Chapter Forty-Three
The end of January saw an annual tradition within the great hall, as a number of poets and other writers gathered to celebrate Burns’ Night. The great man himself had been rumoured to be in the city, but tales of sightings in Dumfries had made their way to the Castle in the days leading up to the celebrations, so for another year, the Royal Mile’s ghostly community had to put their hopes for a personal performance on hold. Instead, Robert Fergusson, himself an acknowledged inspiration for Burns, took centre stage.
“We do appreciate your stepping in for us once again, Master Fergusson,” said Queen Mary, as the young man entered through the thick walls and bowed to her with a great flourish. “I do believe next year, we shall not even pin our hopes on Rabbie himself turning up. Although, one does wonder what he actually does on his own night. Do you know?”
Fergusson shook his head. “My apologies, Your Grace. I have had the pleasure of his company on numerous occasions, but not once on this actual night. I had heard that he shies away from the limelight, although, why, I cannot image. If my country had honoured me with a national day, I would be making as big a noise about it as I possibly could.” He smiled, and on Mary’s indication, began to welcome the other ghosts as they arrived for the reading.
“Mr Fergusson,” a voice boomed, sending eyes rolling and the threat of sighs of exasperation through the group. “I understand you are to read for us this evening? Of course, if you would appreciate a rest, and the chance to hear somebody else’s work, I would happily step into the breach.” William McGonagall had arrived.
“Ah, Mr McGonagall,” said Lady Glamis, stepping between the two writers. “What a pleasure to see you this evening. We were just saying how we should arrange for you to come and deliver some of your poetry to us one day,” she continued, trying to steer him away, to where others had started to chatter in groups of twos and threes.
But the elder writer would not be swayed, and returned to Fergusson.
“Of course, it would be educational for you, I imagine, to see somebody who had gained more life experience. Someone so young, like yourself, you can hardly have seen anything of the world.”
Fergusson bristled. He had lived his life to the full in the limited years granted to him, before depression, injury and eventual forced hospitalisation had taken their toll; most people in Edinburgh knew that. His days had been full of socialising, theatre and opera trips, and nightly adventures with the infamous Cape Club.
“Sir, I can assure you, I saw more than enough in life, and have seen plenty more in death. Unlike some, I do not simply loiter around my grave, hoping somebody will come and visit me. I get out, I see things, hear things, and have written some of what I consider my best work since the time of my death. Perhaps I should perform some of that this evening. You could share some of your new work too?” Stressing the word ‘new’, he stared at McGonagall, knowing the older man hadn’t written a word since he died. Fergusson, on the other hand, took pleasure in vanishing for weeks on end, and returning with new pieces to perform for anyone who was interested in listening.
Queen Mary realised that the situation could all too easily escalate. She joined Janet, between the two men, now standing too close to each other for comfort.
“Gentlemen, please, I am quite sure we shall have enough drama this evening through Mr Fergusson’s words. We do not need to take that drama off the page and into real life, wouldn’t you agree?” Out of McGonagall’s line of vision, she brushed Fergusson’s arm with her hand, in an attempt to calm him. He blinked, and stepped back from the older man.
“Of course, Your Grace, I could not agree more. If you will excuse me, I shall prepare myself quietly. Please send your page over to me when you are ready for me to begin, and I shall do my very best to honour our friend Burns this evening with his words and mine.”
Janet shot the Queen a grateful look, and finally managed to pull McGonagall away into the centre of the room.
After the drama of the initial confrontation, the evening settled down as quickly as it had almost escalated. Fergusson’s delivery of the Bard of Ayrshire’s poetry was almost as good as that of the man himself, in the opinion of those who had heard Rabbie Burns perform, either during his life, or in his rare appearances since death. Even McGonagall, placated by the company of Lady Janet throughout the reading, had to acknowledge that the younger man had done a sterling job. Begrudgingly, he made his way over to the poet to congratulate him at the end of the night.
“Not a bad job, young man, not a bad job at all,” he said, flitting through the wall before anyone could remind him of his pre-performance rudeness to the reader.
Once the last visiting ghost had left for the night, Mary sank into a chair at the side of the room. “That was fun, Janet, don’t you agree?”
“Very much so, Your Grace – and Fergusson really does put on an excellent performance. We should ensure he comes up to the Castle more often.”
“But perhaps we should get McGonagall a prior engagement,” said Sir Thomas, coming back in from having seen some of their guests out of the Castle gates.
“I couldn’t agree more, Randolph,” Sir William said, strolling around the perimeter of the Hall, checking that nothing had been left out of place, before the staff began arriving the next morning. All it would take was one suspicious item, or anything untoward, and the risk of increased security could put a stop to all their plans. Tidying up was as much a part of his Castle role as royal security, and with the planned Progress so close, he didn’t want any disruptions.
Chapter Forty-Four
True to Queen Mary’s plans, the group chosen to go out on Progress gathered, romantically enough, on Valentine’s Day, making their way down to the Esplanade, as agreed, just as the One O’clock Gun was about to be fired. As one of the biggest attractions in the Castle, it was always easier to move groups of ghosts about as it was prepared and fired, with all eyes on the soldier, rather than on anything going on around them. Now, as the lunchtime throngs made their way to and from the main gates, Queen Mary watched as the little band of soldiers and nobles came together in dribs and drabs, before all forty of them were finally together.
“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for accepting my invitation to travel with me; I am greatly looking forward to our adventure, and I hope you are too,” said Mary, addressing them all from her position against the wall, her back towards Craigmillar. “I am aware that we have kept our agenda a relative secret – in these days without the need for such advance warning, I wanted there to be an element of surprise, as with some of these holidays we hear so much about. Myself, Sir William and Lady Janet know the full agenda for our little trip, and several of you young men will be briefed daily to go ahead and give notice of our arrival, under Babington’s command.”
She looked around the crowd, ensuring she still had their full attention, her eye landing on the young man who had responded to her call, and would once again be giving advance notice of her daily travels. “Now, on arrival at each location, we are to make ourselves known to the key occupants of the place. Under no circumstances shall anybody go straight in, and there will most certainly be no haunting before these matters have been discussed and agreed. We are travelling for entertainment, not trouble-making. Clear?”
Satisfied with the mumble of agreement, she turned her back on the group, and pointed out towards the hills in the distance. “We begin at Craigmillar,” she announced. “Then on to Aberdour – keeping things local to begin with,” she continued. “If there are any problems early on, we can send people home, or give up all together,” she said, quietly, to Lady Janet and Sir William, by her side as always. “Do we anticipate problems?” she asked, with a quick glance around the gathered party. They hadn’t invited any known troublemakers, but putting such a large and mixed group together for such a length of time always had its risks.
“None that we can envisage,” Sir William assured her, taking Janet’s arm into the crook of his elbo
w. “Lady Glamis did an excellent job of vetting the potential travelling companions.”
Queen Mary nodded at their efficiency, and smiled at the open affection between the pair. “Very good – I knew I could rely on you both.”
Turning back to the waiting crowd, she raised her voice so that all could hear.
“Well then, friends, onwards! Our next adventure awaits!”
The End
List of Characters
Mary, Queen of Scots (1542-1587, died aged 44): Queen of Scotland by birth, and of France by marriage, and executed on order of Queen Elizabeth I of England.
Janet Douglas, Lady Glamis (c.1498-1537, aged around 39): Executed on the orders of King James V for allegedly trying to poison the King, and communicating with her brothers, including the King’s hated stepfather.
Sir William Kirkcaldy of Grange (c.1520-1573, aged around 53): Soldier and politician during Queen Mary’s reign, holding Edinburgh Castle for her during the famous Lang Siege, but executed on its fall.
Sir Thomas Randolph (c.1278-1332, aged around 54): First Earl of Moray, Regent of Scotland and nephew of Robert the Bruce. Won back Edinburgh Castle for the Scottish during the Wars of Independence.
David Rizzio (also spelled ‘Riccio’ or ‘Rizzo’; c.1533-1566, aged around 33): Queen Mary’s Italian secretary, murdered in her rooms at Holyrood by Lord Darnley and his associates.
King James V of Scotland (1512-1542, aged 30): Father of Mary, Queen of Scots, died after defeat at the Battle of Solway Moss.
Queen Madeleine de Valois. First wife of King James V of Scotland, died at Holyrood Palace after only two months in the country. (1520-1537, aged 16)
Queen Marie de Guise. Second wife of King James V of Scotland, and mother of Mary, Queen of Scots, acting as Regent in her daughter’s absence. (1515-1560, aged 44)
John Gray. A night-watchman with Edinburgh City Police (died 1858, at unknown age); best known as owner of Greyfriars Bobby.
Greyfriars Bobby. Faithful pet of John Gray, passed away after spending fourteen years sitting by his master’s grave. (c.1856-1872, aged 16)
Anthony Babington. Nobleman, accused of, and executed for, involvement in the ‘Babington Plot’ which led to Mary’s downfall and subsequent execution. (1561-1586, aged 25)
Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. Queen Mary’s second husband and King Consort of Scotland, murdered at Kirk o’Field in Edinburgh alongside his valet, in suspicious circumstances. (1545-1567, aged 21)
John Knox. Scottish Minister and key leader of the Reformation, and adversary of Mary, Queen of Scots. (c.1513-1572, aged around 59)
Madame Jane Vernelt. Dressmaker, owner of a shop on George Street. (Unknown age)
Boy. A piper, sent down an uncovered tunnel within Edinburgh Castle, to investigate its end point, but lost track of, and never seen again. (Unknown age)
Mr Boots. An anti-social ghost, usually found in the South Bridge vaults, known for his stomping boots, throwing things at visitors, or pushing/pulling people. (Unknown age)
Robert. Kitchen-boy at Queensberry House, killed and partially-eaten by the Earl of Drumlanrig. (c.1697-1707, aged 10) (His name and age are used speculatively in the story)
Saint Margaret of Scotland. Wife of King Malcolm III of Scotland, mother to three Kings of Scotland, and canonised in 1250. (c.1045-1093, aged around 48)
Robert Burns. The national poet of Scotland, writer of Auld Lang Syne and Tam O’Shanter amongst others. (1759-1796, aged 37)
Robert Fergusson. Scottish poet, born just off the Royal Mile. (1750-1774, aged 24)
William Douglas. Sixth Earl of Douglas, killed during the Black Dinner at Edinburgh Castle, alongside his younger brother David. (1424-1440, aged 16)
David Douglas. Younger brother to the Sixth Earl of Douglas, killed during the Black Dinner at Edinburgh Castle. (died 1440, unknown age)
William McGonagall. Poet, regularly referred to as one of the worst in literature, famous for works including The Tay Bridge Disaster. (1825-1902, aged 77)
James Douglas. Fourth Earl of Morton, Regent for Queen Mary’s son, James VI of Scotland, ultimately executed on The Maiden, a form of guillotine he himself had introduced into Scotland. (c.1516-1581, aged 65)
James Douglas. Third Marquess of Queensberry (Earl of Drumlanrig until 1711), kept imprisoned from childhood due to a violent and disturbed nature. Found eating a kitchen boy after roasting him on a spit in 1707. (1697-1715, aged 18)
George Mackenzie’s poltergeist. Lord Advocate and Member of Scotland’s Privy Council, responsible for the imprisonment of the Covenanters in Greyfriars Kirkyard. (1636/38-1691, aged around 53-55)
Various ladies, gentlemen, soldiers and children
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Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile Page 19
