Melville shook his head; Seton was disturbed.

“Your Majesty,” said the latter, “we must remember that the Regent has shown himself to be your enemy. It was on his instructions that you were kept in rigorous confinement.”

“I know,” replied Mary; and she looked around the company with a smile that held some exasperation. How could she explain to them: I understand Jamie. He even has my sympathy. There is not a more ambitious man in Scotland—and we must remember how frustrating it must be to have been born a bastard when you long to wear the crown. Oh poor frustrated Jamie! He made me a prisoner; he wished to rule Scotland. He shall no longer do so, but I could make him happy with some post worthy of his exceptional abilities.

No, they would never understand her.

He is my brother! she wanted to cry. The Stuart blood runs through our veins. He was unjust to me, but I could never be so to him. The matter would lie on my conscience. I should remember it all my life.

Therefore she would not listen to their advice. At least she would give James a chance to confer peaceably. The idea of a civil war in Scotland was abhorrent; but that it should be war between brother and sister was doubly so.

No. She must give Jamie a chance to be her friend. She must forgive and try to forget.

So she wrote to Moray.

WHEN MORAY heard the news of the Queen’s escape he was dumbfounded. He let out an exclamation of rage—something he had rarely done in his life; but in that moment of dismay he was beyond self-control.

Escaped from Lochleven, and now at Hamilton Castle where supporters were rallying to her banner!

He sought out Morton at once.

“This is disastrous!” cried Morton.

“Nay,” answered James, almost his calm self again. “It is bad, but we must not be over-disconsolate. Deeply as I regret what has happened, there may still be a chance to settle this matter once and for all.”

“They say supporters are rallying to her side.”

“She will not have the money to pay them.”

“Doubtless she will receive help from France.”

“I am afraid of that. But it will take a little time before aid can reach her. In the meantime we have the arms. We also have her jewels. I shall immediately offer her pearls to Elizabeth of England.”

“You think she will buy them?”

“I know she will. She has wanted them ever since she heard that Mary was a prisoner in Lochleven.”

Morton looked at Moray. A sly one, thought Morton; so he had already been in negotiation with Elizabeth over the pearls! You could trust Moray to be one step ahead of his enemies—and his friends. Morton believed—in spite of rumors that were in the air—that he was on the right side.

“She will offer twelve thousand crowns for them,” went on Moray.

“I had heard they are worth sixteen thousand.”

“It is so. But the Queen of England dearly loves a bargain and it is to our advantage to please her. Moreover she has an obsession about her cousin of Scotland and constantly longs to outshine her in all things. She is the vainest woman in the world, and there have been too many reports of my sister’s beauty and charm which have reached her. She hates her rival. In truth she was delighted to hear she was a prisoner in Lochleven, robbed of her comfort and luxury. She constantly inquires about the health of her dear cousin, and professes concern that imprisonment may have impaired her beauty, fervently hoping all the time that it has. She wants the pearls so that Mary cannot have them and she will pay for them without delay. We shall need the money.”

“You think we can rely on her help?”

Moray nodded slowly. “She will offer congratulations to Mary; she will rage against the indignity done to Royalty; and she will turn a blind eye and a deaf ear while her minister, Cecil, supports the Protestants of Scotland against the Catholics. Throckmorton assures me of this.”

“But meanwhile Mary may receive help from France.”

“It is wrong, I believe, to wait for help from England. By then Mary may have received help from France. There must be a battle if we are to preserve the throne for James VI; we must prepare for that battle and it must take place without delay. In the meantime I will write humbly to my sister so that she will think I am considering her proposals. But make no mistake about it. The time to strike is close at hand. If we delay we shall have the Highlanders marching South. I doubt not that when Huntley heard the news he began shouting the battle cry.”

“You are right,” agreed Morton. “To delay would be to give the Queen the advantage.”


* * *

MARY WAS DISCONSOLATE because Moray had now shown his true intentions. After seeming to be considering a reconciliation he had put in irons the messenger whom she had sent to him in Glasgow.

There must be a battle. Her advisers were optimistic because she had now a force of six thousand, while Moray had under four thousand. Victory seemed inevitable and she was glad that the battle would not be delayed because, having at Carberry Hill seen how rapidly an army could turn against its leaders, she was afraid of a similar occurrence when those who had rallied to fight for her knew that she had—until she gained the victory—no means of paying them for their services.

There was trouble within her ranks. She had given the command of the army to the Earl of Argyle who was the husband of a half-sister of hers—one of her father’s bastards. Mary, who had always longed to be one of a large family, had constantly shown indulgence toward her father’s bastards. However, Lord Claud Hamilton thought that the command should have been offered to him. This was an unfortunate state of affairs particularly as neither of the contestants was noted for his military genius, and against them Moray would have the best general in Scotland—Kirkcaldy of Grange, one of the Queen’s most bitter enemies.

The Queen’s ill luck seemed to have returned, for it started to rain heavily and, so violent were the storms, that the progress of the Highlanders, who under Huntley were hurrying to her banner, was halted.

Moray, aware that delay could cost him his future, determined on immediate battle. Mary, however, still hoping to avoid bloodshed, decided to march with her followers to Dumbarton, which was in the loyal hands of Lord Fleming. But the Hamiltons were eager for battle; they had old scores to settle with Moray and it was largely for this reason that they had rallied to the Queen; they did all possible therefore to impede the departure for Dumbarton.

Moray had set spies among the Queen’s men and was kept informed of her movements. Thus the news that she was making her way to Dumbarton, to join with Fleming and doubtless pick up other supporters on the road, was brought to him and, as he was discussing tactics with his General Kirkcaldy at the time, Kirkcaldy hit on the plan that he and his army would intercept the Queen and hers on the road to Dumbarton. In this way he would be able to choose his battlefield and position—always an important factor in victory; and as it was necessary to engage in an action as soon as possible, the time had come.

Moray was confident that he had the finest general in Scotland and he agreed at once. So Kirkcaldy selected his battlefield at the little village of Langside close by Govan Moor.

ON HER WAY to Dumbarton Mary stayed the night at Castlemilk as the guest of her kinsman Sir John Stuart.

She slept well for she was confident of eventual victory; and when it was hers she would send for Moray and reproach him for all that he had done against her. She would remind him of the blood ties between them and she would of course forgive him; and she hoped that then there would be an end of strife between them. “Jamie,” she would say, “I understand and you have my sympathy. I am our father’s legitimate daughter; you are his illegitimate son. It is sad for you who are so ambitious, but you must learn to accept that.”

And he would agree because, whatever else James was, he was a man of sound common sense.

How wonderful to be at peace again—a Queen on her throne! And the years of violence and tragedy would not have been in vain, because she had learned so much through them, and she would profit from those lessons. She would be a good Queen to her Protestant subjects no less than to her Catholic ones. There should be freedom of religion in Scotland, freedom of opinion, prosperity and peace.

She dozed, for she was worn out with emotion and physical exhaustion. She dreamed that she was in Lochleven and her joy was great when she opened her eyes in the large room with the three embayed windows which gave her wide views over the countryside.

Not Lochleven but Castlemilk on the road to Dumbarton!

But in the morning when she arose and went out to the battlements to gaze down on the magnificent view of her beautiful country she saw troops encamped in the distance; and she felt sick with apprehension because she knew that they were not her own soldiers but those of the enemy.

She believed then that the battle could not long be delayed.

She had just completed her toilet, and was wearing a crepe coif and simple dress, which fitted her figure closely and which was made of white taffety, when she heard that Lord Livingstone was asking for an audience with her.

He looked disturbed, and when she asked the reason, he kissed her hand and told her that all augured well for this day and that he believed that before nightfall their enemies would be defeated. There was a small trouble however. Two captains of her musketeers were quarreling as to who should have supremacy over the other.