The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

“Herries and I have talked of this matter,” Fleming went on. “I shall tell Your Majesty’s Uncles, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine, what is happening to you in England. I shall explain to His Majesty of France that we do not trust the English and I shall ask for their help and advice.”

“We can trust them, I know,” said Mary. “They are indeed my friends.”

“It will be necessary for the Queen of England to give me a safe conduct,” Fleming pointed out.

“Which she will not do if she believes you are going to ask for French help,” added Herries. “The last thing she wishes to do is to bring the French into Scotland. It would not be a difficult matter then for them to cross the Border.”

“My plan, Your Majesty,” went on Fleming, “is to tell the Queen of England that the King of France has offered help—which he has—but that as you are not yet in a position to receive it you wish, while thanking him to ask if you may call on it later if and when you should be in a position to make use of it.”

“You think she will believe that?” asked Mary.

“We must hope that she will,” answered Herries. “We must take some action. If we do nothing we may be here for months.”

“You are right,” Mary told them. “We must act—even if by so doing we merely discover the true nature of Elizabeth’s feelings toward me.”

Shortly afterward Herries and Fleming set out for the English Court.

SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS was more pleased than he admitted to himself to see five small carts arriving in the courtyard accompanied by heavily laden packhorses. He went down to make a closer inspection, although he guessed whence these came.

“You come from Lord Moray?” he asked one of the drivers.

“Yes, my lord. With these goods which are for the use of the Queen-Mother of Scotland.”

“Then unload them with all speed,” ordered Sir Francis.

While this was being done, he made his way to Mary’s apartments and asked that he might see her.

She received him immediately, hoping that he brought news from his royal mistress; he was smiling and she began to believe that he would have been pleased to help her.

“I see that travelers are with us,” said Mary. “I trust they come from Queen Elizabeth.”

“No, Your Majesty, they come from Lord Moray in Scotland.”

Mary’s expression changed. “Then they can bring no good to me.”

“Yet I do not believe Your Majesty will be displeased when you see what has been brought.”

“I cannot conceive of any good coming to me from my bastard brother.”

“I have asked that these articles be sent to Your Majesty,” said Knollys. He smiled. “I have a wife, and I know how important such thing can be.”

“Do you mean that some of my possessions have been returned to me?”

“I sent word to Moray, asking him not to withhold your clothes but to send them to you here that you might have the pleasure of wearing them.”

“That was good of you, Sir Francis; but you remember that, the last time such a request was made, he sent me only things which I had long discarded . . . ruffs and coifs which were quite out of date, and dresses which were almost in rags. Indeed, what Moray sent me was only slightly better than those which your Queen sent . . . to my maids.”

Knollys looked uncomfortable for a few seconds, then he brightened. “I do not think you will be disappointed this time. May I have the articles brought to you?”

Mary’s smile was dazzling. “At least,” she said gently, “I rejoice that one of my jailors has a kind heart.”

“You must not think of me as such,” insisted Knollys.

“Nor shall I, when I receive my invitation to your Queen and we travel south,” was the answer. “When that will be, who shall say? So in the meantime let us content ourselves with seeing what my bastard brother has sent from my wardrobe.”

Mary summoned Seton, Jane Kennedy, Lady Livingstone and Marie Courcelles, and the packages were brought to the apartment.

This time they were not disappointed. Having received a request from an Englishman of such importance Moray had thought it wise not to ignore it.

The women cried out with pleasure as they unrolled eight ells of the finest black velvet, and thirty each of gray and black taffety. There were twelve pairs of shoes and four of slippers as well as stitching silk and jet buttons.

“Now,” cried Seton, “we shall be busy.”

IN SPITE OF the absence of Herries and Fleming, Mary had a larger retinue than she had had since leaving Scotland. Now and then some Scotsman would arrive at the castle with the request to be given a place in her household, in preparation for the day when he would return to Scotland to fight for her crown.

George Douglas, with Willie, was constantly on guard; she told them that she felt safe when they were near, and that constantly in her thoughts was the memory of what they had done for her at Lochleven. She now had her own two private secretaries, Gilbert Curle and Monsieur Claud Nau, as well as carvers, cupbearer, cook and scullions. A little Scottish Court was rapidly being formed in Carlisle Castle.

One day Sir Nicholas Elphinstone arrived at the castle with letters to Scrope and Knollys from Moray. This caused great consternation throughout Mary’s retinue, for Elphinstone was notoriously antagonistic to the Queen.

George Douglas swore that if he came face-to-face with Elphinstone he would challenge him and nothing but combat would satisfy him; Willie was brooding on a scheme for taking Elphinstone prisoner; and several of the lairds declared their intentions of challenging him to a duel.

Scrope, disconcerted, went to Knollys and was a little reproachful.

“You see what is happening. You have shown too much friendship toward the Queen of Scotland. You have allowed her to collect this entourage which is almost like a small court about her. Therefore, when a messenger from one with whom we have no quarrel arrives, they behave as though Carlisle Castle belonged to them and they had the right to say who should or should not be entertained here.”

Knollys saw the point of this and, as he was afraid that complaints might be made to Elizabeth, and as he knew that her chief feeling toward Mary was jealousy, he realized that he must in future act with more caution.

In the company of Scrope he went to her apartments; and Scrope opened the attack by protesting at the conduct of people like George Douglas, who had challenged a peaceful messenger who came to the castle.

“Your Majesty must remember that you are the guest of the Queen of England, and that you have no power to order who shall or shall not venture into the Castle of Carlisle.”

Mary haughtily replied: “This man is a Scotsman, and one of my subjects.”

“Your Majesty forgets,” went on Scrope, “that all Scotsmen do not call you their Queen.”

Mary flushed hotly. “This state of affairs shall not be allowed to last.”

Scrope looked doubtful, Knollys uncomfortable, and Mary went on in the impulsive way which was characteristic of her: “You do not think this so, my lords. I see from your expressions that you believe Lord Moray to be the ruler of Scotland in the name of my son. It will not long be so. Huntley, Argyle and others are with me. They assure me that very soon I shall be back in Edinburgh, the acknowledged Queen of Scotland. Ah, I see you do not believe me.” Determined to prove the truth of this statement she crossed the room and opened a drawer of her table. “Look at these, my lords. Letters, you see, from my friends. Huntley has the whole of the North behind him. I can picture him now . . . planning my return. I’ll swear his Highlanders are already marching to the lilt of the bagpipes.”

She was thrusting papers into their hands, and Knollys would have liked to warn her, but Scrope was scrutinizing the letters.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very, very interesting.”