BESS BURST INTO the Queen’s apartment.
“Good news!” she cried. “At last we shall call our home our own. The Queen orders Huntingdon to leave Tutbury.”
Mary raised herself from her pillows, and her pleasure was evident. No more wondering whether the food she ate had been spiced with poison; no more waking in the night wondering in terror whether that was a stealthy step she had heard outside her door.
With an impulsive gesture she stretched out her arms to Bess, and the two women embraced each other.
BESS WITH HER HUSBAND stood at the castle gates watching the departure of the Earl of Huntingdon.
“Now we are alone,” she cried, “I pray God that never again shall our privacy be so invaded. Come, let us go into the castle. I feel we should celebrate the end of Huntingdon’s rule. There shall be a banquet and the Queen shall be present.” She looked at the Earl slyly. “You will like that, eh?”
“I am not sure of the wisdom of it.”
“Come come,” laughed Bess. “She shall be seated on your right hand. But do not forget that I shall be watching you, so if you wish to tell her of your devotion you will have to do so in whispers.”
The Earl was about to protest but Bess was laughing loudly.
Into the kitchen she went and her voice could be heard throughout the castle issuing orders.
“Now come along, Peg. Look sharp, girl. There’s work to be done. Do not think that, because my lord Huntingdon has left us, there is naught for you to do but gape about you. Eleanor, you go to the kitchens. There’ll be work for you there. Go and tell the cooks I shall be with them shortly. I have orders to give them, now that my lord Huntingdon is no longer with us!”
Eleanor was aware of the Earl’s eyes upon her as she obeyed the instructions of the Countess. They spoke little to each other, yet he knew of her happiness in his recovery, and she was aware that he was deeply affected by her joy.
BESS GAZED CONTENTEDLY about her table. It was good to be mistress in her own house. She could feel proud of her achievement. She had had her way with Elizabeth and had been taken back into favor. Now she and George were in the same position as they had been in before the trip to Buxton. George’s health was wonderfully improved and he was almost himself again. She had been triumphantly proved right, and there was nothing Bess liked better.
The Queen of Scots was looking pale. Poor ineffectual creature! Bess could feel sorry for her and she could laugh inwardly at what she called George’s romantic attachment. She would see that it never became more than it was at present. George could go on admiring the captive Queen as long as he kept his distance.
One thing I should never tolerate, Bess told herself, is an unfaithful husband.
She had no fear. Any woman who could flout Queen Elizabeth and maneuver herself back into favor could do anything.
Why not a little dancing? A little music on the lute or virginals?
She suggested to Mary that she should invite the company to her apartments, and Mary joyfully agreed.
There after the banquet Mary played the lute and sang to the company; and she felt so much recovered that, when the dancing began, she found her feet tapping to the tune and she was unable to resist trying a measure.
Willie Douglas begged for the honor, and graciously she consented to his wish.
Willie’s eyes were full of dreams. She knew he was thinking regretfully of escapes which had come to nothing, and desperately trying to think of one which would succeed.
She felt hopeful. I have so many good friends, she told herself.
THERE WAS A COMMOTION at the castle gates.
Bess, who immediately went down to see what was happening, was struck with dismay when she recognized the livery of Huntingdon’s men.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Before she could receive an answer she was joined by her husband. “Huntingdon’s men have returned,” he cried. “I had thought them at Court by now.”
And as she spoke Huntingdon himself was riding toward her. He dismounted and a groom immediately took his horse.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” demanded Bess with sarcasm.
Huntingdon came straight to the point. “Northumberland and Westmorland are in revolt. They are marching on Tutbury and are but some fifty miles from us. There must not be a moment’s delay. I am ordered by Her Majesty to take the Queen of Scots from here at once.”
Shrewsbury said: “And what are Her Majesty’s orders concerning us?”
“You are to come with us to protect the Queen of Scots if necessary from the rebels. I have an armed guard with me. We should go to the Queen’s apartments immediately. We must be gone from here before an hour has elapsed, for it is unsafe to stay longer.”
Mary was startled when the Earls of Huntingdon and Shrewsbury came to her.
She listened in dismay.
Leave Tutbury! It was what she had been praying for. But in very different circumstances from these.
IX
Coventry
THE FIRST HALT ON THE FLIGHT from Tutbury was at Huntingdon’s castle at Ashby-de-la-Zouch.
This castle, set in wooded country, was a magnificent building which had been erected by Alan de la Zouch in the reign of Henry III, and in such contrast to dreary Tutbury that Mary might have welcomed the change had it not been that she was once more under the guardianship of Huntingdon.
“Only three days free of him,” he said to Bess, “and here he is again. Do you think he has brought me to Ashby to murder me?”
“He dare not. The Queen would never allow it.”
“There are some,” remarked Mary ruefully, “who are prepared to disobey not only the Queen of Scots but the Queen of England.”
“Not Huntingdon. He values his head too much. You need have no fear,” Bess went on. “While I am here no harm shall come to you.”
Such was the personality of the Countess that Mary took courage from her presence. Nevertheless she was relieved when that long night was over and they left Huntingdon’s mansion.
There was no time for delay. Ashby was too uncomfortably close to Tutbury for the party to be allowed to stay there, and Coventry was the next destination, some twenty-six miles on.
They halted at the Three Tuns Inn at Atherstone for refreshment on their way and then rode hard for Coventry, a town where a defense might be put up against the rebels, for a strong wall surrounded it on which were thirty well fortified towers.
But no preparation had been made in Coventry for the arrival of the party, and Huntingdon and Shrewsbury consulted together as to where they could find lodging for the Queen.
Bess said that as the Queen was very weary and far from well they should find a lodging for her and continue their conference later. She suggested the Black Bull Inn in Smithford Street not far from the Greyfriars gateway.
“There she can be well guarded,” she went on, “until a more seemly lodging can be found. It would be a sorry matter if we were forced to flee again, and the Queen too sick to travel.”
Mary was not displeased to find herself in a hostelry which, although infinitely smaller, had more comfort to offer her than gloomy Tutbury. There was excitement among her friends because, with the Northern Catholics on the march and herself being hustled from place to place, rescue seemed more likely than it could be while she was incarcerated within the strong walls of a fortress. She had brought with her, in spite of the hasty flight, twenty-five of her friends on whom she could rely absolutely, led by such stalwarts as Mary Seton, Jane Kennedy, Willie Douglas, the Livingstones and Marie Courcelles. There were also two members of the Beaton family—Andrew and Archibald—the former her Master of the Household, the latter her usher; and she knew that they would readily give their lives for her. There were times when she believed she would never be able to express her gratitude to these people who, from choice, shared her captivity with her.