Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗
Men were sent on in advance to warn the townsfolk of the Queen’s arrival. Mary glanced over her shoulder to where the galley lay like a ghost-ship in the mist. More people came out of their hovels to look at her, to stare incredulously at the display of glittering jewels. Their low voices mingled with the doleful cries of the seabirds and Mary could not understand what they said.
And if she, with her beauty and her fine clothes, startled her subjects, what she had seen of them and the hovels in which they lived startled her. Never during her years in France had she been allowed to glimpse such poverty. These people’s houses were little more than mud huts; the children, ill-clad and ill-fed, crawled about on the stones while the women sat at the doors mending nets. Mary believed they did not know who she was. Deeply she pitied them and yet she found herself turning from them in revulsion.
But now the pages and heralds were returning, and with them came hurrying some of the chief burghers of the town. These, though rough men, were a little more aware of what was due to their Queen. They knelt before her and, kissing her hand, swore their loyalty.
They explained to her that their town had been ravaged over and over again by the English hordes. After raids many of the houses were burned to the ground. In these hard days they had scarcely the time or the inclination, even if they had the money, to rebuild. There was no castle in Leith worthy to shelter the Queen. Where she could rest that night, none could say.
One of the burghers, Andrew Lambie, came forward and, kneeling before her, cried: “Your Majesty, my house is a humble one, but it is at your service. If you will accept a lodging, although I cannot pretend that it is worthy to receive you, the honor will never be forgotten by your humble subject.”
Mary smiled with relief and gratitude. “Your offer is accepted, good Master Lambie,” she said. “I thank you. You are the first who has made me feel really welcome in my country.”
SO SHE LAY that night on a humble bed in a small room where the rafters seemed to be pressing down upon her, covered by a homespun blanket. It had been a strange experience.
“It is only for a night,” she said to Beaton. “Tomorrow we shall ride to my capital, and then everything will be different. I shall ride on my palfrey. Perhaps the mist will lift and all the people will come out to greet me. They will know me for their Queen.”
The Marys exchanged glances. They had decided they would not tell her yet that one of the galleys of their little fleet had been captured by the English. It was the one in which the palfrey was being carried, and with it all the beautiful horses which were used in the processions, together with the rich hangings and canopies and magnificent house furnishings which Mary had decided she could not leave behind.
But Mary had seen their glances and she demanded to be enlightened.
“Then how shall we ride into my capital tomorrow?” she asked.
“Doubtless we shall be able to find horses as fine,” said Livy.
“Where?” demanded Mary.
Livy waved her hand. “Oh… here…. There are bound to be horses… magnificent horses.”
Mary laughed. “In those mud huts! I doubt if the poor creatures would recognize a fine horse … let alone possess one.”
“Let tomorrows troubles take care of themselves,” said Seton earnestly.
Mary began to laugh. “I cannot help it. It is funny. Such pomp we enjoyed, did we not? My lord Cardinal… my lord Duke in all their robes, and their coaches covered with cloth of gold and silver. What a glittering array! And all to say farewell to me. And then… my arrival! That should be a joyous thing, should it not? A Queen comes home… but there is no one to greet her … no one but a few ragged children who come out of their hovels to see what the tide had thrown up. It is funny. Laugh, Seton. Beaton, you too. Livy! Flem! I command you to laugh.”
They tried to soothe her, but Mary could not stop laughing. The tears were rolling down her cheeks and suddenly her four Marys realized that she was not laughing; she was weeping, wildly and bitterly.
She threw herself on to the burgher’s bed which creaked and groaned under her shaking body.
EARLY NEXT MORNING, having heard of the Queen’s arrival, some Scottish noblemen came riding into Leith.
Mary was delighted to see her brother, Lord James, and with him that man who was his staunchest supporter and of whom she had heard so much—Maitland of Lethington. Immediately on their heels came the Due de Chatelherault and his son, Arran. She was less pleased to see those two; and the sullen-eyed Arran, whose offer of marriage had been rather curtly refused by her uncles on her behalf, made her very uncomfortable. His brooding eyes did not leave her face; he was already far gone in sickness of the mind.
But she felt more at home to have those men she knew, if only by name, surrounding her. Her brother took command; his clothes might seem shabby beside those of the French, and his horse was by no means a credit to him, yet he had dignity; moreover he was her own flesh and blood.
When he saw the room in which she had spent the night he was greatly disturbed; but she could laugh at it now.
“It was most graciously offered,” she said.
“And was the journey good?” he asked, taking her hand and smiling indulgently at her.
“It could have been worse. Suffice it that we have safely arrived, although we have lost one of the galleys to the English. It contains my palfrey.”
“Then we shall have to find a new one for you. Your subjects wish you to be happy here, but none wishes it more than he who is your most loyal subject… your own brother.”
“I know it. Jamie, if you were not a Protestant you would be perfect.”
That made him laugh. He was handsome when he laughed; it was then that the Stuart charm broke through his seriousness.
“You will find Holyrood and Edinburgh Castle very different from Fontainebleau and the Louvre,” he told her. “You know that, do you not? There are no Gobelins tapestries… none of your fountains and flower gardens, no glittering chandeliers nor Venetian mirrors to which you are accustomed.”
“I brought furnishings with me. It is to be hoped the English have not taken all. I can send for more.”
“You must do that,” said James. “You must make your own Court as you would have it, and you will be its delightful Queen. I doubt not that erelong you will have made a little France of your apartments in Holyrood, and there you will have your songsters and your poets.”
“Jamie, you are my dear brother. You know how I suffer from homesickness … for it is hard not to think of the land in which one has lived so many years as home.”
“I understand,” said James. He was pleased with her. She was charming. She was as beautiful as a butterfly, and so should she be, flitting from pleasure to pleasure. Let her have her Little France in Holyroodhouse; let her have her fancy poets and her mincing gentleman dancers. Let her have all she wanted, provided she left the government of Scotland to Lord James Stuart.
THEY SEARCHED every stable in Leith to find a mount worthy of her, but they had set themselves an impossible task. At last they found a weary old nag who had seen happier days; he was mostly skin and bone and had a pathetic expression which made the Queen want to weep for him. On his back was a scratched old saddle.
Alas, it was a poor substitute for her palfrey, but it was the best they could find; and when she saw the mounts provided for the rest of the party she realized that hers was comparatively handsome.
So they left Leith watched by the silent fisherfolk, and a strange sight they were, with the Queen of Scotland, richly clad and glittering with jewels, leading the party with her brother Lord James Stuart, and behind them the colorful courtiers dressed in the French manner riding on a collection of horses which, said Mary, might have been rescued from an abattoir.
