Kirkcaldy of Grange

by Louis A. Barbé

Two days before this letter was written, the marriage had actually taken place. This was the signal for open and direct action on the part of the ‘Associators.’ With two thousand horse, which they had collected in all haste, they set forth from Stirling intending to seize Mary and Bothwell in the Palace of Holyrood. But this plan was frustrated by the sudden retreat of the Queen and her husband to Borthwick Castle. Thither the confederates followed them; but information of their advance having preceded them, they were again disappointed. Bothwell made good his escape, and betook himself to the stronghold of Dunbar, which Mary ‘in men’s clothes, booted and spurred’ also succeeded in reaching some hours after him, for, to ensure safety, they had found themselves obliged to part company.

On the 14th of June, the Queen and the Duke of Orkney, as Bothwell was now styled, marched out of Dunbar with an army of some four thousand men and six field pieces of brass, and reached Prestonpans in the evening. On receiving intelligence of these movements the Associators set out from Edinburgh, to which they had advanced from Borthwick; and about mid-day on Sunday the 15th of June, the opposing forces came into view of each other at Carberry Hill, eight miles from the Capital.

The royal troops having taken up their position on the hill, whilst the Lords had halted on the lower ground at its foot, Kirkcaldy of Grange, together with Douglas of Drumlanrig, Ker of Cessfurd, and Home of Cowdenknowes, was sent, at the head of two hundred horse, round the hill, towards the east side, for the double purpose of cutting off Bothwell’s retreat, and of securing more favourable ground for an attack. The men, who in obedience to the Queen’s command, had gathered round her standard, were but half-hearted in her cause; and Bothwell’s conduct had not increased their sympathy with her. As soon as they found themselves hemmed in between the infantry on the one side, and Kirkcaldy’s horse on the other, they began to desert in great numbers, and it is asserted that Mary and Bothwell were left with only sixty gentlemen and the band of arquebusiers. Seeing this, the Queen asked who led the cavalry. On learning that it was Grange, she sent Cockburn of Ormiston to summon him to an interview with her. After having informed the Lords of the message, and obtained their consent, Sir William rode forward. Although the Queen had pledged her word for his safety, it is asserted by Sir James Melville, that Bothwell had instructed a soldier to shoot him. Mary perceived the man, as he was taking aim, and uttering a loud cry, she exclaimed, ‘Shame us not with so foul a murder!’

In his conversation with the Queen, Kirkcaldy assured her that all in the field were ready to honour and serve her on the condition that she abandoned the Earl of Bothwell, who had murdered her husband, and who could not be a husband to her, as he had but lately married the Earl of Huntly’s sister. Hearing these words, Bothwell, who was standing near, exclaimed that he was ready to fight, in single combat, any man who laid Darnley’s death to his charge: ‘You shall have an answer speedily,’ said the Laird of Grange; and riding back, he obtained the Lords’ permission to do battle as their champion in the quarrel. On his return, however, he was objected to by Bothwell, as being neither Earl, nor Lord, but only a Baron, and consequently not his equal. The Laird of Tullibardine next offered to fight, but was refused on the same ground. ‘Then,’ exclaimed his elder brother, Sir William Murray, ‘I at least am his Peer; my estate is better than his, and my blood nobler.’ Him too Bothwell rejected, on the pretence that Tullibardine was not his equal in degree of honour, and, wishing he said, to have an Earl as his adversary, he selected Morton, who at once answered that he would fight on foot with a two-handed sword. Here, however, Lord Lindsay of the Byres put in his claim, as a relative of the murdered Darnley, and begged to be allowed to meet Bothwell. This was granted him, and Morton presented him with his own sword, a weapon he highly valued as having belonged to his ancestor, the famous Earl of Angus, ‘Bell-the-Cat.’ But all those preliminaries led to no result. Whether from pusillanimity, as some have maintained, or because of the Queen’s interference, as others have asserted, or, according to a third opinion, because the Lords, amongst whom were some of his former confederates, wished him well away, for fear lest being taken he might have revealed the whole plot, he retired from the field, without having struck a single blow.

Left to herself, Mary again sent for Grange, and told him that if the Lords would do as he had said, she would renounce Bothwell, and go over to them. Sir William having obtained their recognition of the promises which he had made, again rode up the hill to communicate it to the Queen. In reply, she said to him: ‘Laird of Grange, I render myself unto you, upon the condition you rehearsed unto me.’ With those words, she gave him her hand, which the gallant soldier respectfully kissed. Having helped her to mount, he led her horse by the bridle down the hill towards the Lords, who received their Queen with ‘all dutiful reverence.’ Some of the meaner sort, however, behaved in a very different manner; to check their coarse ribaldry, Grange struck at them with his drawn sword.

Mary’s ignominious entry into Edinburgh, and the treatment to which she was subjected after being taken, not to Holyrood, but to the house of Sir Simon Preston of Craigmillar, did not augur well for the observance of the conditions which Sir William had been authorised to grant on the field of Carberry. Indeed, there never seems to have been a serious thought on the part of any one except the Laird of Grange to keep faith with the unfortunate Queen. He, however, had been thoroughly sincere throughout; and his indignation was therefore great when he learnt that it had been resolved to relegate Mary, as a prisoner for life, to the island fortress in Lochleven. When he protested against the violation of the promise which he had made to the Queen, he was told that on the very night of her return to Edinburgh, Mary had written to Bothwell, and bribed one of her keepers to get her letter conveyed to him, but that the man had handed it over to the Lords. In this letter, it was alleged, she called the Earl her Dear Heart, whom she should never forget nor abandon, though she was obliged to be absent from him for the time; she assured him her only object in sending him away had been to ensure his safety; and she besought him to be comforted and to remain on his guard.

Even though he does not appear to have questioned the genuineness of her letter, Kirkcaldy urged that it did not free them from the obligation contracted by them towards the Queen. In spite of it, she had, in actual fact, abandoned the Earl; and that she should give him a few fair words was, he said, no wonder. He expressed his own conviction that ‘if she were discreetly handled, and humbly admonished what inconveniences that man had brought upon her, she would by degrees be brought not only to leave him, but ere long to detest him; and therefore he advised to deal gently with her.’

To Sir William’s earnest remonstrances, the Lords replied that ‘it stood them upon their lives and lands; and that therefore, in the meantime, they behoved to secure her; and when that time came that she should be known to abandon and detest Earl Bothwell, it would be then time to reason upon the matter.’ Their arguments did not, however, satisfy him, and ‘had it not been for the letter, he had instantly left them.’

In the meantime, Mary had written to the Laird of Grange, complaining of the harsh treatment to which she had been subjected, and protesting against the breach of faith of which she was the victim. His answer was to the effect that he himself had already reproached the Lords with their conduct towards her, but that they had shown him a letter of hers to the Earl of Bothwell, in which ‘Among many other fair and comfortable words,’ she promised never to abandon or forget him. ‘That,’ he said, ‘had stopped his mouth.’ He went on to express his wonder that her Majesty could consider herself wedded to a man who had but recently married another woman, and deserted her without any just ground. He besought her ‘to put him clean out of mind, seeing otherwise she could never get the love or respect of her subjects, nor have that obedience paid her, which otherwise she might expect;’ and he added ‘many other loving and humble admonitions, which made her bitterly to weep; for she could not do that so hastily, which process of time might have accomplished.’

Judging that the most practical means of destroying Bothwell’s influence would be to get possession of his person—a measure which had been strangely and, indeed, suspiciously neglected at Carberry—and to bring him to justice, Sir William readily accepted the command of an expedition having for its object the capture of the Earl. After Carberry, the Duke of Orkney had betaken himself to his dukedom, which had not yet seen its new master. Having met with a very hostile reception at the hands of Gilbert Balfour, the keeper of Kirkwall, he went over to Shetland, where the more friendly bailiff, Olaf Sinclair, supplied him with provisions. The two vessels with which he had come from the south being but small, he got possession of two Hanseatic ships, the Pelican and the Breame. After forcibly seizing them and casting out their cargoes on the shore, as Geert Hemelingk related, he had obliged the two German skippers to sign a contract, so as to give his act of violence the appearance of a legitimate transaction, and had begun a piratical cruise amongst the islands. He was reported to have killed the Bishop of Orkney’s son and put all his servants out of the castle.