Mary, Queen of Scots (70 page)

What Moray was asking was, in effect, that the commissioners (who had not yet been appointed) would comment on the veracity of his evidence before it had been submitted to the inquiry, which was outrageous, considering that he was an interested party. He also wanted to know what would happen if the Lords proved their case, for, if he accused Mary of murder, he was burning his boats as far as reaching a compromise with her was concerned. He was also well aware that, whether Mary was guilty or not, Elizabeth, for political considerations, might attempt to restore her at any time, with fearful consequences for himself. Both his requests reveal his awareness of the enormity of the charges he was laying against his sovereign. If his evidence had been genuine, it is unlikely that he would have betrayed such anxiety. But, as has been demonstrated, it was not, it was essentially flawed and corrupt, and he knew that there was a risk of discovery. This is why he was asking for guarantees.

Moray received no direct answer from Elizabeth. But towards the end of June, Cecil told Wood, off the record, that no matter what was being said in public, the English government had absolutely no intention of restoring Mary to her throne, whatever the outcome of the inquiry. Clearly, this was not to be an impartial investigation, but a charade held for purely political reasons.

On 30 June, Elizabeth wrote to Mary, expressing the wish that, her innocence being such as she hoped, she would not refuse to answer questions put by any noble personage sent to her by herself; this would not be a judicial inquiry, but one carried out for Elizabeth’s own satisfaction. “I assure you I will do nothing to hurt you, but rather honour and aid you,” she added reassuringly.
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But before this reached Mary, some letters from Wood to Moray fell accidentally into her hands. Reading that her letters were to be used against her in evidence induced symptoms of shock, for she had had bitter experience of how ruthless the Lords could be in their own interests; as she herself wrote to Elizabeth, “these letters, so falsely invented, have made me ill.”
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Would she have admitted to them making her ill if she were guilty?

Between May and October, Mary bombarded Elizabeth with over twenty letters urging a meeting between them. “I am no enchantress,” she wrote, “but your sister and natural cousin.” It was all to no effect. Elizabeth observed that Mary’s obvious fear arose from “guiltiness,” but Cecil crossed this out, and wrote “doings.”
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By the beginning of July, Elizabeth was growing weary of Mary’s importunings, and begged her to “have some consideration of me instead of always thinking of yourself.” Historians have also taken a generally dim view of Mary’s constant protestations of innocence and repeated demands for an interview, but, if innocent, as the evidence strongly suggests, she cannot be blamed for her insistence, since it must have appeared to her that no one was listening.

On 13 July, Moray, having received Cecil’s assurances, formally agreed to take part in an inquiry.
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However, he was not pleased to learn that he would in fact be a defendant, for the inquiry was to be based on Mary’s charges against her subjects. Even now, despite what Cecil had said, Moray feared that Elizabeth would insist on Mary’s restoration. He was also determined to prevent Bothwell from being extradited by the English and called to give evidence, and to this end sent an urgent message to Captain Clerk in Denmark to expedite matters.

Around 13–15 July, Mary was moved, under protest, to isolated Bolton Castle in Yorkshire, which had been chosen because it was as far from Scotland as from London. Here, with Sir Francis Knollys as her “host,” she kept great state as a queen, and was allowed to go hunting under escort; the fiction was maintained that she was Elizabeth’s honoured guest. But the restrictions on her liberty greatly distressed her, and Knollys had to cope with tears and reproaches. He also had to bear in mind Cecil’s reminder that, “besides the vehement presumption against her of the horrible murdering of her husband, other things were known; and these might become known to the whole world.”
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Both Elizabeth and Cecil wanted Mary kept in captivity, but they needed a pretext for doing so, which it was hoped that the inquiry would provide. But first, Mary had to be persuaded to agree to the inquiry. During July, Elizabeth saw Lord Herries and informed him that Moray had agreed to take part in an inquiry into the conduct of the Confederate Lords, but that no formal judgement would be given. Then, laying her bait, she said that, if Mary would “remit her case to be heard by me, as her dear cousin and friend, I will send for her rebels and know why they deposed their Queen. If they can allege some reason for doing so, which I think they cannot, I will restore Queen Mary to her throne”—by force, if necessary—“on condition that she renounces her claim to England and abandons her league with France and the Mass in Scotland, receiving the [Book of] Common Prayer after the manner of England.” If the Lords’ evidence against Mary proved sufficient, then she would be restored with conditions, but whatever the findings of the inquiry, the Lords were not to be punished for their actions and were to “continue in their state and dignity.”
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On 22 July, Elizabeth informed Moray that she had told Herries of his willingness to appear, and warned him that, during the inquiry, “nothing will be done or intended in any way” to Mary’s prejudice.
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Two days later, Herries arrived at Bolton with Elizabeth’s promise of restoration. Tempted as Mary was to agree to the inquiry, there were too many conditions attached, and she was particularly disturbed about the requirement to abandon the Mass. For four days, she agonised over what she should do. Then, on 28 July, she capitulated, and agreed to “submit her cause to Her Highness in thankful manner,” believing that Elizabeth’s offer was genuine. Thereafter, she was in a buoyant mood, confident of success, for Elizabeth had made it clear that she would be restored whatever the outcome of the inquiry. Immediately, Mary ordered her supporters in Scotland to lay down their arms, provided that Moray’s men had done the same.

Few people at Elizabeth’s court were deceived by the Queen’s fair words. That month, both the French and Spanish ambassadors reported that the English meant to keep Mary in prison.
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On the 29th, Lennox wrote to Wood to say he was glad to hear his opinion that Mary would agree to the inquiry, and asked to be informed of the time and place. His letter also revealed that he had been in regular contact with Moray.
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Mary was anxious to be seen to be keeping her part of the bargain. From 8 August onwards, Knollys was writing optimistically of her flirtation with the Protestant faith. She accepted the ministry of an Anglican chaplain, and willingly listened to his sermons, even one in which he denounced popery to her “attentive and contented ears.”
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But Moray had no intention of being so conciliatory. On 16 August, in what can only be seen as a provocative move, he proclaimed in Parliament the forfeiture of the Hamiltons, Herries, Fleming, Leslie and other royalist supporters.
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During August, Elizabeth and her advisers made preparations for the inquiry—or conference, as it was to be called—that was to be held at York early in October. Commissioners were to be appointed by Mary, Moray and Elizabeth, and it would be the task of the English commissioners to listen to the evidence and report their findings to Elizabeth, who would then act upon them. Although the stated purpose of the conference was to compel the Lords to account for their conduct against their sovereign, the real issue to be debated was whether Mary was guilty of complicity in Darnley’s murder. No judgement would be given because Elizabeth had no authority to judge the Queen of Scots, neither did she wish to see her found guilty. Her aim was to keep her in captivity, not only as a political bargaining counter in England’s future negotiations with the Scots, but also to give Elizabeth a good excuse for interfering in, and manipulating, Scottish affairs to her own advantage. Moray, for his part, wanted Mary branded a murderess and adulteress before the world and kept in prison in England, so that he could continue to rule Scotland unhindered. Although Moray was anxious about the evidence he was to submit, the outcome of the conference would be decided on political considerations alone.

Lennox was beginning to be a nuisance. On 18 August, he reminded Cecil that he had sent Elizabeth the “Supplication” asking for justice, to which he had not had a response, and urged that, as he was “the party whom the matter toucheth nearest,” his appearance at the inquiry “may be thought necessary.”
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A week later, Elizabeth refused him leave to attend the conference at York.

Moray now began pressing Frederick II for Bothwell’s extradition to Scotland so that he could be tried for Darnley’s murder. He even asked Frederick to permit Captain Clerk to execute Bothwell and send his head to Edinburgh. Both demands were refused.

On 29 August, Elizabeth named her commissioners. Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk, premier peer of the realm and a Protestant widower of thirty, was to act as chairman. Assisting him would be Thomas Ratcliffe, 3rd Earl of Sussex, and Sir Ralph Sadler, a seasoned diplomat with wide experience of Scottish affairs. Aware of Moray’s reluctance, the Queen instructed her commissioners to do everything in their power to make him produce all his evidence against Mary. They were told that, if the case against the Queen of Scots was “plainly proved,” Elizabeth would deem Mary “unworthy of a kingdom”; but if it were not proved, then she would restore her. Of course, Mary had been told that she would be restored whatever the outcome, and Moray had been reassured that she would not be restored at all.

On 6 September, Moray was issued a safe-conduct by the English government.
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Shortly afterwards, Mary announced that she would not be appearing in person at York because she did not recognise the right of any tribunal to try her; however, she was willing for her commissioners to represent her there, and announced that she had chosen Leslie, Herries, Livingston, Boyd, Gavin Hamilton, Commendator of Kilwinning, Sir John Gordon of Lochinvar and Sir James Cockburn, the Laird of Skirling, to act for her. Some of these men were Protestants yet had remained loyal to the Queen, but none of them had the subtlety and cunning of Moray and his associates. Mary ordered them to treat Moray and her other “disobedient subjects” only as defendants who were appearing to answer the charges she had made against them, and wrote to Elizabeth: “I will never plead my cause against theirs unless they stand before you in manacles.”

In her formal instructions to her commissioners, written on 9 September, Mary denied writing the Casket Letters:

In case they allege to have any writings of mine which may infer presumptions against me, ye shall desire that the principals be produced, and that I myself may have inspection thereof, and make answer thereto; for ye shall affirm in my name I never wrote anything concerning that matter to any creature, and if any such writings be, they are false and feigned, forged and invent[ed] by themselves, only to my dishonour and slander; and there are divers in Scotland, both men and women, that can counterfeit my handwriting, and write the like manner of writing which I use as well as myself, and principally such as are in company with themselves; and I doubt not, if I had remained in my own realm, I should before now have discovered the inventors and writers of such writings, to the declaration of my innocence and the confusion of their falsehood.

Mary may have been implying that the letters had been forged by Maitland, who later admitted to Norfolk that he could imitate her writing, or by Archibald Douglas, who later gained a reputation as a notorious forger. She was never to deviate from her insistence that the Casket Letters were forgeries.

Even though Mary had announced that she would not appear at the York conference, she was dismayed to learn that she was not to be permitted to attend anyway. Elizabeth was determined not to give her the opportunity publicly to declare her innocence and deny writing the Casket Letters, because her beauty and charm might sway the commissioners and prejudice the desired outcome of the inquiry. Elizabeth was also aware of Moray’s reluctance to produce the Casket Letters, and must have guessed that, if Mary was allowed to scrutinise them, she might find in them enough flaws to seriously undermine his case. Mary was not only the complainant in this case, she was also, effectively, the accused, and to deny her the right to appear in person to defend herself was a flagrant breach of justice.

In Scotland, the Queen’s nobles assembled at Dumbarton on 12 September and, aware that the Casket Letters were going to be Moray’s most important pieces of evidence, declared that the letters produced by the Lords in Parliament the previous December were forgeries. “And if it be alleged that Her Majesty’s writing should prove Her Grace culpable, it may be answered that there is no place mention[ed] in it by the which Her Highness may be convicted, albeit it were her own hand-writ, as it is not. And also, the same is devised by themselves [the Lords] in some principal and substantious clauses, which will be clearer near the light of day.” This supports the theory that the Casket Letters were in part genuine letters of Mary’s that had been tampered with and augmented. The nobles also declared that “there was nothing done in their [the Lords’] Parliament that could prejudice the Queen’s honour in any sort, Her Grace never being called nor accused. It is against all law and reason to condemn any living creature without first hearing them in their defence.”
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Whereupon these royalist Lords, those same Lords who had signed the Hamilton Bond in May, subscribed to a new bond to support the Queen against her enemies.

Moray and his friends were underterred. On 16 September, as the Regent was preparing to leave for England, Morton entrusted the Casket Letters to his safe keeping, and received in return a receipt for “a silver box overgilt with gold” containing “missive letters, contracts or obligations for marriage, sonnets or love ballads, and all other letters contained therein,” which were stated to have been kept by Morton “without any alteration, augmentation or diminution thereof in any part or portion.”
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If the “missive letters” were the eight that we know today, what then were all the “other letters”? As will be seen, there were probably more than eight letters in the casket.