A Queen Abandoned

Chapter Three: Treason in the Lowlands

1565 - 1566

From the moment I set foot back on Scottish soil, I was under pressure to remarry. My ladies, bless their sweet souls, vowed not to wed until I was happily matched. This kindness only added to the weight on my mind. I quickly exhausted a number of options from Spain, Denmark and France, so it seemed unlikely that I would find a husband from among the ranks of royalty. But the Scots nobles wanted me to wed a commoner. They made it seem that any member of the Reformed Church would do. Then, there was talk of my marrying Elizabeth's man, her lover Robert Dudley. The thought made me shudder in disgust.

The first time I laid eyes on Lord Darnley I was entranced. He had been singled out by my advisors as a suitable match and came to Scotland at great personal risk – defying his Queen's orders. He was Catholic you see, and Elizabeth desired that I marry a Protestant. Darnley made a great first impression: he was tall, handsome and charming. But the man was also three years my junior and as hot-headed as they come. Nevertheless, he possessed Tudor blood as strong as my own and seemed to be the best candidate to fill the position.

The King has had a hand in all of my recent troubles. It is as if my affection for him has exposed in me a weakness, previously unseen. I know now that our marriage was a poor decision, made in haste. I was enraptured at the time. At first, it seemed that we were kindred spirits. I admired him for all of the qualities that eventually caused me to despise him. He was headstrong, fiercely intelligent and quick-witted. In life, and in death, Darnley left a trail of destruction in his wake that rivalled that of the plague. By the third month of our married life, we had grown cold toward one another, awkwardness lingering in the air between us, but there was also cause for celebration. I was pregnant!

After the initial excitement died down, the tone at court grew terse. Feeling their autonomy crumbling, my privy councillors devised a scheme to manipulate the new, inexperienced King. They worked on him daily, pulling strings, promising lavish rewards in exchange for actions performed to usurp my authority.

Can you imagine that my new husband would be so vain as to believe that I would extend to him the crown matrimonial? To sign over this power would make him eligible to rule Scotland: without me, if he so desired. I welcomed him as a companion, yes, but I did not wish to relinquish my authority to an Englishman. Luckily, Darnley wasn't a strategic thinker, just a pawn in their game. He couldn't foresee the consequences of his actions. A true leader plans more than two or three moves ahead.

It was with some of the most powerful lords in Scotland that Darnley plotted the first blow, cleverly attacking one of my closest friends, David Rizzio. Rizzio's friendship had become a safe landing place for me in this new, foreign place. His calm countenance and generous nature sustained me during the early years of my personal rule. Rizzio was one of the only true friends I had made since my return. He had never asked anything of me other than friendship. I held him in high esteem. Few courtiers, other than my ladies, remained consistently in my good graces, but he was one of them.

One evening, as I was taking some much-needed respite in my little supper room, Darnley stormed in unannounced – a rabble of men at his back. They pushed right past my guards and attendants, even knocking over the poor lute player. The men did not relent in their charge until my companions and I found ourselves huddled together in the centre of the room. For a moment, time was eerily still. I can still remember the feeling of my dear friend Seton's hand clasped tight around my own. Cold as it was, her palm was warm with perspiration.

The stifling quiet was broken when Ruthven, one of the most powerful Lords, broke out from the crowd. He was clothed as if for battle in a full suit of armour, wicked eyes peeking out from underneath his feathered helmet. I shuddered as I noticed the dagger sheathed at his waist. Bile churned in my stomach as we waited for someone to break the eerie silence. After a moment, Ruthven turned back. I saw him look at Darnley and gesture, as if to urge him out from the crowd too. Instead, my weak husband took a complacent step back into the wild group and disappeared from view. My heart quickened as I caught the scent of gunpowder.

It was Ruthven who broke the silence. "My lady. We have come tonight to offer you protection." I felt my brow furrow and shoulders tense. "Some most alarming evidence has come into our possession."

I glanced at the crowd looking again for my husband, but found no comfort in the pack of hounds staring back at me.

"You see, your Secretary, David Rizzio has hatched a most deceitful plot. We believe that he plans to seduce you, bed you and write to the Pope directly about your infidelity." Ruthven paused, leaving the weight of the words to linger. He adjusted his posture so that his figure rose to its full advantage – taller and burlier than before. His eyes projected false concern. "He has had his sights set on you for some time, Your Majesty. Hand him over to us now and no harm will come to you."

The command was as powerful as it was absurd. I drank in the terror of the moment. A seasoned courtier, I weighed my options carefully. Rizzio, seduce me? The accusation was ridiculous. David Rizzio was one of the few courtiers in this bleak, lonely place that held my trust. I looked at him now. The colour had drained from his cheeks. His eyes revealed his astonishment. I thought of all the times that he had supported and counselled me. He was prudent, reliable and kind. Our relationship had always been platonic. Besides, I was hardly his type!

I felt all eyes on me, waiting for my response. After some thought, I managed to gather the words to protest. "Rest assured Gentlemen, this man has never done me wrong."

I hoped that they had not noticed my voice waver in the stress of it all. I took a steadying breath and mustered a calm, clear voice. I clasped my hands firmly to project strength. "If he had, I would be more than capable of handling the issue myself."

I noticed that Rizzio was trembling now, his face had turned alabaster white. "Thank you for your concern, but as you can see there is no cause for you to be here tonight. I suggest that you and your men take your leave."

Ruthven's face was set like stone. If any part of him was reconsidering, it did not show. I looked straight into the general's piercing eyes and saw my own reflection. Muscles tightly wound, his brow furrowed and stance menacing. I realised then that my influence over them was waning.

Eyes wide, I watched as Ruthven unsheathed his dagger. Somebody took Rizzio by the collar and dragged him out from behind me. The man was a secretary; his body was not built to withstand a fight. Reflexively, I charged forward to protect my friend. I tried to grab hold of him but their movements were too swift. I did everything I could think to do. I wailed, hoping that the terror in my voice might be enough to ward the attackers off. Instead of retreating, the men advanced. Someone cocked a pistol and aimed it squarely at my pregnant belly.

Metal clanged. Blood oozed. Poor Rizzio's cries pierced my ears. They dragged his body out into the stairwell and slammed the door. Rizzio's screams heightened now and echoed more forcefully as the sound bounced off the stone walls. The air was suffocating. It was then that I looked up for the first time and realised the sheer size of the mob. There must have been eighty armed men in the room. Each played a demonstrable role in my undoing.

That night, I lost my status, my safety and my sanity.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that my tears abated. By then the rabble had departed. I sat alone on my grand state bed, curled up against the wall, stifling back the last of my sobs. I tried to focus on my breathing to calm my body. But I was unravelling. The General's actions had punctured holes in my heart and soul that would never close.