22

“WE FOUND HIS DOINGS RUDE”

MARY RETURNED TO EDINBURGH ON 21 April, but stayed only long enough to sign some papers, then set off immediately to visit Prince James at Stirling.¹She apparently was beginning to feel more herself at last, and her first priority was to see her son. On her journey, she was accompanied by Maitland, Huntly, Melville and thirty armed horsemen. Bothwell remained in Edinburgh, having told the Queen that, in the next day or so, he would be raising a force to deal with some troublesome Borderers who had just “despoiled” Biggar.²

Thanks to the unfounded rumours spread by Grange and others, some people believed that the real purpose of Mary’s visit was to remove James from Mar’s care and place both him and Stirling Castle in Bothwell’s hands. Drury claimed on 27 April that, during the Queen’s sojourn at Stirling, Mar prevented her from delivering James into Bothwell’s care,³while Buchanan stated as a fact:

Bothwell did not consider it to his own security to protect a boy who might one day become the avenger of his father’s death; and he wanted no other to stand in the way of his own children in line of succession to the throne. So the Queen, who could refuse him nothing, personally undertook to have the boy brought back to Edinburgh. When she arrived [at Stirling], the Earl of Mar suspected what she was after. He showed her the boy, but in such a way that he was always in his own keeping. The Queen, foiled in her design and unable to take the child by force, made false excuses about why she had come, and set out on her journey home.

Buchanan even claims that Mary’s mind “did not shrink” from the crime of infanticide. “She had often been heard to say that the boy would not live long, and that she had been told by a skilled astrologer in Paris that her first child would not live more than a year.” No other source mentions this.

Events would show that Mary never contemplated giving her precious son and heir into the custody of Bothwell. After enduring great pain and suffering to give birth to the Prince, she had taken careful measures to protect him, for clearly she was terrified lest someone would harm or kidnap him. Had she entrusted James to Bothwell’s care, she could have done so in the knowledge that his loyalty to her and her House was untarnished; he was already Captain of the Prince’s Guard, and had been responsible for his safety before, during the Queen’s absence. However, by the time Buchanan came to write his libel, people were ready to believe anything of Mary, even that she was ready to facilitate the murder of her own child to make way for her issue by Bothwell.

Some historians claim that Mary rode the thirty-six miles to Stirling in one day, but considering her state of health, and the fact that she had already ridden back from Seton, it is more likely that she stayed the night at Linlithgow, then went on to Stirling on the 22nd. She spent the rest of that day with her ten-month-old baby.

On the evening of 22 April, Mary wrote to Mondovi of the failure of whose mission she was painfully aware; she also knew how her recent ratification of the Kirk in Scotland would compromise her in the eyes of Catholic Europe, and wanted the Pope to know that she had been constrained to it. She therefore begged the Nuncio to keep her in His Holiness’s good grace, assuring him that she meant to live and die in the Catholic faith. When her letter later caught up with him, Mondovi observed that, unless the Pope gave her wholehearted support, she might rush precipitately into marriage, even with a heretic like Bothwell, who had been “the Queen’s most trusty and obedient adherent.”⁴

On 20 May, Drury was to report that, just before she left Stirling on 23 April, Mary tried to poison her son.

The Prince being brought unto her, she offered to kiss him, but the Prince would not, but put her face away with his hand, and did to his strength scratch her. She took an apple out of her pocket and offered it, but it would not be received by him; but the nurse took it, and to a grey-hound bitch having whelps the apple was thrown. She ate it, and she and her whelps died presently. A sugar loaf also for the Prince was brought thither at the same time, and left there for the Prince, but the Earl of Mar keeps the same. It is judged to be very evil compounded.⁵

Although this story was to be repeated as fact by Lennox in his Narrative , it was no more than a baseless and vicious slander, for in reality, as Mary took her leave of Mar, she exhorted him to be vigilant and wary that he be not robbed of her son, either by fraud or force.⁶With good reason, she still feared that, if her enemies seized the person of her heir, her reign, and possibly her life, would not long endure.

Lennox, meanwhile, had decided that it was unsafe for him to remain in Scotland, and was even now at Dumbarton, waiting to sail down the Clyde for England; his ship finally left on 29 April. On 23 April, having obtained his information from a well-informed source, he wrote to tell his wife that Bothwell was about to kidnap the Queen.⁷

Lennox’s intelligence was correct. Nau says that, having secured the support of the Lords for his proposed marriage, “and seeing the difficulties which would arise from delay, Bothwell resolved by some means or other to seize the person of the Queen, and then, having already gained the consent of all the Lords, to compel her to give hers, in order to bring the negotiations to a conclusion.” Bothwell was well aware that he had enemies, and doubtless believed that marriage to Mary would afford him a degree of protection, especially since he had the written backing of the Lords. More to the point, he was an ambitious man, and keen to consolidate the power he already enjoyed.

Whether the Queen was about to collude in her own abduction is another matter.

Given the way that events were moving, it is hardly surprising that, on 23 April, Cecil wrote: “Scotland is a quagmire. Nobody seems to stand still; the most honest desire to go away; the worst tremble with the shaking of their conscience.”⁸

On the day Lennox wrote his letter, Mary said farewell to her child, not realising that she would never see him again, and left Stirling for Linlithgow with Maitland, Huntly, Melville and her thirty horse. Four miles out of Stirling, the Queen suffered a severe attack of abdominal pain, and had to rest in a cottage before completing her journey. The royal party did not arrive at Linlithgow Palace until late that night.⁹

That day, Bothwell had ridden twelve miles south-west of Edinburgh to Calder Castle, where he raised a force of 800 horse,¹⁰ostensibly intending to lead them south to Biggar.¹¹At midnight, according to Drury, he visited Huntly at Linlithgow to ask for his assistance in the abduction of the Queen, but a horrified Huntly refused. After an hour of fruitless persuasion, Bothwell left without seeing Mary¹²and when he got back to Calder, he was “in great ill humour.”¹³Paris, in his second deposition, claimed that Black Ormiston visited Linlithgow secretly that night, and that he had a long conversation with the Queen.¹⁴It is more than likely that Paris’s story was fabricated in order to make it appear that Mary had colluded in the abduction. If Mary had connived at the abduction, Bothwell would surely have finalised the details with her himself before she left Edinburgh, or when he visited Linlithgow; there was no need to send Ormiston.

The question of whether Mary did in fact collude in the abduction is another matter entirely, but there were those who believed, or affected to believe, that she did. At midnight, while Bothwell was arguing with Huntly, Grange was writing to Bedford:

This is to advertise you that Bothwell’s wife is going to part with her husband, and great part of our Lords have subscribed the marriage between the Queen and him. The Queen rode to Stirling this last Monday, and returns this Thursday. I doubt not but you have heard Bothwell had gathered many of his friends, some say to ride in Liddesdale, but I believe it not, for he is minded to meet the Queen this day, Thursday, and to take her by the way and bring her to Dunbar. Judge you if it be with her will or no; but you will hear at more length on Friday and Saturday. I would you tear this after the reading. The bearer knows nothing of the matter. By him that is yours that took you by the hand. At midnight.¹⁵

The information fed to Lennox and Grange probably came originally from Bothwell himself. It would have been natural for him to confide his plans to one or more of the Lords, who knew of Mary’s rejection of his suit and had tried, through Maitland and Bellenden, to persuade her to the contrary. In view of this, Bothwell mistakenly thought he could trust them to support him, but in fact he was playing right into their treacherous hands.

On 24 April,¹⁶Mary left Linlithgow for Edinburgh with her small retinue. Six miles west of the city,¹⁷somewhere between the New Bridge over the River Almond at Cramond to the north, and the little bridge over the Gogar Burn to the south,¹⁸Bothwell was waiting for her with what Mary described as “a great force,”¹⁹all with drawn swords.²⁰As her party drew nervously to a halt, he laid hold of her bridle,²¹as if she were his captive, and told her that she was in danger from a threatened insurrection in her capital, and that he was taking her, for her own safety, to Dunbar, along with Maitland, Huntly and Melville. Mary and her entourage were not convinced by this, and, fearing Bothwell’s intentions, “some of those who were with her were about to defend her, but the Queen stopped them, saying she was ready to go with the Earl of Bothwell wherever he wished, rather than bloodshed and death should result.”²²Calmly, she allowed herself to be led away to Bothwell’s stronghold at Dunbar, whereupon most of her escort, apart from her personal servants, were dispersed. Robert Melville told Cecil that this “shame done by a subject to our sovereign offends the whole realm,”²³but Mary’s enemies would later condemn her as collusive for offering no resistance.

Before she had been forced to ride off with Bothwell, Mary had sent one of her horsemen, James Borthwick, to Edinburgh to alert the citizens to what was happening to her. The Provost, fearing for the Queen’s safety, had the alarm bell rung, summoning the citizens “to armour and weapons,” while Skirling, the Governor of the Castle, futilely aimed cannon fire on Bothwell’s soldiers as they rode by, half a mile beyond the Flodden Wall and well out of range. When the men of the city had collected their weapons and banded together, they marched through the gates, but they were on foot and had no hope of catching up with Bothwell’s mounted force.²⁴

After a forty-mile ride, Bothwell and his captives reached Dunbar at midnight,²⁵and after they had entered the castle, all its gates were made fast. According to Mary’s account of this episode, which she wrote a fortnight later to the Bishop of Dunblane,²⁶Bothwell asked pardon of the boldness he had taken to convey us to one of our own houses, whereunto he was driven by force, as well as constrained by love, the vehemence whereof had made him to set apart the reverence which naturally, as our subject, he bore to us, as also for safety of his own life.

According to Nau, Mary expressed indignation at the way she was being treated, for it must have been obvious by now that there was no uprising in Edinburgh, as Bothwell had claimed. “How strange we found it of him, of whom we doubted less than any subject we had, it is easy to be imagined,” she wrote.²⁷But, “in answer to complaints which she made, she was reminded that she was in one of her own houses, that all her domestics were around her, that she could remain there in perfect liberty and freely exercise her lawful authority. Practically, however, all happened very differently, for the greater part of her train was removed, nor had she full liberty until she had consented to the marriage, which had been proposed by the Lords of the Council.”²⁸Melville says that, at Dunbar, Bothwell “boasted he would marry the Queen, who would or who would not; yea, whether she would herself or not.” This was not the sentiment of a man inspired by passion or lust, but that of a man motivated by ambition and the instinct for self-preservation. Mary, however, was in no mood to yield and, for all that she desired no bloodshed, “sent secretly to the Governor of the town of Dunbar to sally out with his troops and rescue her”;²⁹but she waited in vain for them to arrive.

In the meantime, Bothwell sought her out in private and began, she recorded, to make us a discourse of his whole life, how unfortunate he had been to find men his unfriends, whom he had never offended; how unable he was to save himself from conspiracies of his enemies, whom he might not know, by reason every man professed himself outwardly to be his friend; and yet found he such hid[den] malice that he could not find himself in surety without he were assured of our favour to endure without alteration.

His intentions, he assured her, were entirely honourable.

Other assurance he could not trust to, without it would please us to do him that honour to take him to husband; protesting always that he would seek no other sovereign, but to serve and obey us all the days of our life, joining thereto all the honest language that could be used in such a case.³⁰

Mary, however, persisted in her refusal of his suit, even when he again produced the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond. Her conduct is hardly consistent with the licentious passion that Buchanan alleged existed between her and Bothwell.

Determined to have his way, Bothwell ignored the Queen’s rebuff. According to Melville, who was at Dunbar that night and left the next day, he raped her, laying her open to dishonour and the risk of an illicit pregnancy, with the consequent loss of her reputation. Now, “the Queen could not but marry him, seeing he had ravished³¹her and lain with her against her will.”³² Mary, still in weakened health, “wearied and almost broken,” as she herself states in her letter reproduced below, and well aware that she was completely in Bothwell’s power, had no choice but to capitulate. Later, in her letter to the Bishop of Dunblane, she wrote of what had happened in less explicit terms, but her meaning was obvious:

Seeing ourselves in his power, sequestered from the company of our servants and others, of whom we might ask counsel, yea, seeing them upon whose counsel and fidelity we had before depended, already welded to his appetite, and so we left alone, as it were, a prey to him, many things we resolved with ourself, but never could find a way out. And yet he gave us little space to meditate with ourself, ever pressing us with continual and importunate suit. In the end, when we saw no hope to be rid of him, never man in Scotland making a move to procure our deliverance, we were compelled to mitigate our displeasure, and began to think upon that he propounded.

Mary was well aware that her troubled realm needed a man’s strong hand to restore order and good government, and that she herself was no longer capable of controlling affairs. Such a man could take pain upon his person in the execution of justice and suppressing their insolence that was rebel, the travails whereof we may no longer sustain in our own person, being already wearied and almost broken with the frequent uproars and rebellions raised against us since we came to Scotland.

It had been made plain to Mary that her Lords would not accept a foreign consort. Bothwell had rendered her loyal service in the past, and she felt that no other of her subjects could equal him, either for the reputation of his House, or for the worthiness of himself, as well in wisdom, valiance, as in all other good qualities. Albeit we found his doings rude, yet were his words and answers gentle. As by a bravado in the beginning he had won the first point,³³so ceased he never, till by persuasion and importunate suit, accompanied not the less with force, he had finally driven us to end the work begun, at such time and in such form as he thought best might serve his turn, wherein we cannot dissemble that he has used us otherwise than we would have wished or yet deserved at his hand.³⁴

Mary’s letter was intended for her envoy to the French court, and she doubtless felt that she had to justify her acceptance of Bothwell’s suit whilst at the same time avoiding criticism of the man who was to be her husband, who could not, for the sake of his honour and her own, be openly accused of raping his sovereign. It has also been conjectured by several historians that, after experiencing sexual relations only with immature or callous youths, Mary was surprised to find that intercourse could be very satisfying with a mature man like Bothwell. Yet there is no evidence to support this theory, and her future behaviour does not bear it out.

In July, the Scottish Lords told Sir Nicholas Throckmorton “how shamefully the Queen was led captive, and by fear, force and (as by many conjectures may well be suspected) other extraordinary and more unlawful means, compelled to become bedfellow to another wife’s husband.”³⁵

Lennox, Mary’s enemy, and Leslie, her supporter, both claimed that Bothwell used black magic to seduce her, and he is said to have admitted as much in a dubious document known as his Confession, which is almost certainly a fabrication. Throughout his career, Bothwell was frequently accused by his enemies of witchcraft; in a superstitious age, it was an infallible method of character assassination, and even Knox was not immune from such accusations.³⁶

Nau does not mention the rape at all. The Book of Articles, however, graphically describes how Bothwell “met and ravished” the Queen, “conveying her in haste to Dunbar Castle, where he plainly passed to bed with her, abusing her body at his pleasure, which form of ravishing he practised also to his own advantage, thinking it being a crime of lèse-majesté to take a remission therefor as he did, and under the same crime to comprehend the King’s murder in case it might be tried thereafter.” This means that Bothwell abducted and raped Mary with a view to securing, amongst other things, a general remission for any treasons he might have committed, which would mean he could never again be tried for Darnley’s murder. This assumption may well be correct, for the assize judges had given permission for a retrial in the event of new evidence coming to light, and Bothwell certainly did not want that particular sword of Damocles hanging over him. However, he never got his general remission, merely a pardon for the abduction and rape.

Many years later, Mary informed the Pope, “We were constrained to yield our consent, yet against our will.”³⁷Leslie states that she took into account her constant fear of imminent danger, and called to mind “the sundry and divers uproars and seditions already made against her, the wretched and most cruel murder of her secretary, the late strange and miserable murder of her husband, the discomfort and desolation wherein she was presently be-wrapped, the Earl’s activity in martial feats, and the good and faithful service done by him to her mother and to herself.” She also feared “some new and fresh stir and calamity if she should refuse her nobility’s request.” But “though very circumspect and naturally prudent in all her doings,” she was “nevertheless a woman, and never to that hour once admonished, either openly or privately after the Earl’s acquittal, that he was guilty of the said fact, nor suspecting any thing thereof, yielded to that, to the which these crafty, colluding, suspicious [Lords], and the necessity of the time, as then to her seemed, did in a manner enforce her.” She had many good, even compelling, reasons for consenting to marry Bothwell, but the fact remained that most people still believed he had murdered Darnley; by marrying him, Mary would lend credence to the widespread rumours that she had been his willing accomplice, and the consequences would be devastating for her.

Mary had agreed to marry Bothwell as soon as he was free. It is possible, but unproven, that she signed a marriage contract at Dunbar, and it has been suggested that it was possibly one of the two contracts amongst the Casket Letters, but they are probably forgeries.

Buchanan was voicing a belief that had been prevalent at the time when he later asserted that “for coverture of their filthy ways,” Bothwell and the Queen “devised a counterfeited ravishing of her person.” Even before the abduction, Grange had hinted that it would take place with Mary’s consent, and two days afterwards he wrote again to Bedford to say that the Queen “was minded to cause Bothwell to ravish her, to the end that she may sooner end the marriage, which she has promised before she caused murder her husband.”³⁸At Dunbar, Melville’s captor, Captain William Blackadder, told him that the kidnapping “was with the Queen’s own consent.”³⁹On the 27th, Drury reported that “the manner of Bothwell’s meeting with the Queen, although it appeared to be forcibly, is yet known to be otherwise.”⁴⁰De Silva heard that “all had been arranged beforehand, that the Queen, when the marriage was completed, might pretend that she had been forced to consent.”⁴¹

Mary’s enemies believed that she was looking for a way to avoid the public opprobrium that would be sure to follow upon her marriage to Bothwell, and if it could be made to appear that she had been forced into consenting to the union, she might just get away with it. “It seemed to them a marvellous fine invention that Bothwell should ravish and take away the Queen by force and so save her honour,” wrote Buchanan. Modern historians often point out that she offered little resistance to Bothwell when he ambushed her, and refused her attendants’ offer of help.

Yet there was no reason for staging the abduction as a sop to public opinion, for the Lords and the Bishops had already given their written and verbal approval of the marriage, thereby implying their support against any critics of it. It was Mary’s consent that Bothwell needed, and he was prepared to take drastic measures to get it. Moreover, Melville, who was present at Dunbar and knew what was going on, states that Bothwell had lain with Mary “against her will,” and his brother Robert, in a letter written to Cecil on 7 May, was in no doubt that the abduction was contrary to her wishes.⁴²As for her lack of resistance, how could her small entourage of thirty-three persons have hoped to prevail against Bothwell’s 800 armed men? Had Mary permitted them to try, a bloodbath would almost certainly have ensued; instead, she courageously went quietly with her captors. And if the abduction had been staged, why would she send to the Provost of Dunbar for help? The theory of the collusive seizure falls down on the evidence of an Act of Parliament passed against Mary by her enemies on 20 December 1567, in which they refer to her abduction by Bothwell and state: “She suspected no evil from any of her subjects, and least of all from him.”⁴³

Buchanan says that whether the abduction was with Mary’s consent or not “every man may easily perceive by her own letters that she wrote to [Bothwell] by the way as she was in her journey.” The letters to which he is referring are Casket Letters VI, VII and VIII, which, along with a love poem from the Casket Documents, are supposed to have been written on 21, 22 or 23 April, during Mary’s visit to Stirling.

Casket Letter VI is endorsed by Cecil’s clerk, “From Stirling before the ravishment—proves her mask of ravishing.” It reads:

Alas, my Lord, why is your trust put in a person so unworthy to mistrust that which is wholly yours? I am wood. You had promised me that you would resolve all, and that you would send me word every day what I should do. You have done nothing thereof. I advertise you well to take heed of your false brother-in-law. He came to me, and without showing me anything from you, told me that you had willed him to write to you that I should say, and where and when you should come to me, and that you should do touching him; and thereupon hath preached unto me that it was a foolish enterprise, and that with mine honour, I could never marry you, seeing that, being married, you did carry me away. And that his folk would not suffer it. And that the Lords would unsay themselves and would deny that they had said. To be short, he is all contrary. I told him that, seeing I was come so far, if you did not withdraw yourself of your self, that no persuasion nor death itself should make me fail of my promise. As touching the place, you are too negligent (pardon me) to remit yourself thereof to me. Choose it yourself and send me word of it. And in the meantime, I am sick. I will differ as touching the matter it is too late. It was not long of me that you have not thought thereupon in time. And if you had not more changed your mind since mine absence than I have, you should not be now to ask such resolving. Well, there wanteth nothing of my part. And seeing that your negligence doth put us both in the danger of a false brother, if it succeed not well, I will never rise again. I send this bearer unto you, for I dare not trust your brother with these letters, nor with the diligence. He shall tell you in what state I am, and judge you what amendment these new ceremonies have brought unto me. I would I were dead, for I see all goeth ill. You promised other manner of matter of your foreseeing, but absence hath power over you, who have two strings to your bow. Dispatch the answer that I fail you not. And put no trust in your brother for this enterprise. For he hath told it, and is all against it. God give you good night.

If this letter was written by Mary to Bothwell, the false brother-in-law to whom she refers can only be Huntly, whom Bothwell is using as a go-between, much to her annoyance, for she does not think that Huntly is to be trusted. She is also angry that her irresolute and apparently incompetent suitor has not been in touch with her on a daily basis, as he promised, to plan the abduction. She fears it will all go wrong, and wishes she was dead.

Huntly, however, had refused to have anything to do with the abduction plot, and had been taken captive along with Maitland and Melville. In the letter, Huntly had told Mary that his family would never suffer her to marry Bothwell, but in fact Huntly had already given his consent to his sister filing for divorce. If Mary had been a party to Bothwell’s plans, they would surely have been finalised before her departure on 21 April, when she knew that Bothwell was intending to raise a force. There was therefore no need for him to write to her on a daily basis, as she was only going to be away for three days. Even Buchanan contradicts the “evidence” in this letter, stating that, before she left Edinburgh, Mary had fully arranged with Bothwell the plan and place of the seizure. The inescapable conclusion must be that Casket Letter VI is a forgery.

Casket Letter VII is also written on the premise that Huntly was assisting the abduction plot:

Of the place and the time, I remit myself to your brother and to you. I will follow him and will fail in nothing of my part. He finds many difficulties. I think he does advertise you thereof and what he desires for the handling of himself. As for the handling of myself, I heard it once well devised. Methinks that your services, and the long amity, having the good will of the Lords, do well deserve a pardon, if above the duty of a subject you advance yourself, not to constrain me, but to assure yourself of such place near to me, that other admonitions or foreign persuasions may not let [prevent] me from consenting to that that ye hope your service shall make you a day to attend. And to be short, to make yourself sure of the Lords and free to marry, and that you are constrained for your surety, and to be able to serve me faithfully, to use a humble request joined to an importune action. And to be short, excuse yourself, and persuade them the most you can, that you are constrained to make pursuit against your enemies. You shall say enough, if the matter or ground do like you, and many fair words to Lethington. If you like not the deed, send me word, and leave not the blame of all unto me.

The “importune action” is almost certainly the abduction. From the wording of the beginning of this letter, it would appear that a reply to Casket Letter VI had been received, which would have arrived late on 22 April at the earliest; therefore, if Mary wrote this letter on that day, expecting a reply confirming that Bothwell did indeed intend to proceed with his plans, she was cutting it fine if she expected to hear from him before the 24th. There is no record of Huntly racing back and forth from Linlithgow or Stirling to Edinburgh and Calder with these letters. Moreover, if Mary and Bothwell were in collusion, they could have finalised their plans with Huntly when Bothwell visited Linlithgow. There was no need for this correspondence. Nor is it clear what difficulties Huntly himself had to face. All he had to do was go quietly with the Queen to Dunbar. It was also rather late in the day to advise Bothwell to make sure of the Lords, since he already had their signatures on the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond. Armstrong-Davison thought that Casket Letter VII was a genuine letter from Mary to George Douglas, the man who helped her escape from Lochleven in 1568, which the Lords adapted to suit the abduction plot; if so, then it was added to the Casket Documents a year after their discovery. Otherwise, it must be a forgery.

Mary’s enemies claimed that Casket Letter VIII was the third of the series that Mary allegedly sent to Bothwell from Stirling, but it almost certainly relates to a different matter and belongs to a later date, because it refers to Huntly as “your brother-in-law that was,” which lends itself to the presumption that the letter must have been sent after Bothwell’s divorce.

The 158-line love poem in French from the Casket Documents, often erroneously described as a collection of twelve sonnets, was also alleged by some to have been written by Mary for Bothwell while she was at Stirling. Robin Bell, who edited Mary’s collected verse,⁴⁴believes that this poem is consistent with her authenticated style, and that any forger would have attempted to copy her youthful, better known poems, rather than guess how she would write in her maturity. He suggests, however, that the “sonnets” may have been tampered with in order to incriminate Mary: Buchanan claimed that they were composed “(as it is said) while her husband lived, but certainly before [Bothwell’s] divorce from his wife.” He also says they were written with tolerable elegance, but Brantôme and Ronsard declared that they were in such bad French, and in such an unpolished, fragmented style, that it was ludicrous to attribute them to Mary. It has been suggested that Buchanan himself wrote—or altered—them, since he was one of the few people in Scotland who knew how to compose courtly French verse; furthermore, he knew Mary’s style.

During the first night at Dunbar, according to Drury, Huntly quarrelled with Maitland and tried to kill him. Maitland’s life was saved only by the intervention of the Queen, who thrust her body in the way of the Earl’s drawn sword and warned Huntly that, “if a hair of Lethington’s head did perish, she would cause him to forfeit lands and goods and lose his life.”⁴⁵Melville also relates this incident, but states that it was Bothwell who attacked Maitland, giving no reason for this apart from the fact that Bothwell was not Maitland’s friend. Maitland himself later told Cecil that he had gone in fear of his life since Bothwell, in a fit of ungovernable rage, had tried to kill him, and would have succeeded if the Queen had not hastened to his assistance.

After the attack, Bothwell placed Maitland under guard and kept him a prisoner.⁴⁶The next day, Huntly and Melville were allowed to leave Dunbar. Before Melville left, he told Mary “that those who had advised her [to marry Bothwell] were betrayers of her honour for their own selfish ends, seeing her marrying a man commonly adjudged her husband’s murderer would leave a tash [slur] upon her name and give too much ground for jealousy.”⁴⁷Mary did not heed his warning.

On 25 April, Queen Elizabeth and her Privy Council, unaware of the dramatic events of the previous day, discussed the situation in Scotland. Elizabeth decided to send Lord Grey de Wilton to Edinburgh to express her displeasure at three things: Mary’s failure to bring to justice Darnley’s murderers, the favour shown by her to “such as have been by common fame most touched with the crime,” and “the contempt or neglect in the burial of the King’s body.” “So monstrous an outrage” as the Queen’s marriage to Bothwell “must be prevented”; but after issuing Grey with his instructions, Elizabeth changed her mind and immediately countermanded them. Instead, she sent another warning to Mary via Bedford, and asked the latter to make inquiries as to the possibility of Prince James being brought up in England.⁴⁸Nau believed—as, most probably, did Mary—that Elizabeth’s change of heart had been dictated by the realisation that, if Mary could be persuaded to marry Bothwell, “they might charge her with being in the plot against her late husband.”

The next day, Grange wrote again to Bedford, claiming that Mary had caused Bothwell to abduct her so that she could marry him.

The Queen will never cease until she has wrecked all the honest men of this realm. Many would revenge it, but they fear your mistress. I am so suited for to enterprise the revenge that I must either take it in hand or leave the country, which I am determined to do, if I get licence; but Bothwell minds to cut me off ere I obtain it. I pray you let me know what your mistress will do, for if we seek France, we may find favour; but I would rather persuade to lean to England. No honest man is safe in Scotland under the rule of a murderer and a murderess.⁴⁹

On the 26th, Cecil was informed, by one of his agents in Paris, that Archbishop Beaton was openly saying “that the Lord James [Moray] was the author of the King’s death, and Lord Lennox is deluded and mocked by him.”⁵⁰

Lady Bothwell’s suit for divorce came before the Protestant Commissary Court of Edinburgh on 26 April.⁵¹She “accused her husband, before the Queen’s judge, of adultery, which was the only case of divorce recognised by them,”⁵²and “therefore requires to be no longer reputed flesh of his flesh.”

To the Queen, a Catholic, this Protestant divorce was unacceptable, and on the following day, at the instance of Bothwell, Mary granted Archbishop Hamilton a commission to try the validity of Bothwell’s marriage, on the grounds that he and Jean were within the forbidden degrees of kinship and had not been granted a dispensation.⁵³This was blatant collusion, for they had indeed received a dispensation, and it had been granted by no other than the Archbishop himself.⁵⁴Furthermore, Hamilton’s consistorial powers had been revoked, after protests by the Kirk, in January, and never restored. Technically, therefore, as Buchanan points out, he had no authority to pronounce on matrimonial causes. Strictly speaking, the Queen should have applied directly to the Pope for an annulment, but that would have taken months, and there was no guarantee that he would grant her request, especially if he suspected that she meant to marry Bothwell, a notorious Protestant.

When news of these dubious and collusive proceedings leaked out, many of Mary’s loyal subjects turned against her. It was impossible for her to explain that what almost certainly drove her to these desperate measures was the fear of pregnancy and the consequent scandal, which in the present climate might well cost her her throne. She was also a prisoner, and had no choice but to do her captor’s bidding.

Mary was still being held at Dunbar, yet so far none of her subjects, Lords or commoners, had attempted to rescue her, which is an indication of how many people believed that she had connived at her own abduction. She herself wrote that she looked in vain for some of her subjects to come to her relief.⁵⁵Only the “highly offended” lieges of Aberdeen offered to help her escape, sending a message on 27 April, desiring to know what they should do “towards the reparation of the matter.”⁵⁶Whether Mary received this, or sent an answer, is not known. On 3 May, Robert Melville informed Cecil that Mary had sent asking Elizabeth for help, but had not obtained it.⁵⁷

Drury reported on 30 April that Bothwell had cast off his mourning garments and was now sporting his finest clothes; he had also been seen out walking with Mary at Dunbar, with an escort of arquebusiers, and showing “tokens of mirth”; Mary’s response is not recorded.⁵⁸A few days later, Drury reported that she and Bothwell were amusing themselves with archery practice and equestrian exercises, and that the arquebusiers were no longer so much in evidence. The Queen was attended by Bothwell’s sister, Janet Hepburn, and by his former mistress, Janet Beaton, and her sister Margaret, Lady Reres, to whom she gave gifts.⁵⁹

On 28 April, Archbishop Hamilton appointed a commission of two bishops and six clerics to inquire into the validity of Bothwell’s marriage. The next day, the Countess of Bothwell’s divorce suit came before the Commissary Court; as the case was defended, witnesses on her behalf were examined over the following two days; among them were George Dalgleish and Patrick Wilson. Neither of the parties appeared in person, but were represented by lawyers. On 1 May, the court found that Lady Bothwell had established her husband’s adultery, and adjourned the case until 3 May.⁶⁰

Bothwell’s abduction of the Queen and his obviously collusive matrimonial proceedings had given the Lords the pretexts they needed to move against him, and they now declared their hand. On 1 May, an unlikely coalition comprising Morton, Argyll, Atholl, Mar, Tullibardine and others convened at Stirling and entered into a new bond to strive to the utmost of their power to liberate the Queen from Bothwell’s “cruel tyranny and thraldom,” preserve the life of the Prince, and bring Darnley’s killers, especially “that cruel murderer Bothwell,” to justice.⁶¹This was the first overt move on the part of Bothwell’s enemies. Interestingly, despite the fact that public opinion held that Mary had connived at the abduction, the official line was, for the time being, to be that Bothwell had “ravished and detained her” against her will.

According to Nau, “many of the Lords were told that the Queen hindered justice being done for the late King’s death.” Mar’s defection would be particularly hurtful to Mary, but his first loyalty was to the Prince, and it is unlikely that he was aware at this stage of the wider aims of the Lords. Nau says that, “to a certain extent, the Countess of Mar was the cause, a malevolent woman and full of the spirit of revenge.” Tullibardine, Lennox’s ally, was her brother.

Herries claims that the overthrow of Bothwell, and a plan to place the Queen under restraint, had been decided upon before Moray’s departure. As Moray was now in France,⁶²and it was undesirable anyway that he should appear involved, Morton was to “manage all.” Once the coup had taken place, Moray would return and assume the Regency.⁶³De Silva claims that, whilst at Stirling, the Lords “considered the raising of the child to the throne, the government being carried on by them in his name.”⁶⁴It is likely that the plot against Bothwell and Mary had the tacit backing of Cecil.

Drury heard that the Lords sent to Mary to ask whether she was held captive against her will, or with her consent, “for if she were held against her will, they would collect a force and rescue her.” She replied that “it was true that she had been evil and strangely handled,” but that she had since been treated “so well that she had no cause to complain, willing them to quiet themselves”;⁶⁵The Book of Articles states that she “plainly mocked” them and “showed no signs of discontentation.” However, it is unlikely that Bothwell would have allowed the Lords’ letter to reach Mary; later, she wrote scathingly of the “profound silence” of her nobles whilst she was at Dunbar.

News of Mary’s abduction and rape had now reached the English court. On 1 May, de Silva reported that Elizabeth had informed him of it herself, and that she had been “greatly scandalised” to hear that the Queen had surrendered to Bothwell. “Some say she will marry him, and they are so informed direct by some of the highest men in the country who follow Bothwell. They are convinced of this both because of the favour the Queen has shown him, and because he has the national force in his hands.”⁶⁶In Paris, the English ambassadors were alleging that Mary had arranged the assassination of Darnley in order to marry Bothwell.⁶⁷

Early in May, Lennox joined his wife in London, where Elizabeth assured them, in response to their urgent pleas, that she would help them avenge their son’s murder. In the meantime, she was hoping to have Prince James brought to England to be raised by his grandmother, Lady Lennox; it may be inferred from this that Elizabeth had ruled out any prospect of the succession going to Mary. However, she was adamant that she would not countenance or approve any rebellion against the Queen of Scots.

Drury reported on 2 May that the Hamiltons, including the Archbishop, were furthering Bothwell’s divorce, “hoping to attain the sooner to their desired end.”⁶⁸Should Mary be deposed, only the infant Prince would stand in Chatelherault’s way to the throne.

Lady Bothwell’s divorce was granted by the Commissary Court on 3 May, and on that same day, Archbishop Hamilton’s Consistory Court began hearing Bothwell’s suit for an annulment.⁶⁹Irritated at the delay, Bothwell sent his henchmen to the chief commissioner, John Manderston, a canon of Dunbar Collegiate Church, with a warning that, if a decision were not given expeditiously, “there shall not fail to be noses and lugs [ears] cut off, and far greater displeasures...”⁷⁰

On 5 May, Drury reported that the Lords at Stirling had now resolved that, if the Queen married Bothwell, they would crown the Prince, and that they had sent a warning to her to be careful of her conduct. He added that many of those who had signed the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond were now against the marriage.⁷¹De Silva informed Philip II that, whilst at Stirling, the Lords had diverted themselves with a drama performed by boy players, entitled “The Murder of Darnley and the Fate of Bothwell.” The actor playing Bothwell was “hanged” so enthusiastically that “hardly in a long time could life be recovered.”⁷²

That day, witnesses in Bothwell’s suit were examined by John Manderston, sitting alone,⁷³while Bothwell, anticipating that he would soon be a free man, left Dunbar with Mary, Maitland and an armed force for Edinburgh. They spent the night at Hailes Castle in East Lothian, which had been a Hepburn stronghold since the fourteenth century.⁷⁴On the 6th, the Countess of Bothwell’s procurator appeared on her behalf in the Consistory Court.⁷⁵

Prior to Bothwell’s departure, Maitland had been held prisoner at Dunbar; he later told the Lords that an attempt on his part to escape during an archery contest had proved abortive. But the Lords, who were expecting him to arrive any day at Stirling, had already begun to ask themselves if “his constraint of liberty is not altogether against his will.”⁷⁶It probably suited Maitland to remain a prisoner, for, if the Lords’ coup failed, he could not be accused of disloyalty to his sovereign. Furthermore, whilst working for the downfall of Bothwell, he may well have drawn the line at any treasonable act against Mary, for she was essential to the survival of his Anglo-Scottish policy with its long-cherished aim of political and dynastic union: his behaviour all along would appear to have been dictated by such considerations. His imprisonment enabled him to play for time.

Drury reported on 6 May that Maitland had announced his intention of escaping to join the Lords at Stirling. “The reason why of late he was suspected to have been Bothwell’s was for certain letters he was compelled to write, but immediately, by a trusty messenger, he advertised not to give credit to them.” But Maitland did not turn up at Stirling; instead, he remained with the Queen. Drury was soon of the opinion that, although he feared Bothwell, he had decided to remain at court until the Lords had increased in strength. In his letter of the 6th, Drury added that Balfour was now installed in a room in Edinburgh Castle and enjoyed equal authority to its Governor, Cockburn of Skirling.⁷⁷

On the evening of 6 May, as the castle guns fired a salute “most magnificently,” Bothwell, on foot and respectfully bare-headed, escorted Mary into Edinburgh through the West Port, leading her horse by the bridle as if she were his prisoner;⁷⁸Maitland and Huntly and a “peaceful train”⁷⁹of Hepburn retainers were in attendance. That night, the Queen and Bothwell took up residence in Edinburgh Castle, where Bothwell had 200 arquebusiers stationed outside the Queen’s rooms, day and night, so that none might speak with her without his knowledge.⁸⁰

The next day, Archbishop Hamilton granted Bothwell an annulment, stating that his marriage had been “null from the beginning in respect of their contingence in blood, without a dispensation obtained before.”⁸¹Mary cannot but have been aware that this was an outright falsehood, nor that the action had been collusive, and that therefore the annulment was fraudulent and undoubtedly illegal; her doubts are evident from the fact that she asked the advice of “two or three Catholic bishops” before marrying Bothwell.⁸²However, both the Catholic Church and the Kirk had now ensured that Bothwell was free to remarry.

On that same day, Bothwell asked John Craig, who had replaced Knox as Minister of St. Giles,⁸³to proclaim the banns of marriage for himself and the Queen, but Craig, who was convinced that Mary was being forced into this union against her will, bravely refused to do so, and demanded her written consent and declaration that she had not been constrained by Bothwell. The response was a written order to Craig, signed by the Queen and delivered by Justice Clerk Bellenden that same day, 7 May, ordering him to proclaim the banns and declaring that she had neither been “ravished nor yet detained in captivity.” But Craig was not satisfied, and refused to proclaim any banns “without consent and command of the Kirk.”⁸⁴

Although Lord Herries had signed the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond, he was no friend to Bothwell. Aware of mounting public concern that the Queen would marry the Earl, and, fearful of the consequences, he came to Edinburgh and obtained an audience of Mary. He told her what people were saying throughout the country about her and Bothwell, “requesting Her Majesty most humbly on his knees to remember her honour and dignity and the safety of the Prince, with many other persuasions to show the utter wreck and inconveniences [that] would thereby be occasioned. Her Majesty appeared to wonder how these reports could go abroad, seeing there was no such thing in her mind,” whereupon Herries begged her pardon and withdrew.⁸⁵Mary dared not risk a confrontation with Herries, with Bothwell in so volatile a mood, nor would she have wished to alienate a loyal supporter.

Melville was also going to warn Mary about marrying Bothwell, but before he could do so, he received a letter from a Scotsman called Thomas Bishop, who had lived for a long time in England. Bishop “adjured me to show the letter to Her Majesty, declaring how it was bruited that she was to marry the murderer of her husband, who at present had a wife of his own, a man full of all vice; if she married him, she would lose the favour of God, her own reputation and the hearts of all England, Ireland and Scotland.” Melville showed Mary this outspoken missive, but, after reading it, she gave it back to him without saying anything, then called Maitland and asked him to read it. When he asked her what it was, she answered accusingly that it was “a device of his own, tending to the wreck of the Earl of Bothwell.”

Maitland took Melville aside and asked what had been in his mind that he should show such a letter to the Queen, for “so soon as Bothwell gets notice hereof, as I fear he will shortly, he will cause you to be killed.” Melville replied, “It is a sore matter to see that good Princess run to utter wreck, and nobody to be so far concerned in her as to forewarn her of her danger.” Maitland told him he had “done more honestly than wisely; and therefore, I pray you, retire diligently before Bothwell comes up from his dinner.” Mary herself begged Bothwell to do Melville no harm, but “notwithstanding, I was inquired after, but was flown, and could not be found till his fury was slaked; for I was advertised there was nothing but slaughter in case I had been gotten. Whereat Her Majesty was much dissatisfied, telling him that he would cause her to be left of all her servants, whereupon he renewed his engagements that I should receive no harm.”⁸⁶This episode suggests that Bothwell was doing everything in his power to keep from Mary the true extent of the opposition to their marriage until such time as it had been publicly announced; it also reveals that Bothwell had succeeded in turning Mary against Maitland.

Robert Melville informed Cecil on 7 May that the Lords at Stirling wanted English support against Bothwell, even though France had already offered aid (which was subsequently found not to be the case). He had heard that “the Lords have gone to their countries to assemble their friends” and that Bothwell was expected to go to Stirling to seize the Prince, but that Mar was determined not to surrender his charge, and was preparing for a siege. Melville also explained that Mary’s sharp response to Elizabeth’s letter was due rather to “the counsel of those about her than of herself. For you have experience that Her Majesty behaved herself most moderately when she had liberty to be at her own wise counsel.”⁸⁷

It was clear that an armed rebellion was on the point of breaking out, its ostensible aim being the removal of Bothwell; however, its real objective was to place the government in the hands of the Protestant Lords—or the Confederate Lords, as they were now calling themselves. Argyll had ridden to the West to arouse support, Atholl to the North and Morton to Fife, Angus and Kincardineshire, while Mar was holding Stirling and keeping an eagle eye on the Prince.⁸⁸

On 8 May, the General Assembly of the Kirk overrode John Craig and ordered him to publish the banns of the Queen’s marriage on the next three Sundays. Buchanan says they “dared not refuse” the Queen’s command, but it was Bothwell they really feared, Bothwell, who held all Edinburgh in his grip. A grim Craig demanded to speak his mind in the presence of the Queen and the Earl, “to give boldness to others.” That afternoon, he was summoned before Bothwell and the Council to justify his insolence, but instead of craving pardon, he vehemently denounced the marriage: “I laid to his charge the law of adultery, the ordinance of the Kirk, the law of ravishing, the suspicion of collusion between him and his wife, the sudden divorce and proclaiming within the space of four days, and last, the suspicion of the King’s death, which his marriage would confirm.” Bothwell held his temper and gave a fair answer, but it was “nothing to his [Craig’s] satisfaction.” The Councillors seemed to him “so many slaves, what by flattery, what by silence, to give way to this abomination.”⁸⁹Before Craig went away, Bothwell threatened to hang him if he did not call the banns.

That day, Bothwell, thinking Balfour a trustworthy ally, and perhaps hoping to buy his silence, appointed him Governor of Edinburgh Castle in place of Skirling,⁹⁰who was compensated with the post of Controller of Customs on 1 June. Melville says that Balfour got the governorship because “the Earl and he had been great companions, and he was also very great with the Queen.”⁹¹

The placard campaign was still continuing, and Grange was actively inciting the English against Bothwell. Bedford reported on the 8th that Grange had sent him a placard that had not yet been set up: it named Bothwell, Black Ormiston, Hepburn of Beanston, Hepburn of Bolton, Hay, Cullen and James Edmonstoun as Darnley’s murderers. Grange had added that James Murray had offered to prove their guilt according to “the laws of arms.”⁹²Most of these names had been listed by Drury in his report to Cecil sent on 15 March.⁹³

Grange wrote to Bedford on the 8th, informing him that the Lords intended to overthrow Bothwell, and asking for Elizabeth’s help. As added inducements, he claimed that the “barbarous tyrant” Bothwell had tried to poison Prince James, and that du Croc had offered French aid against Bothwell and undertaken to join the Confederate Lords, who were about to be joined by Glencairn, Cassilis, Eglinton, Montrose, Caithness, Boyd, Ochiltree, Ruthven, Drummond, Gray, Glamis, Innermeath, Lindsay, Home and Herries—many of whom had signed the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond—“with all the West, Merse [the Border area west of Berwick], Teviotdale, the most part of Fife, Angus and the Mearns” (the old colloquial term for Kincardineshire). The Lords’ chief concern was to get Bothwell out of Edinburgh Castle and keep him away from Dunbar, “not for fear of him in the field, but besides these two strengths, he has all the [am]munition.”

According to Grange, du Croc had tried to dissuade Mary from marrying Bothwell, threatening her with the loss of France’s friendship if she went ahead, but “she will give no ear.” If true, her refusal must have stemmed either from fear of Bothwell, who had her utterly in his power, or from fear that she was pregnant. Grange also alleged that Mary had Elizabeth’s christening font melted down to raise money, but this was untrue. He enclosed letters for Moray and asked Bedford to forward them in haste to the Earl, urging him to come to Normandy and wait in readiness until the Lords sent for him.⁹⁴Clearly, then, Moray knew what was planned. Robert Melville also wrote to Moray via the English ambassador in Paris on 10 May.⁹⁵

In order to still the clamour and speculation, Mary—probably at Bothwell’s instigation—issued a proclamation on 8 May, announcing that she had resolved to marry him.⁹⁶The Book of Articles points out that, “in all this time, she never required the advice and opinion of her Council and nobility towards her marriage,” yet many Lords had signed the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond, and the Council had sent Maitland and Bellenden to Seton to urge Mary to marry Bothwell. Nevertheless, Mary could not but have been aware of the increasing opposition to the marriage. The Confederate Lords, meanwhile, wanted the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond destroyed.⁹⁷

Early in May, Bothwell, well aware that the Lords were uniting against him, began raising troops and consolidating support in the Borders by offering the Cessford Kers a pardon for the murder of the Abbot of Kelso. Putting a brave face on things, Mary publicly declared that she was content with her nobility, and that, “praise to God,” there was “no trouble or insurrection within her realms.”⁹⁸On 10 May, she formally pardoned five men who had assisted Bothwell in her abduction;⁹⁹he himself was shortly to receive a public pardon.

On 10 May, Thomas Randolph, who had kept an interested eye on Scottish affairs and was as avid as ever for gossip, informed the Earl of Leicester that Mary was fully resolved to marry Bothwell, and was minded to make Leith a free burgh named Marienburgh and create Bothwell Duke of Marienburgh; however, she had fears that he would do away with the Prince or send him to France. The latter would in fact have been a wise move, for it would have put James beyond reach of those who were plotting to depose his mother and rule in his name, but, naturally, Mary would not have wanted him to go so far from her. Randolph stated that Elizabeth was incensed at Grange’s “vile” letters, which made Mary sound “worse than any common woman,” and was refusing to give any support to the Scottish Lords who had dared to rebel against their anointed Queen.¹⁰⁰

John Craig duly published the banns of marriage between Mary and Bothwell on Sunday, 11 May at St. Giles, but condemned their union in his sermon, calling upon Heaven and Earth to witness that he “abhorred and detested that marriage as odious and scandalous to the world; and, seeing the best part of the realm did approve it either by flattery or by their silence, I desired the faithful to pray earnestly that God would turn to the comfort of the realm that which was done against reason and good conscience.”¹⁰¹For this, Craig was summoned to appear before the Council two days hence.

Mary moved from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace on 11 or 12 May.¹⁰² On the 12th, attended by an armed guard, she appeared before the Chancellor (Huntly), and the Lords of Session in the Tolbooth and declared that she was marrying Bothwell of her own free will, and that in this marriage she foresaw much peace for the realm. Contradicting her earlier protestations that he had not held her under restraint, she went on to say that, “although at first commoved [angered] against Bothwell, yet, from his good behaviour towards her, from her knowledge of his past, and for a reward of his future services, she freely forgave him for the imprisonment of her person, and being now at full liberty, she intended to promote him to further honours.”¹⁰³ Under Scottish law, this public pardon, which signified the Queen’s acquiescence, had the effect of nullifying any charge of rape, and was almost certainly granted at Bothwell’s instance, for his procurator ensured that the pardon was formally recorded. According to Maitland, a pardon for treason, such as this was, would also have covered the crime of regicide, but this is doubtful; it will be remembered that the Book of Articles suggested that the obtaining of a general remission had been one of Bothwell’s aims in abducting the Queen.

Later that day, Mary created Bothwell Duke of Orkney and Lord of Shetland, “placing the coronet on his head with her own hands,” and knighted four of his adherents, including Black Ormiston.¹⁰⁴

An undercurrent of anger and discontent was seething in Scotland at the prospect of the marriage. Mary’s confessor, Roche Mameret, and some of her other friends warned her against taking Bothwell as her husband, but she would not listen, insisting that “her object in marrying [was] to settle religion by that means.”¹⁰⁵It would appear that she was too deeply in thrall to, and intimidated by, Bothwell to resist his persuasions. All her acts at this time suggest that he had come to dominate her. If worldly nobles went in fear of him, how much more would he overawe the Queen in her weakened state?

On 13 May, John Craig again vehemently defended his position before the Council, but was formally rebuked for his disobedience. “My Lords put me to silence and sent me away,” he wrote.¹⁰⁶

Bothwell’s armed forces were increasing in number. On 13 May, Drury reported that the Confederate Lords had sent Mary word that, unless she discharged her soldiers, and paid heed to her nobility, they would not obey her commands. He added that there was friction between Mary and Bothwell because of jealousy on both sides, and that they had engaged in a quarrel lasting half a day. Since Bothwell was the most jealous man alive and would scarcely allow Mary “to look at man or woman,” it was believed that they would not long agree after their marriage. “He is offended for a horse which she gave to the Lord of Arbroath [Lord John Hamilton],” while she “much misliked” the fact that Bothwell’s former wife was still installed in Crichton Castle.¹⁰⁷

Despite these tensions, the marriage contract was concluded and signed on 14 May. Huntly, Maitland, Fleming, Lindsay, Bellenden and the loyal Herries were among the witnesses.¹⁰⁸The contract maintained the fiction that Mary was still her own mistress. It stated that Her Majesty, being destitute of a husband, living solitary in the state of widowhood, and yet young and of flourishing age, apt and able to procreate and bring forth children, has been pressed and humbly required to yield unto some marriage. The most part of the nobility naming the noble Prince, now Duke of Orkney, for the special personage, Her Majesty has allowed their nomination, having recent memory of the notable and worthy acts and good service performed by him.

Yet while the contract enumerated Bothwell’s virtues, it also provided that he should undertake no public business or bestow no gift, privilege or place without the Queen’s consent, and that all official documents were to bear either the Queen’s signature or joint signatures, but never his alone.

On the eve of his marriage, Bothwell was having doubts about Balfour’s loyalty, and with good reason, as events would prove, for Balfour was determined to side with the winning faction. On 14 May, Drury reported that John Hepburn, Laird of Beanston had been appointed Governor of Edinburgh Castle in Balfour’s place.¹⁰⁹Melville says he was “intimately acquainted with Sir James Balfour. I knew how matters stood between Bothwell and him, namely that there were some jealousies arisen.” Melville had warned Balfour “that the Earl intended to have the castle out of his hands, for [although] the Earl and he had been great companions, afterwards he [Balfour] would not consent to be present [at Kirk o’Field] nor take part with the murderers of the King, whereby he came in suspicion with the Earl of Bothwell, who would no more credit him, so that he would have had the castle out of his hands.” Acting on behalf of the Confederate Lords, Melville “dealt with Sir James Balfour not to part with the castle, whereby he might be an instrument to save the Prince and the Queen, who was so disdainfully handled.” Accordingly, Balfour refused to leave his post,¹¹⁰and since he had control of the ordnance and the royal treasure, Bothwell had no choice but to leave him in it or risk a bloody confrontation. Alienating Balfour, however, would prove to be his biggest mistake.

Drury also mentioned that the Confederate Lords were beginning to “muse much” on Maitland’s prolonged stay with his supposed enemies. Maitland, also, it appears, was waiting to see which faction would emerge victorious. His overriding consideration, however, was the salvaging of his long-cherished plans for the peaceful union of Scotland and England, and it was almost certainly for this reason that he would not, at this stage, abandon the Queen.

On 14 May, on being informed that her Lords would not consent to her marriage unless she ratified the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond, Mary formally pardoned all those who had signed it, and promised that neither she nor her heirs would ever “impute a crime or offence to any of the subscribers thereof.”¹¹¹

The Queen and Bothwell had now done everything in their power to give a semblance of legality to their marriage and appease their opponents. On the evening of 14 May, with the wedding on the morrow, Melville ventured to return to court, and found Bothwell in a good mood. He even asked Melville to join him and his friends at supper, but after a while, “he fell in discoursing of gentlewomen, speaking such filthy language that I left him, and went up to the Queen, who expressed much satisfaction at my coming.” It seemed, however, that she hardly knew what she was doing.