God’s bones, Annabella thought.She is so brave, and I am terrified.
“Not wi’out the little rat whose service does ye nae credit. He needs to be put down, madam, and we shall do it this night,” Lord Ruthven said. “We dinna want this papal spy in yer service turning ye from what is right and just for Scotland.”
“Ye are mistaken, my lord,” the queen said. “David is no spy. If ye believe he has done some wrong, then present your proof, but of course ye cannot, for there is none.”
Lord Ruthven’s face grew almost purple in his rage. He took a threatening step toward the queen, and as he did Annabella flung herself, arms outstretched, in front of Mary Stuart. “Remove that bitch!” Ruthven roared.
Several men jumped at his command, attempting to pull the Countess of Duin away from her defensive position in front of the queen. Annabella fought them furiously but was finally pulled away and flung to the floor of the chamber. She struggled to regain her feet, but Lord Darnley stepped forward and delivered several brutal kicks to Annabella’s form, forcing her to remain where she was. Then he restrained his wife as the screaming and shrieking Riccio was dragged from the chamber. Ruthven and his party plunged their daggers into the little man over and over again.
Annabella could not hold on to consciousness after that and slid into darkness. When she managed to regain her senses she was still on the floor, Mary Beaton, one of the queen’s maidens, leaning over her, waving a burning feather beneath her nose. The young woman’s eyes were filled with a mixture of sympathy and admiration. She put her arm about the Countess of Duin’s shoulders and helped her to a seated position.
“Ye were very brave,” Mary Beaton said low.
“What has happened?” Annabella asked. She felt a sticky wetness between her legs and a cramping in her belly.Dear God! Not the bairn! Not the bairn!
“Ruthven and his ilk have gone,” Mary Beaton said. “The townsfolk gathered before the palace, but that snake Darnley told them all was well, and that a papal spy in the pay of the Spanish king had been discovered and slain. The people dispersed, but Bothwell’s men are battling with the Earl of Morton’s men to reach the queen as we speak.”
Annabella’s glance went to the queen, who was weeping over the murder of her secretary and friend, her head in her hands. “Mistress Beaton,” Annabella said. “Help me from this chamber quickly.” Then she groaned low.
“Ye’ve been hurt by Darnley’s blows,” Mary Beaton said, genuinely distressed.
“I am losing the bairn I’ve been carrying,” Annabella said. “I cannot do it before the queen, lest my misfortune cause her to miscarry too. Please, I beg ye, get me from this place now, and find my tiring woman who came wi’ me.”
“Can ye stand?” Mary Beaton asked.
“I must,” Annabella said, struggling slowly to her feet. The cramping was worse now, and she felt blood drizzling down her legs as Mistress Beaton slowly helped her from the queen’s chamber.
Once outside, Mary Beaton spoke to the young guard, who was now disarmed and rubbing his head from the blows he had received when Ruthven and his band had broken into the queen’s apartments. “The Countess of Duin has been injured in the melee. Find and fetch her tiring woman, Jean Ferguson, to her. She will be in my chamber.”
The guard nodded, and went off.
“’Tis not far,” Mary Beaton said as she aided Annabella down a narrow corridor.
Annabella said nothing. How could this have happened? She had come to bid the queen farewell, and got caught up in a maelstrom. They reached Mary Beaton’s chamber, and with the help of Mistress Beaton’s tiring woman, Annabella was able to reach the bed, where she lay down just as she began to weep.
“What has happened, my lady?” Mary Beaton’s serving woman asked fearfully.
Quickly, the young woman explained the situation. She then bent over Annabella, whose eyes were closed, although tears were slipping down her face. “My Susan will stay with you. Your Jeannie will be here soon.” Then she hurried toward the door just as Jean Ferguson dashed into the chamber.
Mary Beaton quickly explained what had happened, and then she left.
Hurrying to Annabella’s side, Jean lifted her mistress’s skirts, gasping at the profusion of blood. “Holy Mother!” She crossed herself, but then, recovering, she began to direct Mary Beaton’s servant. “Can you fetch me cloths to take up the remaining blood? And a basin of cool water, please.” She bent down. “My lady, dinna weep. What’s done is done. Weeping will change nothing.”
“Darnley,” Annabella said, opening her eyes. “Darnley did this, Jeannie! Angus must know if I die.”
“What do ye mean, my lady?” Jean glanced quickly about to see whether Mistress Beaton’s servant had heard, but the woman was on the far side of the chamber.
“I stood before the queen to protect her from the ruffians who had broken into her chamber and were threatening her as they attempted to catch the Italian, Riccio. When they were finally able to pull me away, I was flung to the floor. I attempted to get up, but Lord Darnley kicked me several times, preventing it. He is responsible for my loss.” Her eyes blazed with anger. “I shall have my vengeance upon him, Jeannie. I shall!” Then she fell back as a wave of dizziness overcame her.
“Dinna upset yerself,” Jean cautioned. “If it’s revenge ye would have, then ye must live to take it, my lady.” Taking the small knife that hung at her waist, Jean cut away Annabella’s bloodied skirts and removed her bodice.
Mary Beaton’s serving woman returned to Jean’s side with the basin and a stack of cloths. “I’ll make some yarrow tea to help strengthen her,” she said. “And I’ve also brought ye a small stone jar of comfrey balm.”
“Thank ye,” Jean said. Then she quickly went to work wiping away the layer of blood to see better what had happened. The large clots told the tale. Annabella had indeed lost her bairn. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Both her brother and his wife were healthy. There would be other bairns. Carefully, she rubbed the comfrey balm into her mistress’s genital area.
“Here’s one of my mistress’s chemises for yer lady,” the kindly serving woman said. “Ye tuck her right into that bed now. My lady is unlikely to return here tonight.”
She held out a small earthenware mug. “The yarrow tea,” she said.
