Nigel Tranter - The Courtesan

Moray was still banished the Court, but was living less than a score of miles off at his own house of Donibristle. Dunfermline was only five miles away, and Anne was as often there as at Falkland. Mary, as was to be expected, was usually with her -and so now was Ludovick Lennox who had never previously shown any notable interest in the young Queen. He was seldom far from her side, indeed – which did not escape the notice of the Court, and did not endear him to Moray any more than to Patrick, whatever Anne thought of it. James would remark, waggishly, that his good Coz Vicky seemed a deal fonder of the Queen than of his own Duchess – but few doubted that the stiff and unforthcoming Lennox was in fact more interested in the Queen's tire-woman than in Anne herself, Mary being sufficiently kind to him in public to give some substance to this assumption.

The Queen, therefore, although she saw much of Moray, seldom saw him alone. Lennox was as good as a watch-dog -and notably well-informed as to Anne's every move. Probably she believed that James had arranged it, and even Patrick may have assumed the same. As a situation, it verged on the comic.

Patrick sought continually to arrange matters so that the Queen should be thrown in Moray's way, and that the King might find them together in some incriminating circumstance.

Mary, Marie and Lennox, from their positions of strategic vantage close to the King, Queen and Patrick himself, sought to make sure that this did not happen. It could not have been achieved without Lennox, and him devoting almost his full time to the business. Patrick, in due course, came to realise this, even though attributing much of it to the King's instigation – and the rift between these two former close friends widened. And, in time, however successful the counter-measures, that rift began to worry Mary Gray almost as much as the fate of Moray. Thwarting the Master of Gray, however secretly, was a chancy activity, and like trying to damp down a volcano; there was no saying where one might cause another irruption to break out, in consequence, with who knew what hurt to others.

When, one day, Lennox came to her in the Commendator's House of Dunfermline Abbey, Mary saw the writing on the wall. Actually in this instance the writing was Bothwell's, in the form a letter just delivered to Ludovick, and of which that young man could make neither head nor tail. It was written from Hailes Castle in Lothian, and after professing the keenest regard for the Duke and asking after his health, declared that the writer understood that he, Lennox, was interested in the better running of the realm and the reform of certain notable tyrannies at present afflicting it, in especial the witch-trials which had become no more than a means for bringing down one's unfriends. Bothwell urged Lennox to band himself together with him and sundry other similarly well-intentioned lords, with a view to ending this reign of terror, and assured him that the time was almost ripe. He prayed that he might have an affirmative reply – as it was indeed the plain duty of all honest men in the kingdom to act in this matter.

'I cannot understand it, Mary,' Ludovick declared. 'This, from Bothwell. Why write this to me? I am no friend of his. I am against all bonds and plots. I have not great tail of men to help form an army. I am against this folly of the witches, yes. But I cannot see that Bothwell is the man to reform the government of this realm. And he has ever scorned me. Why should he approach me now? What can I answer him? I do not see the meaning of this letter…'

Mary looked out into the wet street. 'I fear that I do, Vicky,' she told him. 'And you should nowise answer it. This letter – do you not see? It is a trap. Burn it, Vicky – in case any other see it but ourselves. And pray that there are no more from whence it came! This may be Bothwell's writing -but I fear that it is Patrick's hand behind it!'

'Patrick's? Surely not!'

'Yes, Patrick's. Do you not see it? Answer this, show but the least interest in what Bothwell says, and you could be deep in trouble. Any communication with Bothwell, the King would take amiss. This, a bond with others, and against his precious witch-trials, he would name treason without a doubt. Aimed at himself… '

'James knows that I would never commit treason. That I would never league myself against him.'

'Are you so sure, Vicky? Remember that once you talked of deposing him, with yourself as Regent. Because you feared him mad. If he was to hear word of that…!'

'That was Patrick's project.'

'Yes. And there is the danger. Vicky – you have put yourself in Patrick's way. Because I besought you. But – whoever does that is in danger. I should have realised this before I sought your help. I have begun to fear something of the sort, these last days. Patrick's hand is behind this, I am sure. This way he could have you removed, out of the way. He may intend no more than that – but it could lead to worse things.'

'I cannot believe that this is Patrick's doing, Mary. How could he have Bothwell write to me?'

'Easily. Remember, he now can act Bothwell's friend and counsellor. Bothwell owes him his freedom. No doubt Both-well is planning all kinds of treasons – he is ever at it. What more simple than for Patrick to have him include you in his crazy plans? One day a letter will come into the King's hands, from you to Bothwell, or from him to you, and you will be no longer dear Cousin Vicky but a treasonable plotter! This is a warning.' Mary stepped over to the fire, and thrust the letter into its heart.

'Suppose that I told James that it was Patrick who aided Bothwell to escape from Edinburgh Castle?' Ludovick said slowly.

'Would you? And think you he would believe you? Patrick would deny it – and you have no proof. Only my word. None would accept that. Even… even if I would agree to testify against him!' Her voice faltered just a little as she said that.

Helplessly he shook his head. 'What are we to do, then?'

'What we should have done ere this.' She quickly was her calm self again. 'I spoke of it before, with the Lady Marie, but we believed that it could wait. Have the King send Moray north, Vicky. He has great lands there – his own earldom of Moray. Convince the King that he is seeing overmuch of Queen Anne, here in Fife. Abet Patrick in this, at least! It should not be difficult. Have him banish Moray to his castle of Darnaway. Work on Mar and some of the other lords to support you in this. I do not see how Patrick can object. But do it secretly, so that the Queen does not come to hear of it, or she may prevail on the King not to do it. Then… you will be no more in Patrick's way in this matter.'

'Lord, Mary!' Brows furrowed, he stared at her. 'How do you do it? How do you think of these things. On my soul, it is a marvel! And yet so simple. So simple that I would never have thought of it. Where do you get such wits?'

'You know where I get them,' she answered him, her voice strangely flat. 'I heired them. They are my inheritance. Sometimes I wish to God that they were not!'

Long he considered her. 'I think that I do, also,' he said, at last.

'Yes.' She turned away. 'But you will do this? Speak with the King. Secretly. Plague him, if need be. He will do it, if only for the sake of peace. His mind is wholly on his book and his witchcraft. It is the best course. Better Moray banished to the north, but free, than languishing in a pit of Edinburgh Castle. Which is where Patrick, I think, would have him.'

'Aye. But why is it, Mary? Why does Patrick so hate Moray? He did not, formerly.'

'I do not believe that he hates him. Indeed, I do not believe that Patrick hates any man. It is never hatred, I think, which makes him act so, but something quite other. You may laugh at me – but I believe that the greatest evils that Patrick has done were done with no malice to any. Not to the persons he injures. Can you understand that, Vicky?'