Mary Queen of Scotland & the Isles Read Online Free Page A
Author: Margaret George
Tags: Fiction, Historical
then the Cardinal unfastened her heavy robes and began anointing her with the holy oil on her back, breast, and the palms of her hands. When the chill air struck her, she began to cry, with long, wailing sobs.
The Cardinal stopped. True, this was only a baby, crying as all babies cried, unexpectedly and distressingly. But in the silence of the stone chapel, where nerves were already taut with the whole clandestine, rebellious nature of the ceremony, the sounds were shattering. The child cried as at the fall of Man, as if in horror of damnation.
"Sssh, ssh," he murmured. But the little Queen would not be quieted; she wailed on, until the Earl of Lennox brought forward the sceptre, a long rod of gilded silver, surmounted by crystal and Scottish pearl. He placed it in her baby hand, and she grasped the heavy shaft with her fat fingers. Her crying died away. Then the ornate gilded sword of state was presented by the Earl of Argyll, and the Cardinal performed the ceremony of girding the three-foot sword to the tiny round body.
Later, the Earl of Arran carried the crown, a heavy fantasy of gold and jewels that enclosed within it the circlet of gold worn by Robert the Bruce on his helmet at the Battle of Bannockburn, not far from Stirling. Holding it gently, the Cardinal lowered it onto the child's head, where it rested on a circlet of velvet. From underneath the crown, heavy with the dolour of her ancestors, Mary's eyes looked out. The Cardinal steadied the crown and Lord Livingston held her body straight as the Earls Lennox and Arran kissed her cheek in fealty, followed by the rest of the prelates and peers who knelt before her and, placing their hands on her crown, swore allegiance to her.
THREE
Henry VIII unleashed the full force of his fury against the Scots. An army was sent to storm Stirling Castle, capture Mary, and sack and burn everything in the surroundings. Men, women, and children were to be put to the sword; Edinburgh destroyed, Holyrood razed, the Border abbeys demolished, and the harvest, already gathered in, to be set on fire.
The English soldiers slashed and murdered their way into Edinburgh. They came down the Canongate and up to the doors of Holyrood Abbey, and entered into the sanctuary. Seeking the Stewart tombs, they found the great enclosed monument on the right side of the Abbey, near the altar, and broke into it, desecrating the royal burial places. The tomb of Mary's father was opened and his coffin dragged out into the daylight, mocked, and then abandoned, to lie forlorn in the aisle.
Scotland wept and lamented. Scotland was wounded and cried out, but there was none to heed or help her. The dead stank to heaven, the children went to bed hungry, in the care of whatever relative survived, and the razed streets of Edinburgh smouldered. The Scottish people looked at the ruined abbeys and the deserted churches and sought the only help left, the Divine, in a new way. Despite the ban on all Protestant literature, there were smuggled Protestant translations of the Scriptures William Tyndale's version, and even copies of the English Great Bible of 1539 now coming into Scotland. But where the heretical preachers could not hide, a Bible could be secreted; where God seemed silent in speaking through his erst while Church, the Church of Rome, he began speaking directly through His Word as revealed in the Scriptures. Preachers were abroad throughout the land, having been trained in Geneva, Holland, Germany. People listened to their sermons and found solace in God's reaching out to them. He offered His hand and they grasped it.
In Stirling Castle the Queen Mother and her daughter were safe. The ancient castle on its high rock, rising out of the plain, held fast and was beyond the power of the English to capture. Inside the palace walls, Marie de Guise fashioned a home for her daughter, with playmates, tutors, and pets. It was a world in itself, high above the Forth valley, looking
The Cardinal stopped. True, this was only a baby, crying as all babies cried, unexpectedly and distressingly. But in the silence of the stone chapel, where nerves were already taut with the whole clandestine, rebellious nature of the ceremony, the sounds were shattering. The child cried as at the fall of Man, as if in horror of damnation.
"Sssh, ssh," he murmured. But the little Queen would not be quieted; she wailed on, until the Earl of Lennox brought forward the sceptre, a long rod of gilded silver, surmounted by crystal and Scottish pearl. He placed it in her baby hand, and she grasped the heavy shaft with her fat fingers. Her crying died away. Then the ornate gilded sword of state was presented by the Earl of Argyll, and the Cardinal performed the ceremony of girding the three-foot sword to the tiny round body.
Later, the Earl of Arran carried the crown, a heavy fantasy of gold and jewels that enclosed within it the circlet of gold worn by Robert the Bruce on his helmet at the Battle of Bannockburn, not far from Stirling. Holding it gently, the Cardinal lowered it onto the child's head, where it rested on a circlet of velvet. From underneath the crown, heavy with the dolour of her ancestors, Mary's eyes looked out. The Cardinal steadied the crown and Lord Livingston held her body straight as the Earls Lennox and Arran kissed her cheek in fealty, followed by the rest of the prelates and peers who knelt before her and, placing their hands on her crown, swore allegiance to her.
THREE
Henry VIII unleashed the full force of his fury against the Scots. An army was sent to storm Stirling Castle, capture Mary, and sack and burn everything in the surroundings. Men, women, and children were to be put to the sword; Edinburgh destroyed, Holyrood razed, the Border abbeys demolished, and the harvest, already gathered in, to be set on fire.
The English soldiers slashed and murdered their way into Edinburgh. They came down the Canongate and up to the doors of Holyrood Abbey, and entered into the sanctuary. Seeking the Stewart tombs, they found the great enclosed monument on the right side of the Abbey, near the altar, and broke into it, desecrating the royal burial places. The tomb of Mary's father was opened and his coffin dragged out into the daylight, mocked, and then abandoned, to lie forlorn in the aisle.
Scotland wept and lamented. Scotland was wounded and cried out, but there was none to heed or help her. The dead stank to heaven, the children went to bed hungry, in the care of whatever relative survived, and the razed streets of Edinburgh smouldered. The Scottish people looked at the ruined abbeys and the deserted churches and sought the only help left, the Divine, in a new way. Despite the ban on all Protestant literature, there were smuggled Protestant translations of the Scriptures William Tyndale's version, and even copies of the English Great Bible of 1539 now coming into Scotland. But where the heretical preachers could not hide, a Bible could be secreted; where God seemed silent in speaking through his erst while Church, the Church of Rome, he began speaking directly through His Word as revealed in the Scriptures. Preachers were abroad throughout the land, having been trained in Geneva, Holland, Germany. People listened to their sermons and found solace in God's reaching out to them. He offered His hand and they grasped it.
In Stirling Castle the Queen Mother and her daughter were safe. The ancient castle on its high rock, rising out of the plain, held fast and was beyond the power of the English to capture. Inside the palace walls, Marie de Guise fashioned a home for her daughter, with playmates, tutors, and pets. It was a world in itself, high above the Forth valley, looking
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