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“We’ll offer a reward of two thousand pounds and a free pardon to any who can give information regarding the murder. And we’ll have those servants of yours sent out of the country immediately, for how can we know what they will divulge if they are captured and put to the torture?”
“What of you?” she asked.
“I’ll take care of myself,” said Bothwell. He caught her to him and laughed. “And of you,” he added.
SHE KNEW her conduct was wrong but she could act in no other way. She could only live through the weeks that followed by striving to pretend the tragedy had not happened. She did not appear to be mourning. She even attended a wedding. She shocked the citizens by her almost feverish pursuit of gaiety. They did not know that in her own apartments, night after night, she was near to collapse.
Bothwell hurried her off to the Castle of Seton, accompanied by himself, Maitland and a few of the lords. All were on tenterhooks, all uncertain of what was to happen next—with the exception of Bothwell whose intentions were perfectly clear in his mind.
In the streets of Edinburgh the cry against him rose more shrilly, now that he was not there to strike terror into the populace.
“Let Bothwell be tried for murder!” shouted the people. “Bothwell… with his servants and the Queens… killed the King.”
The Earl of Le
AT SETON the lovers could be alone together, but Bothwell was more interested in plans for the future than making love.
“Now,” he said, “you are free to marry. You are free from that troublesome boy.”
“Free!” she cried. “I shall never be free from him. He will always be with me. I can never forget him.”
Bothwell was impatient. “He is dead and that is an end of him. Did you not want him dead? Did you not long to be my wife?”
“If we had met long ago…”
“Oh, have done with your ‘ifs’! We could marry now and there is nothing to stop us.”
“There is your wife.”
“I have told you that I can rid myself of her.”
“Not—”
“By divorce,” he said impatiently. “Jean will agree. There must be no delay. Remember, we have a child to think of.”
“How could we marry now? How could we marry soon? The whole world will know that we are guilty.”
“We must marry,” said Bothwell. “We shall marry.”
“I dare not. I long to be your wife but I dare not. There is no way out of this. You are accused of the murder. My servants are accused, and that means the people believe they acted in my name. Should we marry, all the world would say that we killed Darnley to bring this about.”
Bothwell took her by the shoulders. He said: “We shall marry. I tell you we shall marry. Whatever happens, I am determined to marry you.”
“Then you must force me to it in some way. I must seem to surrender against my will. That is very necessary or the whole of Scotland will be against me. Oh, my dearest, what have we done? What have we done?”
“What we set out to do—rid ourselves of our encumbrances. What do you wish? To tell the whole world that I ravished you and therefore you consider it necessary to marry me?”
“It is true,” she murmured.
“And that is the only reason why you wish to marry me. Ah! You were no reluctant partner… after the first shock!”
She protested: “You do not love me. You care more for Jean Gordon than for me.”
“I am ready to divorce her, am I not? And all for love of you!”
“Rather for love of my crown.”
He laughed. “Let us not make such fine distinctions. You are the Queen and royal. Your crown is part of you, and if I would do what I have for the sake of a crown, yet it is for love of you too. You are my mistress, my concubine in private; but in public you must be my Queen. You must be royal. You must distribute the favors. That is how you would have it. When we are alone, I am the master; but when we are in public, you will be the Queen, I the servant.” He paused and seemed to consider awhile. Then he went on: “Mayhap you are right. Mayhap that is how the people would have it. I will seize your person. I will hold you captive. The whole world shall believe that you are my captive and I ravished you. You therefore feel that the only way in which you can redeem your honor is through marriage, and for that reason you will seek the earliest opportunity to bring it about. You are a widow now. I shall soon be free of Jean. Nothing will stand in our way. That is our next move, my Queen. Leave it to me.”
“There is nothing else I can do,” she said. “My whole life, my entire happiness is in your hands.”
SHE WOULD think of nothing but her love of Bothwell. She would put her whole trust in him. He would bring them safely through this danger in which they found themselves. She had sent out of the country Joseph Rizzio and those of her servants who were suspected; she was relieved to know that they were safe. Bothwell and James Balfour would know how to defend themselves.
Bothwell had ridden through the streets of Edinburgh calling on any who accused him to come out and do it openly. He was ready, he declared, to wash his hands in their blood. He had his men—thousands of them in their steel bo
Mary wanted to show him how much she loved him; she could not give him enough. She had already bestowed on him the Castle of Blackness; and all the rich furs and jewels which Darnley had amassed were given to Bothwell. She wrote poems expressing her love for him, betraying the depth of her feelings, her desire for him, her bitter jealousy of his wife.
Bothwell himself was ready and eager to face a trial. It was arranged that he should do so, and, ostentatiously filling the town with his followers, he prepared to make his journey to the Tolbooth where the trial was to be held.
He was confident of the result. The Justice was that old and warm supporter of his, Argyle; the jury was picked. Every man among them knew that only fools would support Le
It was not that the lords did not fear Bothwell; it was not that they were unaware of his rising power. They were suspicious of his relationship with the Queen, but he now had five thousand men in the city, and the guns of Edinburgh Castle were under the command of one of his men. The strength of Bothwell was much in evidence and the lords could not but quail before him. Bothwell was in charge of events and they were afraid of him.
The citizens watched him ride to the Tolbooth, magnificently clad in velvet hose passamented and trussed with silver and with his black satin doublet similarly decorated; he wore jewels presented to him by the Queen, and his great figure mounted on a fine horse had all the bearing of the King he was determined to become. His exultation was obvious.
The Queen could not resist looking out of a window of Holyrood to watch his departure. She felt there was no need to pray for his safety; he would look after himself; he was invincible.
The trial was conducted in a solemn ma
“James, Earl of Bothwell, is acquitted of any art and part of the slaughter of the King.”
Triumphantly he rode through the streets of Edinburgh. He galloped along the Canongate and shouted to the people: “People of Edinburgh, I have been acquitted of that of which I was accused. I have been pronounced guiltless. If there is any man among you who doubts that verdict to be a true one, let him come forward now. I challenge him to single combat. Let him fortify his accusations with the sword.”