Queen's Own Fool (28 page)

There was no sound from within. Silently I thanked God that the king had not spotted me. Nor had any guard. I let go of the sheet, stretched out my arms, and pressed my palms hard against the jambs of the window. It was all I could do to hold in a whoop of triumph.

Seeing me secure, the queen began reeling in the sheets while I surveyed the room before me. Darnley was seated with his back to me, so absorbed in his contemplation of the fire in the hearth, he had not heard a thing. There was a small table beside his chair on which sat a bottle and a half-filled glass of wine.

Carefully I sat down on the window's sill, then edged down to the floor. I crept up to his chair, making no sound in my stockinged feet.
How to best attract his attention without starting an alarm?

Before I could come to a decision, Darnley let out a long sigh, then stood up, and turned around.

His eyes grew wide with astonishment and his hand leaped for his dagger. Then realizing who I was, he demanded, “Where in damnation did you come from?”

“Through the window like a bird,” I replied lightly.

He glanced at the window, then back at me scowling. “Well, little bird, I will toss you out again. We will see how well you fly.”

“Your Majesty,” I said with a deep curtsy, “if you wish me to fly away, I certainly will. Only let me finish the small errand I was engaged to do.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “What errand?”

“The queen beseeched me—so humbly I could scarcely bear it—to make my way here and bring back word that you are unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” he repeated, staring at me. “What harm should come to me now that I rule undisputed in Scotland?”

He spoke boldly but his pale brow was slick with sweat and his right hand trembled involuntarily. He reached for his wine cup. It was clear he had had little stomach for the night's horrors. He probably had not counted on all the blood.

The blood! My dress was still stained with it. Darnley was trembling because of it!

He set the glass down again without tasting it.

“What harm could you come to?” I touched the bloody spots on my dress for emphasis. “That is exactly what I asked the queen. But I could not abate her anxiety. She gave me this as a token of her continued love.” I turned my back, reached under my skirt, undid the brooch, then turned and offered it to him with a flourish: “Voila!”

Darnley reached for the brooch tentatively, as though it were a viper coiled to strike. Then he held it up, as if admiring the play of the light on the blue stones.

“Does she seek to buy her life with this bauble?”

“I am sure the queen is quite safe, Your Majesty,” I told him with another respectful bow.

“Why should you think that, girl?” Darnley snapped. “There has been more than one murder here already tonight.”

“More than David Riccio?” For the moment I was stunned and it showed on my face.

Darnley seemed almost pleased at that, and he grinned at me. “One of the royal chaplains, the Dominican, Adam Black.” He said it casually, then looked back down at the jeweled brooch.

“They murdered a priest!” This was as shocking to me as Davie's murder, though I was scarcely acquainted with the man.

“Ruthven's men had daggers drawn for Bothwell and Huntly, but those two escaped, leaving the hunters hungry for a kill. When the fox eludes him, a hunter will as gladly kill a badger.” He smirked. “A badger, you know, is black-and-white, like a priest. A pretty conceit I think.”

Play the pretty fool, I reminded myself, and answered: “Better than any I could invent, Highness. But ...” and I bowed again, “do you think that they might yet do injury to the queen?”

“If so, she has brought it upon herself.”

The man was impossible. But I was not there for pleasure. I was there to turn him to my will.
Flatter him,
I reminded myself.
Flatter till it is done.

“You are so right, Majesty. She is my own queen but I see now how weak she is, how fragile her hold is on the throne. She was foolish not to have submitted to your will from the first.” I hoped I had not overdone it.

“That she was. She has not the spirit to rule as a monarch should, but is easily led astray by ugly, guileful foreigners.”

I wanted to snap back that for all his handsome face he was not worth half of what Davie had been. But I had the queen to think of, and my plan.

“As you say, Majesty, the queen is easily led. Especially now that she is with child. Women change when a child grows in the womb, you know. Perhaps that change will be enough to save her. Though it will depend upon your friends. They must be intelligent men. I am sure you would not consort with dullards.” I looked into his face with what I hoped was complete innocence. The kind Davie had so often accused me of.

“They have more than a sufficient measure of wit.” Darnley was relaxed now, and picked up his glass of wine to take a sip.

“Oh, then they might ... but no.” I put my hand to my mouth as if uncertain.

“What are you talking about, fool?” He stuffed the precious brooch into his pocket with his other hand.

“I
am
a fool,” I said, simpering at him. “I mean since they are intelligent men, rather than fools, they would never act contrary to their senses of honor, not even should they gain by it.”

“Speak plain, girl. Is this some tiresome riddle?” He drank another sip of the wine.

“I mean that their loyalty to you surely outweighs any advantage they might gain from your demise.” There. I put out the bait boldly. Now if the fish will only take it.

“My demise?” He laughed shallowly. “My demise? Nothing will happen to me. Why, within a matter of days the crown matrimonial will be mine, then I will reign supreme.”

“And justly so, I swear, though not all might agree.”

“Might they not?”

I moved closer, as if confiding a secret. But not so close that he might lay his hands on me.
Take the bait,
I kept thinking. “Ruthless men, Majesty, might think otherwise. They might see some ... great benefit in retaining the queen in power.”

“How so?” Intrigued, Darnley stepped into the circle of my confidence. I wanted to back away but I did not dare. I had to let him close enough to make him believe.

So I lowered my voice even further. A
well-spoke whisper,
Uncle Armand always said,
makes the audience lean in.
And Papa said often,
The nearer the neck, the nearer the knife.

“Well, in a mere three months, sire, the queen will give birth. Once the baby is born, if the queen were to suffer an accident or to retire to some isolated tower, Scotland would have an infant king.”

“No infant can rule unaided, fool.”

Who is the fool now,
I thought.
You have taken the bait!
“Then what would be done?” I actually batted my eyelashes at him.

“A regent would be appointed. Do you know nothing?”

“I know very little of such grand matters, I am sure,” I said. Though of course I knew what a regent was. The dowager Catherine de Medici still ruled France as regent for her son. “So will this regent ... and is that a gentleman again, sire? Re-gent? A small foolish joke. I apologize. La!—Great doings make my poor head spin! Will this regent be a commoner or a churchman?”

“He would have to be a noble. Or a council of regents.”

“Ah,” I said, opening my eyes wide. “Now I understand!”
Though of course I had understood all along.
“So a group of nobles could rule Scotland in the baby's name.”

“Aye, that might suit them, if there were not already a king upon the throne. Me!” He smiled witheringly.

I stared at him, feigning a dawning realization. “Of course, Your Majesty. If they have any such regency plan in mind, it will come to naught if you are already declared king.”

“Exactly.”

Bait taken, I now set the hook!
“Surely there is no question of their loyalties. But wait, sire. I have just remembered. They have already broken their oaths to the queen. Would they dare do any such thing to the not-quite-yet king?”

Darnley stepped back from me as if from a poxied wench. He drained the rest of his wine in a single gulp.

I continued. “Only a fool would suppose them to be more concerned with their own gain than with the good of the nation.” I kept my voice the innocent's. “But then, I
am
a fool.”

The wine had brought an uncomplimentary flush to his face. “I have guards to protect me.”

“Guards? Oh, yes. Right.” I put a hand to my temples. “Such things escape the mind of a fool.”

Darnley was trying to affect an air of unconcern, but he was now hanging on to my every word.
Reel him in,
I thought.
Be careful, though. Don't overdo the drama.
But Darnley seemed unaware of my overacting, so I went on.

“But sir,” I said, looking around as if afraid to be overheard, “how good are these guards? True, they may save you from a knife in the back or a lance in the side. Yet there are subtler methods, the kinds sorcerers are wont to use, like poisons that cannot be traced. Still ...” and I paused as if musing, “what Scottish noble would possibly sink to such base practices? This is not Italy after all.”

Darnley was tugging at his jerkin and his eyes had become glazed, as if he were in the grip of a fearsome vision.

“Have you heard ... talk of Lord Ruthven?” he asked.

“That he indulges overly in ale and wine, do you mean?”

“No, fool, have you heard that he practices magic!” His flushed face was now an odd shade of green.

“Magic? That is surely nothing but empty gossip. He studied abroad. Alchemy, I think. And yet ...” I looked around again. This time he looked around with me. “They do say that where there is smoke a fire must be burning.”

“Ruthven has been called a warlock,” Darnley muttered to himself, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I hugged myself and shivered. “I wish you would not speak of such things, Your Majesty. Tales of witches and their poisons are frightening to a simple fool like me.”

All at once he leaned forward intently. His breath stank of wine and fear. “Listen, girl, there may be danger here you do not comprehend, danger to both the queen and to me.”

“To you?” I exclaimed aghast. “Surely not, Your Majesty!”

“If I say there is danger, then there is! Do not contradict me!”

I hung my head. “I am a fool, sir, indeed.”

“Tell the queen that she and I must look to each other, as our own best friends. Only in that way can we find safety.”

“I doubt the queen would believe such a story from my lips, Majesty. She will think it the ravings of a ... mere fool. Can you not explain these matters to her yourself, in the language of the court?”

“Yes, of course,” Darnley agreed. “That is exactly what I will do. But you must be out of here, before anyone knows you have come.”

I spread my hands helplessly. “As you surmised, Your Majesty, I cannot fly, for all that my head is full of feathers.”

He pulled a key from his jerkin and started for the rear stairway. “These steps will take you to a passage that leads to the servants' quarters. Go soft now and be sure that neither Ruthven nor any of the others get wind of this visit.”

He unlocked the door and signalled me to be gone. I paused for a final curtsy, prompting him to turn me around and give me a shove in the small of my back. Then he slammed the door shut after me. I heard the key turn in the lock. Praying that this desperate move would be blessed with success, I started down the steps.

King to queen.

Check.

31

ESCAPE

I
had trouble falling to sleep that night. And when I did, I dreamed of the bloody stag again, its noble head in my lap. Awaking in the pearly light of morning, I checked in the mirror to see if I were still soaked with blood, but my night shift was unstained.

Sighing with relief, I thought suddenly:
The queen—she is the one who needs my help now.
So I dressed at once, in a plain, dark dress with but a touch of lace at the collar.

“Forgive me, Davie,” I whispered. “I have no mourning clothes but these.”

I had not been able to get back to the queen's chamber after leaving Darnley. Two new guards had been at the door and would not let me in. By now the queen must be desperate to know.

Unless ... unless Darnley had already gotten to her himself.

There was an unnatural hush as I walked down familiar halls. Doors and gates normally ajar were now closed and guarded. The passageways through which clerks and scholars had gossiped only yesterday were now patrolled by armed men. Even those few courtiers I met became tight-lipped when they saw me, refusing to divulge by so much as a glance where their loyalties lay.

And I did not ask.

I did not dare ask for fear of giving the game away.

When I got to the west wing where the queen had her apartments, I found it the most heavily secured of all.

The
devil
owns this place, I thought.

But still I was determined to report back to the queen.

How?

And then I had it! Even if her regular attendants had been forced to leave, someone still had to fetch her meals.
I
would be that someone!

I found the nearest stair and fled down to the kitchens, where cook was barking orders. I watched from the doorway as his big hands slapped the heads of his assistants for spilling the milk or using too much salt. It was such a homey, familiar tumult that, for the first time that day, I felt almost safe.