He was a frightened man and I was grateful to Cecil for proving that this had only come to light because Appleyard knew that Robert was out of favor at Court. We did not know who the men were who had approached him, but I was ready to swear that Norfolk had had a hand in it.
Appleyard was all contrition; he pointed out that he did not believe his half-sister had been murdered and that all he would say—even when bribed—was that he believed, because of the Earl of Leicester's standing at Court, the matter had not been sifted properly. He had merely asked for a reopening of the investigation.
The minutes of the inquest were presented to him but it was discovered that the man could not read and they had to be read to him.
Here was a man who could not read, who had first taken money from Robert—although it had been given out of generosity to a brother-in-law— and who had accepted bribes from the men who would not come into the open, but wanted to bring a case against the Earl of Leicester which they thought at this time might succeed.
The whole case clearly had its roots in malice.
Cecil and I agreed that no revenge should be taken on Appleyard. We wanted no martyrs. All we wanted was no more talk about a matter which was best forgotten. So Appleyard was discharged with a warning that he should take more care in future.
Robert was back in higher favor than ever. I did not think he would lightly displease me again, and I was very happy to have him beside me.
As a precaution I summoned Lettice's father, who was the Treasurer of the Royal Household, and I told him that I did not like wives and mothers to be separated from their families for too long, and I thought it would be better if his daughter returned to her husband.
Her husband was in Ireland, he told me.
But I frowned and said her children would be missing her.
It was good enough. He knew that it was my wish that Lettice should retire from Court.
So she went and that, I thought, will be the end of Robert's little flutter with that woman which had caused me such unnecessary trouble.
The Ridolfi Plot
EVENTS IN SCOTLAND NOW BEGAN TO ASTOUND US. IT seemed that Mary could not be anywhere without raising a storm; she must always be at the center of great events. I had been amused to discover that she had quickly realized the nature of the man she had so romantically married. Lord Darnley was dissolute, unfaithful and a heavy drinker, and as soon as she had fondly but foolishly proclaimed him King of Scotland he made no attempt to hide his true nature. His behavior was despicable. He became involved in street brawls, picked quarrels with all those who dared contradict him and took every advantage of Mary's devotion to him. That devotion very naturally soon began to fade and she must have seen him in a very different light—seen what to me had been obvious from the start—the weakness of those sensuous lips, the blankness behind the pretty eyes. What a fool Mary was! She made me realize more than ever that I had been wise “to suffer no commander,” as her Ambassador had put it.
In one thing she had succeeded. She had quickly become pregnant. Cecil brought me the news with something like reproach in his eyes, but I reminded him that Mary had been foolish to marry Darnley when she might have had the Earl of Leicester. To which Cecil replied: “Your Majesty knows that Leicester would never have been allowed to leave your Court. You cannot let him stay in Kenilworth long without recalling him.”
“Robert would never have gone,” I said with a smile, “so we waste time, Master Cecil, in discussing what can never be now. So… she is with child. That will please the people of Scotland, doubtless. But it is another little claimant to our throne.”
“The Queen of Scots appears to be distressed by her husband's drunken frolics and his numerous infidelities. Doubtless the child will console her.”
There were rumors about her Italian secretary, David Rizzio, an excellent musician of whom she was said to be inordinately fond. I could imagine that this Italian was a charming relief from the dissolute Darnley; and Mary was noted for gathering about her poets and musicians. I supposed she was trying to bring something of the French Court into that of Scotland. The contrast must be very depressing for her.
There had already been some scandal about a young French poet, Pierre de Chastelard, who had escorted her when she had first arrived in Scotland and returned to France to be sent back by Catherine de' Medici, probably to spy for her, as that wily woman would not have sent a charming young man merely for the purpose of diverting her daughter-in-law.
We had heard that Chastelard and David le Chante, as she called Rizzio, were constantly in her company. Chastelard was said to be the Queen's lover and had even been discovered hiding in her bedchamber, though I have to say that it was Mary and her ladies who found him there and raised the alarm; but as I said he could not have been hopefully hiding there unless he had had some encouragement.
The sequel of that little escapade was that Chastelard was obliged to place his head on the block in the marketplace of St Andrew's where he died bravely, poor young man, quoting Ronsard's Hymn to Death as he did so.
“Je te salue, heureuse et profitable Mort…”
It was brave to die with such words on one's lips. Poor young songster, his death had not enhanced his mistress's reputation.
But there were even more dramatic events to follow. I often wondered whether Rizzio was in truth Mary's lover. That she had a weakness where men were concerned seemed clear, for she had smothered Darnley with affection before they married. I think she must have been a deeply sensuous woman and as Darnley clearly no longer pleased her, it might have been that she turned to the Italian for more than music.
So he was doomed. I heard many versions of that terrible night's happenings and in my mind I can see it clearly. Saturday night in Holyrood House. Outside the March winds buffeting the castle walls and the Queen in her sixth month of pregnancy. She was not feeling well enough to meet a great many people so she was taking supper quietly in a small room with a few of her intimates, her bastard brother and sister, Robert Stuart and Lady Jane, Countess of Argyle, among them. Her father, James V, although he had only one legitimate daughter had been very energetic outside his marriage bed. The doctor had advised Mary not to overtax her strength but to live quietly and eat red meat which explains why it was being served in Lent. The Laird of Creech, her Master of the Household, was there with her equerry and doctor. I asked for these details as I wanted to set the scene in my mind. And there was of course that other who was rarely absent from the Queen's side—David Rizzio. He was in a rich damask gown trimmed with fur, satin doublet and russet velvet hose, with a fine ruby at his neck. This was mentioned because they were all gifts from the Queen; and those who wished to vilify her noted these matters.
David was playing, singing and entertaining the company with his especial gifts as he had done so many times before. Suddenly this peaceful scene was disturbed by the appearance of Darnley who came in by way of the door to the private staircase. He had clearly been drinking too much, and went straight to the Queen and slumped down beside her. I could imagine the quick change in the atmosphere. Darnley was often noisily quarrelsome, so the company would have waited uneasily for his voice to be raised in a quarrel with the Queen.
But it did not happen like that this time, for almost immediately through the door of the private staircase came a man in armor. He looked like a ghost they said, or some harbinger of evil, which indeed he was. It was Lord Ruthven who, although he was on his sick-bed and near to death, stood there looking as though he had just risen from the grave.