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turn the tables on these traitorous gentlemen. Listen.” And she
added matter that begat fresh hope in Darnley’s despairing soul.
He kissed her hands, lowly now and obedient as a hound that had
been whipped to heel, and went below to bear her message to the
lords.
Morton and Ruthven heard him out, but betrayed no eagerness to
seize the opportunity.
“All this is but words that we hear,” growled Ruthven , who lay
stretched upon a couch, grimly suffering from the disease that
was, slowly eating up his life.
“She is guileful as the serpent,” Morton added, “being bred up in
the Court of France. She will make you follow her will and desire,
but she will not so lead us. We hold her fast, and we do not let
her go without some good security of what shall follow.”
“What security will satisfy you?” quoth Darnley.
Murray and Lindsay came in as he was speaking, and Morton told them
of the message that Darnley had brought. Murray moved heavily
across to a window-seat, and sat down. He cleared a windowpane with
his hand, and looked out upon the wintry landscape as if the matter
had no interest for him. But Lindsay echoed what the other twain
had said already.
“We want a deal more than promises that need not be kept,” he said.
Darnley looked from one to the other of them, seeing in their
uncompromising attitude a confirmation of what the Queen had told
him, and noting, too - as at another time he might not have noted
- their utter lack of deference to himself, their King.
“Sirs,” he said, “I vow you wrong Her Majesty. I will stake my
life upon her honour.”
“Why, so you may,” sneered Ruthven, “but you’ll not stake ours.”
“Take what security you please, and I will subscribe it.”
“Aye, but will the Queen?” wondered Morton.
“She will. I have her word for it.”
It took them the whole of that day to consider the terms of the
articles that would satisfy them. Towards evening the document
was ready, and Morton and Ruthven representing all, accompanied by
Murray, and introduced by Darnley, came to the chamber to which Her
Majesty was confined by the guard they had set upon her.
She sat as if in state awaiting them, very lovely and very tearful,
knowing that woman’s greatest strength is in her weakness, that
tears would serve her best by presenting her as if broken to their
will.
In outward submission they knelt before her to make the pretence
of suing for the pardon which they extorted by force of arms and
duress. When each in his turn had made the brief pleading oration
he had prepared, she dried her eyes and controlled herself by
obvious effort.
“My lords,” she said, in a voice that quivered and broke on every
other word, “when have ye ever found me blood-thirsty, or greedy
of your lands or goods that you must use me so, and take such means
with me? Ye have set my authority at naught, and wrought sedition
in this realm. Yet I forgive you all, that by this clemency I may
move you to a better love and loyalty. I desire that all that is
passed may be buried in oblivion, so that you swear to me that in
the future you will stand my friends and serve me faithfully, who
am but a weak woman, and sorely need stout men to be my friends.”
For a moment her utterance was checked by sobs. Then she controlled
herself again by an effort so piteous to behold that even the
flinty-hearted Ruthven was moved to some compassion.
“Forgive this weakness in me, who am very weak, for very soon I am
to be brought to bed as you well know, and I am in no case to offer
resistance to any. I have no more to say, my lords. Since you
promise on your side that you will put all disloyalty behind you,
I pledge myself to remit and pardon all those that were banished
for their share in the late rising, and likewise to pardon those
that were concerned in the killing of Seigneur Davie. All this
shall be as if it had never been. I pray you, my lords, make your
own security in what sort you best please, and I will subscribe it.”
Morton proffered her the document they had prepared. She conned
it slowly, what time they watched her, pausing ever and anon to
brush aside the tears that blurred her vision. At last she nodded
her lovely golden head.
“It is very well,” she said. “All is here as I would have it be
between us.” And she turned to Darnley. “Give me pen and ink,
my lord.”
Darnley dipped a quill and handed it to her. She set the
parchment on the little pulpit at her side. Then, as she bent to
sign, the pen fluttered from her fingers, and with a deep,
shuddering sigh she sank back in her chair, her eyes closed, her
face piteously white.
“The Queen is faint!” cried Murray, springing forward.
But she rallied instantly, smiling upon them wanly.
“It is naught; it is past,” she said. But even as she spoke she
put a hand to her brow. “I am something dizzy. My condition - “
She faltered on a trembling note of appeal that increased their
compassion, and aroused in them a shame of their own harshness.
“Leave this security with me. I will subscribe it in the morning
- indeed, as soon as I am sufficiently recovered.”
They rose from their knees at her bidding, and Morton in the name
of all professed himself full satisfied, and deplored the affliction
they had caused her, for which in the future they should make her
their amends.
“I thank you,” she answered simply. “You have leave to go.”
They departed well satisfied; and, counting the matter at an end,
they quitted the palace and rode to their various lodgings in
Edinburgh town, Murray going with Morton.
Anon to Maitland of Lethington, who had remained behind, came one
of the Queen’s women to summon him to her presence. He found her
disposing herself for bed, and was received by her with tearful
upbraidings.
“Sir,” she said, “one of the conditions upon which I consented to
the will of their lordships was that an immediate term should be
set to the insulting state of imprisonment in which I am kept here.
Yet men-at-arms still guard the very door of my chamber, and my
very attendants are hindered in their comings and goings. Do you
call this keeping faith with me? Have I not granted all the
requests of the lords?”
Lethington, perceiving the justice of what she urged, withdrew
shamed and confused at once to remedy the matter by removing the
guards from the passage and the stairs and elsewhere, leaving none
but those who paced outside the palace.
It was a rashness he was bitterly to repent him on the morrow, when
it was discovered that in the night Mary had not only escaped, but
had taken Darnley with her. Accompanied by him and a few attendants,
she had executed the plan in which earlier that day she had secured
her scared husband’s cooperation. At midnight they had made their
way along the now unguarded corridors, and descended to the vaults
of the palace, whence a secret passage communicated with the chapel.
Through this and across the graveyard where lay the newly buried
body of the Siegneur Davie - almost across the very grave itself
which stood near the chapel door they had won to the horses waiting
by Darnley’s orders in the open. And they had ridden so hard that
by five o’clock of that Tuesday morning they were in Dunbar.
In vain did the alarmed lords send a message after her to demand
her signature of the security upon which she had duped them into
counting prematurely.
Within a week they were in full flight before the army at the head
of which the prisoner who had slipped through their hands was
returning to destroy them. Too late did they perceive the arts by
which she had fooled them, and seduced the shallow Darnley to
betray them.
II. THE NIGHT OF KIRK O’ FIELD
The Murder of Darnley
Perhaps one of the greatest mistakes of a lifetime in which mistakes
were plentiful was the hesitancy of the Queen of Scots in executing
upon her husband Darnley the prompt vengeance she had sworn for the
murder of David Rizzio.
When Rizzio was slain, and she herself held captive by the murderers
in her Palace of Holyrood, whilst Darnley ruled as king, she had
simulated belief in her husband’s innocence that she might use him
for her vengeful ends.
She had played so craftily upon his cowardly nature as to convince
him that Morton, Ruthven, and the other traitor lords with whom he
had leagued himself were at heart his own implacable enemies; that
they pretended friendship for him to make a tool of him, and that
when he had served their turn they would destroy him.
In his consequent terror he had betrayed his associates, assisting
her to trick them by a promise to sign an act of oblivion for what
was done. Trusting to this the lords had relaxed their vigilance,
whereupon, accompanied by Darnley, she had escaped by night from
Holyrood.
Hope tempering at first the rage and chagrin in the hearts of the
lords she had duped, they had sent a messenger to her at Dunbar to
request of her the fulfilment of her promise to sign the document
of their security.
But Mary put off the messenger, and whilst the army she had summoned
was hastily assembling, she used her craft to divide the rebels
against themselves.
To her natural brother, the Earl of Murray, to Argyll, and to all
those who had been exiled for their rebellion at the time of her
marriage - and who knew not where they stood in the present turn of
events, since one of the objects of the murder had been to procure
their reinstatement - she sent an offer of complete pardon, on
condition that they should at once dissociate themselves from those
concerned in the death of the Seigneur Davie.
These terms they accepted thankfully, as well they might. Thereupon,
finding themselves abandoned by all men - even by Darnley in whose
service they had engaged in the murder - Morton, Ruthven, and their
associates scattered and fled.
By the end of that month of March, Morton, Ruthven, Lindsay of the
Byres, George Douglas, and some sixty others were denounced as
rebels with forfeiture of life and goods, while one Thomas Scott,
who had been in command of the guards that had kept Her Majesty
prisoner at Holyrood, was hanged, drawn, and quartered at the
Market Cross.
News of this reached the fugitives to increase their desperate rage.
But what drove the iron into the soul of the arch-murderer Ruthven
was Darnley’s solemn public declaration denying all knowledge of or
complicity in Rizzio’s assassination; nor did it soothe his fury to
know that all Scotland rang with contemptuous laughter at that
impudent and cowardly perjury. From his sick-bed at Newcastle,
whereon some six weeks later he was to breathe his last, the
forsaken wretch replied to it by sending the Queen the bond to
which he had demanded Darnley’s signature before embarking upon
the business.
It was a damning document. There above the plain signature and
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