“Do you mean that some of my possessions have been returned to me?”

“I sent word to Moray, asking him not to withhold your clothes but to send them to you here that you might have the pleasure of wearing them.”

“That was good of you, Sir Francis; but you remember that, the last time such a request was made, he sent me only things which I had long discarded . . . ruffs and coifs which were quite out of date, and dresses which were almost in rags. Indeed, what Moray sent me was only slightly better than those which your Queen sent . . . to my maids.”

Knollys looked uncomfortable for a few seconds, then he brightened. “I do not think you will be disappointed this time. May I have the articles brought to you?”

Mary’s smile was dazzling. “At least,” she said gently, “I rejoice that one of my jailors has a kind heart.”

“You must not think of me as such,” insisted Knollys.

“Nor shall I, when I receive my invitation to your Queen and we travel south,” was the answer. “When that will be, who shall say? So in the meantime let us content ourselves with seeing what my bastard brother has sent from my wardrobe.”

Mary summoned Seton, Jane Kennedy, Lady Livingstone and Marie Courcelles, and the packages were brought to the apartment.

This time they were not disappointed. Having received a request from an Englishman of such importance Moray had thought it wise not to ignore it.

The women cried out with pleasure as they unrolled eight ells of the finest black velvet, and thirty each of gray and black taffety. There were twelve pairs of shoes and four of slippers as well as stitching silk and jet buttons.

“Now,” cried Seton, “we shall be busy.”

IN SPITE OF the absence of Herries and Fleming, Mary had a larger retinue than she had had since leaving Scotland. Now and then some Scotsman would arrive at the castle with the request to be given a place in her household, in preparation for the day when he would return to Scotland to fight for her crown.

George Douglas, with Willie, was constantly on guard; she told them that she felt safe when they were near, and that constantly in her thoughts was the memory of what they had done for her at Lochleven. She now had her own two private secretaries, Gilbert Curle and Monsieur Claud Nau, as well as carvers, cupbearer, cook and scullions. A little Scottish Court was rapidly being formed in Carlisle Castle.

One day Sir Nicholas Elphinstone arrived at the castle with letters to Scrope and Knollys from Moray. This caused great consternation throughout Mary’s retinue, for Elphinstone was notoriously antagonistic to the Queen.

George Douglas swore that if he came face-to-face with Elphinstone he would challenge him and nothing but combat would satisfy him; Willie was brooding on a scheme for taking Elphinstone prisoner; and several of the lairds declared their intentions of challenging him to a duel.

Scrope, disconcerted, went to Knollys and was a little reproachful.

“You see what is happening. You have shown too much friendship toward the Queen of Scotland. You have allowed her to collect this entourage which is almost like a small court about her. Therefore, when a messenger from one with whom we have no quarrel arrives, they behave as though Carlisle Castle belonged to them and they had the right to say who should or should not be entertained here.”

Knollys saw the point of this and, as he was afraid that complaints might be made to Elizabeth, and as he knew that her chief feeling toward Mary was jealousy, he realized that he must in future act with more caution.

In the company of Scrope he went to her apartments; and Scrope opened the attack by protesting at the conduct of people like George Douglas, who had challenged a peaceful messenger who came to the castle.

“Your Majesty must remember that you are the guest of the Queen of England, and that you have no power to order who shall or shall not venture into the Castle of Carlisle.”

Mary haughtily replied: “This man is a Scotsman, and one of my subjects.”

“Your Majesty forgets,” went on Scrope, “that all Scotsmen do not call you their Queen.”

Mary flushed hotly. “This state of affairs shall not be allowed to last.”

Scrope looked doubtful, Knollys uncomfortable, and Mary went on in the impulsive way which was characteristic of her: “You do not think this so, my lords. I see from your expressions that you believe Lord Moray to be the ruler of Scotland in the name of my son. It will not long be so. Huntley, Argyle and others are with me. They assure me that very soon I shall be back in Edinburgh, the acknowledged Queen of Scotland. Ah, I see you do not believe me.” Determined to prove the truth of this statement she crossed the room and opened a drawer of her table. “Look at these, my lords. Letters, you see, from my friends. Huntley has the whole of the North behind him. I can picture him now . . . planning my return. I’ll swear his Highlanders are already marching to the lilt of the bagpipes.”

She was thrusting papers into their hands, and Knollys would have liked to warn her, but Scrope was scrutinizing the letters.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very, very interesting.”

“So you see,” said Mary, “I am not so deserted as you . . . and perhaps your Queen . . . have thought me to be?”

“No, Madam,” answered Scrope grimly. “I see that you are not.”

SCROPE SAID TO KNOLLYS: “You see what intrigue goes on under our noses. Why, it would not be impossible for her to be carried back into Scotland before we could prevent it. Huntley and Argyle writing to her thus! Do we see the letters? We do not! Yet it is our Queen’s command that we see all letters which pass into the hands of the Queen of Scotland, and all those that she sends out.”

Knollys shook his head. “I would to God we had never been given this task.”

“I confess to certain misgivings. But perforce we have this task, and perform it we must . . . or be in trouble ourselves.”

“What new rules do you propose to put in force?”

“Firstly I shall write to Cecil and suggest that Carlisle Castle is too near the Border for my peace of mind. There is my castle of Bolton . . . ”

“Ha! A fortress if ever there was one.”

“I should feel happier there with this captive of ours than I do in Carlisle. Then I like not all these servants about her. I believe that none of the men of her court should be allowed to sleep in the castle but should find lodgings outside. The rooms leading to her bedchamber should be filled with our guards—and perhaps ourselves—rather than her friends. The castle gates must be kept locked through the night and not opened until ten of the clock in the forenoon and closed at dusk. Then it might be difficult for Huntley and Argyle to whisk her away without our Queen’s consent.”

“Ah,” sighed Knollys sadly, “little did she know when she escaped from Lochleven that she was changing one prison for another.”

THERE WAS NO NEWS of Herries, no news of Fleming. That boded ill, for Mary knew that if they had succeeded with their missions she would have heard from them. She was beginning to suspect the goodwill of Elizabeth, and was wondering whether the shadow of Elizabeth of England would darken her life now, as that of Catherine de’ Medici had her childhood.

One day a certain Henry Middlemore called at Carlisle on his way to Scotland with dispatches from Elizabeth to Moray and, hearing of his arrival, Mary asked that he be brought to her.

The demeanor of this man should have been enough to show Mary the hopelessness of her case with Elizabeth, for he treated her with a deliberate lack of respect.

“Have you brought me news of when your mistress will grant me an interview?” asked Mary passionately.

“Madam,” was the answer, “I can only tell you what you know already. The Queen of England cannot receive you until you have cleared yourself of suspicion of murder. And that you have not done, and facts are black against you.”

“How dare you say such things to me?” demanded Mary.

“Because they are the truth, Madam. Her Majesty, my mistress, asks you to prevent those Scotsmen in Dumbarton and other places in Scotland from accepting help from France should it be sent.”

“Why should I prevent others from helping my cause when your mistress refuses to do so?” asked Mary.

“You have put yourself in my mistress’s hands and if, when she has judged your case, she finds you guiltless, doubtless she will help you. I go to Scotland now to ask the Earl of Moray to suppress all signs of civil war in Scotland at the request of the Queen of England.”

Mary was slightly mollified at this and Middlemore went on: “Her Majesty believes you would find better air away from Carlisle and that it would be to your advantage to go to some other castle which shall be placed at your disposal.”

“Does the Queen of England intend to have me taken there as a prisoner or for me to go of my own free will?” Mary asked.

“I am sure the Queen of England has no wish to make you her prisoner. She will be happy if you accept her plans for you without demur. It would please her if you were lodged nearer to herself. That is the main reason why she wishes you to move from Carlisle.”

“Then if that be so, let me go to her without delay. Let me have apartments next her own at Windsor or Hampton Court. She could not then complain of the distance which separates us.”

Middlemore ignored this. He said quietly: “Her Majesty had in mind the Castle of Tutbury in Staffordshire . . . a goodly place, Madam, and one which you would find convenient.”

Convenient, thought Mary hysterically. Conveniently far from the Border, conveniently far from Hampton Court! What was the Queen of England planning against her? And where were Fleming and Herries now?