Spy for the Queen of Scots

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘The Lennox Stuarts have high ambitions,’ I said.

  ‘And a host of relatives,’ Mary added. ‘His mother is kin to the Douglas family who seize what they desire by any means open to them.’

  I thought it wiser not to remind her that, by dint of his mother having married a Douglas after he was born, Lord James Stuart was also linked to the clan.

  Mary was anxious as to where Lord Darnley’s increasing discontent might lead him. She didn’t want him becoming embroiled with the warmongering Douglas side of his family. Even Gavin, who made mocking comments on every topic, had nothing to say against anyone associated with the name Douglas. They were unforgiving enemies and inspired terror in both foe and friend.

  But there was one person within the Palace of Holyrood whose fealty to the queen I guessed would outweigh fear. I let Rhanza know of my concerns and she brought me word of movements within the household. Thus I knew that the most prominent Douglas, the Earl of Morton, with Lords Ruthven and Lindsay, was forming an alliance with Lord Darnley and his companions.

  ‘Morton, Lindsay and Ruthven are three of the most detestable men I know,’ Mary said in despair when I told her this. ‘How can my husband keep company with them? I fear I have been a poor judge of character when choosing whom to wed. But Lord Darnley was so kind and affectionate that I fell in love with him.’ She smiled sadly at me. ‘You are wise, Jenny, to be cautious before giving your heart away.’

  But my heart was given away. It had happened the moment I’d met Sir Duncan Alexander. The difference between Mary and myself was that I had chosen to keep my feelings secret.

  Mary summoned him to discuss the situation – along with Sir Gavin, who had moved higher in her affection since he’d held Holyrood Palace against Lord James in the recent conflict.

  ‘These lords have no care for my husband’s welfare and will encourage him in his waywardness in order to make him their creature,’ she told them.

  ‘At the risk of becoming unpopular,’ Gavin hesitated, ‘may I mention your half-brother?’

  ‘I have decreed Lord James outlaw and cannot pardon him until he makes his peace with me,’ said Mary.

  ‘This might be the way he can make amends,’ said Gavin. ‘Lord James Stuart is the one person who is strong enough to contain these men.’

  ‘Or join with them in insurrection,’ Duncan interposed, giving Gavin a look of pure dislike. ‘Perhaps Lord James is already aware of what is happening in Scotland and even has a hand in it?’

  ‘Are you in communication with him that you know this?’ Gavin enquired with sarcasm.

  Duncan put his hand on the hilt of his sword and stepped forward to confront him. ‘What I do know, sir, is that when parliament meets in March, an Act will be passed to seize the lands of Lord James Stuart. And I have sense enough to see that he might take steps to prevent that happening.’

  ‘I need a practical solution for this impending crisis,’ Mary said sharply. ‘If Darnley’s family try to take the throne of Scotland, then I believe there’d be civil war and anarchy. I need to secretly prepare for such an eventuality.’

  ‘The lords of the Isles and the Highlands would rouse their clans to defend you,’ said Duncan.

  ‘And James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, has never wavered in his support for the crown,’ she added.

  ‘I will make it my business to be about the streets of Edinburgh that Lord Darnley frequents and try to mind him as best I can,’ said Duncan.

  ‘Thank you.’ Mary grasped his hands in hers. ‘You have taken on a most difficult task.’

  ‘And how will the queen be defended here in the palace?’ I asked.

  ‘I trust Erskine, the captain of the guard,’ Mary said.

  ‘I will also be here to—’ Gavin began.

  ‘Let us summon Bothwell and Huntly,’ Duncan interrupted him.

  ‘They are both Protestants,’ said Gavin waspishly, ‘Bothwell of long standing, and the new young Earl of Huntly does not follow his father’s religion.’

  ‘I’ve never tried to impose my faith on others,’ Mary said testily. She turned to Duncan. ‘Yes, send word to the Borders. I’d feel safer with the Earl of Bothwell at my side.’

  Gavin raised his eyebrows and then said, ‘Perhaps I would serve you better, majesty, by going to my lands to raise arms for you.’

  Mary extended her hand for him to kiss. ‘God speed, Sir Gavin. Now, away, both of you, and I will stall the demands of my husband to give him the crown matrimonial by feigning sickness.’

  In truth, this was not difficult to do, for Mary was quite unwell in her pregnancy and suffered bouts of dizziness and nausea. Lord Darnley retaliated for what he termed ‘wifely rejection’ by spending more time with his drinking cronies. He scarcely spoke a civil word to her, until one night he came to her private supper room where we’d gathered to be quiet, for she was weary and anxious.

  Rizzio was softly strumming his lute. I was by the fire. Opposite me the queen had just picked up her embroidery when Darnley entered without ceremony from the private staircase.

  ‘Husband!’ Mary contrived to be welcoming, although I knew she’d wanted a peaceful evening. She was exhausted after a long day of council debate on how best to deal with her half-brother, who was hiding somewhere in England. She patted the stool beside her. ‘My lord, come sit by me.’

  Darnley shook his head in a discontented manner. Rizzio paused in his playing and then continued more quietly.

  ‘You are out of sorts?’ Mary observed. ‘Can I help you in any way?’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Darnley said shortly. ‘You can give me the dukedom of Inverloch.’

  This was contentious. The Duke of Inverloch was in prison for sedition and his land and title could not be disposed of until he was tried and found guilty.

  Rizzio loudly plucked a single string on his lute. ‘Forgive me, your majesty,’ he said in an innocent voice. ‘I believe I played a wrong note.’

  Darnley glared at him. ‘Majesties,’ he said.

  David Rizzio returned his look with a blank stare.

  ‘Majesties,’ Lord Darnley repeated. ‘I am King Henry of Scotland. Therefore there are two majesties in this room.’

  ‘I do beg your pardon, sire. I did not have the wit to catch your meaning.’

  ‘You mountebank!’ Darnley leaped at him. ‘You have wit enough to parry words with me.’ He would have struck Rizzio had not Mary stayed his hand, but he pushed her back into her chair.

  Mary gasped in outrage but managed to speak. ‘Go now, Davie,’ she said quickly. ‘You are dismissed.’

  ‘Davie? Davie!’ Darnley almost screeched. ‘You address that man by a familiar first name?’

  Mary hesitated as Rizzio scurried from the room. ‘He is a good servant and . . . I look upon many of those who serve me with friendship.’

  ‘And does he call you by your own given name?’

  ‘Of course not.’ But her lie was not well enough told to be convincing. Mary tried to appease her husband, but it was as if everything she said heaped kindling upon the fire of Darnley’s anger, causing yet more sparks to burst forth. He left in a vile temper and Mary collapsed, weeping, on my shoulder.

  From that day their relationship changed for ever.

  That Darnley had laid rough hands upon her while she carried his child shocked Mary beyond reason. Now debilitated in the seventh month of her pregnancy, she cried bitter tears, bemoaning to attendants. ‘Am I not faithful to him? Do I not do all I can to humour him?’

  ‘Some men do not welcome a baby,’ said Jean, Countess of Argyll. ‘They fear the child will take the attention they want focused solely on them.’

  Mary’s friends and ladies tried to protect her as Darnley’s behaviour grew increasingly outrageous. Rizzio, grateful to her for saving him a beating, was even more ingratiating. He appeared to have business with everyone at court – the servants of foreign ambassadors sought him out, and now he had access to the household purse, for he said he needed
ready money with which to buy information. One day I decided to follow him as he hurried away with gold coin in his hand. He went first to his own room, which didn’t surprise me as I thought he probably used only half the money he ever took to pay his informants. Then he went by the servants’ stairs to the abbey cloister, where someone was waiting under the arches.

  I heard Rizzio speak, and then the man in the shadows replied. There was something familiar about the inflection of his speech. I crept closer. They were talking in Italian, but where Rizzio was fluent, this man was not. My stomach turned over in fear. The voice was that of the Count of Cluny!

  During Darnley’s illness Mary had, at my suggestion, appointed more food tasters. After this, the Count had disappeared and I thought he’d returned to France, thwarted in his intentions. He must have been awaiting his next instruction from Catherine de’ Medici. Now here he was within the Palace of Holyrood, liaising with Mary’s inner circle of trusted attendants! I inched forward, the better to hear their conversation.

  ‘I don’t want money for the information I gave you,’ the Count of Cluny spoke.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Rizzio, immediately putting the coins back inside his tunic.

  ‘A letter came to you . . .’

  ‘There are many letters,’ he replied. ‘After all, I am secretary to the queen.’

  ‘One specific letter sent not long ago to the Queen of Scots from her family of Guise,’ Cluny said irritably. ‘I know you have it, even though it was delivered secretly.’

  ‘Then you know more than I do, sir.’

  ‘Have a care, little music man,’ Cluny hissed. ‘You may find yourself singing a different note.’

  ‘I neither sing nor speak to entertain you but only my queen,’ Rizzio replied arrogantly. ‘And as I am in favour and you are not, I think you’ll find your powers somewhat limited here.’

  ‘My powers may be more than you can begin to guess,’ the Count of Cluny replied nastily. ‘And I do know that you hold and withhold information depending on how you reckon your own profit.’

  ‘In your case, sir,’ Rizzio said, ‘I see no profit at all.’

  I wasn’t a friend of David Rizzio. He assumed too much and made sly comments to the younger girls when the queen was absent, but as I slipped away I wondered if Rizzio understood the magnitude of his mistake. Most likely he’d judged his informant to be a minor noble of no standing or wealth, not realizing that the Count of Cluny was an agent of the most ruthless and clever ruler in Europe. Although I hadn’t much liking for Master David, I was afraid for him.

  But my concern for Mary was more pressing than any I might have for Rizzio. If the Count of Cluny wanted the Guise letter, then it must contain important news. I was sure Rizzio had not yet given it to the queen, for she’d not mentioned anything unusual in her recent correspondence, and now I wondered if her secretary was engaged in a double game of holding up or destroying letters. It must still be in his apartments which, when he was not there, he kept locked with a key held about his person. He might be in the middle of decoding it, using one of the complicated ciphers he employed to keep the queen’s correspondence private.

  That evening I kept my eyes on him, and saw the key dangling from a chain attached to a gilt button on his doublet, impossible to remove without undressing. I spoke to Rhanza, explaining to her that it was for the queen’s benefit that I needed the key. As she was one of the girls Rizzio had annoyed with suggestive remarks, she had no liking for him. Keen to help, yet she didn’t see how, for when she serviced his room Rizzio insisted on being present. She wasn’t allowed to loiter in his bedchamber but only clean his privy room, and he watched her all the while.

  The next morning, although it was very cold for the beginning of March, I went out riding through Holyrood Park. I reined my horse in and surveyed the façade of the palace. On the top level I could pick out Rizzio’s room, with its mullioned windows and privy chute. Fantastical schemes went through my head – of lowering myself on a rope from an overhanging buttress to the window ledge – perhaps during the night when Rizzio took off his clothes. I shuddered. If I slipped, I’d fall into the lion pit situated below.

  When I discussed this with Rhanza, she shook her head. ‘Maister Rizzio keeps the windae lockit fast, so feart is he of catching cauld.’

  ‘There must be a way,’ I insisted. I went over what she’d told me of his habits. ‘He stands within his privy room as you clean it?’

  ‘Mair close than I would wish. He ne’er lets me oot his sicht.’

  ‘Then we need a problem with the privy itself,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘If it overflowed with effluence in the early morning, he might summon you to try to clear it!’

  ‘I dinna ken how this helps ye.’ Rhanza was perplexed.

  ‘Master Rizzio will stand within the privy room to oversee you, and you will take much longer to clear up the mess. I will wait in the corridor and try to slip into his room. His doublet with the key attached will be in his bedchamber. If you find me a piece of soft moulding, or even soap, I can take an impression! Could you get a locksmith to make a duplicate?’

  Rhanza hesitated.

  ‘You do not know a locksmith?’

  ‘I ken a keymakkar,’ she replied. ‘It’s just that Maister Rizzio will be in his nightclothes, and . . .’

  ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘How stupid I am! I forgot that away from the queen he behaves like a rake.’

  ‘I’ll dae it,’ said Rhanza, ‘for ma queen. If Maister Rizzio tries onything, I’ll fend him aff with a shovelful of sh—’

  ‘Very good,’ I said quickly. ‘Whatever we decide to do, we must do it tonight.’

  It was Rhanza who devised the method of blocking the privy. While performing her duties that day she stuffed cloths up the inside of the privy chute in the room below Rizzio’s. In the middle of the night we crept into the attics and emptied the pails of sewage and manure Rhanza had collected from the palace middens down into Rizzio’s chute. And she contrived to be near his room when, at daybreak, the door opened and he rang a summoning bell in the corridor.

  ‘You, girl!’

  Rhanza hurried to him, carrying her bucket and broom.

  I waited until they’d gone inside. Silently I approached the door and put my ear to the panel. I could hear nothing. I turned the handle. I had an excuse ready: I would claim that the queen had woken early and wanted her secretary urgently. I’d not thought how to explain it to Mary if I was forced to use this tactic. The door creaked open. There was no one in the bedchamber, and I smelled the stench from the privy.

  I heard Rizzio say, ‘I should call for the midden men . . .’

  ‘Nay, sir,’ Rhanza replied. ‘I can manage.’

  ‘Might there be other things you could manage for me?’ Rizzio’s voice was muffled. He must have a scarf over his mouth and nose.

  The door to the privy room was ajar. I could see half of Rizzio’s back. I tiptoed into the bedchamber and carefully lifted the doublet, which was lying over a chair. The key was not there.

  My heart failed. Disappointment swept through me. All this for nothing. He must put it around his neck as he slept. I glanced at his bed. On a sudden impulse I lifted the pillow. The key was underneath!

  Hands shaking, I lifted it and pressed it into the soft moulding that Rhanza had secured for me. As I did so, I heard Rizzio say, ‘I must step into my bedroom to fetch a pomander else I shall faint with the smell.’

  ‘Sir!’ Rhanza cried. ‘Dinna leave me!’

  I knew that she was too tough to be overcome by the work she was doing. She was trying to delay him for my benefit. I ran from the room and did not stop until I reached my own.

  An hour later Rhanza came to the royal apartments carrying a jug of wild flowers for the queen. I passed her the mould and some money. By nightfall she had returned with a new key.

  Later I was more relaxed as I approached Rizzio’s room for the second time. I knew he was with the queen, who was receiving the Earl of
Bothwell and the new Lord Huntly in the great hall. As the locksmith had advised, Rhanza had coated the key shaft in goose fat, and on the second attempt it turned. I was inside!

  Considering no one tided for him, Rizzio’s room was remarkably well ordered. His writing desk was neat, the correspondence meticulously filed. His headings were in Italian, which gave me no problem, but this letter was more recent. I opened his letter case, but I could only see his code book. It was quite bulky, for he was cunning enough to use many different ciphers. As I picked it up, I gazed about the room. Where would Rizzio hide such an important letter?

  Then I looked down at the book in my hand, and slowly opened it. Inside was a single sheet bearing the seal of the new young Duke of Guise.

  I unfolded the paper. Rizzio had most of it decoded and I needed only to read a few lines to realize that this letter was momentous. The Guises were attempting to marry the queen to Catherine de’ Medici’s third son, Prince Henri of Anjou!

  The letter proposed that the Cardinal of Lorraine petition the pope for an annulment of Mary’s marriage to Darnley, and that she should then be betrothed to Prince Henri. Henri of Anjou was ten years younger than Mary and was Catherine de’ Medici’s favourite child. Her second son, now King Charles, was not healthy, and had as yet no heir, so his younger brother might inherit. But, I reflected, Catherine had barely tolerated Mary as a daughter-in-law when she’d been married to Francis and had made no secret of her lack of support for Scotland. This was not her doing. It was surely a scheme hatched by the Guise family to increase their influence in France through Mary. Ridiculous as it might seem, Henri’s name had already been put forward by his mother as a possible suitor for Elizabeth of England. This ploy would both rekindle Catherine de’ Medici’s enmity for Mary and stoke the wrath of Queen Elizabeth.

  I doubted if Mary would agree to this: it might mean that the child she carried would be deemed illegitimate and thus ineligible to succeed to the throne. Lord James Stuart had been marked by that stigma all his life, making him an embittered and jealous man. But even if she rejected the Guise proposal, Mary’s enemies would seize upon it as proof that she was embroiled in plots to re-establish France as an ally of Scotland.