I put my nose out from under the skirts and sniffed. I could smell blood.
And suddenly I saw her face.
Her head was lying on the floor a little way away. Her lips still moved. Her wig had fallen off. Her eyes stared straight at me, but didn’t see.
Her body, next to me. Her head, right over there, lying in a pool of blood…
I ran to her head. My paws were wet with blood. I howled. I licked her face.
Someone yelled, ‘The dog! Get him!’
I wriggled from their hands. I ran to the body of my Queen again, then back to her head. I sat in the pool of blood and raised my voice. I howled louder than any dog before. I called my Queen. I howled farewell. I howled to say that here was someone who was great and dead. I hoped my howl would reach across the world.
‘Folly! Here, boy! Folly!’
I knew that voice. I didn’t care. I cared for only one person and she was gone.
Hands lifted me. Jane’s hands, I think. They carried me away.
‘Folly, darling Folly!’ cried Jane. Her hands were bloody now. It was my Queen’s blood, from my fur.
My fur was wet. I smelt of blood. Her blood. I didn’t want to lose the smell. But someone sponged my fur. Someone put me in a basket by the fire. Someone stroked me, and held warm milk next to my nose.
I wouldn’t lap. I would not eat, no matter what they gave me. Finally they left me there.
Night came. I could not sleep. I thought, If I just stay alert maybe she will come. She has gone before and then come back. I listened for her footsteps, for her voice. Finally the cuckoo called. The light peered greyly through the window. There were steps across the floor. I looked up, sure it must be her!
But it was Jane.
‘Folly, shhh.’ She bent and lifted me.
‘You must be quiet,’ she whispered. ‘I told them that you are dead, that you died of longing for our Queen. If they knew you were here…’ She was silent a moment. Then her voice shook as she said, ‘They have burnt everything of hers. Destroyed it all. But they will not take you.’
She placed me in a basket. It had a pillow in it, from her bed. She closed the basket lid, and it was dark.
It was almost like the day, so long ago, when I first came to my Queen, in a basket just like this. But now there was no queen. And I didn’t care where they took me, or what they did.
And so I was silent, as the carriage took Jane and me away.
CHAPTER 25
I Tell the End of My Story
Scotland, 1598
And the end?
Jane brought me here, where she lives now with the Master. I’ve chased butterflies again. I’ve even met a badger. I’ve run again along the hedges and snuffled in the leaves.
It’s hard to remember that Jane once didn’t like me. I have the softest cushions now. The carver cuts off the juiciest slices for my plate even before he cuts any for the Master. We have a good life, Jane and I, even though we have lost our Queen.
But I have not forgotten her. She is my heart, my memory, the centre of my life.
I heard the Master explain to a guest the other day why a scruffy dog all grey about the whiskers was sitting in the best chair by the fire.
‘He used to be our Queen’s dog,’ said the Master. ‘He was with her when she died. His name is Folly.’
No, I thought. That isn’t who I am. You do not understand at all. A dog is who he loves.
Me?
I’m old now. But I’m still what I have always been.
I am The Dog Who Loved a Queen.
The purple thistles that flower where Mary was beheaded are still called Queen Mary’s tears.
A HISTORY OF MARY’S LIFE
Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockleshells, And pretty maids all in a row.
The garden is Mary’s garden at Holyroodhouse in Scotland. The silver bells are the Sanctus bells used at Mary’s private Mass. The cockleshells are the badges given to Catholic pilgrims who had reached the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The pretty maids are Mary’s friends and attendants who shared the triumphs of her early life and the tragedy of her last years.
The nursery rhyme doesn’t mention a faithful dog…
Mary became Queen when she was six days old.
Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, was born on 8 December 1542, at Linlithgow Palace, West Lothian, Scotland. She was the daughter of King James V of Scotland and Marie de Guise, the daughter of the French Duc de Guise and a widow of the French Duc de Longueville. Then James V died on 14 December—and his tiny baby was a queen.
Mary’s mother ruled for her daughter. But the English King Henry VIII wanted to combine the kingdoms of England and Scotland by marrying Mary to his son, Edward. Mary’s mother didn’t like the plan and was worried that the King might even try to kidnap her daughter. So when Mary was five years old she was sent to France to be brought up at the French royal court. Mary’s mother stayed behind to rule Scotland.
Mary adored the fashionable French court—and the French adored her. She was so beautiful, so charming, so…tall! In those days, when poverty and starvation meant that most peasants were tanned and short, white skin, soft hands, a high forehead and tallness (and long slim legs for men) were signs of wealth, good breeding and beauty.
Mary studied French, Latin, Italian, Spanish and a little Greek. She learnt dancing, singing, horse riding, archery, falconry, embroidery and fine sewing, and how to play the lute. She also became close friends with the young Dauphin François, the heir to the French throne, who was a year younger than she was.
Mary and François married in Nôtre Dame Cathedral when she was sixteen and the Dauphin fifteen. Again, everyone exclaimed at Mary’s beauty. The marriage contract secretly arranged that if Mary died, François would become King of Scotland, and Scotland would become part of France. (The Scots would not have been happy if they’d known about this!)
In 1559, Mary became Queen of France as well as Scotland when the Dauphin’s father died. She also claimed to be Queen of England after Henry VIII’s son, Edward, and then his daughter, Mary Tudor, died, and his younger daughter Elizabeth became Queen. Henry had declared his daughter Mary Tudor illegitimate when he divorced her mother to marry Elizabeth’s mother. Then he had declared Elizabeth illegitimate too when he had her mother beheaded to marry his next queen.
If the Princesses were ‘bastards’ then Mary—who was descended from Henry’s sister—was the rightful heir to the English throne. Mary even had the English coat of arms put on her carriage along with the French and Scottish ones and called herself the Queen of three countries—which didn’t please the English court, or her cousin, the new Queen Elizabeth.
Mary’s days as Queen of France were a delight. It was the richest court in Europe, with poets, musicians and courtiers all praising the beautiful young Queen, and perhaps half in love with her too. Praising a queen’s beauty was a good way to get a rich reward. But even the ambassadors from other countries agreed that Mary of France was a delight.
But then Mary’s husband François suddenly died in agony in 1560 when an earlier infection turned into an abscess on the brain. Mary was heartbroken; they had been close friends as well as husband and wife. And she was now no longer the Queen of France.
What was she going to do?
François’s mother Catherine de Medici (who was later to massacre all the Protestants in Paris) became regent on behalf of her younger son, Charles. Catherine didn’t want an ex-queen at the court, especially a young and charming one. Mary had to go back to Scotland.
But since her mother’s death earlier in 1560 Scotland had been ruled by the mostly Protestant lords. They didn’t want a queen coming back to take away their power—especially a Catholic one, who was now more French than Scottish.
The common people cheered as Mary passed in her carriage. For them, Mary was a tolerant and popular queen. She even arranged for a sixth of the money that went to the Catho
lic Church to be given to the Protestant churches, to help the poor. But the Protestant lords weren’t won over.
In those days women—especially queens—were supposed to marry. Women weren’t supposed to be capable of doing any important job except looking after children. Even Mary’s cousin Queen Elizabeth—who showed the world how a woman could rule a country without a husband—urged Mary to marry. And perhaps Mary was lonely too.
In 1565, Mary married Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. He was young, handsome—and perhaps the only man she knew who was as tall as she was. This marriage didn’t please anyone, except Lord Darnley. Darnley was related to Queen Elizabeth, and had married without her permission, so she was furious. And he was English, which didn’t please the Scottish lords.
Soon Mary was desperately unhappy about the marriage too. Darnley stopped being nice as soon as they were married. He was a drunkard and vicious and he spent Mary’s money lavishly. He even helped murder her beloved secretary and musician, David Rizzio, in front of her, at Holyroodhouse on 9 March 1566. Mary was pregnant with Darnley’s son at the time.
On 19 June, in Edinburgh Castle, Mary gave birth to a son, afterwards James VI of Scotland and I of England.
Darnley was jealous of the baby, and furious that Mary hadn’t made him King. And by now he was sick: mentally ill and violent. Mary was afraid that he planned to kill her and their baby son and make himself King.
On 9 February 1567, the house where Darnley was staying was blown up with gunpowder. Darnley and his servant were found murdered in the grounds by the Earl of Bothwell’s men.
Many people believed that Bothwell had murdered Darnley. He probably had. Bothwell was ambitious, and Darnley was his enemy. And Bothwell certainly wanted to marry Mary and become King instead of Darnley.
But was Mary guilty too? Did she want Bothwell to kill her dangerous husband? A packet of letters—called The Casket Letters’—supposed to be from Mary to Bothwell, seemed to say that she might be. But now most people think they were probably forgeries, although, because they have since disappeared, this will remain another mystery.
Darnley had been dangerous, but Mary knew he was dying. She had only to wait and she’d be free. And as Queen she could have had him locked up for treason. She had no reason to organise a secret murder.
Mary arranged Bothwell’s trial for Darnley’s murder, but the trial was a farce, as there were no witnesses for the prosecution. (Mary was probably trying to stop the gossip—fast.) Bothwell was acquitted.
But the rumours continued.
Bothwell then kidnapped Mary, made her pregnant and forced her into a Protestant marriage.
Or did he? Was Mary in love with him and a willing participant? Had the two of them plotted all along?
Or was she really kidnapped by Bothwell—then fell in love with him afterwards? Or was Mary now desperate? Did Bothwell convince her that he could help her keep control of Scotland, and that the other Protestant Scottish lords had given approval for the marriage?
If so, Bothwell lied. The lords of Scotland were furious at the marriage. It was bad enough when Mary married the English but royal Darnley. Now one of their own suddenly had power over them all!
They raised an army of three thousand men against Mary and Bothwell, offering the then incredibly high pay of twenty shillings a month. Mary disguised herself and escaped from the castle where the lords had imprisoned her. She rode out to meet their army, wearing only a servant’s red petticoat. She had only two hundred and fifty men when she started—but as she rode another six hundred joined her. Bothwell joined her with another two thousand, then even more began to follow her.
The two armies met. They were evenly matched. The rebel lords said that there were two ways to avoid bloodshed. Mary could give Bothwell up forever, or Bothwell could fight one of them in single combat.
Bothwell agreed—but only if he could fight the Earl of Morton, who was fifteen years older than he was, and neither fit nor a skilled swordsman.
But Mary refused.
No one is sure what happened then. One witness said that Mary surrendered and gave Bothwell up. Another witness, one of Bothwell’s men, said that Mary called on her army to charge.
But by then most of her army had vanished—desperately thirsty, for they had no water. Mary surrendered in exchange for Bothwell’s escape.
Why? To save him? Or to get rid of a man who had started to abuse her, just like Darnley, and who had shown he was a problem, not a help at all?
Bothwell fled. Mary probably thought that the lords would keep their word, and that without Bothwell they would free her.
Instead they imprisoned her again. She miscarried twins. The Scottish lords forced her to abdicate, using the excuse that she had murdered Darnley. Her baby son was made King instead, with Mary’s half-brother, the Lord of Moray, to rule in his place as regent till he grew up.
Mary escaped again. And again she raised an army, but was defeated by her half-brother’s army. Desperate, Mary fled into England, leaving her ten-month-old baby James behind.
She would never see him again.
Mary hoped Elizabeth, a fellow queen and woman, would help her regain her throne—or at least help her get back to France, where her de Guise relatives might help her to raise another army to invade Scotland.
But instead, Elizabeth kept her prisoner for the next nineteen years.
Why?
To begin with, Elizabeth was furious that a queen had been forced from her throne. But she was worried about the charges of adultery and murder against Mary. She was even more worried that the mostly Catholic north of England would rise to support Mary—leading to civil war in England as well as Scotland.
Elizabeth offered Mary a trial in England. But Mary refused to appear. She said she was a queen, and no one had the right to try her. She pleaded with Elizabeth to see her, but Elizabeth refused. Mary had claimed to be Queen of England. Elizabeth was not having a woman who claimed to be Queen at her court—especially not one who everyone said was so beautiful, and so charming that men flocked to support her.
So now Mary secretly tried to convince the Catholic Kings of France and Spain to invade England, rescue her and make her Queen of England, or at least force Elizabeth to let her go to France. She also asked the Pope to annul her marriage to Bothwell so she could marry the English Duke of Norfolk. But Norfolk was executed for plotting to take the English throne himself.
And despite Mary’s continued pleas, Elizabeth still refused to see her. She kept her imprisoned, moving her from place to place and changing her gaolers when Mary charmed them into giving her more freedom, which she could use to send out more secret messages against Elizabeth.
Mary felt justified even when she plotted to have Elizabeth killed by putting poison on her saddle. She believed that as rightful Queen of England she didn’t have to obey the nation’s laws. She also believed that as God had appointed her Queen she was justified in doing anything to take the throne that God meant her to have. As she said at her trial:
‘As an absolute Queen, I cannot submit to orders, nor can I submit to the laws of the land without injury to myself, the King my son and all other Sovereign Princes…For myself I do not recognise the laws of England…’
The years passed. Elizabeth’s advisors soon worked out how to intercept and decode Mary’s secret letters. But despite the plots against her, Elizabeth refused to have Mary put to death. None of Mary’s letters so far had actually said Elizabeth was to be killed—and Elizabeth, too, believed that a queen should not be judged.
Mary was still rich, thanks to her income as a former Queen of France. She was allowed to live like a queen, with almost as big a court as Elizabeth’s. She imported luxuries from France and Belgium, and her dresses were often more gorgeous than Elizabeth’s. As an ex-Queen of France, Mary had a top French dress designer and the finest French silks, and Elizabeth did not. Mary and her women were also skilled in the delicate embroidery of the French court. Even when many of her privi
leges were taken away Mary still had more than fifty attendants, and three coaches were needed just to carry her clothes.
But she grew older, and sicker. She had always had health problems—possibly a stomach ulcer. Now the cold of the castles and manor houses where she was kept, the stress of her imprisonment, and the lack of exercise—as well as her passion for very large, rich meals—made her even more ill. And she was desperate. She agreed to another plot—and this time she gave permission for her followers to kill Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had her arrested and tried. Mary was found guilty of conspiring to kill Elizabeth and take her throne. Elizabeth signed Mary’s death warrant.
But Elizabeth didn’t order Mary’s execution. Why? Was she hoping that someone would secretly murder Mary for her? (Mary was certainly afraid that this would happen.)
Maybe Elizabeth hoped that the trial and the death warrant would be enough to stop more conspiracies. Maybe she never meant to have Mary executed. We simply don’t know.
But we do know that Elizabeth’s ministers ordered the execution without telling Elizabeth. They felt that Mary was dangerous, and that Elizabeth would never be safe while she was alive.
Mary was executed when she was forty-four. The executioner missed the first time he tried to cut off her head, and only made a savage cut on her neck. But she bore the pain. He needed at least another three blows to hack through her spine. And after her death, her little dog…
But you know his story now.
WHAT HAPPENED AFTER MARY’S DEATH
Mary Stuart was buried in Peterborough Cathedral.
A year after Mary’s death Philip finally decided to attack England with his armada, or navy, using Mary’s execution as an excuse to attempt to seize the English throne and make England Roman Catholic again.
An enormous fleet of Spanish ships set sail for England—just as Mary had dreamt of. Would this be her revenge? Would her enemy Elizabeth be toppled from her throne, imprisoned as Mary had been? Would Elizabeth’s head be chopped off, as Mary’s had been—and Elizabeth’s mother’s had been too?
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