The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean - Страница 18
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Willie’s response was to come into the room.
“I heard you get your marching orders,” he said.
“You hear too much.”
“Dinna be a daftie, Geordie. No one can hear too much.”
“I don’t want to talk to you now, Willie.”
“Which shows how soft you are, Geordie. For if you’re out there . . . ” he pointed through the window “ . . . and if you mustna’ set foot on the island, how’ll she know when you’re ready for her to leave . . . without Willie Douglas tells her?”
George stared at Willie who grinned almost bashfully.
“Ye’ll be over there, Geordie Douglas,” he said, “but Willie’ll be here . . . and he can do all ye did . . . and better.”
George strode across the room and gripped the boy’s shoulder. “You’d be in this, Willie? You’d help?”
“Oh ay . . . I’d do it.” He grinned. “She’s a bonnie lassie!”
George was excited. He made his way to the Queen’s apartments, which was rash, but for all he knew there might be little time to lose.
Seton was with the Queen who received him at once and asked Seton to leave.
George’s heart beat fast when he found himself alone with the Queen. He could scarcely speak, so deep was his emotion. Then the words came tumbling out. Moray had discovered his devotion to her and as a result he was to be exiled from the castle.
The Queen turned pale and put one of her exquisite hands to her throat. “Oh no . . . George,” she whispered, “that would be more than I could bear.”
He stared at her as though he could not believe his ears.
“It’s true,” she went on. “Nothing has given me so much courage to live through these dreary months as your presence.”
“Your Majesty . . . .”
“Oh George, how I hate Moray. This is his doing.”
“It seems, Your Majesty, that he discovered my love for you.”
“When you are older, George, you will more easily hide your emotions.”
“I could never hide an emotion so great that it is my whole being.”
“I have had sonnets written to me, George, but nothing has ever pleased me quite as much as those words of yours. Have you come to say goodbye?”
“I trust not. Moray has gone and I may have a few days left to me. I would like to see some of your friends on the mainland and tell them what has happened, and myself tell you what they plan to do.”
“We shall have to wait for the spring for my rescue, George.”
“It will give us three months in which to perfect our plans, Your Majesty.”
“And this may mean that any day . . . perhaps tomorrow, I shall look for you in vain and be told that you have gone away.”
“That could well be.”
She took a pearl drop earring from her ear.
“Take this, George,” she said. “You shall have one and I the other. If you send a messenger to me with that earring I shall know that the messenger truly comes from you.”
He took the earring and held it reverently in the palm of his hand. For some seconds he seemed bemused; then he said: “Your Majesty, I believe that young Willie Douglas yearns to be made use of in your service.”
“The little freckled-faced boy? I often find him watching me.”
“He is a strange boy, Your Majesty, but is a friend of mine . . . and of yours.”
“I need all the friends I can muster . . . and more so when the most trustworthy of them all is taken from me. Then I could send Willie Douglas with a message to you . . . if the need should arise?”
“I know he would bring it to me, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, George,” she cried, “I am going to miss you so much.”
He knelt and kissed her right hand while she laid her left on his head; stooping suddenly, she kissed it, and when he raised his wondering face to hers impulsively she bent and kissed his lips.
He looked dazed, and then his face was illuminated. “I never thought . . . ” he began. “I never hoped . . . ” And then he went on hurriedly: “Your Majesty, have I your leave to retire?”
For one moment she thought to detain him, then she nodded and turned her head so that she could not see his perplexed face.
It was the moment for him to go. If he had stayed she might have been tempted to change the relationship between them. It must not be so. A short while ago she might have kept him with her; but she had changed since Carberry Hill. She was a wiser woman; never again would she allow her emotions to lead her to disaster. At least she would make some attempt to curb her sensual longings that they might never again control her destiny.
Perhaps, she thought when she was alone, I was never loved before, as George Douglas loves me.
She would remember that through the dreary months which lay ahead.
WILLIE DOUGLAS HAD always freely roamed about the castle and its grounds; when the boat went from the castle to the mainland he often went with them. He performed his duties now and then and if he were missing for several hours no one took much notice. Willie had always been in a specially privileged position and, although Sir William appeared not to notice the boy, instinctively the servants knew that he would not welcome complaints against the urchin.
So Willie went his own way. When the Queen took her walks in the castle grounds he was often seen with her. She seemed to be amused by his mischievous ways. As for Willie he showed no awe of her and behaved as though there was little difference between queens and scullions in his opinion.
George had left Lochleven, for even Lady Douglas could not arrange that he should stay. Moray might descend upon them any day, and, moreover, there were always tradesmen and such-like coming and going between island and the mainland so that the news would soon have spread that George had remained at Lochleven.
Both Lady Douglas and Sir William knew that George was not far off; they knew also that somewhere in the Kinross area many of Mary’s supporters were lodging in the house of loyal townfolk, waiting for the day when an attempt would be made to free the Queen from captivity. That must not happen, of course, for Sir William would be blamed if she escaped; he did not believe any attempt would be made until the coming of spring, but then he would have to be more vigilant, if that were possible. He believed—and so did Lady Douglas—that George had joined forces with Lord Seton and his friends, and they were not many miles away.
Young Willie Douglas’s shrill whistle could be heard through the courtyards; he swaggered a little, which seemed all part of the business of growing up. Now and then he enticed the guards into a gambling game, for Willie had a coin or two to jingle in his pocket. Nobody asked where he procured the money. Willie would have had his answer ready if they had. He had been given it for some service rendered to some merchant on the mainland. Willie was never at a loss.
While he played with the guards he watched the arrival of the boats and the supplies for the castle being unloaded.
“Keeping a sharp watch-out, laddie,” said one of the guards. “They might make you do a bit of work for a change and you wouldna like that at all.”
“Oh ay,” said Willie, absently staring at the laundresses, who were going into the castle to collect the soiled linen which they would take away and bring back clean.
March had come and the first signs of spring were on the countryside. The winds were still strong, but now and again they would drop, and when the sun shone there was real warmth in the air.
One day Willie was helping to unload food from a boat which was moored on the shore, and his industry pleased those he was helping. When the unloading was done he leaped into the boat and sat there waiting.
“Coming back with us, young Willie?” asked one of the boatmen.
“Oh ay . . . ” answered Willie nonchalantly.
“Come on then, lads, back to Kinross.”
Willie whistled as the boat carried him across the water. When it touched ground he jumped out, saluted the boatmen and ran off.
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