An Accidental Tragedy (30 page)

Lethington was now rightly fearful of the factions developing within the court, blaming Mary for her advancement of Rizzio in place of other of her council members. Lethington was also in love with Mary Fleming and Randolph chided him that, having been pushed aside by Rizzio, he now had the leisure to go mad with love.

Dissent among the nobility – ‘to whom office but not fidelity was transmitted by birth’ – was growing. George Douglas told the Earl of Ruthven that Darnley felt he had been abused by Rizzio and that it had been as a result of Rizzio’s intervention that Mary had ‘stayed her hand’ in awarding him the crown matrimonial. Not having been crowned meant that there was no machinery for a royal succession ‘in his body’ if Mary were to die first. Darnley also felt, correctly as it happened, that Rizzio despised him as his intellectual inferior and as a king in name only, who had excluded himself from most of the affairs of state and had never attended the Privy Council. To someone with Darnley’s conceit and arrogance, this was fuel for passionate hatred, a hatred which fuelled a plot to assassinate Rizzio.

The principal plotter was Patrick Ruthven, who was forty-six years old, but rendered a virtual cripple by inflammation of the liver and kidneys. He was also a known necromancer and warlock. He agreed to join the plot to remove Rizzio, provided Darnley agreed to pardon the exiled rebels, who would then swear allegiance to him as King of Scotland. As king he would then use his influence with Elizabeth to free the Countess of Lennox from the Tower. Morton, with ‘a head well turned for matters of cunning’, planned to seize Rizzio in his quarters at the palace, but Darnley persuaded the plotters to take him as he attended a private supper with the queen – private suppers and games of cards from which Darnley, petulantly, felt excluded. Darnley, in a sadistic display of power, also wanted Mary to see that he was a principal in the murder and since the supper room was small she could not fail to notice his presence. A date of 8 or 9 March was agreed. Morton was convinced that only one way
remained to extirpate the Catholic faith and put the Reformation on a secure footing. That one way was to murder Rizzio, forestall the meeting of parliament, imprison Mary until the birth of her child, entrust Darnley with the nominal sovereignty and restore Moray as head of the government. Lennox was sent to London to advise Moray to prepare for his return and, unbelievably, a ‘bond’ encompassing these plans was drawn up and signed by Darnley, Ruthven, Morton, George Douglas and Patrick Lindsay. The Chase-about exiles signed the bond in Newcastle on 2 March 1566. It quite precisely detailed the grim intention that the murder should be carried out in the palace ‘in the presence of the queen’s majesty’.

How word of this plot came to Mary’s ears so late is a mystery since on 13 February Randolph wrote to the Earl of Leicester, ‘I now know for certain that this queen repenteth her marriage; that she hateth him and all his kin. I know that he knoweth himself that he hath been a partaker in play and game with him; I know there are practices in hand contrived between father and son to come by the crown against her will. I know that if that take effect which is intended, David [Rizzio], with the consent of the king, shall have his throat cut within these ten days.’ Leicester must have been glad Mary had chosen not to marry him.

On 19 February, however, Randolph was given three days notice by Mary to leave the country as a punishment for having lent Moray 3,000 crowns. Elizabeth was appalled at her ‘strange and uncourteous usage of Randolph’. He left for Berwick and the Earl of Bedford, to whom he revealed the extent of the plot proposed by the exiled lords. They would return to Scotland immediately, grant Darnley the crown matrimonial and outlaw the Mass altogether. This, in spite of Darnley having attended Mass on 7 February. Bedford and Randolph also informed Elizabeth on 6 March that a ‘matter of no small consequence was intended in Scotland’ and that it would happen before 12 March.

The plotters were gathering in Edinburgh: Morton – who had seen his seals of office given to Rizzio – Boyd and Ruthven – awaiting the return of Moray. Clearly there was no chance of the
plot remaining secret, but Mary had heard only rumours and defied the rebels: ‘What can they do, and what dare they do?’ Rizzio himself claimed that the Scots would brag but not fight: ‘They are but ducks, strike one of them and the rest will fly.’ But he took the precaution of raising a personal bodyguard of Italian mercenaries. Lethington, wisely, did not sign the bond but simply let events unfold.

The events of 9 March 1566 are among the best known in Scottish history. Mary was in her private supper-room with five other close friends: Lord Robert Stewart, her half-brother and Bishop of Orkney; Jane, Countess of Argyll, her half-sister, whose adulterous behaviour had made her marriage a public scandal; her equerry, Erskine; her page, Standen; and David Rizzio. The weather was still cold and a fire had been lit, but since the room was no more than a closet some twelve feet square, and given the voluminous costume of the time, the atmosphere must have been stifling, especially for Mary, who was now six months pregnant. Rizzio, who was a considerable dandy – after his death he was found to own eighteen pairs of velvet hose as well as a private cache of £2,000 sterling – was wearing only a damask night gown with a satin doublet. They were finishing their supper, which, although it was still Lent, contained some meat since the queen’s pregnancy allowed her to break the fast, and were looking forward to music and cards after supper.

They were all surprised by the entry of Darnley, who now seldom met the queen and certainly was not one of her social circle. He had arrived in the queen’s apartments by a private staircase from his rooms below, and now he left access to the staircase open because he knew that about 150 armed men had entered the building. He showed no affection to Mary, and made no apology to the company, but leant on the arm of the astonished queen’s chair. He had accomplished all that was required of him: to open the private stair and to ensure that his wife remained in her supper-room to witness the forthcoming spectacle.

The company’s astonishment grew as the Earl of Ruthven entered unsteadily. He was drunk, wearing armour under his
robe with a dagger at his side, breathing heavily and red in the face. Mary asked him, ‘What strange sight is this my Lord? Are you mad?’ Ruthven replied blurrily, ‘We have been too long mad. Let it please your Majesty that yonder man Davie come forth of your privy chamber where he hath been overlong.’ Immediately the stifling atmosphere changed from one of embarrassment to one of terror. Mary pleaded for Rizzio to be tried if he had committed any offence, but Ruthven ignored her. Instead, he told Darnley, ‘Sir, take the queen your sovereign and wife to you.’ Mary asked her husband if he knew what was going on, although it was murderously clear, and Darnley mumbled that he had no idea. Rizzio, realising that his life was in danger, had retreated into the window recess and Ruthven made a drunken lunge towards him, causing Robert Stewart to move between them and push Ruthven away. Ruthven shouted, ‘Lay not hands on me, for I will not be handled,’ and drew his dagger.

This was the signal for the entry of the remaining conspirators – Kerr of Fawdonside, Patrick Bellenden, George Douglas, Thomas Scott and Henry Yair – who rushed into the already crowded room with drawn weapons, knocking over a table. Lady Argyll prevented a possible fire by catching and snuffing out a lighted candle, so that the macabre scene was lit only by firelight. There were now thirteen people in the tiny room and Rizzio had fallen to his knees, clutching the pleats of Mary’s skirts and screaming with fear. Ker prised his fingers free of the fabric with one hand, while, in his other, he held a loaded and cocked pistol to Mary’s pregnant belly. Rizzio ran behind Mary, but George Douglas seized Darnley’s dagger from its sheath and ‘struck him over our shoulders’. The conspirators then dragged the screaming Italian out of the supper-room, across the bedchamber and into the presence chamber, so that Mary was, at least, spared watching the ensuing butchery. Rizzio’s screams of ‘Sauvez ma vie, madame, sauvez ma vie!’ quickly ceased as more blows rained down on the tiny body. Rizzio received over fifty dagger wounds before his butchered and bloody corpse was thrown down a public staircase to land on a chest, where one of the
palace porters stripped him of chains, rings and even shoes. Darnley’s dagger was still in the dead man’s chest.

Back in the supper-room Mary and her guests feared that they would be the next to be murdered, but Ruthven righted one of the overturned chairs, sat on it, wiped his brow and asked for a drink to be brought to him before giving Mary a stern lecture on using favourites – especially foreign favourites – before her own nobility. Mary asked Darnley what he had to do with all this: ‘I took you from a low estate and made you my husband. What offence have I made you that you should have done me such shame?’ Darnley accused her of having cuckolded him with Rizzio, having denied him sexual favours, and of not making him master in his own house. He then launched into a long speech of self-justification, which, sadly, is still familiar in modern times.

How came ye to my chamber at the beginning, and ever, until within these few months that Davie fell into familiarity with you? Or am I failed in any sort with my body? Or what disdain have you at me? Or what offence have I made you, that you should not use me at all times alike? Seeing that I am willing to do all things that becometh a good husband to do to his wife . . . you promised me obedience at the day of our marriage and that I should be equal with you and participant in all things. I suppose you have used me other wise at the persuasions of Davie.

Mary turned on Ruthven, who had been a witness to this marital squabble, and called down the wrath of Europe: the King of France, the Cardinal of Lorraine, her uncles in France and even the Pope. Ruthven said he was too unimportant for such great men. Mary continued, ‘If I or my child die, you will have the blame thereof.’ Lamely Ruthven said they had only meant to hang Rizzio and had brought ropes for the purpose, but that now the queen was a prisoner and would be taken to Stirling until the birth of her child. If any attempt were made to rescue Mary, ‘She would be cut into gobbets and thrown from the terrace.’ Ruthven
was fond of this threat. Mary asked Darnley where his dagger was, who answered that he knew ‘not well’. ‘Well’, said she, ‘it will be known afterwards.’ She also assured Ruthven and Darnley that, ‘it is within my belly that one day will revenge these cruelties and affronts.’

This family row could have continued except for the fact that the palace was now in uproar. One of the Maries rushed to Mary with news of the butchery in the presence chamber and Mary shouted, ‘No more tears! I will now think of revenge!’ The earls of Atholl, Bothwell and Huntly, who had quarters in the eastern range of the palace, escaped ‘by leaping down out of a window toward a little garden where the lions were lodged’. Atholl and Lethington took refuge in Atholl’s castle near Dunblane, while Huntly and Bothwell fled to Crichton, Bothwell’s castle in East Lothian. The ‘common bell’ of Edinburgh was rung and the Provost arrived in the forecourt with some hastily summoned burgesses of Edinburgh, but was told by Darnley, leaning out of the window, that all was well.

Darnley then withdrew and Mary was left alone to consider her situation. By marrying Darnley she had alienated the Moray–Argyll faction to the point of an armed uprising. By relying on foreign Catholic advice from Rizzio she had moved the Morton–Ruthven faction to murder. She knew that Moray and Argyll were soon to be in Edinburgh, if not already present. If she could neutralise Darnley’s influence and seem to be in control then she could forgive the Chase-about rebels and bring them to her side. With their help and the advice of Lethington – who wisely was nowhere to be seen – she could regain respect and, hopefully, present Scotland with an heir. But her first task was to control her erratic husband and escape from the physical control of the Morton–Ruthven faction.

Overnight, Darnley drew up orders for the prorogation of parliament, but he was forbidden to see Mary, who was now a virtual prisoner in her own quarters. Next morning, Sunday, 10 March, Melville persuaded the conspirators to allow him to leave the palace so that he could attend the morning service at
St Giles and as he did so, Mary shouted from her window for him to raise the town. Since the Provost had been assured by Darnley that all was well and the people ‘were so discontent with the present government that they desired a change’ this came to nothing.

An example of the lack of privacy enjoyed by royalty occurred later that day when Mary was on her
chaise percée
, or commode. Lady Huntly presented her with a covered dish, presumably of food, but Patrick Lindsay, who was also present, snatched off the cover to reveal a rope ladder. In the ensuing confusion Mary slipped a letter to Lady Huntly outlining her future plans. There was a suspicion that Mary might try to leave disguised as a servant – unlikely for the tallest woman in the palace – and a bizarrely worded order was given that ‘no gentlewoman should pass forth undismuffled’.

Domestically the conspirators feared the queen’s influence over Darnley – ‘she will persuade you to follow her will and desire by reason that she has been trained up from her youth in the court of France’ – but she did agree to lie with Darnley again, although he objected to the presence of her gentlewomen. The women were duly sent away, but that night Darnley fell asleep in his own chamber and Mary was spared the coupling. The conspirators noted that ‘the king grew effeminate again’ but they still held a trump card in having Mary as their prisoner.

Mary finally showed that she had learned some political skills while in France. Now with her own life and that of her child in grave danger, she put them to good use. Darnley had no idea what to do next and realised that he had put himself into the hands of Morton and the conspirators. If he were ever to be proclaimed king it would be as their puppet, but on that Sunday Mary had convinced him that together they could overcome their difficulties. Mary was well experienced in dealing with feeble-minded princes, and Darnley was easily persuaded by Mary, who appealed to his vanity and ambition.