Linlithgow Would Know

by Angelyn Schmid

Linlithgow Palace, Scotland

Burned out and abandoned in 1746. So what's the attraction?

Some will argue Linlithgow is the sole remaining witness to the moment Scotland began her irrevocable journey toward union with England. It was the night of April 23, 1567 at this palace when the Crown of Scotland forever lost its sacred value and became a naked pawn to be sold by the nobles who should have served it.

The night James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, plotted to kidnap Mary, Queen of Scots. But Bothwell and Mary were lovers, were they not? Did they not plan her abduction in advance, secretly, so that they might retreat to Dunbar Castle, thus paving the way for their marriage. Aye?

If walls could talk they would tell of a plan so secret that others knew of it.

Earlier that day of April 23rd, Mary's father-in-law wrote a letter. He was the Earl of Lennox, parent of her murdered husband, Lord Darnley. His letter communicated a curious warning to his wife, the formidable Margaret Douglas, daughter of Margaret Tudor. He advised her that Bothwell was about to kidnap their sovereign, the Queen of Scots.

In far away England, that perennial servant to the House of Tudor, William Cecil, advised: "Scotland was a quaqmire. Nobody seems to stand still; the most honest desire to go away; the worst tremble with the shaking of their conscience."

Yet April 23rd had begun so innocently. That morning Mary kissed her son good-bye in Stirling, not knowing she would never see him again. She planned to journey as far as Edinburgh, but had to stop along the way, at the place she was born--Linlithgow. She could travel no farther, for the pain in her side that had plagued her since girlhood had become insupportable. Some said then it was an ulcer, some say today it was a genetic malady called porphyria.

But all might have passed unnoticed except that there was another following her. Bothwell approached Linlithgow now cloaked in darkness and rode into the palace courtyard while the moon was high. Mary's retinue had since retired, but perhaps in her pain the Queen remained awake. Perhaps she might receive him where he could ask for her hand in marriage. Again.

She was awake, but she refused to see him. So her Lieutenant of the Borders had to be satisfied with an audience before her loyal Catholic retainer, George Gordon, Earl of Huntly. Huntly was a Highlander and also Bothwell's brother-in-law, with some regret over giving his sister Jean to this Lowlander he began to suspect of treason. Bothwell minced no words. He wanted help to kidnap the Queen. One can imagine Huntly's dismay, and his adamant refusal.

How I would have loved to hear how Bothwell tried to convince a man, whose sister he now planned to divorce, to give him aid. To give him the assistance necessary to overcome the Queen's guard so she may be carried off and married by force. That is the scenario I always think of when visiting this ruined palace. Because Linlithgow would know.

And it is so important to know. Had the Queen cooperated with Bothwell, as the Casket Letters would have us believe, there was surely no need to involve his wife's brother in the matter. Moreover, would Bothwell have been sent away? He was, forced to retire to Calder castle some distance southeast of Edinburgh.

The next day, Mary left Linlithgow for Edinburgh and was met by Bothwell's forces six miles west of the city. From thence forward, she lost control of her crown and her destiny.

It was not Carberry, or even Fotheringhay, that was the scene of Mary's last day as Queen of Scotland.

For Linlithgow would know.

Angelyn

Like history? Fall in love with it! Check out my blog at http://www.angelynschmid.com/ on history and romance.