SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS found the Queen taking exercise in the ground of the castle, and asked if he might join her. She gave him her gracious permission and told him that he was looking a little anxious lately.

“My wife is ill,” he said. “I am worried about her.”

Mary was immediately all concern.

“But you must go to see her. I am sure she would like to have you with her at such a time.”

“Alas, I cannot do that.”

“But . . . ” began Mary and stopped, There was a silence for a while and then Mary went on: “So your Queen refuses to allow you to leave Bolton?”

“She feels that my duty lies here at this time.”

“But that is heartless.”

Knollys was silent, and Mary lapsed into thoughts of her own. She felt that, although she was not allowed to come face-to-face with the Queen of England, that woman’s character was gradually being unfolded for her. Had she known more of Elizabeth, would she have been so eager to ignore the advice of so many of her friends and take that trip across the Solway Firth?

She was sorry for Knollys who, in addition to having this rather objectionable task thrust upon him—and she was sure it was objectionable, for he was not a natural jailor—was not allowed to visit his sick wife.

He seemed eager to change the subject, and Mary said: “Do you think that it is your Queen’s intention to have another conference?”

“Indeed yes. It is to be held at Westminster.”

“And do you think she really wishes to see me reconciled with my subjects?”

“It is Her Majesty’s desire that this should be so. Your Majesty, I pray you forgive my asking this question . . . but . . . would you consider a proposal of marriage?”

Mary was silent for a while. She immediately thought of Norfolk as he had been at Carlisle. Young, handsome, ardent, he had implied that he would be her staunch ally; and she believed he was. She was certain that the reason the conference at York had gone so much in her favor was due to him.

Knollys went on eagerly: “If a proposal came from a close relative of the Queen of England, would that be to Your Majesty’s liking?”

Mary smiled faintly. “I would not greatly mislike it,” she answered.

She did not realize that Knollys was not thinking of the same man who was in her thoughts. Both Norfolk and George Carey were related to Elizabeth through Anne Boleyn, for Lady Elizabeth Howard had been Anne’s mother; and George Carey was the son of Mary Boleyn, Anne’s sister.

Knollys was delighted with the reply. It was invigorating to plan for his family; it took his mind away from the anxieties about his wife.

When he left Mary he went to his own apartments and there wrote at once to his brother-in-law, Lord Hunsdon, and told him that Mary Queen of Scots was very favorably disposed toward his son George, and a royal marriage for George could be changed from a possibility into a certainty.


* * *

IT WAS THE 25TH NOVEMBER before the Conference was opened at Westminster. Elizabeth had refused to allow Mary to appear in person; and the atmosphere of the court was quite different from that of the one which had taken place at York, for Elizabeth intended this to be a criminal court and was determined that Mary should be tried for the murder of her husband. The Earl and Countess of Lennox, Darnley’s parent, had been begging her to see justice done, and her desire was to find a legitimate excuse to keep Mary her prisoner, to avoid meeting her, and to sustain Protestant Moray in the Office of Regency.

Elizabeth could not forget that there were many Catholics in England who did not believe she was the legitimate daughter of Henry VIII, and, if this were indeed the case, the true Queen of England would be Mary Queen of Scots. This doubt of legitimacy which had hung over Elizabeth all her life—especially so in her youth, when with sickening regularity she had been in and out of favor, never certain what was going to happen next—made her suspicious of any who might contest her right to the throne.

She would never forget that Mary had called herself the Queen of England while she was in France. That was reason enough in Elizabeth’s opinion to send her to the scaffold. Elizabeth could not however send her to the scaffold . . . yet; but he could hold her prisoner. That was what she determined to do.

Therefore she would intimate to Moray, who dared not disobey her, that every means at his disposal was to be used to defame the Queen of Scots. She heard most of what was going on; she had alert spies. She had those ministers to whom she playfully referred as her Eyes, her Lids, her Spirit . . . . There was her dearest Leicester whom she would always trust. There were shrewd Cecil, and Walsingham who served her so ardently that he had a spy system, which he maintained at his own expense, and it was all in order to preserve her safety.

It was not surprising therefore that she heard that two bridegrooms had been proposed for Mary Queen of Scots: George Carey and Norfolk!

She was furious, being determined that Mary should have no bridegroom. Unlike Elizabeth Mary was no virgin—all the world knew that; and Elizabeth could well believe that the lecherous creature yearned for a man. Well, she should have none; she could be as celibate as her cousin Elizabeth because this state for them both was the choice of Elizabeth.

She sent a sharp note to Hunsdon expressing her deep displeasure that he should have thought fit to scheme for marriage between his son and the Queen of Scots. She was considering whether it smacked of treason.

She sent for Norfolk, and shrewdly looking him in the eyes asked bluntly if he were planning to marry the Queen of Scots.

Norfolk was terrified. He remembered how his father, the Earl of Surrey, had lost his head for the flimsiest reason by the order of this Queen’s father. Ever since, he had determined to walk warily; and now he saw himself caught in a trap.

He promptly denied that he had any desire to marry the Queen of Scots and that he knew anything of such a plan; and if Her Majesty had heard rumors of it, then it was put about by his enemies.

“Would you not marry the Queen of Scots,” asked Elizabeth artfully, “if you knew it would tend to the tranquillity of the realm and the safety of my person?”

Norfolk, feeling he was being led to betray a desire for Mary and the marriage, replied vehemently: “Your Majesty, that woman shall never be my wife who has been your competitor, and whose husband cannot sleep in security on his pillow.”

This remark appeared to satisfy the Queen, and she dismissed Norfolk with a smile. She even allowed him to resume his presidency of the Conference.

Norfolk was in a cold sweat when he left her presence. He had decided not to dabble in dangerous affairs again. He must be careful during the Conference not to give an impression that he cherished tender feelings for Mary.

KNOLLYS WAS ALARMED. Mary sensed it. And it was not only his wife’s illness which disturbed him. Margaret Scrope had told her that he had had a sharp reprimand from the Queen because he had been too ambitious for his nephew George Carey. Knollys was afraid he was out of favor, and that could be a dangerous thing at Elizabeth’s Court.

“I have not heard recently from my brother,” went on Margaret. “I’ll warrant he is busy on your behalf at Westminster.”

Letters had been coming frequently from George Douglas in France, where he was longing to gather together another army for Mary’s defense.

She thought of him tenderly and often wished that he were with her. But she was glad that he was in France. There he would be leading a more normal life than he could in captivity with her; and she knew that her uncles would make it a point of honor that he was given every chance.

She wished that she could do the same for Willie. Then an idea occurred to her.

She sent for the boy.

He came into her apartment still wearing the sword which no longer looked quite so incongruous as it had when they had escaped across the Solway Firth, because Willie had grown considerably in the last months.

“Willie,” she said, “you are no longer a boy.”

Willie gave his grin. “I’m glad Your Majesty recognizes the fact,” he said.

“And I have a mission for you.”

She saw the pleasure leap into his eyes.

“A dangerous mission,” she went on, “but I trust you to complete it.”

“Oh ay,” said Willie.

“You are going to France, taking letters from me to George and my uncles.”

Willie’s eyes sparkled.

“First it will be necessary for you to obtain a safe conduct from London. So you must make your way there. Send word to me through the Bishop of Ross when you have received it. Then I shall know that you will shortly be in France. And I shall wish to hear from you and George that you are together.”

“And am I to bring back letters to Your Majesty?”

“We shall see. First go to George. He will give you your instructions.”

“We’ll get an army together,” cried Willie. “Ye’ll see. We’ll come and win England from the redheaded bastard and give it to Your Majesty.”

“Hush, Willie. And pray do not speak of a royal person in such a manner in my hearing.”

“No, Your Majesty, but that won’t alter my thoughts. When do I start?”

“I leave it to you, Willie.”

She knew it would be soon. She saw the desire for action in his face.

He left next day. She watched him set out, and she felt very sad.

“Yet another friend has gone,” she said to Seton.

“If it saddens Your Majesty to lose him, why let him go?”