[CHAPTER II]
FOTHERINGAY

"In darkest night for ever veil the scene
When thy cold walls received the captive Queen."
Antona's Banks MSS., 17—.

ON Sunday 25th September 1586 Mary Stuart reached the last stage of her weary pilgrimage. As she passed through the gloomy gateway of Fotheringay Castle the captive Queen bade farewell to hope and to life. Well read as she was in the history of England, Mary must have keenly realised the ominous nature of her prison. The name of Fotheringay had been connected through a long course of years with many sorrows and much crime, and during the last three reigns the castle had been used as a state prison. Catherine of Arragon, more fortunate than her great-niece, had flatly refused to be imprisoned within its fatal walls, declaring that "to Fotheringay she would not go, unless bound with cart ropes and dragged thither." Tradition, often kinder than history, asserts that James VI., after his accession to the English throne, destroyed the castle;[17] and though it is no longer possible to credit him with this act of filial love or remorse, time has obliterated almost every trace of the once grim fortress. A green mound, an isolated mass of masonry, and a few thistles,[18] are all that now remain to mark the scene of Mary's last sufferings. Very different was the aspect of Fotheringay at the time of which we write. Then, protected by its double moat, it frowned on the surrounding country in almost impregnable strength. The front of the castle and the great gateway faced to the north, while to the north-west rose the keep. A large courtyard occupied the interior of the building, in which were situated the chief apartments, including the chapel and the great hall destined to be the scene of the Queen's death.

Mary, as we know, reached Fotheringay under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet and Sir Thomas Gorges.[19] Sir William Fitzwilliam, castellan of the castle, whose constant courtesy and kindness obtained the Queen's ready gratitude, had also accompanied her. As soon as Mary was safely consigned to her prison Sir Thomas Gorges was despatched to inform Queen Elizabeth of the fact. His report of the journey which he had made in company with the royal prisoner and the arrival at Fotheringay (which must have afforded him many opportunities of ascertaining Mary's sentiments regarding the position in which she was now placed) would be full of the deepest interest for us, but although, no doubt, Elizabeth eagerly inquired into every detail regarding her cousin, no record of this report has been discovered.

Very little is known of Mary's first days at Fotheringay. No letters of the Queen's relating to this time have been preserved, but from Bourgoing's Journal we gather a few facts. His mistress, he tells us, complained, and with justice, of the scanty and insufficient accommodation provided for her, especially as she had observed "many fine rooms unoccupied." As Paulet paid little attention to her demands, and it was rumoured that the vacant apartments were reserved for some noblemen, Mary at once suspected that she was about to be brought to trial. She had long foreseen this issue, and had spoken of it to her attendants. The prospect did not alarm her; to use Bourgoing's words, "she was not in the least moved; on the contrary, her courage rose, and she was more cheerful and in better health than before."

On October 1st Paulet sent a courteous message to the Queen requesting an interview with her. He had received intelligence which he would "willingly" communicate to her. Experience had taught Mary and her followers to connect evil tidings with any unusual display of civility on Paulet's part, nor were they deceived. When he found himself in Mary's presence he brusquely informed her that Queen Elizabeth, having now received Sir Thomas Gorges' report, had expressed much surprise, and marvelled that her cousin dared to deny the charges brought against her, when she herself possessed proof of the facts. His mistress must now send some of her lords and counsellors to interrogate Mary, and of this he wished to warn her, so that she might not think she was to be taken by surprise. Then lowering his voice, Paulet added significantly that "the Queen would do better to beg pardon of Her Majesty, and confess her offence and fault, than to let herself be declared guilty (by law); and that if she would follow his advice, and agree to this, he would communicate her decision to Queen Elizabeth, being ready to write her reply, whatever it might be." Mary smiled at this proposal, saying that it reminded her of the way in which children are bribed to make them confess, and in reply said, "As a sinner I am truly conscious of having often offended my Creator, and I beg Him to forgive me, but as Queen and Sovereign I am aware of no fault or offence for which I have to render account to any one here below, as I recognise no authority but God and His Church. As therefore I could not offend, I do not wish for pardon; I do not seek, nor would I accept it from any one living." Then assuming a lighter tone, the Queen further remarked that she thought Sir Amyas took much pains for but small result, and that he seemed to make little progress in this affair. Paulet here interrupted her, exclaiming that his mistress could show proof of what she asserted, and that the thing was notorious. Mary therefore would do well to confess, but he would report her answer. He then begged the Queen to listen while he repeated her answer word by word, and having written it down, he despatched it on the same day to the Court.

We may ask ourselves whether Elizabeth was sincere in her overtures to her cousin. If Mary had sued for mercy, would Elizabeth have granted it? It is more probable that any words which could have been extorted from Mary would have been used by the English Queen as a safeguard for her own honour. Armed with a confession of any sort, Elizabeth would have had no difficulty in ridding herself quietly of her cousin, and her own reputation would have suffered less. As we have seen, Mary at once perceived the trap prepared for her, and with her usual promptitude and courage she easily avoided it.