From that moment the Queen was in love. She had made up her mind who her husband would be. She thought it was because he was the most handsome and charming young man she had ever met. She did not stop to count other reasons. She did not remind herself that she must marry, that she was tired of waiting, that too many and strong forces were against a grand marriage into the royal houses of Spain and France. She did not think: Elizabeth of England is against my marriage with Lord Darnley; therefore I wish to marry Darnley. She did not think: I am young; I long for a lover, and I have waited too long.


THE MARYS discussed the newcomer while they undressed their mistress. “Very handsome!” was the verdict.

“He dances so gracefully,” said Mary.

“I noticed how he kissed Your Majesty in the dance,” ventured Beaton.

“Well, what of that? It is as necessary to kiss in the Purpose as it is to clap hands in the branle des lavandières.”

“Necessary, Madam,” agreed Beaton. “But not always pleasant.”

Mary tapped her cheek with feigned annoyance. “Livy dear,” she said, to change the subject, “you are very quiet.”

Livy came forward and, kneeling before the Queen, laid her head in her lap.

“Madam,” she said, “do you remember that when we were little we all swore we would not marry until you did?”

“I do, darling.”

“You married once… and were a widow, but none of us has married. I have often wondered who would be the first. And now this handsome Lord Darnley has come along …”

“What are you mumbling into my skirts, Livy? Get up at once and show yourself.”

But Livy continued to kneel.

“’Tis clear,” said Flem, “what has happened. Lord Sempill has been asking her to marry him for these many weeks, and she has put him off by declaring that she has vowed a vow to the Queen.”

“No, Livy! That is ridiculous!” cried Mary. “You are in love with this tall and handsome Sempill?”

“Yes, Madam, but—”

“Rise, Livy. Get up at once. You are to marry Lord Sempill… immediately. I insist.”

“Oh, Madam,” said Flem, “let it not be immediately… otherwise Master Knox will have all sorts of suggestions to make against poor Livy and her Sempill.”

Mary stood up and her eyes flashed. “Who cares for Master Knox! Let him rave. Livy, my dearest, you shall have the grandest wedding ever seen, and all the world shall know how I love you. We shall have masques and mummeries… feasting… dancing …”

“And you, dearest,” said Flem, “will dance the Purpose with Lord Darnley.”

“Have done with you!” cried Mary. “You insolent Fleming! And if I dance with Darnley, you shall partner Maitland. Come! You know how I love a wedding, and what wedding would I rather attend than that of my dear Livy?”

“Your own perhaps?” suggested Beaton.

They were all gay that night. The Queen had never seemed so beautiful, but they had never before seen Mary radiantly in love.


* * *

THEY WERE happy days which followed. Each morning Mary awoke with a feeling of excitement. Each day Lord Darnley waited on her; and each day she was a little more in love with him.

What a delightful young man he was! He was so eager to be liked by everyone. It was a charming quality. Moray looked at him with suspicion, but the young Lord Darnley did not seem to be aware of his dislike. He was open and frank with him; he went with him to hear one of John Knox’s sermons, and listened so intently to the preacher that even Knox—knowing Darnley to be a Catholic—was flattered. He was deferential to Maitland and to all the lords of the Court. He seemed to imply: I know that I lack your wisdom, but please remember I am young yet and I long to learn.

Mary was glad that he liked David Rizzio and that David liked him. Darnley did not appear even to consider Rizzio’s humble birth. He would be seen in the courtyards walking arm in arm with the Piedmontese, or begging him to sing or play the lute for him. He had even taken to sleeping in David’s bed, which was a symbol of friendship.

“I wish to be as near to Your Majesty as possible,” he told Mary. “I sleep with my sword beside me. Then, if need be, I could rush to Your Majesty’s defense.”

Mary smiled at that. “No one will harm me.”

“But if they should try… I would wish to be the one there to protect you.”

So charming he seemed, so simple and unspoiled. When they were close together she wanted to kiss his smooth cheek. Her senses bounded at the thought of kissing him.

How delightful he was during that game of the bilies he played with her, Thomas Randolph and Mary Beaton.

Randolph was disturbed by Mary’s liking for Darnley, for he was working hard to bring about a marriage between her and Leicester. What, wondered Mary, did he think of the favor she showed Darnley whom Elizabeth considered her subject and whom she now, Mary believed, so deeply regretted allowing to leave England?

Randolph and Mary Beaton had won at the bilies against Darnley and the Queen, and Darnley was obliged to present Mary Beaton with fifty crown’s worth of jewelery—a brooch, a ring and two watches—as the stake.

“Madam,” he said to Mary afterward, “I humbly ask pardon. I played so badly.”

“You did indeed, my lord,” she agreed. “You seemed to pay scarcely any attention to the game.”

He lifted those big blue eyes to her face. “Madam, it was because you were near me….”

She laid a hand, which had begun to tremble, on his shoulder. She moved closer to him. Her body was crying out for him. She wished in that moment that she were not the Queen surrounded by courtiers. She longed to be alone with him, to say: “I love you. We will marry one day, but for the moment we may be lovers….”

She turned away, dizzy with desire. She heard his voice, hushed and gentle: “Madam… Madam … if I dared … if I but dared…”


LIVY WAS MARRIED to Lord Sempill with great pomp—the first of the Queen’s Marys to marry.

“It will not be quite the same henceforth,” said Mary sadly. “Dearest Livy will often be with us, but we must not be selfish. She will wish sometimes to be in her new house with Sempill. How we shall miss her!”

Livy married! thought Mary. So should I be! It is time I married; and here is the one I love; here is the one I will marry.

She could not resist talking of Darnley. “What think you of my lord?” she asked David.

“Lord Darnley is worthy of Your Majesty’s regard.”

“I am so glad you like each other, Davie. He is charming, is he not? I could not have borne it if you two had not been friends.”

She held out her hand. David took it and held it to his lips.

David, who was clever, understood the turmoil within her. He understood the meaning of this new feverish beauty which was hers. She was ripe for marriage; she was longing for the handsome youth; she was all desire, as wise David had always known she could be. David himself had dreamed of arousing that desire; as had others, he had sensed the promise within her. But David was a man of ambition. To be the Queen’s lover would indeed have been a dangerous position for a humble musician; as her most trusted secretary and adviser he was much safer.

Everything that David wished for was falling into his hands. The Pope himself congratulated him on the good work he was doing in Scotland. The Pope sent advice. It seemed incredible that the mighty Pope was sending kind messages to David Rizzio who, when he had first come to Scotland, had slept on a table in the porter’s lodge because there was no bed for him. What David wanted, and what the Pope wanted, was to bring Scotland back to the Catholic Faith, while setting her apart from Europe. The Pope did not wish Scotland to be the fief of Spain, nor of France. What the Pope wanted was a Catholic Scotland to stand against Protestant England—yet aloof from the great Continental powers—a Catholic husband for the Queen, yet not a great prince from Europe. Darnley was the suitor favored by Rome, and therefore by David Rizzio. When the Queen married Lord Darnley more friendly messages would come from the Pope, more rewards would fall to David Rizzio.

David said: “Madam, there are some in this realm who deplore your interest in that young man.”

“And you are not one of them?”

“Madam, I see that you are happy; and I could never do aught but rejoice in that happiness.”

“And what if I were to marry Lord Darnley, Davie? What would you say then, my faithful secretary?”

“I should say that it was a happy match. I should say: ’May the saints guard you. May all happiness and prosperity be yours!’”

“Davie!” she cried. “You have made me so happy. You always do.”

“I beg of Your Majesty to keep your feelings as secret as possible. There are many who will do their utmost to prevent this match.”

“I will remember.”

And she did remember as she sat with Thomas Randolph watching the dancers at Livy’s wedding.

“My Queen is anxious for your happiness, Madam,” said Randolph. “She hopes soon to see you married.”

“I wish to please your Queen whenever possible,” Mary answered.

“I pray God that when Your Majesty chooses a husband your choice will be a good one.”

“He must be such a one as God would give me.”

“God has made one fair offer to you, Madam.”

“And that is?”

“My lord of Leicester, a perfect man, says my Queen—”

Mary interrupted gaily: “And one she would have taken herself had she been of a mind to marry.”