David smiled apologetically. “But not to remove power from the clan. You might have need of their help; they would have rallied to your aid, should you have found it necessary to stand against a rebellion which Knox might raise. Now… they are powerless to do so.”

“But the Earl of Moray… my own brother …” She was staring at David; his brilliant eyes met hers boldly.

“Yes, Madam.”

So David was warning her against Jamie.

He was on his knees now; he was fervently kissing her hands. David was excitable by nature.

“Madam, you promised to forgive and forget. It was merely my desire to serve you….”

She put her hand on his thick hair while the tears sprang to her eyes. “David,” she said, “I have no doubt of your devotion. There is nothing to forgive, and I shall never forget. I begin to see that Jamie is ambitious. He has made me his tool. I have suspected it. Oh, David… my own brother! What can I do?”

“Madam, have a care. Allow me to serve you. Allow me to keep my eyes ever on the alert. I will serve you with my life if need be. Say nothing. Give no indication that you suspect your brother’s motives.”

She nodded. “You are right, David. I thank you.”

“Madam,” he said, “I am now the happiest man in Scotland.”


IN THE LIGHT of many candles the apartments at Holyrood were gay. The music was sweet and merry. Mary was dressed in black silk breeches for the part she played in the masque which had just been performed; she made a slender and beautiful boy.

“You are enchanting,” whispered Pierre de Chastelard.

“Monsieur, you repeat yourself.”

“The words escaped me… involuntarily… sweet Mary.”

He drew back, wondering how she would receive such familiarity. Her answer was a tap on the cheek. His heart leaped with anticipation.

“How liked you that book of my making, the one written in meter… the one I wrote for you?”

“It was fair enough,” said Mary.

“Madame, will you dance with me?”

“Come,” cried Mary, “I long to dance.” She clapped her hands and declared they would dance the new dance which Chastelard had introduced from the French Court. It was considered very daring, for during it the partners kissed.

“It is not a dance which Master Knox would much like, I’ll swear,” cried Mary, laughing as she tilted her head to receive the kiss of Chastelard.

He was wildly excited that night. The Queen-Mother of France had been right in what she had hinted. If he could but see Mary alone! But she was rarely alone. Even in her most informal moments there would be one or more of her women with her.

The new French dance was a stimulant to the emotions. Again and again they danced it; and there was merry laughter in the apartments. The Queen could be gay on such occasions; it was as though she wished to snap her fingers at the criticisms of herself and her Court.

Why not? mused Chastelard. Why not tonight? Her mood is such that I believe her to be ready.

While Mary was saying her farewells for the night, he slipped away. Mary and her four faithful attendants retired to the sleeping apartments, where the girls began to undress their mistress, chattering of the evening as they did so.

“Would we could have brought Master Knox to the apartment,” cried Flem. “What fun to watch his fury when he saw Your Majesty dance in these silk breeches!”

“He would have said we were all utterly damned,” said Seton.

“We are already damned… according to him!” laughed the Queen. “As well be damned for a pair of silk breeches as a jewel or two. Seton, darling, get my furred robe from the cabinet; I am cold.”

Seton went to the cabinet and, when she opened it, gave a sharp cry. They all turned to stare in amazement at what she had disclosed. There, standing in the cabinet, was Pierre de Chastelard.

“What… what are you doing here?” stammered Mary.

“Madame, I…”

“Oh!” cried Flem. “You wicked man!”

Chastelard threw himself onto his knees before the Queen.

“Madame, I crave your forgiveness. I was distraught. A madness seized me. I became intoxicated by your beauty. I do not know what possessed me to do such a thing. I cannot imagine—”

“I can,” said the practical Beaton.

“Be quiet, Beaton,” said Mary. “Let him speak for himself. What was your purpose, Monsieur de Chastelard?”

“Madame, I wished to read a poem to you. I had written it… and it was for your ears alone.”

All the girls began to laugh.

“A dangerous procedure, Monsieur,” said Flem, “for the reading of a poem.”

“Where is the poem?” asked Mary. “Give it to me.”

“Madame … in my excitement, I left it in my own apartment.”

Flem could not contain her laughter. Livy had started to shake with hers.

“You are insolent!” said the Queen; but her voice was broken with laughter.

This was the sort of adventure which occurred again and again at the Court of France. It was like being home again.

Beaton said: “Shall we call my lord Moray and have this man put in chains, Your Majesty?”

Chastelard said: “Put me in chains … it matters not. I am bound by stronger chains… the chains of a hopeless passion.”

“Drive him away,” commanded Mary. The four girls began to push him from the room. “And Monsieur de Chastelard, I shall devise some punishment for you. You have been guilty of a grave indiscretion.”

“Madame, punish me as you will. Set me on the rack. Tear my limbs with red hot pincers… but do not deny me your presence.”

“If you were on the rack,” said Beaton grimly, “you would have little thought of poetry. Get you gone. You embarrass the Queen. Why, if you were seen …”

“Madame, your forgiveness. Without your smile I would as lief be dead.”

He was pushed outside and the door slammed; Beaton leaned against it, and the others were all overcome with helpless laughter.

“Still,” said Seton, “it was a grave offense. What if Your Majesty had been alone?”

“Do you think that I would not have given a good account of myself?”

“I doubt it not; but it would have made pleasing news for the ears of Master Knox.”

“How shall you punish him?” asked Livy.

“How can you punish people because in love they are bold? He has brought a little of France to our grim old Court. Let us set that beside his sins. Tomorrow I will speak sharply to him. That will suffice.”


A SCANDAL touched the Court about this time. It was unfortunate that the story became known beyond the Court. John Knox learned of it with the utmost pleasure and retold it from his pulpit, roaring at the people of Edinburgh to note the result of Jezebel’s rule.

One of the Queen’s minor serving women had been seduced by the Queens French apothecary.

“Both servants of the Queen!” cried Knox triumphantly. “Does it not speak for itself? Oh, what wickedness goes on within the walls of Holyrood-house! What revelings to the call of Satan! Fornication is the order of the day in Holyroodhouse, my friends. Women dress as men… men as women… the better to stimulate their wretched appetites. Satan stands by, calling them to damnation. The servants follow their masters and their mistresses along the road to hell.”

The serving woman had borne a child and, with the help of her paramour, had kept the matter secret. The child had been born in an outhouse and done to death. Its body had been discovered, and the maid, when accused, had broken down and confessed the whole story. She and her lover had paid the penalty of murder; they were publicly hanged.

John Knox was there to see justice done and to lose no opportunity of calling the people’s attention to the life of the Court. He blamed the Queen for her maid’s seduction; he blamed the Queen for the murder of the newborn child. The apothecary was a Frenchman—a member of that hated race which had captured John Knox and made a galley slave of him; the Queen was half French by birth and all French in her manners. Let the people see what harlotry, what wickedness had been brought into the country by their queen. Let the people reflect how much happier they would be without her.

“Must I accept the ranting of this man!” demanded Mary; but not to Jamie as she would have done earlier. Now she turned to David. “Must I, David?”

David’s words were comforting. “For the moment, Madam, yes. But have no fear of that. Between us we will devise some means of clipping the power of that man. We will make the people of Scotland free and happy, and Your Majesty Queen not only in name but in all else.”

“How?” asked Mary.

“We will watch events, Madam. It may be we shall do it through your marriage to a powerful prince—a Catholic like yourself. But patience, Madam, and for the time being—caution!”

“You are right. David, I want you to have this ring.”

“But, Madam, it is too valuable.”

“How could it be, for all you have done for me? Take it. I promise you that one day, when I am able, you shall no longer be called my valet de chambre, no longer merely David le Chante. You shall be my chief adviser, in all things, David … in all things.”

He bowed; his great glowing eyes went from her face to the sapphire she was putting on his finger.


A FEW DAYS later Mary left Holyrood for St. Andrews. The Court, among whom was Pierre de Chastelard, stayed a night at Burntisland.

Chastelard had been in a fever of excitement since that night when he had been discovered in the cabinet. He cursed his bad luck. He was sure that if Mary had not required that particular furred robe, and he had succeeded in being alone with her, they would have been lovers by now. Of course she had feigned anger before her women; but it was not real anger; that had been obvious. They had all looked on the matter as a joke. Joke! He would show them that it was no joke.