The birth of a healthy son, James, after a long and painful labour, to Mary, Queen of Scots on 19 June in the fortified sanctuary of Edinburgh Castle immeasurably strengthened her claim to the English succession. Now her ambitions were not only for herself, but also for her son.

An apocryphal story, related decades later by Sir James Melville in his memoirs, relates how Elizabeth reacted to the birth. She was, he said, 'in great mirth, dancing after supper' on 23 June, when Cecil whispered the news to her, 'Whereupon she sank down disconsolately, bursting out to some of her ladies that the Queen of Scots was mother of a fair son, while she was but a barren stock.' Melville was not a witness of this episode, and claimed he had been told of it by friends at court, but he did not report it at the time, and there is no other contemporary account of it. All Melville told Mary of Elizabeth's reaction was that the birth of the Prince was 'grateful to Her Majesty'. In fact,Cecil had told her the news before Melville arrived, and de Silva reported that 'the Queen seemed glad of the birth of the infant'.

What Elizabeth certainly did tell Melville was that she was 'resolved to satisfy the Queen in that matter [of the succession], which she esteemed to belong most justly to her good sister, and that she wished 177.

from her heart that it should be that way decided'. The Prince's birth, she added, would prove a 'spur to the lawyers' to resolve the matter, wrhich would be decided in the next session of Parliament. Of course, Mary was jubilant to hear this, and confidently expected to be formally acknowledged as Elizabeth's heir. According to Melville, Leicester, Pembroke, Norfolk and others all upheld Mary's claim to succeed Elizabeth.

Cecil knew that Mary was using every means in her power to bring Elizabeth to heel. One of his spies reported that summer that Mary had told her advisers that she hoped to win over the Catholic nobles in England in order to establish a power base in the shires, particularly in the north, where the old religion was deeply rooted. 'She meant to cause wars to be stirred in Ireland, whereby England might be kept occupied; then she would have an army in readiness, and herself with her army to enter England; and the day that she should enter, her title to be read and she proclaimed queen.' Cecil, who was sceptical about such reports being true, already knew that Mary had contacted English Catholics, and that she had been told by her agents that these people would rise in her favour. However, he believed that her ambitions were centred upon the succession only, not the throne. Informed of this, Elizabeth sent Sir Henry Killigrew to warn Mary not to solicit the support of English subjects for her claims to the succession.

For the present Mary had more pressing matters to attend to, not least of which was the establishment of stable government in Scotland. There was also the problem of her husband. Relations between Mary and Darnley were now frigid. They rarely ate together and never shared a bed, avoiding each other's company whenever possible. In August, the Earl of Bedford reported to the Council, 'It cannot for modesty, nor with the honour of a queen, be reported what she said of him.' her husband. Relations between Mary and Darnley were now frigid. They rarely ate together and never shared a bed, avoiding each other's company whenever possible. In August, the Earl of Bedford reported to the Council, 'It cannot for modesty, nor with the honour of a queen, be reported what she said of him.'

Darnley was threatening to live abroad, an embarrassing reproach to Mary, who was horrified at the idea. By October, Maitland was aware that she felt desperate at the prospect of being tied to him for life.

In August, Thomas Dannett returned in despair from Vienna. The Habsburg negotiations seemed to have reached a stalemate, and Elizabeth took pains to make it clear to the Emperor that this was nothing to do with Leicester, 'as none of us is more inclining and addicted towards this match than he is, neither doth any person more solicit us towards the same'.

In the autumn, Elizabeth decided to send Sussex to Vienna, ostensibly to invest the Emperor with the Garter, but really to persuade him to agree to her terms. She was now complaining about the paucity of 'the Archduke's dowry', and arguments about this and other matters delayed 178.

Sussex's departure for several months. Maximilian was obliged to remind Elizabeth, 'It is the future wife who provides the husband with a dowry and gives him a wedding gift.' Her behaviour confirmed his suspicion that she saw it 'as profitable to create delays somewhere or somehow in order to gain an advantage'.

Elizabeth left Greenwich for her annual progress in August, travelling through Northamptonshire to the former Grey Friary in Stamford, having avoided staying with Cecil at his house nearby because his daughter had smallpox. She then moved to Oxfordshire, staying at the old palace of Woodstock, where she had been held under house arrest in Queen Mary's reign. From here, she rode out in her litter to meet the dons who had come to escort her into the City of Oxford, where she received a warm welcome from the mayor, aldermen and scholars, the latter shouting 'Vivat ReginaV She thanked them in Latin, then responded to a loyal address in Greek in that language before attending a service at Christ Church, in which a To Deum Deum was sung. There then followed a hectic schedule of tours of the colleges, public orations and disputations, sermons, lectures, debates and plays. Elizabeth particularly enjoyed the now lost was sung. There then followed a hectic schedule of tours of the colleges, public orations and disputations, sermons, lectures, debates and plays. Elizabeth particularly enjoyed the now lost Palamon and Arcite Palamon and Arcite by Richard Edwards, despite the stage collapsing, killing three people and injuring five more. The Queen sent her own barber-surgeons to help the latter, and ordered that the rest of the performance be postponed until the next day, when she personally thanked Edwards for entertaining her so merrily. by Richard Edwards, despite the stage collapsing, killing three people and injuring five more. The Queen sent her own barber-surgeons to help the latter, and ordered that the rest of the performance be postponed until the next day, when she personally thanked Edwards for entertaining her so merrily.

At St John's College, Master Edmund Campion, the future Catholic martyr, told her, 'There is a God who serves Your Majesty, in what you do, in what you advise.' Laughing, Elizabeth turned to Leicester and said this referred to him. Leicester was Chancellor of the University, and this visit was in his honour, as her visit to Cambridge had honoured its Chancellor, Cecil.

On her last public appearance before her departure, the Queen made a speech she had composed herself in Latin, declaring that it was her wish that learning should prosper, which received loud applause. When she left Oxford, the students and university officials ran alongside her litter for two miles beyond the city. One, Anthony Wood, recalled, 'Her sweet, affable and noble carriage left such impressions in the minds of scholars that nothing but emulation was in their studies.'

There were plans during this progress for Elizabeth to visit Leicester's seat at Kenilworth Castle, but the gossip among the courtiers proclaimed that this betokened an imminent announcement of their betrothal, and this so alarmed Elizabeth that she decided not to go ahead with the visit. Leicester, however, persuaded her to change her mind, and so to Kenilworth she went, being impressed 179.

with all the improvements he had made to the castle.

Desperately short of money, Elizabeth had no choice but to summon Parliament that autumn, but much to her vexation this only led to the resurrection of the succession question, which was by now a highly sensitive issue between her and the general public. Recently there had been a spate of pamphlets published, favouring mainly the claims of Katherine and Mary Grey, and one MP, Mr Molyneux, dared to suggest that the earlier petitions to the Queen be revived. Those Privy Councillors who were present tried to silence him, but the Commons were determined that the matter be settled once and for all, and resolved that another petition be submitted to the Queen, subscribed to by both Commons and Lords.

Elizabeth, being apprised of this, ordered Cecil to assure Parliament that, 'by the word of a prince, she would marry', but for the present, 'touching the limitation of the succession, the perils be so great to her person that the time will not yet suffer to treat of it'. Both Commons and Lords were determined to go ahead, the former defiantly refusing to approve any subsidy until the Queen resolved the succession question.

Their royal mistress reacted furiously, and told de Silva she would never allow Parliament to meddle in such a matter. She needed the subsidy for the good of her people, and Parliament should vote it freely and graciously. The ambassador pointed out that, if she were to marry, she could spare herself all this aggravation. She replied that she was well aware of it, and intended to write to the Emperor within the week, 'signifying that her intention was to accept the marriage'. De Silva knew that this was a bluff, since Maximilian had not moderated his demands in any way and negotiations had remained in deadlock for months, but he said nothing.

On 21 October, a deputation from the Lords waited upon the Queen in the Privy Chamber to remind her of the need to provide for the future and beg her to decide upon a successor. Elizabeth, who had not wanted to receive them but had been prevailed upon by Leicester to do so, was angry with the Lords for supporting the Commons's subversive behaviour, and reminded them that the Commons would never have dared be so rebellious in her father's day. They, the Lords, could do as they pleased, and so would she.

Three days later the Lords took her at her word and united with the Commons. The Queen was so furious that she used strong words to Norfolk, snarling that he was little better than a traitor. When Pembroke tried to defend the Duke, she told him he talked like a swaggering soldier. Leicester was next. If all the world abandoned her, she cried, yet she had thought he would not have done so.

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'I would die at your feet,' he swore.

'What has that to do with the matter?' she retorted.

Then it was Northampton's turn.

'Before you come mincing words with me about marriage,' she warned, 'you had better talk of the arguments which got you your scandalous divorce and a new wife!' And so saying, she flounced out of the council chamber to seek comfort from de Silva, whom she was now treating as her chief confidante. He reported that she was angriest with Leicester, and had asked him his opinion of such ingratitude from one to whom she had shown so much favour that even her honour had suffered. She was now determined to dismiss him and leave the way clear for the Archduke to come to England. Leicester and Pembroke were soon afterwards dismayed to find themselves banned from the Presence Chamber. The nobility, complained the Queen, were 'all against her'.

She might have said the same about the stiff-necked Commons, who were virtually refusing to attend to any government business until the Queen acceded to their demands. Elizabeth told de Silva, 'I do not know what these devils want!'

'It would be an affront to Your Majesty's dignity to adopt any compromise,' he advised.

But matters could not rest as they were, and Elizabeth knew it. She therefore summoned a delegation of thirty members from each House to Whitehall, but refused to allow the Speaker to accompany them, since she alone meant to do all the talking on this occasion. Barely containing her anger, she opened by accusing 'unbridled persons in the Commons' of plotting a 'traitorous trick', and then rehearsed all the old arguments against naming her successor, administering a stinging rebuke to the Lords for so rashly supporting the Commons in this nonsense.

Was I not born in this realm? Were not my parents? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to other's harm? How have I governed since my reign? I will be tried by envy itself. I need not to use many words, for my deeds do try me. I have sent word that I will marry, and I will never break the word of a prince said in a public place, for my honour's sake. And therefore I say again, I will marry as soon as I can conveniently, and I hope to have children, otherwise I would never marry.

Touching on the succession, she went on: None of you have been a second person in the realm as I have, or tasted of the practices against my sister - whom I would to God 181.

were alive again! There are some now in the Commons who, in my sister's reign, had tried to involve me in their conspiracies. Were it not for my honour, their knavery should be known. I would never place my successor in that position.

The succession question was a difficult one, 'full of peril to the realm and myself Kings were wont to honour philosophers, but I would honour as angels any with such piety that, when they were second in the realm, would not seek to be first.'

Firmly, she chided them for their impertinence: it was for her, the sovereign, 'your prince and head', to decide the succession, and it was 'monstrous that the feet should direct the head'. All she would say was that she would resolve the succession problem when she could do so without imperilling herself.

As for her mutinous subjects, she hoped the instigators of this trouble would repent and openly confess their fault.

As for my own part, I care not for death, for all men are mortal, and though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage answerable to my place as ever my father had. I am your anointed Queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God I am endowed with such qualities that if I were turned out of the realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place in Christendom.

The Lords might have been subdued by this tirade, but the Commons were less impressed. When Cecil read out his edited draft of the Queen's speech to the House, it was received in silence, and three days later there were more calls for a petition. By now, Elizabeth had had enough of this insubordination, and on 9 November, on her orders, Sir Francis Knollys 'declared the Queen's Majesty's express command to the House that they should proceed no further in their suit, but satisfy themselves with Her Majesty's promise to marry'.

This prompted an uproar: MPs made clear their resentment at Elizabeth's high-handed attitude, perceiving it as an attack on their 'accustomed lawful liberties', while she was furious at their attempts to infringe her prerogative. On 11 November, she summoned the Speaker and insisted he impress upon the Commons the fact 'that he had received special command from Her Highness that there should be no further talk of the matter'.

The Commons, however, would not be silenced. By the end of the month it had become obvious to Elizabeth that they had her in a corner, for they had still not voted her the money she badly needed, and it was unlikely they would do so whilst she remained uncooperative. She 182.

could either forgo her much-needed funds and dissolve Parliament, or she could give in. The original dispute over the succession was turning into a battle over the privileges of monarch and parliament, and she had no wish for a showdown over that sensitive issue. Wisely, she capitulated, conceding that members might have a free discussion on the succession question, and remitting one third of the subsidy she had asked for. The Commons were so overjoyed and gratified at this that they agreed to proceed at once to the money bill without debating the succession. But when Parliament tried to incorporate the Queen's promise to marry into the preamble to the bill, she took one outraged look at the draft presented for her approval, and scrawled in the margin, 'I know no reason why my private answers to the realm should serve for prologue to a subsidy book; neither do I understand why such audacity should be used to make, without my licence, an Act of my words!'

The preamble was discreetly removed, leaving in the draft just a brief reference to Parliament's pious wish that the succession question would be resolved in the future. This of course dashed the hopes of Mary Stuart, who had expected her claim to be ratified by Parliament.

On 2 January 1567, Elizabeth dissolved a chastened Parliament, sourly advising its members, 'Beware however you prove your prince's patience, as you have now done mine! Let this my discipline stand you in stead of sorer strokes, and let my comfort pluck up your dismayed spirits. A more loving prince towards you ye shall never have.'

She behaved as though she had won a contest, but Cecil pointed out that she had been rather the loser, passing her a memorandum in which he enumerated what had not been achieved: 'The succession not answered, the marriage not followed, dangers ensuing, general disorientations.'

In November 1566, Mary had discussed with her advisers ways of freeing herself from Darnley, but to little effect. The marriage could not be annulled because that would call into question the legitimacy of her son. Some lords wanted her to arrest Darnley on a charge of treason, but she was reluctant to do so because foreign ambassadors were already assembling at her court for the christening of Prince James. This sumptuous Catholic ceremony, the last of its kind in Scotland, took place on 17 December at Stirling Castle. Queen Elizabeth stood godmother, and was represented by the Earl of Bedford, who presented her gift of a golden font, intricately carved and vividly enamelled. It had, however, been made for a much smaller baby, and Elizabeth felt bound to apologise, explaining she had not realised how much young James would have grown. Darnley, simmering with resentment, refused to attend his son's baptism.

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After the christening, Bedford conveyed another message from his mistress, which brought welcome news, for Elizabeth had promised to block any legislation prejudicial to Mary's succession in return for an undertaking that her cousin would refrain from pressing her claim while Elizabeth lived.

Mary had by now turned for support to James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, to whose castle at Dunbar she had fled after Rizzio's murder. He had rallied his followers and her other supporters there, and returned with her to Edinburgh in triumph. Bothwell was described by one of his contemporaries as 'a glorious, rash and hazardous young man', but his cultivated manner, acquired during a sojourn in France, masked a ruthless and unscrupulous character. He was a Protestant, and had recently married the virtuous Lady Jean Gordon. Lady Jean, however, could not offer him a crown, and it was his desire for this that now fuelled his pursuit of the Queen.

Already Bothwell was hated and resented by his peers for his favour with her, and Bedford reported 'His influence is such as David [Rizzio] was never more abhorred than he is now.'

On 24 December, the day on which Darnley took himself off to stay with his father, the Earl of Lennox, at Glasgow, Mary formally pardoned Rizzio's murderers. It was now obvious that she was looking for a way to rid herself of her husband, and she confided as much to Maitland at a conference of nobles held that month at Craigmillar Castle near Edinburgh.

'Madam, let us guide the matter among us, and Your Grace shall see nothing but good, and approved by Parliament,' he soothed.

'Nothing must be done to stain my honour and conscience,' insisted the Queen. Nevertheless it was during that same conference that Bothwell and other lords first conceived a plot to murder Darnley, though there is no evidence that Mary either knew of it or gave her consent to it.

During the winter, Darnley fell ill. It was given out that he was suffering from smallpox, but it seems more likely that he had syphilis. Whatever his illness was, it had a debilitating effect and he took to his bed.

At least now Mary was enjoying good relations with Elizabeth. 'Always have we commended the equity of our cause to you and have looked to you for friendship therein,' the Queen of Scots wrote that January to her cousin. But this fragile amity was soon to be irrevocably shattered.

On 20 January, fearful that he might stir up trouble in the wesL of the country, Mary visited her husband in Glasgow and persuaded him to 184.

return with her to Edinburgh. Her manner was solicitous and she promised that, when he was well again, she would live with him as his wife. In the capital Bothwell was waiting to greet them and conduct them to an old house in Kirk o' Field, where Darnley had chosen to lodge rather than going to Craigmillar Castle at Mary's suggestion. Reputedly situated in healthy air, the house stood on a small hill near the city wall overlooking the Cowgate, and was surrounded by pretty gardens. Today the University of Edinburgh Hall of the Senate stands on the site of the Prebendaries' Chamber, where Darnley was accommodated. Beneath this room was a bedroom for the Queen, who visited him often and sometimes stayed at the house during his illness.

Bothwell had met with Morton that January and Darnley's assassination had again been discussed, but neither lord would later admit to initiating the subject. Bothwell had also talked with his kinsman, James Hepburn, of murdering Darnley. Although there is no evidence that Mary knew what they were planning, her contemporaries would come to believe after her husband's death that she had lured Darnley to Edinburgh at Bothwell's suggestion.

On Darnley's first night in Edinburgh, Mary sat up with him, talking, playing cards and giving every appearance of being a loving wife. Darnley's father, the Earl of Lennox, would later say that when he visited his son he found him sadly altered, desperately in need of company and comfort, and obtaining solace from the Psalms.

On 8 February, Mary announced that she was at last willing to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, and the next day her envoy left for England. Mary had intended to spend that night at Kirk o' Field with Darnley, but then remembered that she had promised to attend a wedding masque at Holyrood Palace. She took a fond farewell of her husband, pressing into his hand a ring as a token of her love, and then left in a torchlit procession for the palace.

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chapter 11.

'A Dangerous Person'

At two o'clock in the morning, on 10 February 1567, a violent explosion shook the city of Edinburgh, bringing people running to Kirk o' Field. They found the house a smouldering heap of rubble, while in the orchard lay the dead bodies of Darnley, naked beneath his nightgown, and his valet, Taylor. Marks on their throats indicated that both had been strangled: certainly they were not killed by the explosion, which had perhaps been intended to destroy the evidence of murder. It was thought that Darnley, sensing that something was wrong, had left the house with his servant to investigate and been attacked outside. An elderly neighbour had heard him plead, 'Pity me, kinsmen, for the sake of Him who pitied all the world!' The first person who ran out into the street nearby after the explosion was Captain William Blackadder, Bothwell's man, who was promptly arrested but swore he had merely been sharing a drink with a friend in a neighbouring house.

When the news was brought to the Queen, who had been awakened by the blast, she expressed shock and horror, and vowed that her husband's murderers would be speedily 'discovered' and punished. She expressed her belief that the murderers' intention had been to assassinate her also: had she not decided to attend the masque at Holyrood, she too would have been murdered, and she wasted no time in penning letters to foreign courts announcing her 'miraculous' escape.

There was no doubt that Darnley had been murdered: many people had a motive for doing away with him, or stood to gain from his death. Chief among them was the Queen herself, who had long since ceased to love him and had discussed ways of ridding herself of him. She also regarded him as a dangerous liability, and had recently complained to Archbishop James Beaton that it was well known how her husband was plotting to kidnap their son and rule in his name.

Bothwell wanted Darnley dead so that he himself could marry the 186.

Queen and rule Scotland. He was 'high in his own conceit, proud, vicious and vainglorious above measure, one who would attempt anything out of ambition', as one contemporary described him.

Then there were the other Scots lords, who hated Darnley, many still nursing a sense of betrayal over his treacherous behaviour to them after Rizzio's murder. The finger of suspicion even touched foreign princes with vested interests in Scotland: the Catholic champions, Philip II, Charles IX and the Pope, had no wish to see Catholicism besmirched by the scandals surrounding Darnley. Conversely, Queen Elizabeth was anxious to promote the ascendancy of the Protestant establishment in Scotland, as led by Moray, and Darnley was an obstacle to this.

But, for most people, in Scotland and elsewhere, the evidence pointed overwhelmingly to Bothwell - and, quite soon, to Mary.

On 24 February, having received from her agents in Scotland a far more sinister account of Darnley's murder than appeared in the official version that would shortly be sent to her, Elizabeth wrote to Mary from Whitehall with serious urgency. Instead of her usual 'Ma chere soeur , 'Ma chere soeur , she began, she began, Madam: my ears have been so astounded and my heart so frightened to hear of the horrible and abominable murder of your former husband, our mutual cousin, that I have scarcely spirit to write; yet I cannot conceal that I grieve more for you than him. I should not do the office of a faithful cousin and friend if I did not urge you to preserve your honour, rather than look through your fingers at revenge on those who have done you that pleasure, as most people say. I exhort you, I counsel you, I beg you, to take this event so to heart that you will not fear to proceed even against your nearest. I write thus vehemently, not that I doubt, but for affection.

Catherine de' Medici commented to her circle that Mary was lucky to be rid of the young fool, but warned her former daughter-in-law that, if she did not immediately pursue and punish the murderers, France would deem her dishonoured and would become her enemy.

Mary, concerned to dissociate herself from the crime, ordered an inquiry, but the depositions of witnesses were extracted in often suspicious circumstances, even under torture. The Earl of Moray, who stood to gain power in Scotland if his half-sister were to be overthrown, was to retain control of all these documents and, therefore, they are unreliable as evidence. It is possible that Mary, whose health at the time was poor, was paralysed by indecision and reluctant to act against the man who, a week after Darnley's murder, was named in anonymous obscene public placards that appeared in Edinburgh as the chief suspect, 187.

Bothwell.

Darnley's parents suffered anguish, not only as a result of their son's death, but also because the Queen seemed to be doing so little to bring the culprits to justice. Elizabeth released a distraught Lady Lennox from the Tower and placed her in the care of Sir Richard Sackville. De Silva reported that the Countess believed that Mary 'had some hand in the business' as an act of 'revenge for her Italian secretary'. The Earl of Lennox successfully pressured Mary into allowing a private indictment of Bothwell for the murder of Darnley, but after an insulting travesty of a trial, which intimidated witnesses were too frightened to attend, he was acquitted on 12 12 April. April.

On 24 April, Mary, again convalescent after an illness, was travelling back to Edinburgh after visiting her son at Stirling, when Bothwell, reckless with regard to his reputation or hers - and possibly with her consent and foreknowledge, for she turned down an offer to rescue her - abducted her and bore her off to Dunbar, where he 'ravished' her, thus ensuring that it was impossible for her to refuse to marry him.

Shortly after the abduction, Lord Grey arrived from England with orders to tell Mary that Elizabeth was 'greatly perplexed' because the Queen of Scots had failed to bring to justice her husband's murderers yet had showered favour upon 'such as have been by common fame most touched with the crime'. Mary, of course, was incommunicado, incommunicado, and the message was never delivered. When Elizabeth learned that Mary had surrendered herself to Bothwell, she was shocked. and the message was never delivered. When Elizabeth learned that Mary had surrendered herself to Bothwell, she was shocked.

On 3 June, the Church of Scotland denounced Bothwell as an adulterer with one of his wife's maids and granted her a divorce. This left him free to marry Mary, their Protestant nuptials taking place on 15 May at Holyrood Palace. Afterwards, Mary asserted that she had had no choice in the matter, but there were many who thought her conduct depraved, and were now convinced that she had connived with Bothwell to murder Darnley.

Elizabeth could only deplore her cousin's behaviour, which contrasted so unfavourably with her own at the time of Amy Dudley's death, and in a letter to Mary she wrote, 'Madam, it has been always held in friendship that prosperity provideth but adversity proveth friends, wherefore we comfort you with these few words.' She had learned of of Mary's marriage, and, Mary's marriage, and, to be plain with you, our grief has not been small thereat: for how could a worse choice be made for your honour than in such haste to marry a subject who, besides other notorious lacks, public fame has charged with the murder of your late husband, besides touching yourself in some part, though we trust in that behalf falsely. And 188.

with what peril have you married him, that hath another lawful wife, nor any children betwixt you legitimate!

Thus you see our opinion plainly, and we are heartily sorry we can conceive no better. We are earnestly bent to do everything in our power to procure the punishment of that murderer against any subject you have, how dear soever you should hold him, and next thereto to be careful how your son the Prince may be preserved to the comfort of you and your realm.

Elizabeth told Randolph that she 'had great misliking of the Queen's doing, which she doth so much detest that she is ashamed of her'. Yet there were other reasons for her disapproval of the marriage. Randolph had long since warned her that Bothwell was 'as mortal an enemy to our whole nation as any man alive', and she feared that, to gratify his ambition, he might incite Mary to become her enemy. Bedford was therefore instructed to 'comfort' any Scots lords who 'misliked Bothwell's greatness'.

Two days after the wedding, Mary was already regretting what she had done, for Bothwell was proving a stern husband, frowning on frivolous pleasures and displaying jealousy of the influence of any other lords. The French ambassador saw her looking very sad and heard her wishing for death; at one point she was calling for a knife with which to kill herself. He noticed also that, despite her mental anguish, she could not resist Bothwell's physical attraction.

The Scots lords found the marriage intolerable. Having just rid themselves of Rizzio and Darnley, they were in no mood to endure the ambitious and ruthless Bothwell as King of Scots, and they were soon preparing for an armed confrontation with him. This took place on 15 June at Carberry Hill. Very little blood was spilt, but at the end of the day Mary was in the custody of her nobles and Bothwell had fled back to Dunbar, whence he escaped to Denmark via the Orkneys. The lords assured the Queen that they intended no harm to the Crown, but she soon found herself under guard like a common felon.

Thus she was led weeping and mud-spattered back to Edinburgh, and here it became starkly apparent how her subjects now felt about her. As she rode through the packed streets, they reviled her as an adulteress and murderess, and screamed, 'Burn the whore! Kill her! Drown her!'

'I will hang and crucify them all,' she cried, but her humiliation was complete. Placards depicting her as a mermaid - a symbol for a prostitute - confronted her at every turn. It was clear that her reign was effectively over.

Two days after her degradation in Edinburgh, Mary was imprisoned in the fortress of Lochleven, which stood on an island in the middle of 189.

a lake in Kinross. She had nothing with her but the clothes she wore, and some weeks after her arrival she miscarried of twins, losing so much blood that she was obliged to rest in bed for some time. Meanwhile, Mary's lords were doing their best to whip up public opinion against her, and deciding how best to dispose of her.

Elizabeth, hearing of these events, was deeply concerned at the implications of the imprisonment of a queen by her subjects. Whatever Mary had done - and Elizabeth, deploring her behaviour, had little sympathy for her on a personal level - she was still an anointed sovereign, to whom 'by nature and law' her people owed loyalty and obedience, and their treatment of her was setting a dangerous precedent. It was unthinkable that a queen could be thus divested of her regal authority. Alarmingly, seditious ballads applauding Mary's deposition had begun to appear in England. For these reasons, Elizabeth was determined to fight for Mary's release.

On 20 June, one of Bothwell's servants was arrested and made to deliver to the Earl of Morton what later became known as the 'Casket Letters' - a collection of correspondence said to be between Mary and Bothwell which, if authentic, appeared to incriminate the Queen of being an accessory to murder. The lords responded by telling Mary she must choose between being put on trial, with the Casket Letters being offered as evidence, abdicating, or divorcing Bothwell. She refused to consider any of these options, asking only, according to her enemies, to be allowed to sail away on a boat with Bothwell to wherever fortune would take them. Meanwhile, the Pope, having heard about her recent behaviour, refused on 2 July to have anything further to do with her.

Early in July, Elizabeth sent Throckmorton back to Scotland to bring about a reconciliation between Mary and her peers and insist on her restoration. When that had been accomplished, he was to demand that Darnley's murderers be pursued and brought to trial. Above all, he was to ensure that Prince James, whose dynastic importance Elizabeth appreciated, was kept safe; if possible, the child should be brought to England to be reared under her protection. This was, Throckmorton told Leicester, 'the most dangerous legation in my life', and he took his time travelling north, only to be overtaken by a royal courier who commanded him, in the Queen's name, to make haste.

Public opinion in Scotland, fanned by John Knox, was violently opposed to Mary, and Throckmorton's intervention was greatly resented. He was denied access to her, and the lords were even talking of executing her and breaking off their alliance with England in favour of a new one with France if Elizabeth did not offer her support. All Throckmorton could do was send Mary a letter advising her to divorce 190.

Bothwell. Mary refused, even though her situation was now desperate.

The lords, having refused to sanction James's removal to England, now decided that Queen Mary must be forced to abdicate in favour of her son. Weakened by her miscarriage, she was in no fit state to resist, yet on 24 July, when Lord Lindsay came to demand that she sign away her throne, she refused to do so, demanding to be heard by the Scots Parliament. Lindsay threatened that if she did not co-operate, he would cut her throat, at which she capitulated. Five days later her infant son was crowned James VI at Stirling, according to the Protestant rite. On the day of the coronation there were noisy celebrations at Lochleven, with Mary's captors going out of their way to insult her.

On 27 July, an outraged Elizabeth commanded Throckmorton to demand of the Scots, 'What warrant have they in Scripture to depose their Prince? Or what law find they written in any Christian monarchy, that subjects may arrest the person of their Prince, detain them captive and proceed to judge them? No such law is to be found in the whole civil law.' If Mary was deprived of her throne, she threatened, 'we will take plain part against them to revenge their sovereign, for an example to all posterity'.

In Throckmorton's opinion, expressed to Leicester, any attempt to rescue Mary would only lead to her being killed, though at the same time there is little doubt that, had not Elizabeth reacted as violently as she did to their treatment of Mary, the Scots lords might have executed her without more ado. Throckmorton was grateful for having been able to communicate to Mary how zealous Elizabeth was in her cause, 'which I am sure the poor lady doth believe'. But relations between Elizabeth and the men who should have been her Protestant allies were now, thanks to her interference, so frigid that war seemed a very real possibility.

Despite this danger, the Queen, supported only by Leicester, was resolved to pursue the matter to a successful conclusion in the face of pleas and warnings from Throckmorton and Cecil, who wanted to foster friendly relations with Moray and were alarmed at their mistress's obsession with bringing the Scots to heel. Not content with demanding Mary's release, she was now doing her best to subvert Moray's efforts to establish stable government, and deliberately snubbed the Earl by imperiously recalling Throckmorton, thereby demonstrating that she did not recognise his authority. It was no more than a gesture, however, for Moray was well entrenched in power, and few Scots wanted the disgraced Mary restored, as Throckmorton had tried to explain to Elizabeth. Nor did Moray take her displeasure too seriously: as he commented to Cecil, 'Although the Queen's Majesty, your mistress, outwardly seems not altogether to allow the present state, yet doubt I 191.

not but Her Highness in her heart likes it well enough.'

Nevertheless, on 11 August, the Queen, in a foul temper because of the pain caused by 'a crick in the neck', sent for Cecil and, in 'a great offensive speech', soundly berated him and his fellow councillors for not having thought of any way in which she could revenge the Queen of Scots's imprisonment and deliver her. As Cecil hedged, the Queen began shouting that she would declare war on the Scots, and he should warn Moray and his lords that if they kept Mary locked up, or touched her life or person, Elizabeth, as a prince, would not fail to revenge it to the uttermost. When Cecil tried to defend Moray, the Queen retorted that any person who was content to see a neighbouring prince unlawfully deposed must be less than dutifully minded towards his own sovereign. Cecil persisted, however, reminding her that, if she threatened the Scots with war, they might well carry out their threat to execute Mary.

A week later the Secretary, who knew that his mistress had no real intention of going to war with her neighbour, was nevertheless gloomily reflecting on how her behaviour was wrecking the fruits of his seven or eight years of successful diplomacy with Scotland. Although she was no longer talking of war, she was still loudly denouncing Moray. Cecil was aware of her motives, knowing that she did not wish people to think her prejudiced against her cousin and that she was fearful in case her own subjects might be emboldened by the example set in Scotland to do the same to her. When, on 22 August, Moray was appointed head of a council of regency, Elizabeth refused to recognise his authority, just as she would not acknowledge James VI as King of Scots. It was not until October that she calmed down and faced the fact that she could not change the situation in Scotland.