Nigel Tranter - Lord and Master

realm An alliance with England, be it Protestant or other, for Scotland is but a marriage of lamb and wolf, of fly and spider.

England is too close, and too powerful, too sure of her mission to lesser men. Such a compact must end in Scotland being swallowed up. Always it has been thus, always the cat has

wanted to swallow the mouse. Always the first and surest foundation of our country's policy, if she would preserve her precious independence, is to keep England at arm's length, by cleaving to France and even Spain, "without that our small land is lost, I tell you. I am a Catholic, yes – but I do not speak as one, now. Only as Queen of Scots. Surely you know it – you all know it? Tell James that he must not proceed with this alliance, sir. You, Robert – tell him well. Promise me that you will assure him of it Promise, sirs.' That was a command, passionately, fervently, but royally given.

Orkney mumbled, eyes on the floor.

He shall be told, Madam,' Patrick said levelly, tonelessly.

'Then adieu, my friends. I thank all the saints for the sight of you. I thank even my good sister Elizabeth! If you see her, convey my gratitude for this at least, and my warm well-wishes. But view her not as the friend and ally of Scotland, at your peril and mine-for that she was not born to be.And…the good God go with you all.' The Queen's voice broke as she said that last, and swiftly she turned her graceful back on her visitors and walked unsteadily towards the window.

Bowing and backing, the Scots withdrew, Marie at least stumbling, unable to see where she went

The two Englishmen were last out, face foremost, and Sir Andrew Melville closed the door on them.

'God damn you!' he said savagely. 'God damn and flay you! God's, curse upon you all!' To whom he was speaking was not apparent; he did not seem to be looking at anyone. But his face was twisted as with pain.

It was a silent company that rode across the reedy pastures and rolling slopes towards Derby. David, like Marie, was profoundly depressed. This surely should not, could not, be the end? But what to do, what to hope for, now – since all too clearly Mary Stuart would not change her mind? His thoughts had turned at once, of course, even whilst they were in the Queen's chamber, to his earlier idea of a rescue by force; but on riding, out from Wingfield Manor again, he had glimpsed an encampment behind some woodland, an armed encampment of scores of men and horses, where tents were being erected. And later, on the road, they had passed another column of men-at-arms riding towards Wingfield. Most evidently, Mary's guard was being massively reinforced. Why, he wondered? A mere unfortunate coincidence? At all events, it would seem to rule out any attempt at a rescue, meantime.

Patrick, strangely enough, though silent also, did not seem to share the others' depression. Indeed, he hummed snatches of song to himself as they rode, and occasionally made cordial, even jocular, remarks to Wotton who still escorted them.

Patrick seldom acted obviously, of course. David, low-voiced, assailed his brother, at length,

'Could you not have done more, Patrick?' he demanded. 'Could you not have made it easier for her? Is this all that we can do? Are we so quickly defeated in our endeavour?'

'Who is defeated, Davy? What gloomy talk is this? Today has been one small episode, a mere chapter – not the end of the story. Indeed, I expected little else. We have but sown the seed. The fruiting will come later.'

"The Queen seemed certain enough in her decision. She will not change her mind, I think.'

'Minds are made to change, Davy – especially women's minds. She knows now that she can go free. That is a hard thought to live with, in prison. In her solitary days that will work as leaven in a dough. The fair Mary will come to it never fear.'

'And you think that is right, seemly? When it is against her conscience…?'

'Lord, you cannot have it both ways, man! And what is conscience… but the flagellant courtesan we hire when we tire of the good wife of sound common sense?'

David stared ahead of him, and said nothing.

At Hampton Court Palace, where they eventually found Elizabeth and her Court the following night, Patrick had no need to seek to arrange a private audience. The Queen sent for him forthwith. He found her pacing alone with almost masculine strides up and down a long gallery. Courtiers watched her covertly from alcoves and doorways, but none shared her stern promenade.

'Well, sir?' she snapped, as he fell into step beside her. 'So you talked nonsense! You made me took the fool! Mary Stuart would have none of your proposals – or my generosity. You have wasted your time and my patience. I do not love bunglers, Master of Gray!'

Patrick affected to look at her with astonishment 'What misconception is this, Your Grace?' he wondered. 'What distorted mirror of events has been held up to you? I had esteemed Sir Edward Wotton – since he it must be – to have more wit than this!'

'Do not wriggle and twist, sirrah! Do not blame others for your own failure. Mary refused what you proposed – no clever talk will alter that'

'Of course she refused, Madam. I expected naught else. She could de none other, without renouncing her Crown for the second and final time. Nor could she swallow our Protestant alliance. That was clear. The one tied to the other made the issue certain.'

'But, man, this is not what you told me before! Have you been mocking me – me?

'Far from it, Highness. But the questions had to be asked, put to her. That was essential.'

'But why? Why go to this trouble, 'fore God? Why make the offer, if you knew that it must be refused?'

'Because the offer is everything, Your Grace – the refusal nothing. The offer blesses you, honours you. And King James. And the refusal condemns Mary only. I have changed Mary Stuart for you, dear lady, from a millstone to a jewel. Do you not see it? Before – you will forgive me saying it – men criticised you for holding Mary fast all these years. They may do so no longer. You have offered her her freedom, and she has rejected it James has offered her an Association in his Crown – and she has rejected that also. He is now tree to do as he will – under your guidance, and I hope, mine. And you are justified before all men. Heigho – and you talk of my failure. Madam!'

Elizabeth had halted in her pacing, to stare at him. Smiling confidendy if respectfully he returned her scrutiny. Never was a man more assured of himself. Tight-lipped she shook her bewigged head. It almost looked as though Elizabeth, Elizabeth Tudor, did not trust herself to speak.

'I will make so bold as to suggest that you will not deny the truth of what I say, Majesty,' he went on. 'In all modesty, I would claim to have earned some small thanks. King James's, also. Now, as regards Mary, your position is assured. No longer can you be blamed for holding her. And if she changes her mind, and agrees to the terms offered, Catherine de Medici will take over your burden, and she cannot upset your relations with James and Scotland. Is it not so?'

The Queen did not controvert him. Instead, she spoke wonderingly, obliquely. 'Whence comes a man like you, Patrick Gray? Under what strange star were you born? How came such a man of your father and yon long daughter of old Ruthven? God's death, but I think that I am frightened of you, Master of Grayl'

'You jest, Madam,' Patrick said shortly, almost abrupdy,and despite himself he frowned.

Elizabeth eyed him sidelong. 'If I was James Stewart, sir, I think… yes, I think that I would shut you up in the dread bottle-dungeon of Edinburgh Castle.'

Recovering himself, he smiled. 'King James, Madam, I am sure has more wit than that! As indeed have you. Send me back to Scotland with Your Grace's sure support, as I have besought you before, and I promise you that Scotland will no longer be a thorn in your flesh.'