Across the hall Annabella stood by the other hearth. “Is he satisfied?” she asked her husband. “How much did ye reveal to him?”
“Just the one small chamber at the foot of the tapestry stairs,” Angus said. “To hae shown him all would have probably killed him wi’ too much knowledge. He dinna need to see the other chests with their gold and jewels. ’Twas more coin in one spot than he had ever seen, or is apt to see. It convinced him I am an honest man. He is free of suspicion. He will depart tomorrow, and we will go back to living a normal life.”
In the morning the Earl of Moray left Duin Castle for York, where the English queen, Elizabeth Tudor, had set up a conference chaired by the Duke of Norfolk to settle the dispute between Mary Stuart, queen of the Scots, and her half brother, James Stewart, Earl of Moray. This event was of such interest and importance to the people of Scotland that news of what was happening even reached Duin on a regular basis. Mary was not allowed to attend, although she was represented. Moray was there to speak for himself, which infuriated her, and many thought it unfair. The conference began in early October, reconvening in late November at Westminster, and holding its final session at Hampton Court in the middle of December.
Moray’s rebellious behavior was suddenly less and less important, while the matter of Lord Darnley’s murder became paramount, even though it had been settled in Scotland.
James Stewart suddenly formally accused his half sister of partaking in the murder. He brought forth her treasured silver casket that King Francis I of France had given her as a child. Inside was a small stack of rather salacious letters said to have been written by Mary that clearly indicated her involvement in the murder, which was now said to have been committed by James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, who for lack of evidence earlier had been cleared of this deed by the Scottish courts.
All of this information was brought to Elizabeth Tudor. She personally examined it, and then said, “They might have done a better job of the forgery, Cecil. ’Tis rubbish! I don’t believe a word of it! The verdict has certainly not been proven to anyone with intelligence. Give Moray five thousand pounds, and tell him he is to return to Scotland in his position of regent. It is my wish that he keep his nephew, our most royal cousin King James, safe until he is grown and able to govern for himself.”
“And Mary Stuart?” Sir William Cecil asked his mistress.
Elizabeth Tudor considered in silence for several moments, her long, elegant fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. Finally she said, “Another matter altogether, Cecil. Mary cannot be allowed to return to Scotland. That northern land is better ruled by an infant king and his quarrelsome lords. The Scots will not declare any wars on England until they have a king who can lead their armies. That will not be for many years, Cecil. And my cousin, his mother, must not be allowed to flee to France, where Catherine de’ Medicis and her son will use the queen of the Scots as a pawn in whatever game they would play with England.
“I think that Mary Stuart must be moved to Tutbury Castle. It has not the graciousness of her former abode, but it is better defended. It will be difficult for anyone to help her escape from Tutbury. Let the Earl of Shrewsbury and his wife, Bess, oversee the care for the queen of the Scots. They own that old heap of stones.”
“Will you see the Earl of Moray before he returns to Scotland?” Cecil inquired.
“Aye, I shall greet him warmly, and he will go on his way, content that England will leave him to his own devices,” Elizabeth Tudor said with a chuckle.
In late February the word reached Duin of the no-fault decision in the matter between Mary and her half brother, James Stewart, Earl of Moray.
“How clever this English queen is,” Annabella said admiringly. “She hae found her cousin guilty of nothing, and Moray free of sin as well. She hae sent him back to resume his place as regent, and found a more secure place to keep Mary Stuart, taking her deeper into England. She will nae escape to France now.”
“And perhaps we will finally have peace,” the Earl of Duin said. “Moray is sly, but he is honorable. He will keep the little king safe, and rule in a reasonable fashion.”
“There are those who dinna like him,” Annabella replied. “And are envious of him. The Queen’s Men are nae yet ready to concede defeat. The Hamiltons in particular.”
“Moray is firmly in control,” Angus replied.
“None of our kings who came to the throne as bairns lived till their majority wi’ just one regent,” Annabella reminded him. “Only Marie de Guise was able to hold the reins of power firmly in her hands long enough to get Mary Stuart to safety. Too many men, most of them involved in Riccio’s murder, hold positions of power. They are ruthless and would think little of slaying a bairn.”
“The king is Moray’s own blood.”
“As if kinship ever stopped a usurper,” Annabella replied dryly.
“He’ll keep the laddie safe,” Angus insisted.
But the borders remained restless, with the Hamiltons stirring up discontent in their unceasing efforts to restore Mary Stuart to power. Immediately after her flight into England, Mary had been housed in Carlisle Castle, then moved to Bolton Castle. Both were located in the north of Yorkshire. After the verdict rendered at Hampton Court, the Scots queen was moved to Tutbury, an inhospitable stone keep located farther south in Staffordshire. Surrounded by marshes, it was a less than gracious abode. But it did not keep Mary’s partisans from planning her escape. First, however, several routes for messengers had to be established.
A young man, one William Hamilton by name, came to Duin. They knew him as nothing more than a traveler seeking border hospitality, but that night in the hall he took Angus aside and asked for his help. “We hae several routes for our messengers to take between Scotland and England, but this western route is one that would nae be seriously considered by those seeking to thwart us,” he explained.
A chill ran down Annabella’s back as she listened to William Hamilton.
“And what purposes do yer messengers serve, Master Hamilton?” the earl asked.
“Why, they serve to keep us in communication wi’ our brethren who are even now down in England working for the queen’s escape,” the young man replied. “We hae come to Duin for two reasons: yer isolation and the fact that yer own wife hae Hamilton blood in her veins. Surely ye canna refuse yer aid to her kinsmen.”
“Aye, I can, and I do,” Angus Ferguson said to William Hamilton. “Yer cause is lost, yet ye continue to foment trouble in Scotland. We hae a king on the throne. The queen’s own bairn. This constant warring between the Queen’s Men and the King’s Men plays havoc here in the borders. It has to cease, yet it won’t as long as men like ye continue to pursue this foolishness.”
William Hamilton looked at the earl. “I was told ye were nae a man to take sides. That ye stood for Scotland.”
“I do,” Angus responded. “And there is a king on Scotland’s throne now.”
“And the Earl of Moray behind the king’s throne,” William Hamilton answered.
“If it were a Hamilton behind that throne, would this be less of a problem?” Angus Ferguson asked him candidly. “The Fergusons of Duin follow the laws of Scotland. Ye’re welcome to shelter wi’ us and eat at our board, but I will nae put my family in jeopardy for what I truly believe is a lost cause.”
