Виктория Холт - Royal Road to Fotheringhay

“Such a spot!” he said, “For a king! Ruins all about me and a view of Thieves’ Row from the window!”

“Wait until you see your apartment.” She showed him the lower chamber in which was her velvet state bed. “This is where I shall sleep. I shall be immediately below you. Let me show you your apartment and then food shall be brought.”

He was cheered when he saw his apartment. It was decorated with tapestry and velvet hangings which had been taken from the Earl of Huntley at the time of his disgrace, as had the magnificent bed and most of the furnishings. Darnley could not complain of these.

He lay exhausted on the bed and thought of the future. He believed he had acted wisely in becoming reconciled to the Queen and in showing his trust in her. He would emerge from this sickness a handsome young man again; he would be the Queen’s adored husband. He only had to lie in bed and recover his strength and his handsome appearance. Then all that he desired would be his.

MARY HAD SLEPT in the velvet state bed at the house in Kirk-o’-Field on Tuesday and Friday of that week. On the Friday, late at night, she had heard the sounds of stealthy footsteps close to the house. She had not awakened Lady Reres who had been her companion since she had gone with her to the Exchequer House, but had crept to the window. She had seen French Paris and some of James Balfour’s men opening the door of the crypt and carrying in something bulky. She shuddered and went back to bed, wondering what the men were doing.

On the following day when she returned to Holyroodhouse, she had a few moments alone with Bothwell. He had taken her into his fierce embrace.

He said: “’Tis a fine bed you have there in Kirk-o’-Field.”

She looked at him wonderingly. “I saw it,” he told her. “I have keys to all doors. A fine velvet bed. I have a fancy for that. We’ll share it on our wedding night. Have it brought from the house tomorrow and a less fine one put in its place.”

“Why… tomorrow?” she asked.

“Because I ask it, and because you will do anything in the world to please me.”

DARNLEY SAID: “Why are they taking away your velvet bed?” “It is too fine for such a room as the one below this.” “Yet… to take it away… after you took such pains to have it brought here!”

“I wish it to be cleaned and prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“For our reconciliation.”

He was smiling. “It shall be our bridal bed, for it shall be as though we are newly married. You will be here tonight, Mary?”

“I shall come to see you tonight, but I shall have to return to Holyrood as there is a wedding which I am expected to attend. Bastian is marrying Margaret Carwood. You know how fond I am of Margaret—and of Bastian. I promised Margaret I would dance at her wedding and that I would see that hers was a fine one.”

“Would that I could dance at Margaret’s wedding!”

“There was a time when you would have scorned to dance at a servants wedding.”

“I was so young. I was overproud! And look to what my folly has brought me!”

She turned away because she knew that if she tried to say more the words would choke her.

After a pause he said: “This is a strange house. Do you think it is haunted? I hear footsteps. I fancy I hear whispers. There are strange noises in the night. In the crypt, it may be. I seem to hear these sounds.”

“This is such a small house that you would naturally hear noises from without.”

“Perhaps that is it. Mary, I think much of the velvet bed.”

“Yes,” she said faintly, “the velvet bed.”

“You shall see that I have changed. I was so young, Mary, and the honor done to me was too much. You … so beautiful… so desired by all, and to be so much in love with me as you were! And then to be the King. Remember my youth. Why do you weep, Mary? Is it for the past?”

She nodded, and she thought: For the past, for the present, for the future.

ROBERT STUART, Mary’s baseborn brother, had come to see his kinsman Darnley. Robert was in a quandary. The Stuart characteristics were strong in him, and the Stuarts, if they were often weak and foolish, hated cruelty and were overwhelmingly tender and generous to their friends.

Robert was disturbed. He had heard rumors and the rumors concerned Darnley.

Why, Robert asked himself, should Darnley have been brought to a house such as this? Darnley was a fool not to see the reason. There was a plot against him and his enemies were all around him. Even the Queen hated him and wanted to be rid of him. Why could not Darnley see what was so clear to others?

“You seem disturbed,” said Darnley.

“I am,” retorted Robert. “Are you not?”

He signed to the servant to leave them alone together.

“Where does he go when he leaves this room?” asked Robert.

“To the little gallery with the garderobes . There are really only two rooms in this house. Mine and the Queens. It is a very small house.”

“You are isolated here, my lord.”

“I shall not be here long. Plans are being made for removing me.”

That was too much for Robert. “It is only too true,” he said. “Plans are being made and you will not be long on this earth if you ignore them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think, man. Why have you been brought to this desolate spot? If you are reconciled with the Queen why is it not Holyroodhouse or Edinburgh Castle? Why this little house in ruined Kirk-o’-Field?”

“Because… because I am sick. Because… because many fear my disease. I shall go to Holyrood with the Queen as soon as I am well. She has had her state bed removed this day, that it may be where we can use it together.”

“Jesus!” cried Robert. “Is it so then? Her state bed removed! Then man, do not wait another hour in this accursed house. Fly now… while you have yet time.”

“The Queen is my friend. The Queen has promised me that I shall be her husband.”

“Listen! Bothwell, Morton, Moray, Maitland … all are against you. You betrayed so many after Rizzio’s murder. They wish to free the Queen from her marriage with you. A plot to do so is afoot. Do not ask me more. Go! I am warning you.”

“I… I trust the Queen,” stammered Darnley.

“Then you are a fool. Hush! Someone comes.”

“It is the Queen herself,” said Darnley, rising from his bed.

“Say nothing of what I have told you,” said Robert.

But Darnley had not yet learned enough wisdom.

“Mary,” he cried as she came into the room, “I have just heard a terrible tale. Robert says there is a plot to kill me.”

The Queen grew pale. She looked at her brother.

Robert thought: Why did I try to help the fool? Let him wait here to die. He deserves death for his folly, if for nothing else. He laughed and protested: “I! You have misheard me, brother. I know of no plot.”

“But you have just said—” began Darnley.

Robert shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his sister. “It would seem that he wanders in his sickness.”

Darnley cried out in anger: “But you have just warned me. Mary, what does he mean? Is there some plot?”

“I … I do not know of what you speak,” said Mary.

Robert smiled patiently. “You misunderstood, my lord. I spoke of no plot.”

“It… it was meant to be a… joke?”

Oh, you fool, thought Robert. A joke! When the Queen wishes to be rid of you. When there is not a nobleman at Court who does not hate you, who has not some score to settle. Robert said coldly: “You have completely misunderstood me.”

“So … it was nothing—” began Darnley.

“It was nothing.”

“I do not like such jokes—” said Darnley angrily.

“Robert,” interrupted the Queen reprovingly, “you should remember that Henry is very weak as yet. You should not distress him so.”