Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean (читать книги полностью без сокращений .txt) 📗

He began to brood on the influence Moray had with the Queen; he remembered that Moray had been against the marriage in the first place.

He burst in on Mary one evening in August and cried out that he was tired of being left out of affairs, and he would no longer stand by and allow insults to be heaped upon him.

Mary took little notice of such outbursts. She was playing chess with Beaton, and went on with the game.

Darnley kicked a stool across the apartment.

“Your move, Beaton,” said Mary.

“Listen to me!” roared Darnley.

Mary said: “I’ve got you, I think, Beaton, my dear. Two moves back you had a chance.”

“Stop it!” cried Darnley. “Stop ignoring me. Come here. Come here at once. I tell you, I’m tired of being treated thus. You will come with me now… and we will resume our normal relations.”

“Will you leave this apartment,” said the Queen, rising from the chess table, “or shall I have you forcibly removed?”

“Listen to me. If it were not for my enemies I should have my rights. I should be King of this realm. I should be master in our apartments. I would not allow you to turn me out.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Mary, “this is very tiresome. We have heard all this before, and we are weary of the repetition.”

There was one thing which infuriated him beyond endurance, and that was not to be treated seriously. He drew his sword and cried: “Erelong you will see that I am not ineffectual. When I bring you your brother’s bleeding head, you will know what I mean. He is against me. He always has been. I am going to kill Moray. I shall waste no more time.” With that he rushed from the room.

Mary sat down and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t help it,” she sobbed. “He fills me with such shame. I wish to God I had never seen him. I would to God someone would rid me of him. Beaton … I doubt that he will attempt anything, but go at once to my brother and tell him in my name what he has said. He had better be warned for if aught should happen to James it would doubtless be said that I had had a hand in it.”

Mary Beaton hurried to do her bidding while Mary sat back and stared helplessly at the chessboard. She might pretend indifference to him, but how could she be indifferent? All that he did humiliated her beyond expression.

Oh God, she thought, how I hate him!

MORAY KNEW well how to deal with Darnley and his folly.

Calmly he summoned Darnley to appear before him and a company of the most important of the lords at the Court. Darnley, afraid to refuse to appear, went reluctantly and was put through an examination by Moray himself who forced him to confess that he had uttered threats against him. Darnley blustered and denied this, until witnesses were brought who had overheard his words to the Queen.

Always at a loss in a crisis, Darnley lied and blustered and was easily proved to be both lying and blustering. He looked at the cold faces of his accusers and knew that they were his enemies. He broke down and sobbed out that everyone was against him.

Had he spoken threats against Moray? they insisted.

Yes … yes … he had, and they all hated him; they were all jealous of him because the Queen had chosen to marry him; and although she appeared to hate him now, once it had been a very different story.

“I must ask you,” said Moray, “to withdraw those threats and to swear before these gentlemen that you will not attempt to murder either me or any of those whom you believe to be your enemies. If you will not do this, it will be necessary to place you under arrest immediately.”

He was beaten and he knew it. They were too clever for him. He had to submit. He had to ask Moray’s pardon; he had to swear not to be foolish again.

They despised him; they had made that clear. They did not think it worthwhile to arrest him; they did not want to punish him; they merely wished to make him look a fool.

MARY WAS ABLE to forget her unhappiness for a time. Something rather pleasant had happened. Her dear Beaton, after being miserable on the banishment of Randolph, had fallen in love.

Mary was happy about this. It seemed a charming solution to something which had worried her. She wished she could have overlooked Randolph’s perfidy for the sake of poor Beaton. But that could not be, and the man had had to go; but now Beaton was in love again and this time it was with Alexander Ogilvie of Boyne.

This was a particularly happy state of affairs, for Mary had given her consent to the marriage of Bothwell with Jean Gordon, and Jean Gordon had once been promised to this very Alexander Ogilvie. He must have recovered from the loss of Jean, for now he seemed eager to marry Mary Beaton.

She told Bothwell of this. “I am so happy about it. Mary Beaton is such a charming girl, and I am glad to see her so happy. I shall have the marriage contract drawn up at once.”

“I see, Madam,” said Bothwell. “Was this Ogilvie not the man to whom my wife was once promised?”

“Did you not remember then? It is the very same. Ah, my lord, I expect you have made dear Jean forget she ever had a fancy for this man.”

She wondered how Jean enjoyed being married to the man. She had heard rumors that he had not mended his ways since marriage. But, she thought comfortably, Jean would know how to deal with trouble of that sort.

She gave herself up to the pleasure of preparing for Beaton’s marriage. There was one who was a little saddened by the prospect of another marriage. Poor Flem! Maitland was still in exile. Flem talked of him often, pointing out to the Queen that he was her best statesman, demanding to know if it was not folly to keep in exile a great man whose one desire was to work for his Queen.

“Dear Flem,” said Mary, “I can understand your feelings. Maitland is charming and clever. I know that. But if he were not involved in the murder of poor David, why did he find it necessary to go away?”

“Madam, he knew that Bothwell was his enemy and he also knew that you trusted Bothwell more than any man.”

“Happily would I have trusted Maitland if he would have allowed me to.”

“Dearest, you could trust him. He is your loyal subject and you need him. You know that none has his subtle cleverness. You know he is the greatest statesman in this country.”

“I believe you are right in that, Flem.”

“Then, dear Madam, forgive him—if there is anything to forgive. Recall him. You know that he was no friend to Morton and Ruthven. Oh, it is true that he did not care for David. Remember he was your first minister, before David took his place in your trust. And why did David take his place? Only because Lord Maitland was doing you good service in England, to which country you sent him knowing that he could serve you at the English Court more wisely than any of your subjects.”

“You are a good advocate, Flem, and I will think about it. I believe it is very likely that I shall recall the fellow.”

“Dearest…”

“Oh, I do not think that he is without blame. But you must keep him in order if I allow him to return, and you must warn him that he must be as faithful to me as his wife is, and that it is due to my love for her that I pass over his disaffection.”

Flem kissed her mistress’s hand and went on kissing it.

BOTHWELL HEARD rumors that Maitland was about to be recalled. He cursed aloud. He did not like Maitland. The suave courtier was too cunning for him. He feared that if Maitland returned to Court it would not be long—with the influence of Mary Fleming—before some charge would be raked up against Bothwell which might result in his falling from the Queens favor. He did not forget Maitland’s share in bringing about his exile from the Court. He also suspected Maitland had played some part—though perhaps a small one—in the plot to poison him. They were natural enemies, and he must do all he could to prevent his return to Court.