The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗
She paused and looked out of her window from which she could see the blue hills of Scotland. If only she could go back to Langside, if only she had listened to the advice of the good Herries and her friends, she would not be here now. She would be with her friends in France; and although Catherine de’ Medici might be her enemy, there would have been powerful uncles to help her, and the King of France who had been so desperately in love with her would surely not have failed her.
She turned to her letter and continued:
. . . I beseech you not to allow me to be betrayed here to your dishonor. Give me leave to withdraw . . . .
Yes, she thought, I will go back to Scotland. If I could take boat to Dumbarton, there would be faithful friends waiting for me. I could join with Huntley and Argyle. She could see them—those brave, bold Highlanders; she could hear the skirl of their pipes.
God grant that they lessen not your authority by such practices, as they have promised Moray to lead you as they will, to lose the friendship of other Sovereigns, and to gain those who loudly proclaim that you are unworthy to reign. If I could speak to you, you would repent of having so long delayed to my injury in the first place, and to your prejudice in the second . . . .
She went on writing rapidly and, sealing her letter, sent for a messenger and bade him begone with all speed.
LIFE AT THE CASTLE was changing. There was little pretense now of treating her as anything but a prisoner. No man of her suite was allowed to have his quarters in the castle; Lord Scrope slept in the room adjoining hers; with him were his hagbutters who occupied the rooms leading to her apartments.
Mary was grateful for the company of her women. “Yet,” she said, “I cannot help wondering when they will deprive me of your company.”
“They never will,” Seton declared. “We shall simply refuse to leave you.”
“You forget, my dear, that we are in their power.”
One day when she walked in the grounds Knollys came to walk beside her. She was pleased to see him because his gentleness was comforting. She could not complain of disrespectful treatment from Lord Scrope, but he was the more severe jailor of the two. When she remembered the crude manners of Lindsay and some of the Scottish lords, when she thought of Bothwell himself, she felt she owed some gratitude to Scrope and Knollys who, determined as they were to keep her their prisoner, never failed to remember that she was a woman.
Knollys said: “I have good news for Your Majesty. You are to leave Carlisle for a more congenial place.”
She caught her breath. “You call that good news?”
“Bolton Castle is admirably situated.”
“For what?” she asked. “For prisoners?”
He turned to her. “I am sorry,” he said, “that I have the unfortunate task of insisting that you leave this place—but that is the case.”
“So I am to be taken from one prison to another! This is not strong enough; is that the case? I am too near Scotland, and the people who give you your instructions are anxious that I shall not escape them.”
“We shall endeavor to make you comfortable in Bolton Castle. There, Lady Scrope will be waiting to welcome you.”
“I am not sure that I shall go,” retorted Mary. “Here I am not far from home. Unless I receive an invitation to visit the Queen of England I do not feel inclined to leave Carlisle.”
Knollys sighed. He knew that it was not for her to decide. He also knew that the Queen had refused Fleming a safe conduct to France, that she had kept Herries in London because she was anxious to move Mary while he was away; Knollys believed that the cause of the Queen of Scots was a hopeless one; and he was deeply sorry for her.
DURING THE NEXT few days Mary thought constantly of George Douglas, and she longed to reward him for his devotion to her, for she knew that he was in love with her and that it was the love born of chivalry.
“Poor George,” she said to Seton in whom she confided most of her thoughts. “He is wasting his life with me.”
Seton who was dressing the Queen’s hair, paused, the comb in her hand and said:
“When the time comes for you to fight your way back to the throne and he is with you, he will not consider he has wasted his time.”
“If ever I return to the Scottish throne there shall be honors for George . . . and for Willie. Never, never shall I forget what they have done for me. Willie is but a boy and his lot here is no more uncomfortable than it was at Lochleven . . . but George is different. He is a young man who should be making his way in the world. He should find a beautiful wife and live happily with her, not spend his days in semi-captivity, sighing for a queen who can never be aught else to him. Seton, I wish there was something I could do for George.”
“You do all that he asks, simply by existing,” replied Seton with a smile.
“It is not enough. I want him to go from here, Seton.”
“George . . . leave you! He would never obey that command.”
“He would if I made it . . . in a certain way. Do you know that he was betrothed to a French heiress? Christian told me, and I have seen a portrait of her. She is very beautiful. I am sure George will love her.”
“George is faithful to one and one only.”
“Do not smile, Seton. I will not allow him to waste his manhood here in Carlisle . . . or Bolton . . . and perhaps other castles to which one day I shall be taken—for I begin to fear I shall never be allowed to visit Elizabeth.”
“Your Majesty is sad today.”
“Yes, because I know that soon I must say goodbye to George. There is something else, Seton. The men of my suite are no longer allowed to have their quarters in the castle. Since I read John Wood’s letters and have some idea of the correspondence which passes between the Regent and Elizabeth’s ministers, I suspect that ere long some of my faithful friends will be sent back to Scotland. What do you think their fate would be? If George were sent back, all that he has done for me would most certainly cost him his head. I am determined to prevent that. And there is only one way in which this can be done. I shall try to send George to France.”
“Lord Fleming, it seems, cannot obtain a safe conduct. Would George?”
“I think he might succeed where Lord Fleming has failed. His more humble status would make him seem less important in their eyes. And I should not make the mistake of sending letters with George.”
“Are you determined on this? You would miss him sadly.”
“I have thought of that. The parting will be a sad one for us both, but I am so fond of that young man, Seton, that I cannot let him waste his life for me. He is so young. He will in time outgrow his love for me. I shall be his Queen, and he will always be my faithful subject. But he would be happier with a wife . . . . with children and some hope of making his way in the world.”
“But when Your Majesty regains the throne?”
“The first thing I shall do will be to send for George Douglas and offer him honors which are his due.”
“So you are determined to see George. When will you do so?”
“There seems little point in delaying further. Let it be now, Seton. Send him to me.”
GEORGE STOOD before her, and when she saw the desolation in his eyes, she wavered.
Let him stay with her. It was what he wished; it was what she wished. Let the future take care of itself.
“Oh George,” she said, stretching out a hand to him which he took and covered with kisses, “do not think that I want you to go. I shall miss you very much. Do not think that I shall ever forget what you have done for me.”
“I ask only to be allowed to stay near you, to defend Your Majesty if need be, to be at your side . . . to serve you in victory or defeat.”
“I know, George. No Queen ever had more faithful subject; no woman more loving friend. But you have seen what has happened since our coming into England. It is very necessary that my friends in France should know what is happening to me. George, I begin to feel that is the only direction in which I can look for help. You will be on my service. I want you to go to France. I do not think the Queen of England will deny you a safe conduct as she has Lord Fleming. I want you to see the King, who is my very good friend. My uncles, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine will be your friends and take you to the Court. There you can do more for me than you can here in England.”
