Ken Follett - A Column of Fire

This was the signal from George on the mainland. The earring meant all was ready for Mary’s escape. Alison was thrilled. But Willie had been less than discreet. ‘Close your fist!’ she hissed at him. ‘We don’t want anyone asking questions.’

Fortunately, the people in the courtyard were intent on the game.

‘Sorry,’ said Willie. He closed his fingers around the jewel then passed it to Alison with a display of casualness.

Alison said: ‘Now, slip over the wall and sabotage all the boats but one.’

‘I’m ready!’ he said, pulling aside his coat to reveal a hammer hanging from his belt.

Alison returned to Mary’s quarters. Mary had not eaten much. Alison could imagine why. She herself was so tense that she could not have swallowed food. She handed Mary the jewel, saying: ‘Here’s the earring you lost. One of the boys found it.’

Mary knew what it meant. ‘I’m so glad!’ she said, beaming.

Sir William looked out of the window and grunted in surprise. ‘What is that foolish boy doing with the boats?’ he said in a tone that combined fondness with exasperation.

Alison followed his gaze. Willie was on the foreshore, kneeling in one of three boats that were drawn up on the beach. What he was doing was not obvious to a distant observer, but Alison knew he was making a hole in the hull so that the boat could not be used to pursue escapers. Alison suffered a moment of pure panic. She had no idea what to do. She turned to Mary and mouthed: ‘Willie!’

Mary knew what Willie was supposed to do to the boats. Once again she showed her ability to think fast in an emergency. ‘I feel terribly faint,’ she said, and slumped in her chair with her eyes closed.

Alison realized what she was up to and played along. ‘Oh, dear God, what’s wrong?’ she said, putting on a frightened voice.

She knew that Mary was faking, but Sir William did not. Looking fearful, he came at once to Mary’s side. If she died in his care he would be in trouble. The regent, James Stuart, would be obliged to deny that he had connived at her murder, and to demonstrate his sincerity he might well have Sir William executed. ‘What is it, what has happened?’ Sir William said.

Alison said: ‘She should have strong wine to revive her. Sir William, do you have some canary?’

‘Of course. I’ll fetch it at once.’ He left the room.

‘Well done,’ Alison said quietly to Mary.

Mary said: ‘Is Willie still at it?’

Alison looked out of the window. Willie was doing the same thing in a different boat. ‘Hurry up, Willie!’ she murmured. How long did it take to make a hole in a boat?

Sir William returned with a steward carrying a jug of wine and a goblet. Alison said: ‘My hands are shaking. Sir William, will you hold the cup to her lips?’

Sir William obliged, taking the opportunity to put a hand tenderly behind Mary’s head, and did not think to look out of the window.

Mary took a sip, coughed, and pretended to revive a little.

Alison made a show of touching her forehead and feeling her pulse. ‘You’ll be all right now, your majesty, but perhaps you should retire for the night.’

‘Very well,’ said Mary.

Sir William looked relieved. ‘Then I’ll leave you,’ he said. ‘Good night, ladies.’ He glanced out of the window. Alison looked too. Willie was no longer on the beach. It was not possible to see whether he had succeeded in holing the boats.

Sir William left without making any comment.

The steward cleared the table and went out, then Alison and Mary were alone. Mary said: ‘Did we get away with it?’

‘I think so. Sir William may forget what he saw from the window: he’s been drinking all afternoon, and he must be at least a little fuddled by now.’

‘I hope suspicion doesn’t make Sir William vigilant. Willie still has to steal the key.’

Sir William kept the gate key close at hand. When someone went to the mainland or came back, he would either open the gate himself or entrust the key to a guard for a few minutes only. Otherwise no one needed to leave the compound: there was nothing outside apart from the boats.

Mary and Alison had to get out of the compound, and Alison’s experiment had established that they could not climb over the wall, so they had to unlock the gate. Willie had assured Alison and Mary that he would be able to steal the key without Sir William noticing. They were dependent on him.

‘We should be dressed and ready,’ said Alison.

They took off their costly gowns and put on the rough kirtles, then changed their shoes for old worn ones. The Flemish hoods covered their heads and usefully concealed Mary’s distinctive auburn hair.

Now all they could do was wait.

Sir William liked Willie to serve his supper. His fondness for the orphan boy was what led everyone to speculate that they were father and son. But Willie’s loyalty had been undermined by Alison.

She imagined that right now, one floor down, Willie was putting down and picking up plates and napkins and jugs. Perhaps the key lay on the table next to Sir William’s wine goblet. She visualized Willie dropping a napkin over the key then picking up both. Would he get away with it? How drunk was Sir William? They could only wait and see.

If the plan worked, Mary’s escape would be a political earthquake. She would disavow the abdication papers she had been forced to sign and claim her rightful throne. Her half-brother James would assemble a Protestant army, and Mary’s Catholic supporters would rally — those of them who had not lost faith in her. The civil war would be renewed. Mary would be cheered by her brother-in-law the King of France, who was fighting a similar long-running civil war with the Huguenots. The supportive Pope would be glad to annul her marriage with Bothwell. Speculation about possible husbands for her would be renewed in every royal court from Rome to Stockholm. The European balance of power would shift seismically. Queen Elizabeth of England would be furious.

All that depended on Willie Douglas, aged fifteen.

There was a tap at the door, soft but insistent. Alison opened it. Willie stood there, beaming, holding a big iron key.

He stepped inside and Alison closed the door.

Mary stood up. ‘Let’s go at once,’ she said.

Willie said: ‘They’re still at table. Sir William is asleep over his wine, but Lady Margaret is talking to her granddaughters. They might see us, through the open door, as we go down.’ The spiral staircase went past the doors to each floor of the castle.

Alison said: ‘But this is a good time — the soldiers are still playing handball.’

Mary said decisively: ‘We have to take chances. We’ll go.’

Willie looked woebegone. ‘I should have closed the dining-room door. I never thought of it.’

Alison said: ‘Never mind, Willie. You’re doing wonderfully well.’ She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. He looked as if he had gone to heaven.

Alison opened the door, and they went out.

Willie led the way, followed by Mary, with Alison last. They tried to tread softly on the stone of the spiral staircase, hoping not to attract attention. Both women pulled their hoods forward as they approached the open door to the dining room. Light spilled from the doorway, and Alison heard low female voices. Willie went past without looking in. Mary put her hand to her face as the light fell on her. Alison waited to hear a shout of alarm. She walked past the door and went on down the stairs after the others. She heard a peal of laughter, and imagined Lady Margaret chortling scornfully at their pathetic attempt to disguise themselves; but it seemed her amusement had some other cause. They had not been noticed; or, if Lady Margaret had happened to glance up, perhaps she had seen nothing more remarkable than a few servants passing the doorway on some errand.