Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean. Страница 54

And as the bridegroom, James, the new Earl, joined in the toast, he was not thinking of a possible meeting between the two Queens, because he did not believe it would come to pass; he was not thinking of his bride and his marriage, because that was something accomplished and he never wasted time in profitless thought; what occupied his mind was how he could openly call himself the Earl of Moray and take possession of the rich lands which went with the title, and he concluded that this could only come about through the downfall of the Cock o’ the North.

BOTHWELL WAS not pleased by the state of affairs. His prospects had promised to be so fair at that time when the Queen had sent for him to arrange her voyage back to Scotland. Since then he had twice been banished from Court. He was growing ambitious. He knew that James Stuart was against him; he knew too that James Stuart was a friend of the English. The Queen—a foolish woman—did not realize that. In her sentimental way she thought of her dear Jamie merely as her brother, not as the man whose chief aim was to strip her of power that he might add to his own.

He, Bothwell, wanted to see Scotland free from the French and the English. He was ready to serve the Queen; but he wanted a high place for the Earl of Bothwell.

He realized now that he had been foolish to allow his feud with the Hamiltons to put him out of favor. What he had done by his impulsive prank was to play right into the hands of James Stuart and Maitland; but he would beat them at their own game, and to do this he must contrive reconciliation with the Earl of Arran.

How to do this? Bothwell had an idea. He would seek the mediation of John Knox. Knox, of course, would condemn Bothwell for his profligate ways, but even so the Earl would not be so damned in the eyes of the preacher as some were, since he was a professed Protestant; moreover Knox himself came from the Border country and had lived with his parents in a district over which the Hepburns held sway. It was not difficult, therefore, to obtain, through a third party, the desired interview.

Knox received Bothwell in the sparsely furnished room at the manse not far from Market Cross.

“At last,” cried Knox, rising and standing as though he were addressing a meeting, “you have seen the errors of your ways. You have lived a riotous life and now you have come home… like the prodigal son. You wish to leave your sins behind you … to lead a better life…. You wish to love your neighbor as yourself—”

Patience was not one of Bothwell’s virtues. He cut the preacher short. “If I could have Arran’s friendship instead of his enmity,” he said, “I could stay at Court with a mere handful of servants. As it is, I have about me hundreds of men-at-arms. I must be prepared to meet an attack at any time, and it is very expensive.”

Knox was inclined to be lenient. When he was a boy he had been humble before the lords of the estate. This man with the arrogant manner had reawakened that youthful respect. Hard-livers the Hepburns had always been, but they had not been harsh with their own. Moreover, Knox saw in this lusty man one whose friendship could be useful to him.

“My lord,” he said, “I shall pray for you. I shall pray that I may be given the means of comforting you.”

Bothwell frowned. He had not come for a sermon and he was not going to promise to mend his ways. He interrupted: “You have influence with Arran. I would have you make him understand that this quarrel between us is fruitless. Arrange a meeting and reconciliation between us. That is what I ask, Master Knox.”

“My lord, the angels are smiling at this moment. Brotherly love, they sing. Rejoice, for he whom we thought to be lost to the Devil has turned to God. You will not lose, my lord, for this nights work.”

Bothwell thanked the preacher and left. He was pleased with what he had done.

He was even more delighted when, at the meeting arranged by Knox, he took Arran’s hand in his and, looking into the half-crazy eyes, swore eternal friendship.

After that they surprised all Edinburgh. During the next few days wherever Arran was, there was Bothwell. They drank together; they were seen walking arm-in-arm along the Canongate.

MARY, with a small train of followers, had traveled up to Falkland Palace to enjoy a little hawking. To the delight of all who saw her, she rode out, a dainty sight, her falcon on her wrist. Beside her rode her brother, the Earl of Mar, and among those who accompanied them were her brother’s new wife, Agnes Keith, and the four Marys.

It was when they had returned after an afternoons sport that a special messenger came riding to the palace. He must see the Queen at once, he declared; he had a dispatch for her which was a warning, and of the utmost importance.

“Whence comes he?” asked Mar.

“From the Earl of Arran, my lord, who declares that the Queen must, without delay, be made aware of the plots against her.”

James Stuart took the dispatch at once to Mary and remained with her while she read it.

“But this is… incredible!” she cried. “It cannot be true. Arran is mad. He says that there is a plot concocted by himself, his father, Chatelherault, and Bothwell. They plan to abduct me, carry me off to Dumbarton Castle, murder any who resist, and keep me a prisoner until I marry Arran. They will force me to the marriage, if need be. And Bothwell is to see that all is carried out according to plan.”

“Why does Arran let you into the secret?”

“At the last moment he cannot go on with it. He wishes to warn me against Bothwell who is ruthless enough to attempt anything. James, it is ridiculous. Arran is no longer half-mad; he has completely lost his wits.”

James took the dispatch and read it. “It is coherent enough. It does not read like the words of a madman.”

“Jamie… you cannot believe …”

“My dearest sister, we cannot be too careful. Arran is mad enough for anything. Chatelherault is ambitious enough and Bothwell is wild enough to attempt to carry out this plan.”

“Seize my person! Keep me prisoner!”

“Aye! And inflict God knows what humiliations upon you.”

“It is a mad notion of Arran s, I am sure. The plan has no meaning outside that poor brain. You will remember he once before talked of kidnapping me… and it came to nothing.”

“Mary, you are the Queen. You are also a very desirable woman. Do not lose sight of these facts.”

“What am I to do, Jamie?”

“Have them all placed under arrest. That is the only way to ensure safety.”

“First we should ascertain how deep in madness Arran is.”

“An order should be issued at once for the arrest of Arran, Chatelherault and Bothwell.”

“Let us take Arran first and hear what he has to say.”

“What! And leave his father and Bothwell free to carry out their diabolical plans! Bothwell is at the bottom of this, you may depend upon it. Bothwell and Chatelherault! They are a pair of knaves, using this poor madman to serve their ends.”

“But of what use could my marriage with Arran be to Bothwell?”

“How can we know what plans the Borderer makes?”

Mary was uneasy. She had hoped that the friendship between Arran and Bothwell would put an end to the strife; could it be possible that the insolent Borderer had arranged it in order to sway poor Arran to his will?

Only a few hours after the messenger from Arran had arrived, a member of the Hamilton family came riding with all speed to the castle of Falkland. He was Gavin Hamilton, the Abbot of Kilwinning, and he declared that his kinsman, the Duke of Chatelherault, had begged him to set out with all speed to Falkland as the Duke feared his son had completely lost his reason. He had come to his fathers house of Kinneil with a wild story, and the Duke thought the Queen should know that he had put his son under lock and key.