sorrow that he had been alone in there so long, and joy that he might well soon be released. “Don’t be afraid, Boy – if you want to go, then go, you have all our blessing.”
“Do you think my family is through there? Will I see them again?”
“I am sure they are, and I am sure that you will,” the Queen replied, now joined on the floor by Janet, squinting against the light.
“But, what about the tunnels? And the pipes? Will people mind if I go?” asked the lad, looking around him.
The light flickered and faded for a moment, causing the Queen and Janet to gasp.
“Do not even think about the tunnels, or the pipes. If you want to go, and find your family, then do so. But I am afraid you may need to hurry. The lights don’t last for ever.” The Queen was terrified for him. If the light vanished just as he decided to go, who knew when, or even if, he would get another chance?
With a final glance, and a shy wave, Boy looked up at the two ladies. “Will you tell everyone I said ‘thank you’? That I’ve really enjoyed their company lately? I think I’ve been happy again.”
“We will tell them,” said Janet, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“We promise,” Queen Mary assured him, nodding with encouragement. “Good luck, and I hope you stay happy.”
He smiled at them both, and nodded. One final look around the tunnels, then he stepped forward, into the light. As he vanished, its strength grew, streaming out of the grate, injecting a sudden warmth into the cold air. Then it was gone.
It was ten minutes before anyone spoke, or even moved. Most of them had seen people passing through a light before, but for somebody to have been so mournful, and then suddenly find their peace sufficiently to make their exit so swiftly, this was new.
Eventually, Sir William broke the silence. “If we could, we should be raising a glass to Boy,” he said, looking around at the others, who nodded their heads firmly. “Your Grace, you did him proud.”
The Queen couldn’t speak, but nodded in reply, before gesturing for the knight to help her to her feet. Composing herself, she cleared her throat twice before continuing. “We should all be happy for Boy, as I am sure we are. Proof that we will all get our happy endings, in the end, I think.” She smiled around at the crowd. “And I suppose we need to get practising our pipe-playing, keep his myth alive and well, don’t you think?”
A thin laugh made its way around the group.
“Gentlemen, I bid you Merry Christmas again, and I shall be on my way.” Fearing the tears would consume her entirely, she nodded to Janet, and turned back towards the Castle.
B
oy’s leaving of their world put most of the Mile’s spiritual community into a reflective mood for the rest of Christmas Day. There was the traditional swapping of presents and stories of previous celebrations, but also, tales of white lights down the years, those celebrated and those mourned, as valued friends had taken their leave. Some ghosts took advantage of a quieter day to wander the city, with others taking refuge at home and refusing to leave their cosy surroundings. The ways to celebrate the festive period didn’t vary much, whichever side of the living line you were on.
There was little haunting to be done either, of the living at least. Lady Glamis was surprised by the sudden appearance of the Douglas brothers, unaffected by the Mile’s sombre mood, as she made her way to St Margaret’s, to check whether its patron had chosen to visit them for the season and to tell her about Boy. Even Queen Mary and Sir Thomas jumped at the site of a headless Clara floating past a group of soldiers in the Military Prison, as they took advantage of the lack of staff to rearrange some of the mannequins. Quickly vanishing and flitting through the nearest wall, they decided not to spoil the fun of the groups.
And so the day, and days, passed. Haunting gradually increased after Christmas, as Edinburgh hurtled towards New Year, but the inner circle of royalty and nobles kept themselves largely to themselves, drifting happily between the Castle and Palace without mischief, and turning a blind eye to anything they came across. Even a blood-curdling scream from the Covenanters’ Prison did not draw attention, once it was established that it was definitely a ghost-on-ghost haunting.
Decorations were blown gently about in breezes which didn’t exist, small ornaments magically moved about rooms, and the odd elf managed to be seen sneaking shiftily about the house. But on the whole, the living were not overly troubled by the dead. Everyone was now very much in the mood for the next event, Edinburgh’s biggest party by far: Hogmanay.
Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 16
