Read Online The Memoirs of Mary Queen of Scots by Carolly Erickson - Free Book Online Page A

perhaps, but as my delegate? And if I were to make him my delegate, what then? Might he seek to overthrow me, Scotland’s anointed queen, and establish himself and his heirs as rightful rulers?
    This possibility worried me, and led me to thoughts of England, where my cousin Elizabeth clung to power against much opposition and where, if I had the armed might, I could challenge her and take the throne as my own. Could I do such a bold and aggressive thing? Part of me thought I could. But I had no army, only what aid I could expect from the Scottish lords and from the French, whose military help to my mother had not been sufficient to keep the English out of my realm.
    While I was mulling over these questions my practical grandmother put a quite different set of thoughts into my head.
    “You must marry, and soon, my dear,” she advised. “The Spanish prince Don Carlos is unmarried. He is Catholic, and rich—at least his father King Philip is rich—and one day he will rule over much of the known world. Of course,” she added, “I have heard there are disadvantages.”
    “And what are those?”
    She rolled her eyes.
    “They say he is hunchbacked and crippled and disturbed in mind and that he has a fondness for roasting small animals alive.”
    “Oh. I think I will look elsewhere than Spain for a husband, thank you.”
    “Just as well. His father Philip is a terrible man, from all that I hear. Not at all amusing company. And then there is his great-grandmother Joan the Mad, who carried her husband’s corpse around with her wherever she went—”
    “Please, grandmamma, I have heard more than enough about that family—”
    “You have a great many Guise cousins, you know. You could do worse than choose from among them.”
    “But they have no royal blood.”
    She could think of no answer to that, and so we spoke no more of marriage, though the subject was much on my mind.
    Meanwhile I decided to do what I could to eliminate the more immediate problem of the so-called Scottish wife, who continued to pester and threaten Jamie. It ought to be easy enough to convince her to leave him alone, I thought, if only I could offer her enough money. Unfortunately I had no money of my own, and as a rule I needed none. In the past whenever I had wanted a few coins I had always gone to Francis’s treasurer, who had supplied me with funds. But now Francis’s household was disbanded. There was no treasurer any longer, and no treasury.
    So I went to find King Charles.
    It took me quite a while to discover where the young king had gone. His bedchamber was full of people as usual, but he was not among them, and when I inquired where I might find him I was given only evasive answers or blank stares. I knew that he liked his dogs and horses, and so I set off for the kennels. But the kennel master had not seen him, and none of the grooms could tell me where to find him either.
    I was just about to give up when I heard my name called in a childish voice.
    I looked around. There was a low storage shed nearby, its interior too dim for me to tell whether there might be anyone inside. I went up to the door. The hasp was open.
    “Mary!”
    I peered inside. There, sitting on a sack of oats, was the twelve-year-old king. He was wearing his long thick hawking glove andperched on the glove was a sleek bird that turned its head toward me when I entered the shed.
    “Your Majesty,” I said, with a bow. A gleeful smile lit up his small face.
    “Don’t tell them where I am,” he whispered loudly. “Come in and close the door.” I did as he asked.
    “I won’t say anything,” I said. “Why are you hiding?”
    He sighed. “They are always after me. Especially my mother. I have to get away. I come and visit Esme, and feed her mice.” He stroked the falcon’s head gently. I saw then that a rodent tail dangled from her sharp beak.
    “Your Majesty, I must ask a favor.”
    “Ask whatever you like, Mary.”
    “When your brother was alive, I would