A Queen Abandoned

Chapter Five: Loch Leven

1567

It has been three days now since I arrived at Loch Leven, an island fortress far removed from the civilised world. It was quite a journey to get here, and even though I have spent my days since indoors, sipping herbal tea and resting tired limbs, my bones still ache and my mind is clouded. Each time I pass the window or venture from my chambers, the bitter wind nips at my extremities, a reminder of my painful journey. A peek in the looking glass confirms my worst fears. My skin, which was once as smooth and creamy as porcelain has aged more than I can bear. The reflection I see here is that of a stranger – wrinkled, weak and weary.

It's hard to admit that I am no longer the woman I used to be. I used to believe that God himself had anointed me. My whole life, they've fed me the lie that I was created to do his divine bidding. Since the day I was born I have been told that my purpose is to unify nations behind the banner of my leadership. But recent events have revealed the truth. I am no more important to God Almighty than the kitchen boy who peels potatoes in the basement of this castle or the hungry crows who swoop in to peck at the scraps he throws to the ground.

You see the Privy Council, vengeful swine, have drafted a deed that calls for my abdication. Since Darnley's death, I have fought a losing battle. They want to replace me with a male ruler: my son. To sign would be to welcome a life of obscurity. It would mean that they would control Scotland. You see, James is still an infant. He has not yet even taken his first steps. It will be more than a decade before he is allowed to hear court matters let alone decide them. My enemies on the Privy Council know that they have much to gain if I am silenced. These men have already corrupted the government, abolished the true faith and siphoned funds away from the people who need them most. Their plan is malicious, but it has not accounted for one thing:

I am not a weak and feeble woman.

These egotistical nobles have decided that they should seize my power. Their manipulation relies on sheer numbers and brute force but my retaliation will be crafted with a cunning, cautious kindness. I am prepared to lie in wait until the moment is ripe for a strike. I will remain poised and elegant while their lies and deceptions play out. My claws will be revealed only when they believe that I have no resolve left – when they've let down their guard. Sadly, time is not on my side. If the status quo does not change soon, I will have no option but to sign away my birthright. The shame would hang from my brittle frame, pulling my posture to the ground.

In this place I am exposed and painfully aware of my own mortality. I have been treading water for too long. My body is close to exhaustion. My skin is as frail as parchment and my neck, a weak point exposed.

My options are limited. Whatever I do, these next days will be critical. The situation weighs heavily on my mind. This is still my country after all. Some of my supporters are annexed close by. If I can get to them, then I may still have a chance to restore authority. But if I remain here, life as I know it will surely end. A third option plays over in my mind, a last resort. I could retreat. Both Charles in France and Elizabeth in England have expressed sympathy for my plight.

To leave now is to leave James all but orphaned. It could be years before I can summon the forces I need to reclaim Scotland. They will feed him lies about me, I know this much to be true. But I think I must leave, my prospects here are bleak. I care deeply about James, and this is how I know that I will never truly surrender. I will never stop trying to reclaim what is mine because the future of my son depends on it.

Perhaps in striving to make a happy marriage, to find a King worthy of the position and strong enough to command the people, I reached too far. It seems to me that marriage, for a Queen at least, is a fool's errand. I have lost too much in pursuit of a happy alliance. But I cannot shake the feeling that I am caught up in something much bigger than myself. It seems that even a Queen cannot outmanoeuvre her enemies if the number is large enough. I sigh as I feel my grip on the gentry weakening by the second.

How, you ask, did it come to this? Where did I go so wrong in my rule that my foes seek to vanquish me so? The Protestant lords have been working against me since the outset. I'm not sure that there is anything I could have done to earn their favour. Upon my arrival in Scotland, I was patient. I tried not to upset the natural course of Scottish affairs. I have listened and been fair to my people and to my Privy Council. I can only think that these men are, and always have been, hungry for power. They will stop at nothing until I am removed from the throne and they are in power.

After Darnley'sdeath, I sought comfort in the arms of a man named Bothwell. I had judged himstrong and cunning enough to help see me through the tragedy. A marriagecelebration seemed a perfect distraction to the discontent growing in mynation. But in the end, it was no use. Bothwell has already abandoned me –fleeing to Norway where he can avoid the worst of the charges. The public blameus, you see, for Darnley's murder. I married Bothwell because I longed to bealigned with someone strong. Someone who would be able to keep Ruthven and theother lords in check. In Bothwell, I thought that I would have a constantchampion at my side. But now I find myself more alone than ever. What a weakand pitiful sight I must be. I don't yet know how I will find the way out ofthis gruesome mess. This much is clear: I am the sovereign leader of this nation.If anyone has the power to quiet this unrest, it is me.