The Memoirs of Mary Queen of Scots by Carolly Erickson Read Free Book Online Page B

a clatter. She cried out in pain.
    “I should make you pay for my losses tonight, you wretch!” he said to her through clenched teeth. “Next time it will be your rings, yournecklaces, everything you possess! For now I will settle for—your jeweled buttons!”
    At a stroke he slashed the front of the red gown with his knife, severing the many flashing ornamental buttons from the bodice. They spilled out across the filthy floor. Instantly the men were on their knees, grabbing for the jewels, fighting one another, whooping and snorting with hoarse laughter.
    I looked across the table at Adrien and he understood at once that I wanted to leave. We got up and hurried out, picking our way among the scrambling men on the floor, Adrien pressing a coin into the tavernkeeper’s outstretched hand as we passed him.
    I thought I saw the earl, seated once again at his table, glance briefly in my direction as we crossed the room, but I wasn’t certain. He gave no sign that he had recognized me—if indeed he had. Just as we went out I heard the sound of dice landing on a wooden table, and knew that he had resumed his game.
    Outside the air was fresh and sweet after the rain. I took a deep breath and then another, waiting for Adrien to bring up our mounts.
    Where would the Skottefrauen spend the night, I wondered. Who would prepare her bed? Who would repair her gown? I could still hear her harsh, loud voice—more a man’s voice than a woman’s, I thought—shrieking in her unknown tongue.
    I was glad when Adrien and I had gone far enough along the muddy road so that we could no longer hear the noise from the Inn of the Three Barrels, and there was quiet once again as we rode, under the moonlight, back toward the castle.



TEN
    “What under heaven were you thinking, child? To go out alone, at night, to a place full of thieves and murderers! Be glad I’m the one who found out about your foolish excursion and not Queen Catherine!”
    It was the morning after Adrien and I had gone to the Inn of the Three Barrels and my grandmother Antoinette was sitting in my bedchamber rebuking me, frowning in irritation, her wide, generous mouth turned downward even as she tossed her thin leather gloves from hand to hand across her broad lap.
    “I wanted an adventure, grandmamma,” I said. “That was all.”
    “An adventure! You are a queen, child. You are not supposed to be off on adventures, you are supposed to be decorous. And docile. And above all, fertile.” As she said the last words she sighed, her voice dropping. “Not that there seems to be any chance of that now. Francis is too ill.”
    “He may yet recover,” I said softly, though I knew that neither my grandmother nor I believed it possible that my dying husband would ever regain his vigor.
    My grandmother was returning to the subject of my late night wandering.
    “From now on you are to stay where the court is, do you understand? You are never to go outside at night, even if you have an escort. When the court travels, you will travel with it. Otherwise you will stay where you are.”
    “I understand. I will obey you.”
    But grandmamma was still agitated. Instead of leaving my bedchamber she continued to sit where she was, slapping her gloves against her palm, rolling her eyes, her breathing rapid.
    “I promise not to go out again,” I said, hoping this repeated reassurance would calm her. Instead it brought out more exasperation.
    “There is a problem,” she snapped. “You were seen.”
    I was astonished.
    “One of the servants was in the tavern last night. He recognized Adrien. And he heard Adrien speak to you in a respectful tone. As you were both leaving, he saw your shoes, and recognized them too.”
    My shoes! I had taken care to keep my face well hidden, to wear modest clothing, a modest cloak, I had removed my jewellery so that no one would suspect that I was anything other than Adrien’s humbly-born sister—but I had not thought about my shoes, accustomed as I