Виктория Холт - Royal Road to Fotheringhay

Almost as soon as he had gone, the door which led to the private staircase was opened and Darnley came in. Mary frowned. He appeared to have been drinking. He came to where she sat and slumped on the couch beside her; he laid a hot hand on her arm.

“Have you had your supper?” she asked coldly.

The company had become silent and tense, waiting for one of those scenes which seemed now inevitable when the Queen and her husband were together.

Darnley had not answered her, and suddenly all except the Queen had risen to their feet, for, standing in the doorway through which Darnley had just come, was Lord Ruthven. His face was yellow above his gleaming armor; his hair was wild and there was a look of death on his face. For a moment they thought they were seeing Ruthven’s ghost, as they knew he was near to death and not expected to leave his bed again; moreover he had always been suspected of having magical powers.

No one spoke in those frightening first moments as Ruthven’s hollow eyes ranged about the room and came to rest on David Rizzio.

Then Mary saw that Ruthven was not alone. Behind him, through the narrow doorway she caught glimpses of Morton, Lindsay, Kerr and others. Ruthven suddenly lifted his hand and pointed to David.

“Come out, David,” he said slowly. “You are wanted without.”

David did not move. His great eyes seemed to have grown still larger; his trembling hand reached for the Queens skirt.

Ruthven began to shout: “Come out, David Rizzio. Come out from the Queens chamber. You have been there too long.”

Mary stood up and confronted Ruthven. “How dare you, my lord, thus come into my chamber? How dare you! You shall pay dearly for this. What means this intrusion? Who are those who follow you here? Why have you comer

“We come for David Rizzio, Madam.”

“Then go away,” commanded the Queen. “If David is here it is my wish that he should be.” She turned fiercely to Darnley: “What means this outrage, my lord? Do you know aught of this?”

Darnley did not reply for a second or so. Then he mumbled: “N-No. But it is a dishonor that David should sup with you, and your husband be kept out.”

Ruthven caught the hangings to prevent himself falling from exhaustion. Mary looked around at the terrified company. Catching her look, Erskine and the Lord of Creich started forward. Ruthven cried in a hollow voice: “Let no one touch me. They will regret it.” He looked supernatural in that moment, and the two men stood where they were as though held there by Ruthven’s uncanny powers.

Mary cried out: “Leave at once! Go! I command you to go.”

“I have come for Rizzio,” persisted the grim-faced Ruthven. And with those words he unsheathed his dagger.

It was the signal. His accomplices rushed into the chamber.

Rizzio gave a great cry and, falling to the floor, gripped Marys skirts and tried to hide himself in their folds. Dishes were swept aside; the table toppled over. The Countess of Argyle picked up the candelabra in time and held it high above her head.

Mary felt the child protest within her; nauseated, she tried not to faint. Rizzio was clinging to her and she made an effort to put herself between him and those men who, she knew, had come to kill him.

George Douglas had twisted Rizzio’s arm so that, with a cry of pain, he released his grip on Mary’s gown.

She saw their faces vaguely, distorted with bloodlust, and the desire to kill not only Rizzio, she believed, but herself and the child she carried.

“Take the Queen,” someone said, and she saw Darnley close beside her. He put an arm about her and held her; she turned from him in revulsion just in time to see George Douglas snatch the dagger from Darnley’s belt and drive it into the cowering, shrieking Rizzio.

Hands were clutching the terrified David who was bleeding from the wound. She watched him as they dragged him across the floor, and his terrified eyes never left her face. She stretched out her arms to him.

“Oh, Davie… Davie …,” she sobbed. “They are killing you, Davie. They are killing us both. Where are my friends? Is this the way to treat the Queen?”

“Be quiet!” hissed Kerr. “If you are not, I shall be forced to cut you into collops.”

She could hear the shrieks in the next chamber to which they had dragged David; she heard the hideous thud of blows. She heard the death agonies of David.

“His blood shall cost you dear!” she cried; and she slid to the floor in a faint.

WHEN MARY came out of the swoon she was aware of Darnley beside her, supporting her. For a moment she was uncertain what had happened to shock her so; then the sight of the room in the light from the candelabra showed her the upturned table, the spilled food and wine and the carpet soaked with David’s blood.

She turned to Darnley and cried out in anguish: “You are the cause of this. Why have you allowed this wicked deed to be done? I took you from low estate and made you my husband. What have I ever done that you should use me thus?”

“I will tell you, Madam,” cried Darnley. She saw his shifty bloodshot eyes; she smelled the wine on his breath and she knew he was not entirely sober. “Since yonder fellow David came into credit and familiarity with you, you have had little time to spare for me. I have been shut from your thoughts and your chamber. You were with David far into the night.”

“It was because you had failed me.”

“In what way? Am I failed in any sort in my body? There was a time when you were so eager for me that you came to my chamber. What disdain have you for me since you favored David? What offense have I committed that you should be coy with me? You have listened to David and he spoke against me.”

“My lord, all that I have suffered this night is your doing, for the which I shall no longer be your wife, nor lie with you anymore. I shall never rest content until I have made you suffer as you have made me suffer this night.”

She could not bear to look at him. She covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly.

Ruthven returned to the chamber.

He said: “His lordship is Your Majesty’s husband, and you must be dutiful one to the other.” As he spoke he sank into a chair from very exhaustion and called for wine to revive him.

Mary went to him and stood over him. “My lord,” she cried, “if my child or I should die through this night’s work, you will not escape your just reward. I have powerful friends. There are my kinsmen of Lorraine; there is the Pope and the King of Spain. Do not think you shall escape justice.”

Ruthven grasped the cup which was offered to him. He smiled grimly as he said: “Madam, these you speak of are overgreat princes to concern themselves with such a poor man as myself.”

Mary stood back from him. She understood his meaning. He was implying that they were too great to concern themselves with the troubles of a queen of a remote country, who could be of little use to them when her nobles had rendered her powerless.

Mary was seized with a great trembling then; for she realized that the folly of Darnley had, by this night’s work, frustrated all her careful plans; all her triumphs of the last months were as nothing now.

Others were hurrying into the room. She saw the mighty figure of Bothwell among them, and her spirits lifted. Rogue he might be, but he was a loyal rogue. With him were Huntley and Maitland of whom she was not quite certain, but could not believe they were entirely against her.

Bothwell cried: “What means this? Who dares lay hands on the Queen?” He seized Ruthven and pulled the dying man to his feet.

“What has been done has been done with the consent of the King,” said Ruthven. “I have a paper here which bears his signature.”