She longed to sever that beautiful head from those graceful shoulders. She hated the Queen of Scots for many reasons. Mary was beautiful, infinitely desirable, and men were ready to risk their lives and fortunes for her. They said the same of Elizabeth; every day there were courtiers to tell her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was their Gloriana, the mistress of her male subjects, all of whom groveled at her feet and capped each other’s flattering comments. Yet, thought Elizabeth in one of those rare moments when she faced the truth, how many would be prepared to worship her if she were the poor prisoner in the castle of a jealous enemy?
That was one reason why she wished to be rid of Mary. A poor reason, admitted Elizabeth the Queen. The true reason was not that of the vain and simpering woman. It was a Queen’s reason: She threatened the crown. She could be a figurehead to Elizabeth’s Catholic subjects. Those who questioned the legitimacy of the marriage between Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn might call Mary, not Elizabeth, the true Queen of England: therefore Mary must die.
But there must be a good reason for her death. It was not wise to set a precedent for the murder of Queens. Royalty must be respected. A case must be proved against Mary; and even then Elizabeth would not happily sign the death warrant.
She went to her council and there railed against the perfidy of Norfolk.
Timidly her councilors pointed out that in negotiating for marriage, Norfolk had done nothing in law to incur a severe penalty.
She had become suddenly furious with them. “What the law cannot do,” she cried, “my authority shall effect!”
Then because she suspected she might have shown her fears of Mary too openly, which would have been unwise, she played the emotional woman, pretending to faint so that the councilors brought vinegar and restoratives to revive her.
But she always knew when she had gone far enough. Recovering from her “faint” she graciously told her courtiers that she feared at times she was but a weak woman, and she thanked them for the good counsel on which she knew she could always rely.
She left the Council Chamber wondering how she could bring about the destruction of her enemy without seeming to have played a part in it.
LESLEY, BISHOP OF ROSS, was disturbed by these events. He knew that the prisoners would be questioned, and he wondered how deeply they would incriminate Mary.
It was while he was in his lodgings, brooding on these matters, that his servant came to tell him that a gentleman was without and asking to see him on urgent business. Lesley commanded that he be brought to him without delay, and the man was ushered in.
When they were alone he came straight to the point.
“My name is Owen,” he said, “and I am a gentleman from the household of the Earl of Arundel.”
Lesley was excited. “You bring news from your master?”
“As you know, my master is in the Tower, but before he was taken he gave me instructions to call on you and lay this plan before you. He believes the Queen of Scots to be in great danger.”
“I fear that is so.”
“And that she should be removed from Tutbury Castle at no matter what cost. If she could be taken from her prison and brought to Arundel, she could embark there for France. Once there it would be easier for her friends to work on her behalf. But she should leave Tutbury as soon as possible.”
“I am in agreement with you,” said Lesley. “I like not the choice of her jailor.”
“You do well to doubt his designs. But there is this in our favor. The Earl and his Countess have no reason to love Huntingdon either, since he has been set up as a jailor over them as well as the Queen. It may well be that they would be ready to assist the Queen’s escape.”
“And risk their heads?”
“They are no longer in charge of her. Doubtless they would be pleased to see Huntingdon fail . . . where they did not . . . even though they left their captive for the Buxton baths.”
“I will write to the Queen with all speed and tell her of this plan.”
“Pray do so. It is what my master wishes.”
As soon as Owen had left, Lesley wrote a letter to Mary and sent a messenger off with it to Tutbury.
IT WAS NOT EASY NOW for Mary to receive correspondence from her friends, for Huntingdon was a sterner jailor than had so far been hers.
This meant that intrigue in Tutbury intensified, and as there hung over the Queen the perpetual fear that she was to be murdered, the days, being full of alarms, were certainly not dull.
Mary and her devoted friends were constantly alert for a look, a gesture from even a serving man or maid which could be significant.
The letter from Lesley had been smuggled in to her through the services of one of these. The messenger had arrived at Tutbury with letters for Mary which must pass through Huntingdon’s hands; but there was one which he carried secreted on his person, and this he kept back, seeking a moment when he could pass it to Seton. This was the letter in which Lesley told her of the plan to carry her off to Arundel.
When Mary had read the letter she passed it to Seton. Seton too was aware of a brooding warning within these walls. She often thought how easy it would be to slip a little poison into Mary’s food, to force her to one of the windows or the top of a staircase and throw her down. Since their return to Tutbury, she had been constantly on her guard, sleeping in Mary’s own bedchamber, starting at the smallest sound in the night; but even her strong nerves were giving way under the strain, and she would have been ready to risk a great deal to escape.
“What do you think, Seton?” asked Mary.
“I believe that it should be tried.”
“I would be ready to risk my life for escape from this place.”
Seton nodded. “Northumberland and Westmorland would be ready to come to your help. It has a good chance of success.”
“I am anxious about the noblemen of the North, Seton, because their aim is not only to win me back my Scottish crown but to set me on the throne of England.”
“Perhaps it would be wise to take first things first. Escape. That is what we desire. Let us have that and see where we go from there.”
“To France, it seems, Seton.”
“We were happy in France,” Seton reminded her.
Mary was thoughtful for a few seconds, then she said: “There is one other matter, Seton. What of Norfolk? He is in the Tower. If I escaped, Elizabeth would take her revenge on him and that could cost him his life. I do not think I could give my consent to this plan while Norfolk is in the Tower.”
Seton looked sadly at her mistress. She did not have the high opinion of Norfolk that Mary had, believing him to be selfish and avaricious. Seton often wondered whether, but for Norfolk, Mary might have escaped from her enemies by now.
“Let Norfolk take care of himself,” she said rashly. “Here is a chance to escape from this place.”
Mary was shocked. “You have forgotten, Seton, that he is my affianced husband.”
“He is in the Tower, but it may be that you are in greater danger.”
“But he might well be in great danger if I angered Elizabeth by escaping. There is only one thing to do. I will write to Norfolk.”
“It is dangerous to write, Your Majesty.”
“Nay. I write in cipher . . . a new one now that they have stolen the old. We have our friends here who smuggle out our letters, and friends in the Tower who smuggle them in. Who would guess that corks of ale bottles which are taken into the Duke’s cell contain my letters! We are well served, Seton.”
Seton saw that it was no use warning the Queen against Norfolk. She, who had always been so trusting, so generous, persisted in endowing others with the same qualities.