23

“WANTONS MARRY IN THE MONTH OF MAY”

MARY WAS MARRIED TO BOTHWELL at 10 a.m. on 15 May 1567 in a Protestant ceremony that was conducted by the groom’s adherent, Adam Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney, who was no relation;¹in his sermon, the Bishop spoke of Bothwell’s “penitence” for having been an “evil liver.”²Mary’s agreement to a Protestant ceremony is proof of her complete subjugation to Bothwell’s will. Not only was he of the reformed faith, but he doubtless wished to retain the favour of those Protestant Lords who had supported his marriage, and probably convinced the Queen that a Protestant ceremony would go some way towards healing the religious divisions in her kingdom.

Melville, writing decades later, says that the wedding took place in the great hall of Holyrood Palace, but the Diurnal claims that it was solemnised in “the old chapel,” that is, the abbey church, which was now the parish church of the Canongate. The Queen wore her widow’s weeds, as she had done at her marrige to Darnley; her only sartorial concessions to the occasion were to have her black gown trimmed with braid, a yellow gown relined, which was presumably the gown she changed into after the ceremony, although there is no record of this, and a black taffeta petticoat refurbished.³

The Diurnal states that “there was not many of the nobility of this realm there,” yet, although many Lords had joined the Confederates, some did attend, notably Huntly, Maitland, Crawford, Sutherland, Fleming, Boyd, Oliphant, Glamis and Livingston.⁴Archbishop Hamilton and the Bishops of Ross and Dunblane were also present. Nau says these Lords “gave proof that they looked on the union with great satisfaction as greatly tending to the advantage of the kingdom.” Nevertheless, “at this marriage there was neither pleasure nor pastime used, as was wont to be used when princesses were married.”⁵There was a solemn wedding breakfast, to which the public were admitted; Mary sat at the head of a long table and Bothwell at the foot, and they and their guests ate in silence.⁶Although Mary had laden Darnley with gifts prior to their wedding, her only present to Bothwell was some fur for his nightgown, which had been removed from one of her mother’s cloaks.⁷

Mary was soon regretting her heretical nuptials; by participating in them, she believed she had put her immortal soul in peril. “On her return from that unlawful ceremony, the Queen could not help weeping. At once she sent for the Bishop of Ross, and with many tears unlocked the secret of her heart; she showed many clear signs of repentance and promised that she would never again do anything opposed to the rites of the Catholic Church.”⁸

That night, a placard appeared on the gates of Holyrood, bearing a Latin quote from Ovid: “Wantons marry in the month of May.”

On the wedding day itself, the Bishop of Dunblane was sent to the French court to announce the Queen’s marriage, give her version of the abduction and other events that had led up to it, and secure the approval of Catherine de’ Medici and Charles IX. He also carried letters from du Croc. The Bishop’s instructions were to “make true report of the Duke of Orkney’s whole life, and especially of his behaviour and proceedings towards us, [and] that we have been very content to take him for our husband. From his first entering into his estate, he dedicated his whole service to his sovereign.” The Bishop was also to say, tellingly, that, from the time of Darnley’s death, as Bothwell’s “pretences began to be higher, so his proceedings seemed somewhat more strange,” and the Queen was “now so far committed to him that we must interpret all things to the best,” even though he had displayed “plain contempt of our person and use of force to have us in his power.” The Bishop was further to emphasise the fact that the Protestant ceremony had been chosen rather from “destiny and necessity than her free choice,” for Bothwell was more concerned with placating his Protestant associates “than regarding our contentation, or weighing what was convenient to us, that has been nourished in our own religion and never intends to leave the same for him or any man on Earth.”⁹

It was soon obvious that all was not well between Mary and Bothwell. On the morning after the wedding night, the Queen sent for du Croc, who had diplomatically avoided attending the ceremony on the grounds that he had received no mandate from France to recognise Bothwell as Mary’s husband.¹⁰When he arrived, he found Mary and Bothwell together, but “perceived an estranged demeanour” between them. Mary asked du Croc to excuse her for it, “saying that, if I saw her sad, it was because she could not rejoice nor ever should again, for she did nothing but wish for death.”¹¹Bothwell must have heard this, but made no comment.

Du Croc also reported, as did Melville, that, the next day, when Mary was alone in her cabinet with Bothwell, “she cried aloud, then sought for a knife to stab herself, or else (said she) I will drown myself.” Arthur Erskine and “those who were in the chamber adjoining the cabinet heard her. They think that, if God does not aid her, she will become desperate.” Du Croc added, “I have counselled and comforted her the best I could these three times I have seen her. Her husband will not remain so long, for he is too much hated in this realm, as he is always considered guilty of the death of the King.”¹²Clearly, the reason for Mary’s distress was Bothwell.

Mary’s behaviour was hardly that of the woman described by Buchanan, who was so passionately in love and moved by lust that she had been prepared to connive at murder, abduction and rape in order to marry her lover. Had this been the case, she would surely have been ecstatic at the fulfilment of her desires. Instead, she was suicidal. The Protestant marriage ceremony, which she obviously saw as an unforgivable betrayal of her faith, must have had a lot to do with it, but Bothwell’s behaviour towards her was also a factor. It is tempting to speculate that he had somehow alienated her on their wedding night; claims that he practised buggery may not have been unfounded, although, as we have seen, they emanated mainly from his enemies. However, Mary’s distress had been evident before the wedding night.

Some writers have suggested that, once he was safely married, Bothwell revealed to a horrified Mary his part in Darnley’s murder. It is more likely, however, that he kept quiet about it, for there is evidence—as will become clear—that, when he later said a last farewell to her, he gave her a copy of the Craigmillar Bond, revealing the names of the Lords, including himself, who had plotted against Darnley. What her marriage did perhaps, in a very short time, bring home to Mary was that she had both abased and compromised herself by marrying Bothwell.

There is some evidence that Mary’s jealousy was aroused by her husband’s continuing relationship with his ex-wife. De Silva heard that, after his marriage, “Bothwell passes some days a week with the wife he has divorced.”¹³Maitland told Mary that Bothwell had written to Jean more than once, to tell her that he still regarded her as his true wife, and Mary as merely his concubine,¹⁴and du Croc informed his government: “No one in this kingdom is in any doubt but that the Duke loves his former wife a great deal more than he loves the Queen.”¹⁵Even if there was not much love or affection between Mary and Bothwell, this would have been an inexcusable slight to the Queen.

Such snippets of information and gossip as survive show that it was probably Bothwell’s own demeanour that was responsible for Mary’s misery. She had been his virtual prisoner for the three weeks before their wedding, and in that time he had taken control of her life. Now that they were married, he revealed himself as a Jekyll and Hyde character, sometimes dour, forbidding and even indifferent, sometimes embarrassingly over-familiar and given to using coarse and even obscene language in her presence. He dictated who might, and who might not, have access to, and speech with, her, and insisted on being present. The Confederate Lords complained that “no nobleman nor other durst resort to Her Majesty to speak with her or procure their lawful business without suspicion, except by him and in his hearing, her chamber doors being continually watched with men of war.”¹⁶Maitland told du Croc that Bothwell “would not let her look at anybody, or anybody look at her, for he knew very well that she loved her pleasure,”¹⁷and flew into ungovernable rages if she showed the slightest favour to other men, or even to her female friends. The Calvinist in him criticised her for seeking frivolous, worldly diversions, and obliged her to give up the pastimes she so enjoyed,¹⁸music, card games, hunting, hawking and golf. “In private, he was so beastly jealous and suspicious that he suffered her not to pass a day in patience, without causing her to shed abundance of salt tears”;¹⁹according to Maitland, “from the day of the marriage, there had been no end to the Queen’s tears and lamentations.”²⁰

In public, however, Bothwell’s manner towards the Queen was one of “great reverence.” Although, as her husband, he had the right to wear his cap in her presence, he made a point of going uncovered, “which it seems she would have otherwise, sometimes taking his cap and putting it on.”²¹The royal couple made sure they were seen together as often as possible, and Drury wrote on 25 May that “they now make outward show of great content.” They often went riding, but were always surrounded by an armed guard.²²

It is highly unlikely that Mary was ever in love with Bothwell. Certainly she recognised his strengths and his good qualities, but these had of late been compromised in her eyes by his “rude” conduct towards her; her ambivalent attitude and her resentment towards him are evident in her instructions to the Bishop of Dunblane. To the end of her days, she would maintain that she had married Bothwell for reasons of state. Nevertheless, she was now duty bound to love and obey him, and she may already have suspected that she was pregnant, which, as far as she was concerned, and later declared, represented an insurmountable barrier to her ending the marriage.

On 17 May, Bothwell presided over a meeting of the somewhat depleted Privy Council.²³Mary was never to bestow on him the title of King, but his actions left no one in any doubt as to who was wielding sovereign power. He himself wrote: “They placed the government of the country in my hands, with the wish that I should bring some order into the country.”²⁴The indications are that he would have been a strong ruler with a latent talent for diplomacy, but, lacking aristocratic support, he was not to be allowed a chance to prove himself.

On the 18th, du Croc wrote to Charles IX and Catherine de’ Medici relating the events of the past few days and enjoining them not to give any credence to the letters he had sent by the Bishop of Dunblane, for they were merely delusive. You can suppose that I did not entrust to him what I write to you. Your Majesties cannot do better than to make him very bad cheer, and find all amiss in this marriage, for it is very wretched, and is already repented of.

He went on to say that the Queen had summoned the Confederate Lords to attend her, but he did not think they would come. She herself must have suspected as much, for she had begged du Croc to speak to them and persuade them to return to their allegiance. Du Croc believed this would be futile, and although he was prepared to say “all that it is possible for me to say,” he thought it more advisable to withdraw and leave them to play out their game. It is not fitting that I sit there among the Lords in the name of the King of France, for if I lean to the Queen, they will think in this realm, and in England, that my King had a hand in all that is done. Why, if it had not been for the express command that Your Majesty made on me, I had departed hence eight days before this marriage took place. If I have spoken in a very high tone, it is that all this realm may be aware that I will neither mix myself up with these nuptials, nor will I recognise Bothwell as the husband of the Queen.²⁵

Two days later, Drury reported the latest gossip from Edinburgh, stating that “there have already been some jars between the Queen and the Duke,” that Mary was distressed by them, and that “the opinion of divers is that she is the most changed woman of face that in so little time, without extremity of sickness, they have seen. It is thought the Queen has long had a spice of the falling sickness [epilepsy] and has of late been troubled therewith.” It is more likely that Mary was suffering from fainting fits brought on by stress. Drury added that Balfour was to carry letters to the English court announcing the Queen’s marriage.²⁶But if Bothwell thought by this means to get rid of Balfour, he was very much mistaken.

Bothwell’s influence was soon felt on the political scene. On 22 May, the Privy Council drew up a rota of Councillors who were to be permanently in attendance on the Queen; Morton was among them. A day later, the Council issued a proclamation reaffirming the recent Act of Parliament that had ratified the establishment of the Kirk.

News of the Queen’s abduction and marriage had by now reached England. Elizabeth, appalled, expressed “great surprise at these events, and deplores them very much as touching the honour of the Queen.”²⁷Fearful of the consequences, she was moved to write candidly to Mary with a few home truths:

Madam, it has been always held in friendship that prosperity provideth but adversity proveth friends. Wherefore we comfort you with these few words.

She went on to say that she had learned of her cousin’s marriage.

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 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 murder 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 the realm.²⁸

Clearly, Elizabeth believed not only that Bothwell had murdered Darnley, but also that he posed a threat to the infant James. She told Randolph that she had “great misliking of the Queen’s doing, which she doth so much detest that she is ashamed of her,” and confided to him her fear that, Bothwell being “as mortal an enemy to our whole nation as any man alive,” he would incite Mary to become her enemy also.²⁹Knowing that the Lennoxes were stung by the news of Mary’s hasty remarriage, Elizabeth showed great kindness and favour to them at this time, and Cecil told Lady Lennox that the Queen meant to ensure that James was brought to England and placed in her care.³⁰

On 24 May, de Silva reported that Mary’s marriage had greatly scandalised people in England, “and has caused sorrow to many who see the evils it will bring in its train. It is said here that the cause of the Queen of Scotland’s hurry over this marriage is that she is pregnant,” which must have been pure speculation, since no one could have known at this early stage that Mary actually was expecting Bothwell’s child. De Silva had also heard that the Scottish Lords were still on the march, “although now that the thing is done, they may come round to it. There is talk of delivering the Prince of Scotland to this Queen to be brought up by his grandmother.”³¹

In Scotland, as we have seen, there had been concerned conjecture since before the marriage that Bothwell would seize the Prince and harm him. Buchanan claims that Mary wanted to hand James over to his stepfather, but she had in fact contrived to send Bishop Leslie to Stirling to reiterate her strict injunctions to Mar not to deliver her son into any hands other than her own, under any circumstances. According to Melville, “after the marriage, Bothwell was very earnest to get the Prince in his hands, but my Lord of Mar, who was a true nobleman, would not deliver him out of his custody, alleging that he could not without the consent of the three Estates.” But Bothwell would not give up, and after Mar “had made divers refusals,” he “made his moan” to Melville, “praying me to help to save the Prince out of his hands who had slain his father, and had already made his vaunt among his familiars that, if he could get him once in his hands, he would warrant him from revenging his father’s death. [Mar] desired to know if I could propose any outgait. I answered that he might make this one of his excuses, that he could not deliver the Prince till he should see a secure place to keep him in.”³²It may be that Bothwell’s enemies were making too much of his intentions towards the Prince, and that he merely wished to remove the child out of reach of the Confederate Lords, and perhaps send him to France, but no one was taking any chances.

Drury reported on 25 May that Bothwell had secretly warned his followers to be ready for action, and informed Cecil of the contents of the bond drawn up by the Confederate Lords, who were preparing to attack. Lord Home, Bothwell’s rival in the south, was to lead a force from the Borders, and Morton one from Stirling. Drury urged Cecil to send military support to Home. He also revealed that Balfour, “doubtful of his entertainment in passing and returning,” was not now coming to England; this, however, was almost certainly an excuse contrived to ensure that he stayed in Edinburgh. Drury stated that Bothwell had forbidden Mary to visit James at Stirling— probably from fear that she would fall into the hands of his opponents, since he had also made sure that everywhere she went she was accompanied by an escort of soldiers. Although there were no more nobles at court than had attended the marriage, triumphal entertainments—a masque, a water pageant and a tournament—had been staged there,³³probably in defiance of a disapproving world.

On 27 May, the Queen and Bothwell both wrote to Archbishop Beaton, explaining the reasons for their marriage. Mary said much the same thing as she had to the Bishop of Dunblane:

The event is indeed strange, and otherwise nor, we know, you would have looked for. But as it is succeeded, we must take the best of it, and so, for our respect, must all who love us.

She also asked the Archbishop to excuse Bothwell if he seemed unceremonious and lacking in respect; then, revealing her anxiety as to how the marriage would be received at the French court, and showing that she was well aware of the gravity of the matter, prayed for his diligence in this case, being no less weighty, but rather of greater consequence, nor any matter we had in hand, that you bestow your study, ingenuity and effectual labours in the ordering of this present message, and in the persuading them to whom it is directed to believe that thing therein which is the very truth.³⁴

Bothwell, using the royal plural, wrote to Beaton asking him to assist the Bishop of Dunblane in the exacting task of announcing the marriage to the King and Queen Mother of France and the Cardinal of Lorraine. Of himself and his sudden elevation, he wrote:

We cannot marvel indeed that this marriage, and the rumours that preceded it, appear right strange to you. The place and promotion truly is great, but yet, with God’s care, neither it nor any other accident³⁵shall ever be able to make us forget any part of our duty to any noblemen or other our good friends, and chiefly to you, whom we have had good occasion always to esteem with the first of that number. Her Majesty might well have married with men of greater birth and estimation, but, we are well assured, never with one more affectionately inclined to do her honour and service.³⁶

That same day, Bothwell also wrote a courteous letter of greeting to Charles IX.³⁷

It was Mary’s marriage, rather than Darnley’s murder, that was the catalyst for her ultimate downfall, and everywhere, reactions to it were worse than she could ever have anticipated. Indeed, it gave rise to an international scandal. Bothwell, wrote Melville, “was at last the Queen’s wreck, and the hindrance of all our hopes in the hasty obtaining of all her desires concerning the crown of England.”

In Scotland, the Queen’s marriage was almost universally condemned as an outrage; many saw in it confirmation of the rumours that she had plotted Darnley’s death in order to marry Bothwell, and not a few of her shocked supporters, both Catholic and Protestant, fell away. Broadsheets began circulating in Edinburgh, comparing her with Delilah, Jezebel and Clytemnestra. In England, France and the rest of the Continent, the reaction was much the same: no one believed the explanations offered by Mary and Bothwell. Those who had been Mary’s friends and allies no longer wanted anything to do with her. Even Philip of Spain and her Guise relations abandoned her³⁸—their silence was deafening—while Catherine de’ Medici was of the opinion that it was wrong to attribute to force that which had been brought about “by free will and premeditated determination,”³⁹and told Archbishop Beaton that his mistress “had behaved so ill and made herself so hateful to her subjects” that France could no longer offer her aid or counsel.⁴⁰

In the eyes of Catholic Europe, Mary had bigamously married a heretic in an unlawful ceremony, and was consequently damned. In Britain, Catholics who had regarded her as their hope for the future were devastated that she, “without fear of God, or respect for the world, has allowed herself to be induced by sensuality, or else by the persuasion of others, to take one who cannot be her husband, and gives thereby a suspicion that she will go over by degrees to the new fashion,” i.e., Protestantism.⁴¹Giovanni Correr, the Venetian ambassador in Paris, correctly observed that the cause of Catholicism in Scotland had been “deprived of all hope of ever again raising its head.”⁴²Horrified at what the Queen had done, her confessor, the Dominican friar Roche Mameret, left her service and returned to France.

No allowances were made for Mary’s health, her state of mind, the Lords’ approval of this union, or the fact that she had been a virtual prisoner when she consented to it; the chain of circumstances leading up to it was sinister enough, in the opinion of many, to condemn her. As for the upstart Bothwell, no one doubted that he had murdered Darnley in order to gain a crown.

Few could believe what Mary had done. The Confederate Lords later explained to Throckmorton, “We thought that, within a short time, her mind being a little settled, and the eyes of her understanding opened, she would better consider of herself.”⁴³This shows that they were well aware of Mary’s state at this time, but of course, they made no attempt to prevent her from making this fatal marriage because it suited them to see her heading for a fall; in fact, they were to exploit public opinion to the full. Nevertheless, Mary’s marriage must have convinced them that they were justified in moving against her. Certainly, none of them would have bowed the knee to Bothwell: Nau says that “some joined this party out of jealousy at [his] rapid promotion.” For the present, the Lords maintained the fiction that their quarrel was with Bothwell alone. Slowly, but inexorably, Scotland was moving towards civil war.

On 28 May, the Privy Council, in the Queen’s name, issued a proclamation summoning the lieges to arms, to convene at Melrose in the Borders on 15 June, with fifteen days’ provisions, ostensibly for a raid that Bothwell was to lead against the troublemakers in Liddesdale, but in reality to counter the military threat posed by the Confederate Lords.⁴⁴On 1 June, in an effort to counteract scaremongering rumours, another proclamation was issued, denying that the Queen had any intention of subverting the laws or making changes in religion, and emphasising her love for “her dearest son: of whom shall Her Majesty be careful if she neglect him that is so dear to her, on whose good success her special joy consists, and without whom Her Majesty could not think herself in good estate but comfortless all the days of her life?”⁴⁵On 4 June, in desperation, the Council issued an ordinance complaining that Mary’s subjects did not understand her, and denying rumours that Bothwell was trying to gain control of the Prince.⁴⁶It was all futile. By now, most people in Scotland would have believed the Queen capable of anything, even infanticide.

Mary was hoping that the recent entente with England could still be maintained, and on 4 June, Robert Melville departed for the English court to officially announce Mary’s marriage and secure Elizabeth’s approval. With him, he carried a letter for her from the hitherto Anglophobic Bothwell, written in a bid to win her friendship and assure her that he would be “careful to see Your two Majesties’ amity continued by all good offices,” but it fell on deaf ears, as did a similar letter to Cecil.⁴⁷

At Stirling, around 6 May, the reconvened Confederate Lords, now twenty-six in number, issued a proclamation announcing their intention of delivering the Queen from “thraldom and bondage,” punishing Darnley’s murderers and protecting the Prince.⁴⁸They also signed a second bond to this effect around this time. These Lords represented a major section of the political establishment, and already they had raised an army of 3,000 men,⁴⁹which, combined with the fact that they were overwhelmingly supported by public opinion, made them a very formidable opposition indeed. Nau says that the Lords had already decided “that Bothwell should be accused of Darnley’s murder. All this was done by the advice of Secretary Lethington, with whom Bothwell was on bad terms . . . The Earl of Morton held the first rank among these plotters, as he was in every deadly treason.” Maitland, who feared and hated Bothwell, and had probably only stayed with Mary in the hope of salvaging his political ambitions, had now seen the writing on the wall, and was almost certainly in touch with the Confederate Lords.

The rats were deserting. Around 6 June, according to Drury, Huntly requested the Queen’s permission to leave court to visit his estates in the north, but she refused to grant it and, “with many bitter words,” accused him of plotting treason against her as his father had done.⁵⁰

That same day, Maitland left court without taking leave of Mary,⁵¹and joined the Confederate Lords, who received him coldly, thinking he had come on the Queen’s behalf to spy on them and subvert their cause. He himself later maintained, to Throckmorton and Melville, that he had joined the Lords because he believed that it was the best way to further Mary’s interests. It is unlikely that Maitland’s motives at this time will ever be fully known. Mary herself always held that, by defecting to her enemies, he had betrayed her under a cloak of loyalty, a belief shared by Morton and Randolph. The Diurnal of Occurrents states that Maitland left Edinburgh in fear of his life, which may be partly the truth, for Bothwell had tried to kill him at Dunbar, and, according to Drury, had “used some choler towards Lethington before his departure, wherewith the Queen was somewhat offended.”⁵² However, the Confederate Lords’ victory now seemed certain, and had Maitland stayed with the Queen, he might well have had cause to fear them more than he feared Bothwell.

Argyll, meanwhile, was having second thoughts about joining the Confederate Lords, fearing that his part in Darnley’s murder would be exposed if Bothwell were captured and tried. On 6 June, he secretly warned the Queen and Bothwell that the Confederate Lords were plotting their capture and had mustered their forces ready to march on Edinburgh.⁵³As Holyrood Palace could not be defended, Bothwell decided that it would be safer for him and the Queen to move into Edinburgh Castle, but Balfour refused to admit them,⁵⁴having decided to throw in his lot with the Lords. He had taken Melville’s advice “not to part with the castle,” and heeded his warning that, if he did not join the Lords, he would be held as guilty of Darnley’s murder as Bothwell was, “by reason of his long familiarity with the Earl.” Balfour had certainly had “intelligence with the Morton faction,”⁵⁵and there has also been speculation that he had entered into a secret bond with them which granted him indemnity against prosecution for his part in Darnley’s murder, in return for his support. Melville says Balfour had agreed to hold the castle for the Lords on condition “that the Laird of Grange would engage upon his honour to be his protector, in case afterward the nobility should alter upon him.”

This was the ultimate betrayal: the loss of Edinburgh Castle was a disaster for Mary and Bothwell, for whoever held the castle held the city. In the circumstances, Bothwell decided that it would be best for them to leave Edinburgh for Borthwick Castle, which lay twelve miles to the south and was owned by the Catholic Lord Borthwick; here they could wait in readiness for their levies to assemble at Melrose, and Bothwell could hopefully rally further support in the Borders.

On 7 June, the Queen and Bothwell left Edinburgh “with artillery and men of war” for Borthwick Castle.⁵⁶In order to raise money for her troops, Mary had had Elizabeth’s gold christening font and some of her own plate melted down.⁵⁷

Borthwick Castle, which commanded a valley two miles west of Crichton, was a splendid fortress that had been built around 1420–30. It had a massive U-shaped keep with walls 12–14 feet thick, and was surrounded by a curtain wall with twin corner towers 110 feet high. Inside, there was a lofty vaulted hall with a minstrels’ gallery, bedchambers, a chapel and service quarters.⁵⁸

Mary and Bothwell arrived here on 7 June, probably aware that the Lords meant to march on them very soon. Leaving the castle well garrisoned, Bothwell departed immediately with his remaining men for Melrose.⁵⁹It is often stated that he went to Melrose to meet with the lieges who had been summoned on 28 May, yet found the place deserted, but the lieges were not due to assemble there until 15 June. It is more likely that Bothwell made an abortive raid on Home’s forces from Melrose;⁶⁰he states in his memoirs that, “when I reached the frontier, I found the enemy in such strength that I could achieve nothing, and returned at once to Borthwick in order to collect a greater force.”⁶¹Mary, meanwhile, had summoned her levies to meet at Muirshead Abbey on 12 June, instead of at Melrose on the 15th, but this “proclamation was not so well obeyed, and so many as came had no hearts to fight in that quarrel.”⁶²

Mary probably sent Casket Letter VIII to Bothwell when he was at Melrose. Written in what appears to be her style, it reads:

My Lord, since my letter written, your brother-in-law that was came to me very sad, and hath asked me my counsel what he should do after tomorrow, because there be many folks here, and among others the Earl of Sutherland, who would rather die, considering the good they have so lately received of me, than suffer me to be carried away, they conducting me; and that he feared there should be some trouble happen of it, of the other side, that it should be said that he were unthankful to have betrayed me. I told him that he should have resolved with you upon all that, and that he should avoid, if he could, those that were most mistrusted. He hath resolved to write thereof to you of my opinion, for he hath abashed me to see him so unresolved at the need. I assure myself he will play the part of an honest man; but I have thought good to advertise you of the fear he hath that he should be charged and accused of treason, to the end that, without mistrusting him, you may be the more circumspect, and that you may have the more power; for we had yesterday more than 300 horse of his and of Livingston. For the honour of God, be accompanied rather with more than less, for that is the principal of my care. I go to write my dispatch, and pray God to send us a happy interview shortly. I write in haste to the end you may be advised in time.

This letter makes better sense placed in this context, rather than during Mary’s sojourn at Stirling before her abuction and Bothwell’s divorce. Huntly is known to have been in Edinburgh on 7 June and 10 June, and he was in Edinburgh Castle on the 11th; it is not inconceivable that, on 9 June, the day before the Lords planned to attack Borthwick—which Huntly must have known about—he visited Mary at Borthwick, which was easily accessible from Edinburgh. His visit, and her letter, may be dated to the 9th on the basis of his request to Mary for advice as to what he should do “after tomorrow.” The fact that his men arrived with those of Lord Livingston suggests that he had sent them covertly. It is not surprising that he was terrified, in view of Mary’s recent accusations of treason, that he would be arrested and charged with it. Relieved that he had come, yet aware that he was still having doubts that he had done the right thing, it would have been natural for Mary to warn Bothwell to treat him with circumspection.

When Mary referred to Sutherland and many other folks being “here,” she meant nearby or in the vicinity, which could even mean in Edinburgh. Both Sutherland and Huntly had reason to be grateful to Mary, for she had restored their lands in the recent Parliament. The tone of this hasty letter is dutiful, but in no way loving or passionate; however, Mary must now have known for certain that she was pregnant, and for this reason she had no choice but to fight or fall with Bothwell.

If the letter does date from this time, as seems probable, then it could not have been among the documents in the casket that was discovered by the Lords in Edinburgh on 20 June, for Bothwell never returned to Edinburgh after leaving it on 7 June. In that case, it must have been planted in the casket by the Lords, who later alleged, in order to incriminate the Queen, that it had been written in an entirely different context. This is almost certainly further proof that the evidence against Mary was manipulated.

Bothwell returned to Borthwick on 9 or 10 June, then sent urgent messages to Balfour, Huntly and Archbishop Hamilton to hasten to him with more men. That night, as they had planned, Home, Morton and Mar,⁶³with their individual forces, met up at Liberton Kirk, four miles south of Edinburgh, and marched together on Borthwick at the head of 7–800 mounted men armed with muskets.⁶⁴With them were Atholl, Glencairn, Lindsay, Sempill, Ruthven, Tullibardine, Grange, Ker of Cessford and Ker of Fawdonside.⁶⁵At, or before, their approach, Bothwell, knowing that capture would mean certain death, made his escape through a postern gate, leaving Mary to deal with the Lords, presumably relying on them not to make war on a lone woman who was also their sovereign.

The Lords massed their forces before the castle, “discharged several volleys of musketry” and called for Bothwell to come out and take up their challenge.

“Traitor! Murderer! Butcher!” they cried, when he did not appear.⁶⁶Then Mary appeared on the wall to tell them he had gone, and they asked her to return with them to Edinburgh and assist them against her husband’s murderers. Knowing they meant Bothwell, she refused. Realising that it was futile to press her further, and knowing that they could not lay siege to the castle since they had no artillery, the Lords shouted a few insults at her, “too evil and unseemly to be told, which the poor Princess did with her speech defend,”⁶⁷then withdrew north to Dalkeith. The Lords later insisted that they had used all courtesy towards the Queen, and had withdrawn as soon as they discovered that Bothwell had left the castle.⁶⁸

As soon as the Lords had arrived, Mary dispatched two messengers to Huntly in Edinburgh, urging him to come to her with armed men, but Morton’s men captured them. Later, in the early hours of the morning, they released them before marching off, whereupon the messengers promptly galloped off to the city. Huntly, aided by Archbishop Hamilton, did his best to rouse the citizens against the Lords, but in vain.

At 8 a.m. or earlier, the Confederate Lords entered Edinburgh, to great acclaim, and without any hindrance from Balfour’s garrison at the castle.⁶⁹As Bothwell wrote, “the city and castle of Edinburgh had abandoned us and gone over to them.”⁷⁰At the Mercat Cross, the Lords told the crowds who had come out to greet them that they had taken up arms only “to pursue their revenge for the murder of the King.”⁷¹Shortly afterwards, they issued a proclamation summoning the citizens to aid them in delivering the Queen from Bothwell.

Huntly and Archbishop Hamilton “took to arming as soon as they saw this change of heart” on the part of the citizens, “in order to defend themselves against the troublemakers, and to save the city. But they were unable to do anything, being greatly inferior in numbers.”⁷²Huntly was received into Edinburgh Castle on the 11th,⁷³but was allowed to leave soon afterwards. Immediately, he fled north to raise troops for the Queen, while Archbishop Hamilton left to rouse support in the south-west.

At midnight on the 11th, Mary, who had no mind to wait until the Lords returned with superior forces, escaped from Borthwick Castle, “dressed in men’s clothes, booted and spurred.”⁷⁴Tradition says she was lowered to the ground by a rope from a window in the great hall,⁷⁵and thence hastened away through the postern gate. She was met by Bothwell’s servants a mile from Borthwick,⁷⁶and joined him at either Hailes Castle or at the fifteenthcentury tower known as Black Castle at Cakemuir on nearby Fala Moor, which was the property of the Wauchope family, who were friends of Bothwell.

At 3 a.m. on 12 June, Mary and Bothwell arrived at Dunbar, where they were met by Lords Seton, Yester and Borthwick, and six lairds.⁷⁷Mary had left her wardrobe and personal belongings behind at Borthwick, and had to borrow clothes from a countrywoman: “a red petticoat” that barely covered her knees, “sleeves tied with bows, a velvet hat and a muffler.”⁷⁸There was no time to lose, and Bothwell immediately left for the Borders to raise men. At the same time, “a messenger was sent to hasten the coming of the Hamiltons and Huntly, who did not arrive until it was too late.”⁷⁹

That day, both Mary and the Confederate Lords summoned the lieges to their banners.⁸⁰Bothwell was to have some success in raising a force of his loyal Borderers, but otherwise comparatively few supporters rallied to the Queen. In their summons, the Lords declared their intention of executing justice on “the murderer of the King and the ravisher of the Queen”; “also, sundry libels were set out in both rhyme and prose, to move the hearts of the whole subjects to assist and take part in so good a cause.”⁸¹These astute measures, combined with the vigorous exhortations of the Protestant clergy, inspired many to join their already formidable army.

Balfour now committed the ultimate treachery. On 13 June, he sent a message to the Queen, advising her to take the open field and to march direct to Edinburgh, so as to meet the insurgents on the road. He assured her that they would not keep their ground for a moment, especially when they knew that he had declared against them and would open fire upon their troops. If she did not do so, he would be compelled, he said, to come to terms with them. But he had been won over by the rebels to give this counsel.⁸²

This message came before Mary and Bothwell had had a chance to raise sufficient men, but on the strength of it, the Queen decided that the time was ripe for taking possession of the capital,⁸³and sent a message to that effect to Bothwell.

The next day, Maitland had an interview lasting three hours with Balfour in Edinburgh Castle,⁸⁴which resulted in Balfour undertaking to surrender the castle to the Confederate Lords and assist them in rescuing the Queen from Bothwell; in return, Maitland promised to support Balfour’s claim to retain command of the castle. By now, the Lords had an army of 4,000 men.⁸⁵

On 14 June, Mary left Dunbar with 600 horse and three cannon, and rode to Haddington, where she met up with Bothwell, who had returned from the Borders with a force of 1,600.⁸⁶On the way, the Queen was dismayed to see that “the people did not join as expected.”⁸⁷From Haddington, the royal army marched to Gladsmuir, where they proclaimed that “a number of conspirators, under pretext of preserving the Prince, were really trying to dethrone the Queen, that they might rule all things at their pleasure,” and that “very necessity compelled her to take up arms, and her hope was in the help of all faithful subjects, who would be rewarded with [the] lands and possessions of [the] rebels.”⁸⁸Then they rode to Seton, where, while their soldiers camped at Prestonpans, the Queen and her husband spent what would turn out to be their last night together.⁸⁹They had decided to march on Edinburgh the next day.

On the 15th, Bedford reported to Leicester that the Lords had assured him that they would move against Bothwell alone, but that swift action was necessary because “the Queen is with child.”⁹⁰They perhaps feared that, once Mary’s pregnancy became evident, the people might not be so willing to rise against her or her husband.

The two armies finally came face to face on 15 June at Carberry Hill, overlooking the River Esk, seven miles east of Edinburgh.⁹¹The Queen’s forces were drawn up on the hillside beneath pennants bearing the Lion Rampant of Scotland and the Saltire of St. Andrew. The Lords were positioned at the foot of the hill, under an emotive white banner portraying the infant James praying before his father’s murdered corpse, and bearing the legend, “Judge and avenge my cause, O Lord.”⁹²

Both sides were reluctant to fight, so the day was spent in fruitless parleying under a hot sun. Glencairn sent the Queen a message stating that the Lords’ quarrel was not with the Crown, and if she would abandon Bothwell, they would restore her to her former authority as their natural sovereign; but she angrily refused, saying, “The Lords must yield or try their chances in battle,”⁹³adding, with some justice, “It was by them that Bothwell had been promoted.”⁹⁴

Bothwell notes that the Lords sent a herald to him “with a written statement of their reasons for taking to the field. These were, firstly, to set the Queen free from the captivity in which I was holding her, and also to avenge the death of the King, of which I had been accused.” He replied, somewhat untruthfully, that he “was not holding the Queen in any captivity, but that I loved and honoured her in all humanity as she deserved”; nor had there ever “been any question of my participating in, or consenting to, the murder of His Majesty,” but although he had been completely cleared of that charge, he was happy to defend his honour in the field there and then, against any comer.

Du Croc, who had followed the Lords to Carberry Hill, attempted to mediate between the two sides, but to little effect. Bothwell told him that his enemies were merely jealous of the favour he enjoyed: “There is not a man of them but wishes himself in my place.” As Mary was by then weeping pitiably, Bothwell challenged one of the Lords to fight him, so that the outcome of the day could be decided by single combat, but when a suitable answerer, Lord Lindsay, was finally found, the Queen vetoed the idea, fearing that Bothwell would be killed.

Mary and Bothwell were hoping that reinforcements led by Huntly and the Hamiltons would come to their rescue, but in vain. By the evening, so many of the Queen’s men had drifted off home or deserted to the rebels that the outcome of any armed combat was in no doubt. Melville says that “many of those who were with her were of opinion that she had intelligence with the Lords, especially such as were informed of the many indignities put upon her by the Earl of Bothwell since their marriage. [They] believed that Her Majesty would fain have been quit of him, but thought shame to be the doer thereof directly herself.” Although Mary’s later conduct does not bear this out, it is a good indication of how people at the time perceived her feelings towards Bothwell.

Du Croc was reluctantly impressed by the way in which Bothwell conducted himself in this difficult situation: “I am obliged to say that I saw a great leader, speaking with great confidence and leading his forces boldly, gaily and skilfully. I admired him, for he saw that his foes were resolute, he could not count on half his men, and yet was not dismayed. He had not on his side a single lord of note. Yet I rated his chances higher because he was in sole command.” But it was now too late. Wishing to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Mary asked the Lords to state the terms on which she might surrender. Maitland and Atholl did not want to face her, so they sent Grange to assure her that, if she would consent to place herself in their hands, they would permit Bothwell to leave the field unmolested and go where it pleased him until such time as the matter of his guilt was decided by Parliament.

Bothwell was against this idea; “I knew well what treachery they were hatching: if she did not agree to their demands, I told her, they would take her prisoner and strip her of all authority.”⁹⁵He begged her to retreat with him to Dunbar in order to raise another army, but Mary overrode him. The important thing was that her husband should survive. In the meantime, he must lie low until Parliament had debated his case. She told him and Grange that she owed a duty to the late King her husband, a duty which she would not neglect. Most willingly, therefore, would she authorise everyone to exercise the fullest liberty of inquiry into the circumstances of his death. She intended to do so herself, and to punish with all severity such as should be convicted thereof. She claimed that justice should [also] be done upon certain persons of [the Lords’] party now present who were guilty of the murder, who were much astonished to find themselves discovered.

Only Bothwell could have told her who they were, and it would appear that he had implicated them without revealing his own guilt. Clearly, they were not the principals involved. “In order to attain this [justice],” she told Grange, “she was willing to entrust herself to the good faith of the nobles, thereby to give an authority to whatever they might do or advise.”⁹⁶

Then she turned to Bothwell, declaring that, if he were found innocent, “nothing would prevent her from rendering to him all that a true and lawful wife ought to do”; but if he were found guilty, “it would be to her an endless source of regret that, by their marriage, she had ruined her good reputation, and from this she would endeavour to free herself by all possible means.”⁹⁷

Bothwell had no choice but to agree to leave Mary in the hands of his enemies. Letting him go was a solution that suited the Lords very well, for he was in possession of dangerous information. They could easily have taken him prisoner, but were reluctant to do so, for then they would have to put him on trial for Darnley’s murder, and run the risk that he would incriminate them also. It would be safer to pursue him later and kill him in open combat.

Thus it was agreed that Mary should surrender to the Lords, she “thinking that she could go to them in perfect safety, without fear of treachery, and that no one would dare lay hands on her.” According to Bothwell, “it should be clearly understood that the Laird of Grange gave out that he had been sent, at the unanimous request of the rebels, for the sole purpose of offering to the Queen, as their rightful superior, their true allegiance, and to give her a guaranteed safe-conduct to come amongst them. Furthermore, that each single one of them wanted no more than to accord her all honour and obedience in whatever way she wished to command them.”⁹⁸

“At parting from the Queen, Bothwell wished to ease his conscience.” He told her that Morton, Maitland, Balfour and others “were guilty of the death of the late King, the whole having been executed by their direction and counsel.” Then he handed her a copy of the Craigmillar Bond, bearing the signatures of himself, Maitland, Argyll, Huntly and the other nobles, including perhaps Moray and Morton, who had plotted Darnley’s murder. If Mary had not suspected or known of it before, the treachery of her Lords was now revealed to her, along with the truth about the man she had married, whose child she was now carrying.⁹⁹This must have come as an unpleasant surprise to her, but Bothwell swore that anything he had done had only been for the good of her realm, and that he had acted on the advice and persuasion of those same Lords who were now opposing him. Before he embraced Mary for the last time and rode off with between twelve and thirty horsemen towards Dunbar, he urged her to “take good care of that paper.” However, it was almost certainly taken from her by the Lords soon afterwards and given to Argyll for safe keeping. Not surprisingly, given the names on it, it was never used in evidence against Mary.

Bothwell’s motive in giving Mary the bond may not only have been the desire to give her proof of what he had already revealed to her, but also the wish to furnish her with evidence that she could use against the Lords, should the opportunity present itself. However, in giving her a document that incriminated himself, he was also, perhaps deliberately, providing her with an excuse to abandon him, which was undoubtedly in her best interests and would have solved many problems.

“In good faith, and reliance upon the public honour,”¹⁰⁰the Queen surrendered herself to Grange. A contemporary drawing in the Public Record Office shows him leading her by the bridle to where the Lords waited; she was still wearing the same borrowed clothes she had donned at Dunbar three days previously, which were now spattered with mud.

Morton, Home and the other Lords “used all dutiful reverence” to the Queen as she approached,¹⁰¹telling her that she was now in her rightful place among her true and faithful subjects. “For welcome,” however, according to Drury, they “showed her the banner with the dead body,” which she said “she wished she had never seen.”¹⁰²The rebel army stood mute for a few moments, but soon there were cries from the ranks of “Burn the whore! Burn the murderess of her husband!” and Mary was roughly jostled. Grange and some of the Lords “who knew their duty better, drew their swords and struck at such as did speak irreverent language,”¹⁰³but to little lasting effect.

Mary cried, “How is this, my Lord Morton? I am told that all this is done in order to get justice among the King’s murderers. I am also told that you are one of the chief of them.”

Morton answered, “Come, come, this is not the place to discuss such matters,” then he “slunk behind her back” and made himself scarce.¹⁰⁴

To her horror, the Lords placed Mary under guard like a common criminal. According to Nau, “two very wicked young men were appointed to have the Queen in charge”—one was Ker of Cessford—“both of them most cruel murderers and men of very scandalous life.” Du Croc wrote: “I expected that the Queen would have been gentle with the Lords and tried to pacify them, but”—perhaps not surprisingly—“on her way from the field, she talked of nothing but hanging and crucifying them all.”¹⁰⁵To Lindsay, riding beside her, she said, “I will have your head for this, and so assure you.”¹⁰⁶

Weeping, dirty, dishevelled, and so exhausted and faint that she could barely remain in the saddle,¹⁰⁷Mary was escorted back to Edinburgh, with the fearful Darnley banner carried aloft before her, and the soldiers still yelling insults. Separated from her servants and friends, it was now brought home to her what imprisonment meant.¹⁰⁸In the city, it became starkly apparent to Mary how her subjects now felt about her. As she rode through the packed streets, the people reviled her as an adulteress and murderess, screaming, “Burn the whore! Kill her! Drown her! She is not worthy to live.” The press of bodies was so great that the procession had to slow down to walking pace. By now, Mary was weeping.

At around 11 p.m., at Maitland’s suggestion, the Queen was taken to a luxurious fortified and battlemented house known as the Black Turnpike, which stood on the High Street and was the official residence of the Provost, Sir Simon Preston, who had sided with the Lords.¹⁰⁹Here, she was confined in an upper chamber, still under guard. Outside, the mob relentlessly continued to curse and denounce her. “The women be most furious and impudent against the Queen, and yet the men be mad enough.”¹¹⁰

Mary’s reign was effectively over.