The Historical Nights' Entertainment: First Series, Page 3

  I. THE NIGHT OF HOLYROOD--The Murder of David Rizzio

  The tragedy of my Lord Darnley's life lay in the fact that he was aman born out of his proper station--a clown destined to kingship by theaccident of birth and fortune. By the blood royal flowing in his veins,he could, failing others, have claimed succession to both the Englishand the Scottish thrones, whilst by his marriage with Mary Stuart hemade a definite attempt to possess himself of that of Scotland.

  The Queen of Scots, enamoured for a season of the clean-limbed grace andalmost feminine beauty ("ladyfaced," Melville had called him once) ofthis "long lad of nineteen" who came a-wooing her, had soon discovered,in matrimony, his vain, debauched, shiftless, and cowardly nature. Shehad married him in July of 1565, and by Michaelmas she had come to knowhim for just a lovely husk of a man, empty of heart or brain; and theknowledge transmuted affection into contempt.

  Her natural brother, the Earl of Murray, had opposed the marriage,chiefly upon the grounds that Darnley was a Catholic, and with Argyll,Chatellerault, Glencairn, and a host of other Protestant lords, hadrisen in arms against his sovereign and her consort. But Mary had chasedher rebel brother and his fellows over the border into England, and bythis very action, taken for the sake of her worthless husband, she sowedthe first seeds of discord between herself and him. It happened thatstout service had been rendered her in this affair by the arrogantborder ruffian, the Earl of Bothwell. Partly to reward him, partlybecause of the confidence with which he inspired her, she bestowedupon him the office of Lieutenant-General of the East, Middle, and WestMarches--an office which Darnley had sought for his father, Lennox.That was the first and last concerted action of the royal couple.Estrangement grew thereafter between them, and, in a measure, as it grewso did Darnley's kingship, hardly established as yet--for the Queen hadstill to redeem her pre-nuptial promise to confer upon him the crownmatrimonial--begin to dwindle.

  At first it had been "the King and Queen," or "His Majesty and Hers";but by Christmas--five months after the wedding--Darnley was knownsimply as "the Queen's husband," and in all documents the Queen's namenow took precedence of his, whilst coins bearing their two heads, andthe legend "Hen. et Maria," were called in and substituted by a newcoinage relegating him to the second place.

  Deeply affronted, and seeking anywhere but in himself and his ownshortcomings the cause of the Queen's now manifest hostility, hepresently conceived that he had found it in the influence exerted uponher by the Seigneur Davie--that Piedmontese, David Rizzio, who had cometo the Scottish Court some four years ago as a starveling minstrel inthe train of Monsieur de Morette, the ambassador of Savoy.

  It was Rizzio's skill upon the rebec that had first attracted Mary'sattention. Later he had become her secretary for French affairs and theyoung Queen, reared amid the elegancies of the Court of France, grewattached to him as to a fellow-exile in the uncouth and turbulent landover which a harsh destiny ordained that she should rule. Using hisopportunities and his subtle Italian intelligence, he had advanced sorapidly that soon there was no man in Scotland who stood higher withthe Queen. When Maitland of Lethington was dismissed under suspicion offavouring the exiled Protestant lords, the Seigneur Davie succeeded himas her secretary; and now that Morton was under the same suspicion, itwas openly said that the Seigneur Davie would be made chancellor in hisstead.

  Thus the Seigneur Davie was become the most powerful man in Scotland,and it is not to be dreamt that a dour, stiff-necked nobility wouldsuffer it without demur. They intrigued against him, putting it abroad,amongst other things, that this foreign upstart was an emissary, of thePope's, scheming to overthrow the Protestant religion in Scotland. Butin the duel that followed their blunt Scotch wits were no match for hisItalian subtlety. Intrigue as they might his power remained unshaken.And then, at last it began to be whispered that he owed his high favourwith the beautiful young Queen to other than his secretarial abilities,so that Bedford wrote to Cecil:

  "What countenance the Queen shows David I will not write, for the honourdue to the person of a queen."

  This bruit found credit--indeed, there have been ever since those whohave believed it--and, as it spread, it reached the ears of Darnley.Because it afforded him an explanation of the Queen's hostility, sincehe was without the introspection that would have discovered the trueexplanation in his own shortcomings, he flung it as so much fuel uponthe seething fires of his rancour, and became the most implacable ofthose who sought the ruin of Rizzio.

  He sent for Ruthven, the friend of Murray and the exiled lords--exiled,remember, on Darnley's own account--and offered to procure thereinstatement of those outlaws if they would avenge his honour and makehim King of Scots in something more than name.

  Ruthven, sick of a mortal illness, having risen from a bed of pain tocome in answer to that summons, listened dourly to the frothing speechesof that silly, lovely boy.

  "No doubt you'll be right about yon fellow Davie," he agreed sombrely,and purposely he added things that must have outraged Darnley's everyfeeling as king and as husband. Then he stated the terms on whichDarnley might count upon his aid.

  "Early next month Parliament is to meet over the business of a Billof Attainder against Murray and his friends, declaring them by theirrebellion to have forfeited life, land, and goods. Ye can see the powerwith her o' this foreign fiddler, that it drives her so to attaint herown brother. Murray has ever hated Davie, knowing too much of what lies'twixt the Queen and him to her dishonour, and Master Davie thinks so tomake an end of Murray and his hatred."

  Darnley clenched teeth and hands, tortured by the craftily administeredpoison.

  "What then? What is to do?" he cried,

  Ruthven told him bluntly.

  "That Bill must never pass. Parliament must never meet to pass it. Youare Her Grace's husband and King of Scots."

  "In name!" sneered Darnley bitterly.

  "The name will serve," said Ruthven. "In that name ye'll sign me a bondof formal remission to Murray and his friends for all their actions andquarrels, permitting their safe return to Scotland, and charging thelieges to convoy them safely. Do that and leave the rest to us."

  If Darnley hesitated at all, it was not because he perceived the ironyof the situation--that he himself, in secret opposition to the Queen,should sign the pardon of those who had rebelled against her preciselybecause she had taken him to husband. He hesitated because indecisionwas inherent in his nature.

  "And then?" he asked at last.

  Ruthven's blood-injected eyes considered him stonily out of a livid,gleaming face.

  "Then, whether you reign with her or without her, reign you shall asKing o' Scots. I pledge myself to that, and I pledge those others, sothat we have the bond."

  Darnley sat down to sign the death warrant of the Seigneur Davie.

  It was the night of Saturday, the 9th of March.

  A fire of pine logs burned fragrantly on the hearth of the small closetadjoining the Queen's chamber, suffusing it with a sense of comfort,the greater by contrast with the cheerlessness out of doors, where aneasterly wind swept down from Arthur's Seat and moaned its dismal wayover a snowclad world.

  The lovely, golden-headed young queen supped with a little company ofintimates: her natural sister, the Countess of Argyll, the Commendatorof Holyrood, Beaton, the Master of the Household, Arthur Erskine, theCaptain of the Guard, and one other--that, David Rizzio, who from anerrant minstrel had risen to this perilous eminence, a man of a swarthy,ill-favoured countenance redeemed by the intelligence that glowed inhis dark eyes, and of a body so slight and fragile as to seem almostmisshapen. His age was not above thirty, yet indifferent health, earlyprivation, and misfortune had so set their mark upon him that he hadall the appearance of a man of fifty. He was dressed with sombremagnificence, and a jewel of great price smouldered upon the middlefinger of one of his slender, delicate hands.

  Supper was at an end. The Queen lounged on a long seat over against thetapestried wall. The Countess of Argyll, in a tall chair on the Queen'sle
ft, sat with elbows on the table watching the Seigneur Davie's finefingers as they plucked softly at the strings of a long-necked lute. Thetalk, which, intimate and untrammelled, had lately been of the childof which Her Majesty was to be delivered some three months hence, wasflagging now, and it was to fill the gap that Rizzio had taken up thelute.

  His harsh countenance was transfigured as he caressed the strings, hissoul absorbed in the theme of his inspiration. Very softly--indeed, nomore than tentatively as yet--he was beginning one of those wistful airsin which his spirit survives in Scotland to this day, when suddenly theexpectant hush was broken by a clash of curtain-rings. The tapestriesthat masked the door had been swept aside, and on the threshold,unheralded, stood the tall, stripling figure of the young King.

  Darnley's appearance abruptly scattered the Italian's inspiration. Themelody broke off sharply on the single loud note of a string too rudelyplucked.

  That and the silence that followed it irked them all, conveying a sensethat here something had been broken which never could be made wholeagain.

  Darnley shuffled forward. His handsome face was pale save for the twoburning spots upon his cheekbones, and his eyes glittered feveredly. Hehad been drinking, so much was clear; and that he should seek the Queenthus, who so seldom sought her sober, angered those intimates who hadcome to share her well-founded dislike of him. King though he might bein name, into such contempt was he fallen that not one of them rosein deference, whilst Mary herself watched his approach with hostile,mistrusting eyes.

  "What is it, my lord?" she asked him coldly, as he flung himself down onthe settle beside her.

  He leered at her, put an arm about her waist, pulled her to him, andkissed her oafishly.

  None stirred. All eyes were upon them, and all faces blank. After all,he was the King and she his wife. And then upon the silence, ominousas the very steps of doom, came a ponderous, clanking tread from theante-room beyond. Again the curtains were thrust aside, and the Countessof Argyll uttered a gasp of sudden fear at the grim spectre she beheldthere. It was a figure armed as for a tourney, in gleaming steel fromhead to foot, girt with a sword, the right hand resting upon the hilt ofthe heavy dagger in the girdle. The helmet's vizor was raised, revealingthe ghastly face of Ruthven--so ghastly that it must have seemed theface of a dead man but for the blazing life in the eyes that scanned thecompany. Those questing eyes went round the table, settled upon Rizzio,and seemed horribly to smile.

  Startled, disquieted by this apparition, the Queen half rose, Darnley'shindering arm still flung about her waist.

  "What's this?" she cried, her voice sharp.

  And then, as if she guessed intuitively what it might portend, sheconsidered her husband with pale-faced contempt.

  "Judas!" she called him, flung away from his detaining arm, and stoodforth to confront that man in steel. "What seek ye here, my lord--and inthis guise?" was her angry challenge.

  Ruthven's burning eyes fell away before her glance. He clanked forward astep or two, flung out a mailed arm, and with a hand that shook pointedto the Seigneur Davie, who stood blankly watching him.

  "I seek yon man," he said gruffly. "Let him come forth."

  "He is here by my will," she told him, her anger mounting. "And so arenot you--for which you shall be made to answer."

  Then to Darnley, who sat hunched on the settle:

  "What does this mean, sir?" she demanded.

  "Why--how should I know? Why--why, nothing," he faltered foolishly.

  "Pray God that you are right," said she, "for your own sake. And you,"she continued, addressing Ruthven again and waving a hand in imperiousdismissal, "be you gone, and wait until I send for you, which I promiseyou shall be right soon."

  If she divined some of the evil of their purpose, if any fear assailedher, yet she betrayed nothing of it. She was finely tempered steel.

  But Ruthven, sullen and menacing, stood his ground.

  "Let yon man come forth," he repeated. "He has been here ower lang."

  "Over long?" she echoed, betrayed by her quick resentment.

  "Aye, ower lang for the good o' Scotland and your husband," was thebrutal answer.

  Erskine, of her guards, leapt to his feet.

  "Will you begone, sir?" he cried; and after him came Beaton and theCommendator, both echoing the captain's threatening question.

  A smile overspread Ruthven's livid face. The heavy dagger flashed fromhis belt.

  "My affair is not with any o' ye, but if ye thrust yersels too closeupon my notice--"

  The Queen stepped clear of the table to intervene, lest violence shouldbe done here in her presence. Rizzio, who had risen, stood now besideher, watching all with a white, startled face. And then, before morecould be said, the curtains were torn away and half a score of men,whose approach had passed unnoticed, poured into the room. First cameMorton, the Chancellor, who was to be dispossessed of the great sealin Rizzio's favour. After him followed the brutal Lindsay of the Byres,Kerr of Faudonside, black-browed Brunston, red-headed Douglas, and ahalf-dozen others.

  Confusion ensued; the three men of the Queen's household were instantlysurrounded and overpowered. In the brief, sharp struggle the table wasoverturned, and all would have been in darkness but that as the tablewent over the Countess of Argyll had snatched up the candle-branch, andstood now holding it aloft to light that extraordinary scene. Rizzio, towhom the sight of Morton had been as the removal of his last illusion,flung himself upon his knees before the Queen. Frail and feeble of body,and never a man of his hands, he was hopelessly unequal to the occasion.

  "Justice, madame!" he cried. "Faites justice! Sauvez ma vie!"

  Fearlessly, she stepped between him and the advancing horde ofmurderers, making of her body a buckler for his protection. Whiteof face, with heaving bosom and eyes like two glowing sapphires, sheconfronted them.

  "Back, on your lives!" she bade them.

  But they were lost to all sense of reverence, even to all sense ofdecency, in their blind rage against this foreign upstart who hadtrampled their Scottish vanity in the dust. George Douglas, withoutregard for her condition either as queen or woman--and a woman almostupon the threshold of motherhood--clapped a pistol to her breast androughly bade her stand aside.

  Undaunted, she looked at him with eyes that froze his trigger-finger,whilst behind her Rizzio grovelled in his terror, clutching herpetticoat. Thus, until suddenly she was seized about the waist and halfdragged, half-lifted aside by Darnley, who at the same time spurnedRizzio forward with his foot.

  The murderers swooped down upon their prey. Kerr of Faudonside flunga noose about his body, and drew it tight with a jerk that pulled thesecretary from his knees. Then he and Morton took the rope betweenthem, and so dragged their victim across the room towards the door.He struggled blindly as he went, vainly clutching first at an oversetchair, then at a leg of the table, and screeching piteously the whileto the Queen to save him. And Mary, trembling with passion, herselfstruggling in the arms of Darnley, flung an angry warning after them.

  "If Davie's blood be spilt, it shall be dear blood to some of you!Remember that, sirs!"

  But they were beyond control by now, hounds unleashed upon the quarry oftheir hate. Out of her presence Morton and Douglas dragged him, the restof the baying pack going after them. They dragged him, screeching still,across the ante-chamber to the head of the great stairs, and there theyfell on him all together, and so wildly that they wounded one anotherin their fury to rend him into pieces. The tattered body, gushing bloodfrom six-and-fifty wounds, was hurled from top to bottom of the stairs,with a gold-hilted dagger--Darnley's, in token of his participation inthe deed--still sticking in his breast.

  Ruthven stood forward from the group, his reeking poniard clutched inhis right hand, a grin distorting his ghastly, vulturine face. Then hestalked back alone into the royal presence, dragging his feet a little,like a man who is weary.

  He found the room much as he had left it, save that the Queen had sunkback to her seat on the s
ettle, and Darnley was now standing over her,whilst her people were still hemmed about by his own men. Without a "byyour leave," he flung himself into a chair and called hoarsely for a cupof wine.

  Mary's white face frowned at him across the room.

  "You shall yet drink the wine that I shall pour you for this night'swork, my lord, and for this insolence! Who gave you leave to sit beforeme?"

  He waved a hand as if to dismiss the matter. It may have seemed to himfrivolous to dwell upon such a trifle amid so much.

  "It's no' frae lack o' respect, Your Grace," he growled, "but frae lacko' strength. I am ill, and I should ha' been abed but for what was hereto do."

  "Ah!" She looked at him with cold repugnance. "What have you done withDavie?"

  He shrugged, yet his eyes quailed before her own.

  "He'll be out yonder," he answered, grimly evasive; and he took the wineone of his followers proffered him.

  "Go see," she bade the Countess.

  And the Countess, setting the candle-branch upon the buffet, went out,none attempting to hinder her.

  Then, with narrowed eyes, the Queen watched Ruthven while he drank.

  "It will be for the sake of Murray and his friends that you do this,"she said slowly. "Tell me, my lord, what great kindness is there betweenMurray and you that, to save him from forfeiture, you run the risk ofbeing forfeited with him?"

  "What I have done," he said, "I have done for others, and under a bondthat shall hold me scatheless."

  "Under a bond?" said she, and now she looked up at Darnley, standingever at her side. "And was the bond yours, my lord?"

  "Me?" He started back. "I know naught of it."

  But as he moved she saw something else. She leaned forward, pointing tothe empty sheath at his girdle.

  "Where is your dagger, my lord?" she asked him sharply.

  "My dagger? Ha! How should I know?"

  "But I shall know!" she threatened, as if she were not virtually aprisoner in the hands of these violent men who had invaded her palaceand dragged Rizzio from her side. "I shall not rest until I know!"

  The Countess came in, white to the lips, bearing in her eyes somethingof the horror she had beheld.

  "What is it?" Mary asked her, her voice suddenly hushed and faltering.

  "Madame--he is dead! Murdered!" she announced.

  The Queen looked at her, her face of marble. Then her voice came hushedand tense:

  "Are--you sure?"

  "Myself I saw his body, madame."

  There was a long pause. A low moan escaped the Queen, and her lovelyeyes were filled with tears; slowly these coursed down her cheeks.Something compelling in her grief hushed every voice, and the cravenhusband at her side shivered as her glance fell upon him once more.

  "And is it so?" she said at length, considering him. She dried her eyes."Then farewell tears; I must study revenge." She rose as if with labour,and standing, clung a moment to the table's edge. A moment she looked atRuthven, who sat glooming there, dagger in one hand and empty wine-cupin the other; then her glance passed on, and came to rest balefullyon Darnley's face. "You have had your will, my lord," she said, "butconsider well what I now say. Consider and remember. I shall never restuntil I give you as sore a heart as I have presently."

  That said she staggered forward. The Countess hastened to her, andleaning upon her arm, Mary passed through the little door of the closetinto her chamber.

  That night the common bell was rung, and Edinburgh roused in alarm.Bothwell, Huntly, Atholl, and others who were at Holyrood when Rizziowas murdered, finding it impossible to go to the Queen's assistance, andfearing to share the secretary's fate--for the palace was a-swarm withthe murderers' men-at-arms--had escaped by one of the windows. The alarmthey spread in Edinburgh brought the provost and townsmen in arms to thepalace by torchlight, demanding to see the Queen, and refusing to departuntil Darnley had shown himself and assured them that all was wellwith the Queen and with himself. And what time Darnley gave them thisreassurance from a window of her room, Mary herself stood pale and tautamid the brutal horde that on this alarm had violated the privacy of herchamber, while the ruffianly Red Douglas flashed his dagger before hereyes, swearing that if she made a sound they would cut her into collops.

  When at last they withdrew and left her to herself, they left herno illusions as to her true condition. She was a prisoner in her ownpalace. The ante-rooms and courts were thronged with the soldiers ofMorton and Ruthven, the palace itself was hemmed about, and none mightcome or go save at the good pleasure of the murderers.

  At last Darnley grasped the authority he had coveted. He dictatedforthwith a proclamation which was read next morning at Edinburgh MarketCross--commanding that the nobles who had assembled in Edinburgh tocompose the Parliament that was to pass the Bill of Attainder shouldquit the city within three hours, under pain of treason and forfeiture.

  And meanwhile, with poor Rizzio's last cry of "justice!" still ringingin her ears, Mary sat alone in her chamber, studying revenge as shehad promised. So that life be spared her, justice, she vowed, shouldbe done--punishment not only for that barbarous deed, but for the verymanner of the doing of it, for all the insult to which she had beensubjected, for the monstrous violence done her feelings and her veryperson, for the present detention and peril of which she was fullconscious.

  Her anger was the more intense because she never permitted it to diffuseitself over the several offenders. Ruthven, who had insulted her sogrossly; Douglas, who had offered her personal violence; the Lairdof Faudonside, Morton, and all the others who held her now a helplessprisoner, she hew for no more than the instruments of Darnley. It wasagainst Darnley that all her rage was concentrated. She recalled inthose bitter hours all that she had suffered at his vile hands, andswore that at whatever cost to herself he should yield a full atonement.

  He sought her in the morning emboldened by the sovereign power hewas usurping confident that now that he showed himself master of thesituation she would not repine over what was done beyond recall, butwould submit to the inevitable, be reconciled with him, and grant him,perforce--supported as he now was by the rebellious lords--the crownmatrimonial and the full kingly power he coveted.

  But her reception of him broke that confidence into shards.

  "You have done me such a Wrong," she told him in a voice of cold hatred,"that neither the recollection of our early friendship, nor all the hopeyou can give me of the future, could ever make me forget it. Jamais!Jamais je n'oublierai!" she added, and upon that she dismissed him soimperiously that he went at once.

  She sought a way to deal with him, groped blindly for it, being as yetbut half informed of what was taking place; and whilst she groped, thething she sought was suddenly thrust into her land. Mary Beaton, one ofthe few attendants left her, brought her word later that day that theEarl of Murray, with Rothes and some other of the exiled lords, wasin the palace. The news brought revelation. It flooded with lightthe tragic happening of the night before, showed her how Darnley wasbuilding himself a party in the state. It did more than that. Sherecalled the erstwhile mutual hatred and mistrust of Murray and Darnley,and saw how it might serve her in this emergency.

  Instantly she summoned Murray to her presence with the message thatshe welcomed his return. Yet, despite that message, he hardlyexpected--considering what lay between them--the reception that awaitedhim at her hands.

  She rose to receive him, her lovely eyes suffused with tears. Sheembraced him, kissed him, and then, nestling to him, as if for comfort,her cheek against his bearded face, she allowed her tears to flowunchecked.

  "I am punished," she sobbed--"oh, I am punished! Had I kept you at home,Murray, you would never have suffered men to entreat me as I have beenentreated."

  Holding her to hin, he could but pat her shoulder, soothing her, utterlytaken aback, and deeply moved, too, by this display of an affection forhim that he had never hitherto suspected in her.

  "Ah, mon Dieu, Jamie, how welcome you are to one in my sorrow!" shec
ontinued. "It is the fault of others that you have been so long out ofthe country. I but require of you that you be a good subject to me, andyou shall never find me other to you than you deserve."

  And he, shaken to the depths of his selfish soul by her tears, herclinging caresses, and her protestations of affection, answered withan oath and a sob that no better or more loyal and devoted subject thanhimself could all Scotland yield her.

  "And, as for this killing of Davie," he ended vehemently, "I swear by mysoul's salvation that I have had no part in it, nor any knowledge of ituntil my return!"

  "I know--I know!" she moaned. "Should I make you welcome, else? Be myfriend, Jamie; be my friend!"

  He swore it readily, for he was very greedy of power, and saw the doorof his return to it opening wider than he could have hoped. Then hespoke of Darnley, begging her to receive him, and hear what he mighthave to say, protesting that the King swore that he had not desired themurder, and that the lords had carried the matter out of his hands andmuch beyond all that he had intended.

  Because it suited her deep purpose, Mary consented, feigning to bepersuaded. She had realized that before she could deal with Darnley, andthe rebel lords who held her a prisoner, she must first win free fromHolyrood.

  Darnley came. He was sullen now, mindful of his recent treatment, and infear--notwithstanding Murray's reassurance--of further similar rebuffs.She announced herself ready to hear what he might have to say, and shelistened attentively while he spoke, her elbow on the carved arm of herchair, her chin in her hand. When he had done, she sat long in thought,gazing out through the window at the grey March sky. At length sheturned and looked at him.

  "Do you pretend, my lord, to regret for what has passed?" she challengedhim.

  "You tempt me to hypocrisy," he said. "Yet I will be frank as at anEaster shrift. Since that fellow Davie fell into credit and familiaritywith Your Majesty, you no longer treated me nor entertained me afteryour wonted fashion, nor would you ever bear me company save this Daviewere the third. Can I pretend, then, to regret that one who deprivedme of what I prized most highly upon earth should have been removed? Icannot. Yet I can and do proclaim my innocence of any part or share inthe deed that has removed him."

  She lowered her eyes an instant, then raised them again to meet his own.

  "You had commerce with these traitor lords," she reminded him. "It isby your decree that they are returned from exile. What was your aim inthis?"

  "To win back the things of which this fellow Davie had robbed me, ashare in the ruling and the crown matrimonial that was my right, yetwhich you denied me. That and no more. I had not intended that Davieshould be slain. I had not measured the depth of their hatred of thatupstart knave. You see that I am frank with you."

  "Aye, and I believe you," she lied slowly, considering him as she spoke.And he drew a breath of relief, suspecting nothing of her deep guile."And do you know why I believe you? Because you are a fool."

  "Madame!" he cried.

  She rose, magnificently contemptuous.

  "Must I prove it? You say that the crown matrimonial which I deniedyou is to be conferred on you by these lawless men? Believing that, yousigned their pardon and recall from exile. Ha! You do not see, my lord,that you are no more than their tool, their cat's-paw. You do not seethat they use you but for their ends, and that when they have done withyou, they will serve you as they served poor Davie? No, you see none ofthat, which is why I call you a fool, that need a woman's wit to openwide your eyes."

  She was so vehement that she forced upon his dull wits some ofthe convictions she pretended were her own. Yet, resisting thoseconvictions, he cried out that she was at fault.

  "At fault?" She laughed. "Let my memory inform your judgment. When theselords, with Murray at their head, protested against our marriage, inwhat terms did they frame their protest? They complained that I had setover them without consulting them one who had no title to it, whetherby lineal descent of blood, by nature, or by consent of the Estates.Consider that! They added, remember--I repeat to you the very wordsthey wrote and published--that while they deemed it their duty to endureunder me, they deemed it intolerable to suffer under you."

  She was flushed, and her eyes gleamed with excitement. She clutchedhis sleeve, and brought her face close to his own, looked deep andcompellingly into his eyes as she continued:

  "Such was their proclamation, and they took arms against me to enforceit, to pull you down from the place to which I had raised you out of thedust. Yet you can forget it, and in your purblind folly turn to thesevery men to right the wrongs you fancy I have done you. Do you thinkthat men, holding you in such esteem as that, can keep any sort of faithwith you? Do you think these are the men who are likely to fortifyand maintain your title to the crown? Ask yourself, and answer foryourself."

  He was white to the lips. As much by her vehement pretence of sincerityas by the apparently irrefragable logic of her arguments, she forcedconviction upon him. This brought a loathly fear in its train, and thegates of his heart stood ever wide to fear. He stepped aside to a chair,and sank into it, looking at her with dilating eyes--a fool confrontedwith the likely fruits of his folly.

  "Then--then--why did they proffer me their help? How can they achievetheir ends this way?"

  "How? Do you still ask? Do you not see what a blind tool you have beenin their crafty hands? In name at least you are king, and your signatureis binding upon my subjects. Have you not brought them back from exileby one royal decree, whilst by another you have dispersed the Parliamentthat was assembled to attaint them of treason?"

  She stepped close up to him, and bending over him as he sat there,crushed by realization, she lowered her voice.

  "Pray God, my lord, that all their purpose with you is not yet complete,else in their hands I do not think your life is to be valued at anapple-paring. You go the ways poor Davie went."

  He sank his handsome head to his hands, and covered his face. A whilehe sat huddled there, she watching him with gleaming, crafty eyes. Atlength he rallied. He looked up, tossing back the auburn hair from hiswhite brow, still fighting, though weakly, against persuasion. "It isnot possible," he, cried. "They could not! They could not!"

  She laughed, betwixt bitterness and sadness.

  "Trust to that," she bade him. "Yet look well at matters as they arealready. I am a prisoner here in these men's hands. They will not letme go until their full purpose is accomplished--perhaps," she addedwistfully, "perhaps not even then."

  "Ah, not that!" he cried out.

  "Even that," she answered firmly. "But," and again she grew vehement,"is it less so with you? Are you less a prisoner than I? D'ye think youwill be suffered to come and go at will?" She saw the increase of fearin him, and then she struck boldly, setting all upon the gamble of aguess. "I am kept here until I shall have been brought to such a statethat I will add my signature to your own and so pardon one and all forwhat is done."

  His sudden start, the sudden quickening of his glance told her howshrewdly she had struck home. Fearlessly, then, sure of herself, shecontinued. "To that end they use you. When you shall have served it youwill but cumber them. When they shall have used you to procure theirsecurity from me, then they will deal with you as they have ever soughtto deal with you--so that you trouble them no more. Ah, at last youunderstand!"

  He came to his feet, his brow gleaming with sweat, his slender handsnervously interlocked.

  "Oh, God!" he cried in a stifled voice.

  "Aye, you are in a trap, my lord. Yourself you've sprung it."

  And now you behold him broken by the terror she had so cunningly evoked.He flung himself upon his knees before her, and with upturned face andhands that caught and clawed at her own, he implored her pardon forthe wrong that in his folly he had done her in taking sides with herenemies.

  She dissembled under a mask of gentleness the loathing that hiscowardice aroused in her.

  "My enemies?" she echoed wistfully. "Say rather your own enemies. Itwas their enmity to
you that drove them into exile. In your rashness youhave recalled them, whilst at the same time you have so bound my handsthat I cannot now help you if I would."

  "You can, Mary," he cried, "or else no one can. Withhold the pardon theywill presently be seeking of you. Refuse to sign any remission of theirdeed."

  "And leave them to force you to sign it, and so destroy us both," sheanswered.

  He ranted then, invoking the saints of heaven, and imploring her intheir name--she who was so wise and strong--to discover some way out ofthis tangle in which his madness had enmeshed them.

  "What way is there short of flight?" she asked him. "And how are we tofly who are imprisoned here you as well as myself? Alas, Darnley, I fearour lives will end by paying the price of your folly."

  Thus she played upon his terrors, so that he would not be dismisseduntil she had promised that she would consider and seek some means ofsaving him, enjoining him meanwhile to keep strict watch upon himselfand see that he betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

  She left him to the chastening of a sleepless night, then sent for himbetimes on Monday morning, and bade him repair to the lords and tellthem that realizing herself a prisoner in their hands she was disposedto make terms with them. She would grant them pardon for what was doneif on their side they undertook to be loyal henceforth and allowed herto resume her liberty.

  The message startled him. But the smile with which she followed it wasreassuring.

  "There is something else you are to do," she said, "if we are to turnthe tables on these traitorous gentlemen. Listen." And she added matterthat begat fresh hope in Darnley's despairing soul.

  He kissed her hands, lowly now and obedient as a hound that had beenwhipped to heel, and went below to bear her message to the lords.

  Morton and Ruthven heard him out, but betrayed no eagerness to seize theopportunity.

  "All this is but words that we hear," growled Ruthven, who lay stretchedupon a couch, grimly suffering from the disease that was, slowly eatingup his life.

  "She is guileful as the serpent," Morton added, "being bred up in theCourt of France. She will make you follow her will and desire, but shewill not so lead us. We hold her fast, and we do not let her go withoutsome 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 ofthe message that Darnley had brought. Murray moved heavily across to awindow-seat, and sat down. He cleared a windowpane with his hand, andlooked out upon the wintry landscape as if the matter had no interestfor 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 theiruncompromising attitude a confirmation of what the Queen had told him,and noting, too--as at another time he might not have noted--their utterlack of deference to himself, their King.

  "Sirs," he said, "I vow you wrong Her Majesty. I will stake my life uponher 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 articlesthat would satisfy them. Towards evening the document was ready,and Morton and Ruthven representing all, accompanied by Murray, andintroduced by Darnley, came to the chamber to which Her Majesty wasconfined 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 tearswould serve her best by presenting her as if broken to their will.

  In outward submission they knelt before her to make the pretence ofsuing for the pardon which they extorted by force of arms and duress.When each in his turn had made the brief pleading oration he hadprepared, she dried her eyes and controlled herself by obvious effort.

  "My lords," she said, in a voice that quivered and broke on every otherword, "when have ye ever found me blood-thirsty, or greedy of your landsor goods that you must use me so, and take such means with me? Ye haveset my authority at naught, and wrought sedition in this realm. Yet Iforgive you all, that by this clemency I may move you to a better loveand 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 andserve me faithfully, who am but a weak woman, and sorely need stout mento be my friends."

  For a moment her utterance was checked by sobs. Then she controlledherself again by an effort so piteous to behold that even theflinty-hearted Ruthven was moved to some compassion.

  "Forgive this weakness in me, who am very weak, for very soon I am to bebrought to bed as you well know, and I am in no case to offer resistanceto any. I have no more to say, my lords. Since you promise on your sidethat you will put all disloyalty behind you, I pledge myself to remitand pardon all those that were banished for their share in the laterising, and likewise to pardon those that were concerned in the killingof Seigneur Davie. All this shall be as if it had never been. I prayyou, my lords, make your own security in what sort you best please, andI will subscribe it."

  Morton proffered her the document they had prepared. She conned itslowly, what time they watched her, pausing ever and anon to brush asidethe tears that blurred her vision. At last she nodded her lovely goldenhead.

  "It is very well," she said. "All is here as I would have it be betweenus." And she turned to Darnley. "Give me pen and ink, my lord."

  Darnley dipped a quill and handed it to her. She set the parchmenton the little pulpit at her side. Then, as she bent to sign, the penfluttered from her fingers, and with a deep, shuddering sigh she sankback 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 ahand to her brow. "I am something dizzy. My condition--" She faltered ona trembling note of appeal that increased their compassion, and arousedin them a shame of their own harshness. "Leave this security with me. Iwill subscribe it in the morning--indeed, as soon as I am sufficientlyrecovered."

  They rose from their knees at her bidding, and Morton in the name of allprofessed himself full satisfied, and deplored the affliction they hadcaused 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, theyquitted 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 ofthe Queen's women to summon him to her presence. He found her disposingherself for bed, and was received by her with tearful upbraidings.

  "Sir," she said, "one of the conditions upon which I consented to thewill of their lordships was that an immediate term should be set to theinsulting state of imprisonment in which I am kept here. Yet men-at-armsstill guard the very door of my chamber, and my very attendants arehindered in their comings and goings. Do you call this keeping faithwith me? Have I not granted all the requests of the lords?"

  Lethington, perceiving the justice of what she urged, withdrew shamedand confused at once to remedy the matter by removing the guards fromthe passage and the stairs and elsewhere, leaving none but those whopaced outside the palace.

  It was a rashness he was bitterly to repent him on the morrow, whenit was discovered that in the night Mary had not only escaped, but hadtaken Darnley with her. Accompanied by him and a few attendants, she hadexecuted the plan in which earlier that day she had secured her scaredhusband's cooperation. At midnight they had made their way along the nowunguarded corridors, and descended to the vaults of the palace, whence asecr
et passage communicated with the chapel. Through this and across thegraveyard where lay the newly buried body of the Siegneur Davie--almostacross the very grave itself which stood near the chapel door they hadwon to the horses waiting by Darnley's orders in the open. And they hadridden so hard that by five o'clock of that Tuesday morning they were inDunbar.

  In vain did the alarmed lords send a message after her to demand hersignature of the security upon which she had duped them into countingprematurely.

  Within a week they were in full flight before the army at the head ofwhich the prisoner who had slipped through their hands was returningto destroy them. Too late did they perceive the arts by which she hadfooled them, and seduced the shallow Darnley to betray them.