The other queen

1569, NOVEMBER, ON THE ROAD FROM TUTBURY CASTLE: MARY

Bothwell,

Written in haste—they are taking me to Coventry. Our moment is now! I can promise you a fight to win. Come if you can, come whatever it costs you. Come now!

M

Westmorland has an army of more than a thousand at Brancepath Castle, and a note palmed to me when we stop for dinner tells me that they have already been joined by Northumberland’s men. This makes them now two thousand strong. Two thousand—this is an army that can take the North; this is an army large enough to take London.

They are on their way to free me, Norfolk marching north to join them from Kenninghall and the three holy armies, his, Northumberland’s and Westmorland’s, carrying the banner of the five wounds of Christ, will unite and ride down the road to Coventry for me.

I don’t even expect much of a battle. Shrewsbury has a couple of hundred men riding with us, and Hastings no more than forty. None of them has the stomach for a fight. Half of them are Catholic; many of them are sympathetic to my cause. I see it in their shy sideways grins when I ride among them, and in the way they duck their heads in a bow when I go by. When we march past a derelict wayside shrine, half of them cross themselves and their officers look the other way. These are men who were christened in the Papist church; why should they want anything changed? Why should they die to defend a change that has brought them nothing but disappointment?

Dusk is falling on our first day of travel as Shrewsbury comes back to ride beside me. “Not far now,” he says encouragingly. “Are you not too tired?”

“A little,” I say. “And very cold. Where are we to spend the night?”

“Ashby-de-la-Zouche,” he says. “Lord Hastings’ castle.”

I am seized with fear. “I thought…,” I begin, and then I bite off what I thought. “Do we stay here? I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to be in his house.”

He puts out his hand and touches my glove. He is as gentle as a girl. “No, no, we are here only for one night. Then we will go on.”

“He won’t keep me here? Lock me up when we arrive?”

“He cannot. You are still in my charge.”

“You won’t release me to him? Whatever he says?”

He shakes his head. “I am to take you to Coventry and keep you safe.” He checks himself. “I should not have told you where we are headed. You will not tell your ladies or your servants, please.”

I nod. We all know already. “I promise I will not. And you will keep by my side?”

“I will,” he says gently.

The road turns ahead of us and we clatter towards the looming house, dark against the darkness of the winter afternoon. I grit my teeth. I am not afraid of Hastings. I am not afraid of anyone.

Shrewsbury comes to my rooms after dinner to see that I am comfortable and well served. I half expect him to offer me my freedom, to propose some kind of escape. But I wrong him. He is a man of determined honor. Even when he is losing he will not cut his losses. He is doomed tonight, and yet he smiles at me with his usual courtesy, and I see the affection in his weary face.

“You are comfortable?” he asks me, looking around at the rich furniture which Bess has hastily unloaded and assembled in the bare rooms. “I am sorry for the poor accommodation.”

“I am well enough,” I say. “But I don’t understand why we have to ride so hard, nor where we are going.”

“There is some unrest in the northern counties and we want to ensure your safety,” he says. He shifts his feet; he cannot meet my eyes. I could love this man for his hopeless honesty; I think he is the first man I have ever known who is incapable of telling a lie.

“There is some trouble,” he says reluctantly. “The queen is troubled by the loyalty of the northern lands. Nothing for you to worry about. But I shall stay with you until we reach our destination and you are safe.”

“I am in danger?” I widen my eyes.

He flushes a dull red. “No. I would never lead you into danger.”

“My lord Shrewsbury, if the Northern earls come for me, your dear friends and mine, will you let me go?” I whisper, going close to him, and putting my hand on his. “Will you let me go to them, so I can be free? They are your friends; they are my friends too.”

“You know about this?”

I nod.

He looks at his boots, at the fire, at the wall. Anywhere but at me. “Your Grace, I am bound by my word, I cannot betray the cause of my queen. I cannot let you go until she orders it.”

“But if I were in danger?”

Shrewsbury shakes his head, more in bafflement than refusal. “I would rather die than let anyone hurt a hair of your head,” he swears. “But I cannot betray my queen. I don’t know what to do. Your Grace, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I cannot be false to my queen. I have taken my oath to her. No man of my line has ever betrayed his king. I cannot betray my oath.”

“But you will not let Lord Hastings take me away? You won’t let him kidnap me out of your keeping?”

“No, I won’t allow that. Not now. Not in these dangerous days. I shall keep you safe. But I cannot release you.”

“What if he has orders to kill me?”

He flinches as if it were a knife to his heart rather than to mine. “He would not do such a thing. No man could.”

“What if he has to? What if he is ordered?”

“The queen would never order such a crime. It is unthinkable. She told me, she intends to be your kinswoman, she wants to treat you fairly. She said to me herself that she would be your friend.”

“But Cecil…”

His face darkens. “I will stay with you. I will keep you safe. I would lay down my life for you. I…” He chokes on what he wants to say.

I step back. So it is just as his wife fears, and she was fool enough to tell me. He has fallen in love with me and he is torn between his old loyalty to his old queen and his feelings for me. I take my hand from his. It is wrong to torment such a serious man. Besides, I have had enough from him. When the moment comes, I think he will let me go. I really think he will. Whatever he says now, I believe that he is so engaged in my cause that he will disobey his queen, dishonor his proud name, play traitor to his country when the moment comes. When the army of the North has us encircled and demands that I am released to them, I am certain he will let me go. I know it. I have won him. He is mine, through and through. He does not even know it yet. But I have won him from his queen and I have won him from his wife. He is mine.