Mary sighed. “There is no time for private quarrels on such a day. Who are these men?”

“Arthur Hamilton of Mirrinton and John Stuart of Castleton. They are bitter enemies, and are ready to draw swords against each other. I warned them that if they did not desist I should be forced to lay the matter before Your Majesty. They persist in their quarrel, so I have come to ask you to give a decision.”

“Is one a better captain than the other?”

“They are both good fighters, Your Majesty; but arrogant, stubborn and proud.”

“Then I suppose I must perforce give the command to the Stuart . . . for the sake of the name.”

Livingstone bowed. “It is one way of solving the problem, Your Majesty.”

Mary said: “The enemy is massing against us. I can see them in the distance.”

Livingstone nodded. “The battle will surely take place this day. Will Your Majesty come now to the chamber in which your generals and councillors are gathered?”

Mary went with him; and there it was decided that, on account of their superiority in numbers, they should surround the rebel army and annihilate it in a short time.

“We will call for surrender,” insisted Mary. “If they surrender there will be no need for slaughter. I do not wish the blood of Scotsmen to be shed unnecessarily on this day. I am sure that many who now stand against me may well become my good friends when they learn that I intend to rule well, to forgive them and bear no malice that they once ranged themselves against me.”

One of the guards at the door of the council chamber slipped away from his post. No one noticed his departure because there was so much coming and going; moreover many of those who had rallied to the Queen’s cause were friends of his.

He had no difficulty in procuring a horse and soon was speeding across country to the headquarters of Mary’s enemies.

There he went straight to Kirkcaldy who was conferring with Moray, and received their congratulations when he was able to tell them the form in which the enemy’s attack would be made.

KIRKCALDY WAS EXULTANT. He was certain of victory. The inferiority in numbers concerned him little for throughout the Queen’s army were his own men. He had taken the precaution of sending them to declare their loyalty to the Queen, with strict instructions as to how they were to act. He did wonder uneasily whether a similar strategy had occurred to the other side. Hardly likely. The Queen would have notions of fighting fairly. As if any battle was ever won through fairness! Argyle? Not a brilliant rival. Moreover he was Moray’s brother-in-law and they had been allies at one time. He did not think Argyle would prove a very good general for the Queen. She should have remembered that while he was related to her he was also related to Moray; and Moray was a shrewd and competent statesman, whereas Mary was an emotional woman.

He, Kirkcaldy, was never so much alive as when he was planning a battle or winning it. He would now post his hagbutters behind the hedges and in the gardens and orchards of Langside, and they should have orders to hide themselves in trees, behind bushes . . . anywhere, making sure that they were not seen by the approaching army. They were to shoot as the Queen’s men marched by. That should account for a few of them. And the Queen planned to surround him! Well, he would take possession of the hill which was above the village and here place his men, so that as Mary’s army tried to advance they would have to climb the hill and thus could more easily be mown down.

There was another hill close by, known as Hagbush-hill, and here, protected by a body of horsemen was a cradle in which the little James VI was sleeping unaware of the excitement which was going on about him.

It had been deemed necessary to remove him from Stirling, in case some of Mary’s supporters stormed the castle; if the child fell into his mother’s hands, this could prove disastrous for those who declared they were fighting to keep him on the throne.

It had been a good idea to bring the baby to the battlefield, mused Kirkcaldy. The sight of that cradle would, in a way, be an inspiration to his men; and if there should be any danger of defeat—which Kirkcaldy did not anticipate for a moment—those whose duty it was to guard the cradle would swiftly carry the child away.

Kirkcaldy was waiting, well satisfied. Soon the Queen’s army would begin to move.

KIRKCALDY WAS RIGHT. Almost before he had succeeded in placing his men the Queen’s army was seen marching in the distance, their pennons flying in the breeze; their glistening pikes reflecting the sunlight.

Kirkcaldy watched them. Moray was stationed by the bridge with his men and Morton was in charge of the vanguard. Kirkcaldy felt the utmost confidence in his generals. They had so much to lose with this battle.

On the Queen’s men came. They were passing the gardens and orchards, and the hagbutters were doing their work. Men were falling as they marched, their comrades looking about startled since there was no sign of the enemy.

Now they were approaching the hill on which Kirkcaldy was stationed, and Arthur Hamilton, leading his troop and smarting under the humiliation of John Stuart’s being given precedence over him because he bore the same name as the Queen, suddenly shouted: “Where are now these Stuarts that did contest for the first place? Let them come forward and take it now.”

John Stuart was close by, and heard, as Hamilton had intended he should.

“And so will I,” he retorted. “Neither you nor any Hamilton in Scotland shall set foot before a Stuart this day.”

John Stuart ill-advisedly spurred his horse and leading his men tried to storm his way up the hill. The effect was disastrous. But not to be outdone Hamilton followed him with the same dire results.

The fighting was furious for a few moments and men used their dirks because they were too close to each other to draw their swords.

Argyle, who was in command of the Queen’s army was seen to fall forward on his mount; yet did not appear to be wounded but slid to the ground and lay there writhing as though in a fit.

His men watched him in dismay for in that section of the army there was no one else to give them orders. None was quite sure what had caused Argyle’s malady. Some thought it was a fit, which seemed a bad omen; others that he had merely fainted at the prospect of disaster; some that he feigned sickness in order to play into the hands of his old friend Moray.

Mary had ridden with Lord Livingstone on one side of her and George Douglas on the other; and immediately behind her was Willie Douglas, carrying a two-handed sword which required all his attention to maintain. Willie’s eyes were alight with enthusiasm; and Mary believed that none would fight more earnestly for her cause.

But she was disturbed, because she was aware of disaffection in her ranks, and could not help being reminded, with something like terror, of Carberry Hill.

Lord Livingstone was remonstrating with her. She should not go too near the battle zone, for if aught should happen to her, her soldiers would lose heart. It was better to wait some distance away and watch the progress of her soldiers from comparative safety.

George added his pleas to Lord Livingstone’s, and eventually she realized the wisdom of their words and agreed to wait beneath a hawthorn tree until the heat of the battle was over. With her were Lady Livingstone and Jane Kennedy; and Lord Livingstone and Lord Herries with George and Willie remained by her side. Livingstone ordered that fresh horses should be brought.

“For what reason?” the Queen demanded.

“In case we should need them . . . in a hurry, Your Majesty,” answered Livingstone.

Mary’s throat was suddenly parched. She knew that all was not going well.

A RIDER dashing up to the little party brought news of the battle. What he had to tell was disturbing: Argyle was incapacitated; Lord Seton was seriously wounded; fifty-seven of the Hamiltons had been slain.

He reported that Mary’s baby son was on the battlefield in his cradle; and when she heard this Mary gave a cry of horror. Her son . . . her baby . . . exposed to danger and in the hands of her enemies who pretended that they supported him against her!

She felt weak suddenly and the tears were rushing to her eyes. Slipping from the Spanish jennet which Livingstone had suggested she mount in case she should need it, she stooped to drink from the little burn which flowed from the brae.

When she had drunk she silently remounted; the excitement of the day was turning to anguish. Now she could see riderless horses, bleeding from pike wounds, running hither and thither in their bewildered agony. She was glad of the distance which separated her from that fearful scene; but her heart yearned for the child in the cradle.

Herries laid his hand on her arm and said quietly: “I think, Your Majesty, that it is unwise to stay here longer, and the time has come for us to move on.”

That was enough. She understood. The battle of Langside was almost over. Kirkcaldy and Moray were the victors; and the captive Queen had become the fugitive.

TO DUMBARTON—where she could count on loyal supporters! But before she reached it she must cross the Clyde.

Lord Herries, who was riding beside her, while the rest of the little band followed behind, said: “We must get down to the shore. There we shall find a boat. We must hope to find horses on the other side; but get to Dumbarton we must.”

To reach the river bank they must cross the estates of the Earl of Lennox—strong supporter of Moray; and when the men who were working in the fields saw their approach and guessed who the riders were, they brandished their scythes and uttered such curses that the Queen turned her horse and commanded that Herries did the same.