Scotland has been torn apart by civil war and the young and passionate Catholic Mary Queen of Scots is in the hands of her enemies. Under duress, Mary abdicates in favour of her son, James VI, and fleeing to England she boldly seeks refuge from her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I. But Elizabeth has never trusted the ambitious Mary, and consequently has her imprisoned. So begins a treacherous battle between two of history's most powerful and ruthless women. Without once meeting her cousin, Mary is held captive for nineteen years, whilst Elizabeth rules in the shadow of countless Catholic plots against her life...
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About the Author
Jean Plaidy, one of the pre-eminent authors of historical fiction for most of the twentieth century, is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also know as Victoria Holt. Jean Plaidy's novels had sold more than 14 million copies worldwide by the time of her death in 1993. For further information about our Jean Plaidy reissues and mailing list, please visit www.randomhouse.co.uk/minisites/jeanplaidy
--This text refers to the
Paperback
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Lochleven
In the castle of Lochleven which was built on an island in the middle of the loch an exciting expectancy prevailed.
All through the day, the serving men and maids had been aware that they must prepare for an important visitor, and rumor had seeped through to them that this was none other than the captive Queen. Ears were strained for the sounds of arrival; eyes continually turned to the strip of water which separated the island from the mainland on which could be seen the roofs of the houses of Kinross. She would embark there and the boat was ready, waiting for her.
The castellan of the castle, Sir William Douglas, was uneasy; he did not relish the responsibility which had been given him; he foresaw trouble. Yet it was a commission which he dared not refuse; he should, he supposed, have been grateful because his half-brother, James Stuart, Earl of Moray, would wish him to be the Queen's jailor. Yet he knew that a tense and stormy period lay before him. Wherever Mary Stuart was, there was trouble; it was hardly likely that Lochleven would escape it.
Now he was waiting for her arrival which surely could not long be delayed; and he decided that once more he must impress upon his mother the importance of the task which had been given them; and for this reason he made his way to her apartments.
He found her seated at a window; like most people in the castle she was gazing out across the lake, and with her was William's younger brother George.
Margaret Douglas looked eagerly at her elder son as he entered. He noticed with a twinge of jealousy that she looked younger than she had before they had received the news. He knew the reason; it was because, by keeping the Queen a prisoner at Lochleven, she would be serving Moray. Why had he felt the need to warn her of the importance of this duty when all that she did for Moray she would do well?
"Is there news?" she asked, and the animation on her beautiful, though aging face, was startling.
William shook his head.
"I trust all will be well. Jamie will expect us to do our duty."
"We shall do it, have no fear of that," William replied. He might have reminded her that Moray--now that the Queen was a captive--was the most influential man in Scotland, that before long he would be the ruler of Scotland, which was what he had always intended to be. If one hoped to live in peace in Scotland, one must obey Moray; he, William Douglas, castellan of Lochleven since the death of his father, Sir Robert Douglas, would have been prepared to do that even if Moray had not been his half-brother, and his mother's bastard.
"Jamie will expect us to do this duty well," went on Margaret Douglas complacently.
Young George clenched his hands in disgust; he was eighteen, romantic, and chivalrous and could not bear to contemplate his mother's dishonor.
As for Margaret she was unaware of any dishonor, for in her opinion there was nothing but honor in bearing the bastard of a King. Often she delighted in Jamie's resemblance to his father. She had not been the only woman to catch the roving eye of James V of Scotland and to offer the world living proof of what had passed between them. To her he had been faithful for a while and she would never forget that. She had been jealous of the others. How she had hated Euphemia Elphinstone when he had borne the King her son Robert; not that Robert was the only one. James was a King who could be gay and melancholy, and when he was gay he was very gay; there had been numerous known bastards, and even James did not know how many unknown ones. Yet, she thought wistfully, all the Stuart charm was his and to have known it was to have drunk deep of pleasure. There were no regrets. And when she looked at her Jamie--James Stuart who had been Earl of Mar and was now Earl of Moray--how could she refrain from thinking what a cruel fate it was that had made him the bastard, and that giddy girl, Mary Stuart, the King's only legitimate heir? Jamie resented it--oh how bitterly. But perhaps now the bitterness was less acute.
She smiled. It was ironical that Mary should now be in the hands of one who had been her father's mistress and who would do everything in her power to further the aims of her own son. It was rough justice of a sort. Sometimes she believed that her clever fox of a Jamie had all along intended that something like this should happen.
"And the silly giddy girl deserves her fate," she said aloud. "Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."
"She is a brave woman. She was not afraid to venture onto the battlefield with her army at Carberry Hill." That was young George, and as he spoke his face flushed. He wondered why he had spoken; he should have known better and kept his thoughts to himself. He did not share the opinions of the others. The Queen was a beautiful woman in distress. His half-brother, the bastard, who should surely shame his mother every time she thought of him, was a ruthless man. George knew whose side he himself was on. But it was foolish of course to say so before his brother and mother.
Fortunately they did not appear to have heard him. I am too young for my opinions to be of any importance to them, thought George resentfully.
His mother was speaking to his brother William. "I hope you have increased the guard about the castle."
"Naturally," replied Sir William.
"Is it wise to keep her on the ground floor? Escape would be easier from there."
"She will be well guarded there for the time being. Perhaps later I shall make other plans."
Sir William was suddenly alert. He had thought he had seen movement on the mainland. But it was not that band of riders who were escorting the captured Queen.
Margaret said: "She will not be here for some time. They would not set out from Holyrood until nightfall. It would be too dangerous. The mob would tear her into pieces."
William did not answer, but George could not restrain himself. "Might that not be what they wish?"
"No, no, Geordie," said his mother soothingly. "You are too vehement. The last thing Jamie wishes is for any harm to befall his half-sister. Don't forget that she is his own flesh and blood."
"Bearing a similar relationship as that between him and myself," murmured George with a hint of cynicism in his voice which was lost on his mother. If she could only know, thought George, how I hate these casual relationships which can bring about such havoc in families.
"Perhaps," William put in, "we should go to sup. It is foolish to wait, when she may not be here until morning."
"Then let us go," said Margaret.
In the dining hall the company had eagerly been awaiting the appearance of the castellan and his mother and, as they came in, the tension relaxed. The daughters of the family, who were seated near the dais, whispered together that this could only mean that the Queen was not expected that night.
As Sir William took his place on the dais with his mother, there came to stand behind his chair a boy of about fourteen who was wearing a jerkin which had once belonged to George. He was a bold-eyed boy, with hair of a carroty tinge, and a freckled face; and the position he held in the household was unique, because he was not quite a servant nor yet a member of the family. George could not remember exactly when this boy had come to the castle; he had heard it said that as a baby the boy was left at the castle gates, and that one of the servants had found him there, but George had never received confirmation of this, as his elders were evasive on the matter. He was cheeky, that boy, sensing his specially privileged position; one of his duties was to wait on Sir William at table. No one asked questions as to who he was and why he should be different from the rest of the servants. Perhaps it was because there was a look of a Douglas about him; he was in fact always known as Willie Douglas.
George had had an affection for the boy which dated from the day when he was about ten and Willie six. That was before George had discovered how much he hated the casual relationships of grown-up people which led to unorthodox results. He suspected now that Willie was the result of one of his brother William's indiscretions; but that could not change his affection for the boy once it had been firmly founded.
As he seated himself at table Willie whispered to him: "Great days in store for Lochleven, eh, Geordie?" And he gave George a wink that made his pert, freckled face slightly more comical than it had been before, so that George could not help smiling.
The meal progressed; and when the night had fallen there came with it a return of that brooding tension.
Dismounting, Mary could scarcely stand. The noise of those raucous voices was still echoing in her ears. Lord Lindsay, who was at her side, said in a tone which had an edge of roughness in it and was devoid of the respect due to a Queen: "The boat is waiting."
"Boat! Then where are you taking me?"
"You will know in time."
How dared they! She turned to Lindsay, and goaded out of her exhaustion, cried: "I'll have your head for this, my lord."
Lindsay did not reply.
Lord Ruthven who had come to stand beside her said gently: "It is only a short distance across the lake, Your Majesty."
Mary turned to him eagerly for she fancied she heard a note of compassion in his voice. So desperately alone did she feel that any sign of friendship lifted her spirits.
Ruthven did not meet her eye; he was ashamed of his mission. She thought: He is so young. He is not yet grown cruel like so many of my Scottish lords.
"Thank you, my lord," she said.
Young Ruthven looked uncomfortable, fearing, Mary suspected, that Lindsay would have heard his remark and... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.
In the castle of Lochleven which was built on an island in the middle of the loch an exciting expectancy prevailed.
All through the day, the serving men and maids had been aware that they must prepare for an important visitor, and rumor had seeped through to them that this was none other than the captive Queen. Ears were strained for the sounds of arrival; eyes continually turned to the strip of water which separated the island from the mainland on which could be seen the roofs of the houses of Kinross. She would embark there and the boat was ready, waiting for her.
The castellan of the castle, Sir William Douglas, was uneasy; he did not relish the responsibility which had been given him; he foresaw trouble. Yet it was a commission which he dared not refuse; he should, he supposed, have been grateful because his half-brother, James Stuart, Earl of Moray, would wish him to be the Queen's jailor. Yet he knew that a tense and stormy period lay before him. Wherever Mary Stuart was, there was trouble; it was hardly likely that Lochleven would escape it.
Now he was waiting for her arrival which surely could not long be delayed; and he decided that once more he must impress upon his mother the importance of the task which had been given them; and for this reason he made his way to her apartments.
He found her seated at a window; like most people in the castle she was gazing out across the lake, and with her was William's younger brother George.
Margaret Douglas looked eagerly at her elder son as he entered. He noticed with a twinge of jealousy that she looked younger than she had before they had received the news. He knew the reason; it was because, by keeping the Queen a prisoner at Lochleven, she would be serving Moray. Why had he felt the need to warn her of the importance of this duty when all that she did for Moray she would do well?
"Is there news?" she asked, and the animation on her beautiful, though aging face, was startling.
William shook his head.
"I trust all will be well. Jamie will expect us to do our duty."
"We shall do it, have no fear of that," William replied. He might have reminded her that Moray--now that the Queen was a captive--was the most influential man in Scotland, that before long he would be the ruler of Scotland, which was what he had always intended to be. If one hoped to live in peace in Scotland, one must obey Moray; he, William Douglas, castellan of Lochleven since the death of his father, Sir Robert Douglas, would have been prepared to do that even if Moray had not been his half-brother, and his mother's bastard.
"Jamie will expect us to do this duty well," went on Margaret Douglas complacently.
Young George clenched his hands in disgust; he was eighteen, romantic, and chivalrous and could not bear to contemplate his mother's dishonor.
As for Margaret she was unaware of any dishonor, for in her opinion there was nothing but honor in bearing the bastard of a King. Often she delighted in Jamie's resemblance to his father. She had not been the only woman to catch the roving eye of James V of Scotland and to offer the world living proof of what had passed between them. To her he had been faithful for a while and she would never forget that. She had been jealous of the others. How she had hated Euphemia Elphinstone when he had borne the King her son Robert; not that Robert was the only one. James was a King who could be gay and melancholy, and when he was gay he was very gay; there had been numerous known bastards, and even James did not know how many unknown ones. Yet, she thought wistfully, all the Stuart charm was his and to have known it was to have drunk deep of pleasure. There were no regrets. And when she looked at her Jamie--James Stuart who had been Earl of Mar and was now Earl of Moray--how could she refrain from thinking what a cruel fate it was that had made him the bastard, and that giddy girl, Mary Stuart, the King's only legitimate heir? Jamie resented it--oh how bitterly. But perhaps now the bitterness was less acute.
She smiled. It was ironical that Mary should now be in the hands of one who had been her father's mistress and who would do everything in her power to further the aims of her own son. It was rough justice of a sort. Sometimes she believed that her clever fox of a Jamie had all along intended that something like this should happen.
"And the silly giddy girl deserves her fate," she said aloud. "Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."
"She is a brave woman. She was not afraid to venture onto the battlefield with her army at Carberry Hill." That was young George, and as he spoke his face flushed. He wondered why he had spoken; he should have known better and kept his thoughts to himself. He did not share the opinions of the others. The Queen was a beautiful woman in distress. His half-brother, the bastard, who should surely shame his mother every time she thought of him, was a ruthless man. George knew whose side he himself was on. But it was foolish of course to say so before his brother and mother.
Fortunately they did not appear to have heard him. I am too young for my opinions to be of any importance to them, thought George resentfully.
His mother was speaking to his brother William. "I hope you have increased the guard about the castle."
"Naturally," replied Sir William.
"Is it wise to keep her on the ground floor? Escape would be easier from there."
"She will be well guarded there for the time being. Perhaps later I shall make other plans."
Sir William was suddenly alert. He had thought he had seen movement on the mainland. But it was not that band of riders who were escorting the captured Queen.
Margaret said: "She will not be here for some time. They would not set out from Holyrood until nightfall. It would be too dangerous. The mob would tear her into pieces."
William did not answer, but George could not restrain himself. "Might that not be what they wish?"
"No, no, Geordie," said his mother soothingly. "You are too vehement. The last thing Jamie wishes is for any harm to befall his half-sister. Don't forget that she is his own flesh and blood."
"Bearing a similar relationship as that between him and myself," murmured George with a hint of cynicism in his voice which was lost on his mother. If she could only know, thought George, how I hate these casual relationships which can bring about such havoc in families.
"Perhaps," William put in, "we should go to sup. It is foolish to wait, when she may not be here until morning."
"Then let us go," said Margaret.
In the dining hall the company had eagerly been awaiting the appearance of the castellan and his mother and, as they came in, the tension relaxed. The daughters of the family, who were seated near the dais, whispered together that this could only mean that the Queen was not expected that night.
As Sir William took his place on the dais with his mother, there came to stand behind his chair a boy of about fourteen who was wearing a jerkin which had once belonged to George. He was a bold-eyed boy, with hair of a carroty tinge, and a freckled face; and the position he held in the household was unique, because he was not quite a servant nor yet a member of the family. George could not remember exactly when this boy had come to the castle; he had heard it said that as a baby the boy was left at the castle gates, and that one of the servants had found him there, but George had never received confirmation of this, as his elders were evasive on the matter. He was cheeky, that boy, sensing his specially privileged position; one of his duties was to wait on Sir William at table. No one asked questions as to who he was and why he should be different from the rest of the servants. Perhaps it was because there was a look of a Douglas about him; he was in fact always known as Willie Douglas.
George had had an affection for the boy which dated from the day when he was about ten and Willie six. That was before George had discovered how much he hated the casual relationships of grown-up people which led to unorthodox results. He suspected now that Willie was the result of one of his brother William's indiscretions; but that could not change his affection for the boy once it had been firmly founded.
As he seated himself at table Willie whispered to him: "Great days in store for Lochleven, eh, Geordie?" And he gave George a wink that made his pert, freckled face slightly more comical than it had been before, so that George could not help smiling.
The meal progressed; and when the night had fallen there came with it a return of that brooding tension.
Dismounting, Mary could scarcely stand. The noise of those raucous voices was still echoing in her ears. Lord Lindsay, who was at her side, said in a tone which had an edge of roughness in it and was devoid of the respect due to a Queen: "The boat is waiting."
"Boat! Then where are you taking me?"
"You will know in time."
How dared they! She turned to Lindsay, and goaded out of her exhaustion, cried: "I'll have your head for this, my lord."
Lindsay did not reply.
Lord Ruthven who had come to stand beside her said gently: "It is only a short distance across the lake, Your Majesty."
Mary turned to him eagerly for she fancied she heard a note of compassion in his voice. So desperately alone did she feel that any sign of friendship lifted her spirits.
Ruthven did not meet her eye; he was ashamed of his mission. She thought: He is so young. He is not yet grown cruel like so many of my Scottish lords.
"Thank you, my lord," she said.
Young Ruthven looked uncomfortable, fearing, Mary suspected, that Lindsay would have heard his remark and... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.
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13 of 14 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
MARY STUART...THE CAPTIVE QUEEN...,
By Lawyeraau (Balmoral Castle) - See all my reviews (TOP 100 REVIEWER) (VINE VOICE) (COMMUNITY FORUM 04) (HALL OF FAME REVIEWER)
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This review is from: The Captive Queen of Scots (Mass Market Paperback)
This is historical fiction at its finest. Masterfully written, the author weaves a spellbinding tapestry of events that chronicles the life of Mary Stuart, the Queen of Scots, while in captivity.The book details her stay at the castle on the island of Lochleven in Scotland, while at the mercy of her illegitimate half brother and self-proclaimed Regent, the Earl of Moray. It recounts her daring escape from her Scottish captors, as well as her woefully misguided decision to flee to England, rather than to France or Spain. Instead of the succor that the beautiful, charming, and very Catholic Mary, an anointed Queen, expected to receive from her cousin, the wily and Protestant Elizabeth I of England, Mary found, instead, an uneasy captivity. From the moment of her entry to England, she was in effect a prisoner, commuted from castle to castle with a never ending succession of jailers whose task was to ensure that she did not escape. It was a captivitry that was to span nineteen years. Filled with the political intrigues and conspiracies that abounded in sixteenth century England and Scotland, the book paints a sympathetic portrait of Mary, a queen that ruled with her heart, rather than with her head. She was a woman who was at a disadvantage in negotiating with her cousin, as Elizabeth, unlike Mary, ruled with her head and not with her heart. Elizabeth was very much aware of the political realities of the time and sensitive to Mary's own claim by blood to the English throne, making Mary someone to be kept in check, rather than helped. Based upon actual historical figures and events, the author creates three dimensional characters and infuses them with all the pomp and pageantry of the time. It is a stirringly written narrative that fully engages the reader. Those who love historical fiction, as well as those who have an interest in the life of Mary Stuart, the beleaguered Queen of Scots, will most certainly enjoy this book, as will anyone who simply loves a well written and compelling story.
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Interesting, but not the best Jean Plaidy book I've read!,
This review is from: The Captive Queen of Scots: Mary, Queen of Scots (Paperback)
I enjoyed this book, particularly because I wanted to learn more about Mary, Queen of Scots and what better person to learn from than Jean Plaidy!? Like most of the Plaidy books, it is history couched in novel form. My only complaint that it seemed a little stiffer than most of her novels, a little more rigid and it didn't flow quite as naturally. Nevertheless, it told the story and told it well. I recommend it!
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
And Her Soul Yearned to be Free,
By
This review is from: The Captive Queen of Scots: Mary, Queen of Scots (Paperback)
This is the continuation of Royal Road to Fotheringhay: A Novel, also by Plaidy. This book is no less captivating than the first. This tells the story of Mary's life during her exile in England. She expected to be treated like a queen by her cousin, Elizabeth I, and was, instead, treated like an incompetent invader in need of watching.The book is chaptered by castles. While one might think this would be very boring it is not. Every move, and thus chapter, contains something new in Mary's life. Yes, her life was dull after a while, her health and beauty suffering from the damp and cold, but there is no end to then intrigue that happens while Mary is in England. From plots to marry her off to different men, to those wanting her on the throne of England, and those concerning just getting her back to Scotland. You find out the fate of her son, James, and her third husband the Earl of Bothwell(who she married at the end of the first novel.) Again Plaidy keeps you on the edge of your seat from the beginning to end. I couldn't stop reading this. I hated to go to bed, work, or clean because it would mean that I had to put the book down. I believe I finished it in about three days(because I had to do those mandatory tasks.) I loved how even though I knew what was going to happen I still cried at the end. You know the ending, but Plaidy makes you lament this even if you didn't always like her, and I'll admit at times she was stubborn and foolish. Very worth while bit of your time.
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