There, James…
There, my son, I lost the fight. I am so sorry. I had many good, strong men in my army, but Earl Moray’s men were stronger. Many of my men died, and some ran away. After the fight, I ran away too.
I did not want to go to prison again. So I rode south, to England.‘Queen Elizabeth wants to help me,’I thought.‘She understands.She wrote to Moray and she is a Queen,like me.I can come back to Scotland with her army, kill Moray, and find my baby son James.I am in England but I am free.I can try again.’
I was wrong about that, too. Very wrong.
8 England
Elizabeth didn’t give me her army.She put me in prison.You know this,James—it is the story of your life,not mine. I was twenty-five years old when I came to England, and I am forty-five now.Twenty years in English prisons.
Moray told lies about me. Mary and Bothwell killed Darn-ley, he said.Mary slept with Riccio and Bothwell and killed her husband. But it’s not true!They’re all lies, James— wicked lies!They only said these things because I am a woman, and a Catholic, and they don’t want a Catholic queen in Scotland, they want a Protestant king.
A king like you, James.Why, James my son, don’t you help me? Why are you friendly with Elizabeth, my enemy?You don’t want me back in Scotland, do you? You believe these lies, don’t you?You talk to Moray and his friends, every day.But they lied about me,James.Moray and his friends killed Riccio Then killed your father, too.They stole my husband Bothwell, stole my son…
Stole my son’s love…
I am sorry,discount ugg, James.Forgive me.Sometimes I get very angry.It is difficult not to be angry, when you are in prison for twenty years.
Elizabeth didn’t know what to do.Sometimes she believed Moray, sometimes she didn’t.She was afraid to kill me, be-cause I was a Queen. She was afraid to let me go free, bcause I have friends in England. The English Catholics want me to be Queen of England, not her. And she is a woman with no husband and no son, so she hates me, too.
Sometimes the English Catholics write to me and ask me for help, and sometimes I write to them.Sometimes Elizabeth’s men find these letters. The English Protestants want to kill me because of these letters.‘You are a wicked woman!’they say:‘ You killed your husband, Darnley, and now you want to kill our Queen Elizabeth.You’re going to die!’
‘I did not kill my husband,’I said.‘And when l came to England, I did not want to kill your Queen. I asked her for help—I wanted to go back to Scotand!But,my lords,she put me in prison for twenty years! Twenty years, my lords!I want to be free—don’t you understand that? when men write to me and try to help me, then yes, sometimes I write back!Why not? Is that wicked, do you think?’
They didn’t listen. Of course not. They want to kill me.And so they wrote to Queen Elizabeth. And now I sit here, in Fotheringhay Castle, and wait for her to answer. I do not want to die, James my son,Tall Ugg Boots, but I do not want to live all my life in an English prison. I am old, and tired of life. Think well of me, James, my son, and…
9 A death
Queen Mary stopped writing then. Yesterday afternoon,7th February 1587, we heard a horse outside our win-dow. Mary looked out. There was a man there, on the road from London. He had a letter from the Queen of England.
In the evening, an Englishman, Lord Shrewsbury,came to see Mary,‘I am sorry,my lady,’he said.‘But I have a letter from my Queen. You’re going to die, tomorrow.’
Mary did not move.‘When?’she asked quietly.
‘At half past eight in the morning,’he said.‘I am very sorry, my lady.’He went away.
We did not sleep much that night.We talked and prayed to God,buy ugg boots, and she gave me her letter to her son, James.‘Give it to him, Bess, please,’she said.‘And tell him how I died.’
‘Yes, my lady,’I said. And so now I am going to tell you.King James.This is how your mother died.
At six o’clock she got up,prayed, and dressed. She put on a red petticoat first, then a black dress, and a white veil over the dress. The veil came from her head to her feet; she could see out through it, but we could not see her face. She looked like a woman on her wedding day.
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