The boat touched ground and someone had come forward to kneel at her feet.

“Why, George,” she said, “so you are the first to welcome me back to my kingdom.”

Now others were crowding around her. Horses were waiting and it would be unwise to stay in Kinross.

Friends were with her now: Seton, Semphill, John Beaton, George Douglas and the humble people of Kinross who had sheltered the Queen’s loyal subjects secretly in their houses awaiting this great day.

The horses were ready. Mary was helped into the saddle. Willie watched her, grinning with delight as he turned and threw the keys of Lochleven into the middle of the lake.

Then he took the horse which was waiting for him; and so the Queen escaped from her prison of Lochleven.

III

Langside

THE QUEEN WAS GALLOPING through the night, George Douglas beside her, exultant with the knowledge that at last they had succeeded.

Not far behind them rode Willie, laughing to himself as he contemplated what was happening in the castle, where Sir William and the guards would now be endeavoring to break out and raise the alarm.

Mary was thinking that so many times she had undergone this urgent riding through the night, that it became almost like a pattern of her life; yet never on similar occasions had she felt this lifting of her spirits; she knew this was because she had come out of captivity and was riding to freedom.

Danger was still in the air. She was realist enough to know that she had taken but the first tottering steps toward victory; but at last she was no longer a prisoner; she was free to command, to plan, to wrest her kingdom from those who sought to keep it from her.

Now they were swerving from the route to the coast that they might avoid the territory of Kirkcaldy of Grange who it was well known was her enemy; she could smell the sea and she knew that they could not be far from the Firth of Forth.

Once they had crossed it they would be a little nearer to safety, but as they rode down to the sea and Mary saw the small open fishing-boat in which she must cross the Firth she felt a tremor of misgivings; yet she knew that this was no time to look for comfort. George was at her side, helping her into the boat, and with her company of faithful friends in similar craft, the crossing took place.

It seemed as though the ill fortune which had been her lot for so long had changed, for the crossing was made in safety and as they came ashore a party of horsemen was waiting for them, led by Lord Claud Hamilton, all ready to fight for the Queen.

Lord Seton, who helped the Queen into her saddle, said as he did so: “Your Majesty, I think that you should take a few hours’ sleep before morning. And I suggest we ride on to my castle of West Niddry that you may rest in comfort there before pursuing the journey.”

Mary bowed her head.

“I doubt whether I shall sleep,” she answered; “but I should certainly welcome the chance to rest my weary limbs.”

So, on through the night to West Niddry.

IN THE CHAMBER which the Setons had prepared for her in West Niddry Castle, Mary found it impossible to sleep. Jane Kennedy, rid at last of her wet clothes, lay at the foot of her mistress’s bed and fell at once into deep slumber.

Mary was not eager to sleep, for that might mean to dream she was a prisoner in Lochleven; freedom was too precious, too recently come by to be lost, even in her dreams. So she lay trying to plan for the future, but finding the immediate past intruding into her thoughts, so that she was again waiting in her chamber for the coming of Willie, walking out of the castle, while Willie locked the gates behind her . . . riding through the night, tossing on the Firth of Forth.

But that is all past, she told herself. Now it remains for me to regain my throne.

Could it be done peacefully? Was that hoping for too much? She thought how strange was her life, when her little son, who should have been with her, was the symbol for which her enemies would tell the world they were fighting.

As she lay between waking and sleeping the first streaks of dawn showed in the sky; and with them came the distant sound of pipes and bugles.

Mary lay listening, as nearer and nearer came the sounds, and unable to remain on her bed, she leaped up and, her chestnut hair falling about her shoulders, snatched a robe and went to stand at the window.

She saw them then . . . marching toward the castle and she felt tears of joy sting her eyelids as she recognized Lord Livingstone at the head of his men.

Now they were filing into the courtyard; and they were almost below her window when Livingstone, seeing her there, called a halt to his men and shouted: “Long live the Queen!”

Over the sweet May air their voices rang out and it was some time before Mary could speak to them and tell them how she welcomed them and how it warmed her heart to see such loyal subjects.

Even as she spoke, the pipes of other companies could be heard, and she saw the Bruces advancing and it seemed to her that from all directions the clans were converging on West Niddry Castle to offer themselves in the Queen’s service.

THE CASTLE of West Niddry was intended to be only a resting place and Mary with her followers—now swollen to a considerable size—left for Hamilton Castle where she had heard that more clans were coming in from all parts of the country to welcome her.

Here she was received by Archbishop Hamilton, and when she had made her speech of welcome to all those who were rallying to her cause, she delighted to hear that Sir Robert Melville had arrived at the castle.

She sent for him and when he came to her she greeted him warmly.

He was a little shamefaced, in view of the fact that he had been present when she had been forced to sign her Abdication, and he apologized for this.

Mary immediately forgave him; if she wondered whether he had changed sides rather hastily she dismissed the thought because she was so happy to be free and to have friends. Moreover, Sir Robert had sound advice to give her.

“Your Majesty’s first task should be to repudiate the Abdication,” he told her. “And you have two witnesses with you here at Hamilton who can verify the fact that you were forced, on pain of death, to sign those documents.”

Mary recognized the wisdom of this and summoned George Douglas, and when he came to her she held out both hands to him in her impulsive way. George took them and kissed the delicate fingers.

“George,” she cried, “you are so self-effacing that I feel I have to tell you every time I see you that I shall never forget what you have done for me.”

“It is enough reward for me to see Your Majesty free,” murmured George.

She told him that she was going to repudiate the Abdication and that he, with Melville, was to be a witness to the fact that she had signed under pressure.

George’s face brightened at the prospect of being of further assistance to her; she immediately called a council and made her formal declaration that the Abdication was null and void.

Immediately afterward, for all were aware of a great urgency knowing that Moray would act swiftly, there was a meeting at which the next step was discussed.

Seated around the council table with such tried friends as Lords Seton and Livingstone, were Lord Claud Hamilton and Lord Herries with Sir Robert Melville; and Mary had insisted that George Douglas should be present.

“We seem strong,” said Mary, “but we must remember that Moray is strong also, and that in his hands are the royal arsenals of Edinburgh and Stirling Castles, also Dunbar. He has the revenues at his disposal and all my most precious jewels are in his possession. I have little with which to pay those who fight for me, although in good time I hope to regain all that I have lost and so pay my debts. The first step I propose is to write to France and ask for help. I believe that the King of France would be eager to help me, although I am not sure of his mother. I suggest therefore that we send, without delay, a trusty messenger to France who will lay this matter before King Charles and ask his help in my name.”