Page 172 of A Column of Fire
The crisis was over, but it had underlined how chancy the whole plan was, and it left her feeling even more edgy.
Mary seemed to run out of patience. ‘I feel tired, after the May Day festivities,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’m going to rest.’
Alison went with her. Outside the door, a dark and narrow spiral staircase of stone led up and down to other floors. They climbed to the queen’s quarters.
Mary was not in the least tired. She was excited and jittery, constantly getting up from her chair to go to the window, then returning and sitting down again.
Alison checked their disguises, folded in a trunk under Mary’s gowns. They had got hold of coarse home-made wool-and-linen kirtles of the kind worn over petticoats by the many serving women at the castle, complete with the type of headdress known as a Flemish hood, which covered the hair and made it difficult for others to see the face except from directly in front. Servants sometimes wore stout leather boots that were so hard Mary and Alison could not even walk in them, but, fortunately, the women also used their mistresses’ cast-off silk and satin slippers. For weeks Alison and Mary had been wearing old shoes whenever they were alone, to make them look shabby enough to have been handed down.
Their main problem was Mary’s height. That could not be disguised. No other woman on the island was anywhere near so tall. Alison could hardly imagine that they could get away with it.
She put the disguises away again.
They had to be patient for another hour then, at six o’clock, Mary’s supper was brought to her room.
As usual, it was served to her by Sir William, a courtesy by a jailer to his royal prisoner. Alison left the room and went looking for Willie to find out what was happening. Outside, a holiday game of handball was in progress, soldiers versus servants, with supporters cheering each side. Alison noticed that Drysdale, who was supposed to keep a close eye on Mary, was captain of the soldiers’ team. That was good, she thought; he was distracted.
Willie was coming across the courtyard towards her, looking excited. ‘It’s come!’ he whispered, and showed her a pearl earring.
This was the signal from George on the mainland. The earring meant all was ready for Mary’s escape. Alison was thrilled. But Willie had been less than discreet. ‘Close your fist!’ she hissed at him. ‘We don’t want anyone asking questions.’
Fortunately, the people in the courtyard were intent on the game.
‘Sorry,’ said Willie. He closed his fingers around the jewel then passed it to Alison with a display of casualness.
Alison said: ‘Now, slip over the wall and sabotage all the boats but one.’
‘I’m ready!’ he said, pulling aside his coat to reveal a hammer hanging from his belt.
Alison returned to Mary’s quarters. Mary had not eaten much. Alison could imagine why. She herself was so tense that she could not have swallowed food. She handed Mary the jewel, saying: ‘Here’s the earring you lost. One of the boys found it.’
Mary knew what it meant. ‘I’m so glad!’ she said, beaming.
Sir William looked out of the window and grunted in surprise. ‘What is that foolish boy doing with the boats?’ he said in a tone that combined fondness with exasperation.
Alison followed his gaze. Willie was on the foreshore, kneeling in one of three boats that were drawn up on the beach. What he was doing was not obvious to a distant observer, but Alison knew he was making a hole in the hull so that the boat could not be used to pursue escapers. Alison suffered a moment of pure panic. She had no idea what to do. She turned to Mary and mouthed: ‘Willie!’
Mary knew what Willie was supposed to do to the boats. Once again she showed her ability to think fast in an emergency. ‘I feel terribly faint,’ she said, and slumped in her chair with her eyes closed.
Alison realized what she was up to and played along. ‘Oh, dear God, what’s wrong?’ she said, putting on a frightened voice.
She knew that Mary was faking, but Sir William did not. Looking fearful, he came at once to Mary’s side. If she died in his care he would be in trouble. The regent, James Stuart, would be obliged to deny that he had connived at her murder, and to demonstrate his sincerity he might well have Sir William executed. ‘What is it, what has happened?’ Sir William said.
Alison said: ‘She should have strong wine to revive her. Sir William, do you have some canary?’
‘Of course. I’ll fetch it at once.’ He left the room.
‘Well done,’ Alison said quietly to Mary.
Mary said: ‘Is Willie still at it?’
Alison looked out of the window. Willie was doing the same thing in a different boat. ‘Hurry up, Willie!’ she murmured. How long did it take to make a hole in a boat?
Sir William returned with a steward carrying a jug of wine and a goblet. Alison said: ‘My hands are shaking. Sir William, will you hold the cup to her lips?’
Sir William obliged, taking the opportunity to put a hand tenderly behind Mary’s head, and did not think to look out of the window.
Mary took a sip, coughed, and pretended to revive a little.
