The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗
She had written to Elizabeth telling her that as she had given her consent to the plan, she believed she should have Elizabeth’s own agreement in writing. She was sure the Queen would instruct Secretary Cecil to write to her confirming the offer which Herries had delivered orally.
Each day she waited for the Queen’s reply; but none came; yet she heard that Moray and Morton were preparing the case against her, and that it was accepted that she had agreed to have her case tried in England.
Sometimes she cried out in anger: “Who are these people to judge me? I will answer to one judge only and that judge is God, before whom I shall not be afraid to stand and declare my innocence.”
But it was too late to protest. Copies of the casket letters had already been translated, and Moray and Morton, in collusion with Cecil and his friends, were building the case against her.
Her friends in Scotland deplored this state of affairs. There was a little brightness in the immediate future however. Although she never went out unless accompanied by guards, and although the castle gates were carefully locked at night, Scotsmen were still allowed to come and go; and this meant that news could be brought to her from the world outside Bolton Castle.
While Herries walked with Mary in the grounds one day he said: “I think we have been too trusting.”
Mary nodded. “No word from Elizabeth. Do you think her ministers are preventing her from putting in writing what she told you?”
Herries was thoughtful. It was difficult to imagine the woman he had seen, taking orders from her ministers. She had appeared to him in the role of compassionate friend of his mistress, but he could not forget the demeanor of her courtiers, the docile manner in which they—and her foremost ministers—never failed to speak to her, as though she were a goddess. Could such a woman be waiting on the word of ministers who were so clearly preoccupied in discovering new ways of flattering her and winning her approval? Herries had begun to wonder whether he had been duped by the English Queen.
In any case while Mary was in England she was to a great extent at the mercy of Elizabeth; and knowing that ten thousand Scotsmen had rallied to Huntley’s banner, and that Frenchmen had been ready to come to her defense, he had been considering that if Mary were in Scotland she might have a better chance of bargaining with Elizabeth.
That was why he was thoughtful now. A scheme had been put before him. It was simple as he believed all good schemes should be. What could have been more simple than the escape from Lochleven? It could work.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I and others of your friends begin to think that we could more likely win Elizabeth’s help if you were not her prisoner. And let us face it—although she calls you her guest, you are in fact her prisoner.”
“You mean, if I were back in Scotland it would be easier to bargain with her.”
“I believe that to be so now, Your Majesty.”
“What would happen if I told Knollys and Scrope that I intended to return?”
“Your Majesty would be very politely and courteously prevented from doing so. That in itself should make us realize how necessary it is for you to return.”
“I see that you are as disturbed as I am because the Queen of England has not put her offer to me in writing, and has announced my willingness to have my case judged in England, without making it known what concessions she promised if I should do so. Oh yes, my dear Lord Herries, you are right, as you so often have been in all this wearisome business.”
“I fear I put too much trust in the Queen of England.”
Mary laid her hand on his arm. She understood how he had done that; she herself had been failing all along by putting her trust in those of whom he should have been wary. It was not in her nature to reprove others for faults which she herself possessed in greater measure. Nor would she have blamed any who made mistakes, if their intentions were good.
“So Your Majesty will perhaps listen to a plan for your escape,” went on Herries quietly.
“With pleasure,” she answered.
“Your servant, the Laird of Fernyhirst, has suggested that if you could cross the Border his castle would be at your disposal. Everything is being prepared to receive you there . . . providing you could leave Bolton Castle.”
Mary’s eyes began to sparkle. The thought of action after so much inactivity was inviting. Moreover she was weary of having to make continual requests to the Queen of England, who either ignored them or made promises which it seemed she was reluctant to keep. That box of worn-out shoes and rusty black velvet was not easily forgotten.
“How could I leave Bolton Castle?”
“Only after dark.”
“But there are guards at the doors.”
“The only way to escape would be through one of the windows of your apartments. If you could slip through the coppices, and down the hill, we could arrange for horses to be waiting there; and then . . . we are not so many miles from the Border.”
“Then let it be done,” cried Mary impulsively.
“There must be few in the secret, and few to go with you. Perhaps Mary Seton . . . Willie Douglas . . . myself . . . For a number of us to leave might mean our betrayal. Others could follow you once you were safely away. I am sure there would be no wish to detain them after you had gone.”
“Then let us decide how it shall be done.”
“First we will stroll around the castle to that window of your apartments which looks down on the grounds.”
They did this and, without appearing to pay much attention, carefully noticed the distance from window to grass below.
“You see,” said Herries, “it would be possible, once you reached the ground, to slip out through the coppices and if the horses were in readiness at the bottom of the hill you would be away in a matter of five or ten minutes.”
“What of the guards, and Scrope and Knollys?”
“They will be fast asleep in the ante-rooms. They will not think it possible for anyone to descend through that window. As long as the affair is conducted quietly you could be almost at the Border before the alarm is given.”
“Willie Douglas will doubtless have ideas of how this can be accomplished.”
“I had thought to enlist his help, Your Majesty. In spite of his achievement at Lochleven he is not taken seriously here; which is doubtless what he intends in order to be ready for an occasion like this. He is a smart young fellow. Strutting about with his sword, showing that disrespect for people in high places, amuses everyone. Yes, Willie can help in this. I thought of sending him away to procure the horses. He is less likely to be missed than anyone else for, as Your Majesty knows, he sometimes goes off into the country and stays away for hours. We will send him off to find horses immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Why not, Your Majesty? Fernyhirst is ready and waiting. As soon as you are safely in his castle he will send word to Huntley and the rest. I do not think that we shall then have to concern ourselves greatly about the conscience of the Queen of England.”
“I will take Seton with me,” said Mary.
“But no other maid. The entire success of this venture depends on its simplicity.”
“And you will be waiting for me with Willie and the horses.”
“I . . . or Livingstone . . . or one of us who can most easily be there. It matters not as long as you are away. You must make for the North without delay.”
Silently they continued their walk. Each was thinking of the plan.
It was so simple, they were sure they would succeed.
THE QUEEN HAD RETIRED for the night, and her faithful women who shared her chamber were alert. Mary did not undress. Instead she helped Jane and Marie who were knotting sheets together. They did not speak, for each knew the importance of making this appear to be like any other night the Queen had spent in Bolton Castle. In the next room Scrope and several of his men were sleeping. The low murmur of voices which had reached the waiting women had now ceased, and this meant that the moment had come, for the earlier the escape could be made the more time there would be for putting distance between the fugitive and Bolton Castle.
