Well, I cannot serve the queen under siege in Windsor Castle, but I will serve her here. This is my task, and it is not a light one. I shall serve her here by guarding the woman who would take her throne, by avoiding, if I can, the army who would free her, by praying to my God in my own way—since truth be told I don’t know anymore if I am Papist or Protestant and I don’t know how one knows, and I don’t care—that this war may be, by a miracle, averted and that cousin shall not war with cousin in England again. And when I have formed that prayer I whisper another one, to the sweet queen’s namesake: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, keep her safe. Keep your daughter safe. Keep your angel safe. Keep my dearest safe. Keep her safe.”

COVENTRY: MARY

NOVEMBER, 1569

A note from my ambassador Bishop Lesley, balled up and held tight in the brown fist of little Anthony Babington, is dropped by him into my lap in our temporary quarters at Coventry, the best house in the town and a mean, dirty little place at that.

I write in haste with great news. Our campaign is under way. Roberto Ridolfi is returned from the Spanish Netherlands and has seen the armada. They are ready to sail to support you now. They will land at Hartlepool or Hull, either city will declare for you, and then the Spanish troops will march to free you. Elizabeth has raised a reluctant army from the merchants and apprentices of London but they are making slow progress, losing men at every stop; there is no appetite for battle.

Your own army is triumphant; every city and town in the North is throwing open its gates, one after another. We have Elizabeth’s Council of the North pinned down in York, unable to get out of the town, surrounded by our army. Their leader, the Earl of Sussex, stays faithful to Elizabeth but he does not have the men to break out of the city, and the county all around is yours. Your army now dominates every town and village east of the Pennines. The true religion is restored in every parish church in the North, the kingdom of the North is yours to command, and you shall be freed within days and returned to Scotland, to your throne.