event going on in the castle. Maybe it’s a marriage or something. We should be able to sneak out through the crowd.”
“Then what?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. We probably need to try and hide somewhere until we get a time signal and can communicate with VIGIL. But you’re right, we can’t stay up here, we’ll freeze to death.”
The squat wooden door opened onto a dank spiral staircase and the boys started to make their way down. As they descended, a slit window occasionally gave them a view of the large courtyard at the centre of the castle. It was busy. Servants tended tethered horses while breast-plated soldiers and finely attired gentlemen talked conspiratorially in small groups. A large bonfire was being built and in one corner a cluster of musicians played a depressing dirge.
“Doesn’t sound much like wedding music.”
“No, and there seem to be guards or soldiers around, so something’s going on.”
“And that flag,” Jack added. “I’m pretty sure it’s the royal flag, so maybe it’s a special occasion?”
“A royal visit? Now that would be something to tell Joplin — his goatee would drop off,” Angus said.
They pressed on and finally reached the bottom of the tower, which opened through a large oak door onto a stone-flagged corridor. After following the corridor for a while, they heard hushed voices. A thick curtain hung in front of them. They looked at each other. There was only one way to go. Angus tweaked open the curtain and they slipped through.
They found themselves to the rear of a dense crowd in a large hall. People seemed to be jostling for position. Something in front was commanding a lot of interest, so nobody seemed to notice Jack and Angus. Soon, more people joined the crowd and they felt themselves being pushed further forward into the throng. There was woodsmoke in the air from log fires burning in the hall. It mingled with the smell of woollen cloaks — still wet from the early morning rain. Being tall, Angus had a chance of seeing what was going on, but Jack could see nothing — just the press of bodies in front of him. Pushing from behind propelled him forward and then, all of a sudden, he was at the front.
Below a great vaulted roof, a wooden platform had been constructed, fringed with black material. It looked about six or seven metres across and maybe half a metre high. It reminded Jack of the school production of
Quite unexpectedly, from one side of the hall three men appeared, walking slowly. They were dressed in fine clothes and they looked important — they could possibly have been lords. The man in front carried a slender white stick. A tall woman walked slowly behind them with her head down. Wisps of her brown-auburn hair showed from underneath her headscarf. She was clad from head to foot in black velvet and a golden cross hung round her neck. As she appeared, the entire hall went silent.
The woman mounted the steps of the dais and walked to a high-backed chair, which was also draped in black. In front of the chair was a cushion and in front of that a simple wooden block with a half-moon shape cut into its upper section. The woman sat on the chair and for the first time raised her eyes towards the crowd. Two large powerfully built men stood either side of her. They reminded Jack of Tony and Gordon, but they were dressed entirely in black, and they wore masks. Angus peered at Jack with a quizzical look on his face; he had no idea what was going on. But Jack saw the implement one of the masked men held and he knew straight away. Both of the man’s hands gripped the wooden handle of a large double-headed axe.
To their right, a clerk unrolled a parchment and started to read. The language was complicated but Jack caught snippets as the charge was read out, “Stubborn disobedience… incitement to insurrection… person of Her Sacred Majesty.” The pieces of the jigsaw came together in Jack’s head. The place: Fotheringhay Castle; the date: 8th February 1587; the crime: high treason; the punishment: death by beheading. Now Jack understood the significance of the placards outside the castle. The crowd outside were making their feelings clear about the prisoner before them in the Great Hall. Jack and Angus were about to witness the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots — cousin of Queen Elizabeth I and enemy of the English state.
The executioner and his assistant knelt before the queen to ask forgiveness. From where he stood, Jack could hear her reply word for word: “I forgive you with all my heart, for now, I hope, you shall make an end of all my troubles.” Her ladies-in-waiting stepped forward to help her remove her gown. Beneath it she wore a satin petticoat — crimson — the martyr’s colour. Next, she took the gold cross from her neck and handed it to the executioner, who slipped it into his shoe, claiming the executioner’s right to the personal property of the condemned.
She knelt on the cushion and put her head on the block. Jack wanted to scream and turn and run. But the scene before them had a peculiar, hypnotic momentum and he was rooted to the spot, compelled to see the horror through to its conclusion. The white nape of the queen’s neck stretched over the coarse wooden block for all to see. It looked strangely fragile and slender. She stretched out her hands to either side in the pose of Jesus crucified on the cross. The executioner wielded the massive wooden axe. It glinted momentarily in the firelight and then wheeled downwards with terrifying speed. The noise that the axe made on impact was one that Jack would never forget.
But the blow had failed to sever the head from the body completely and the executioner repeated the procedure. His job completed, he lifted the head from the floor and held it high crying, “God save the queen!” There was a ripple of noise through the crowd. The executioner was only holding Mary’s auburn wig and the head, shaved to a grey stubble, had dropped to the platform and rolled forward before coming to rest not two metres from where Jack and Angus stood. Its pale eyes, still open, stared straight at them.
Escape
The bonfire in the courtyard was blazing and the crowd watched as Mary’s garments were dispatched onto it. All clothes stained with her blood were to be burned to prevent them from being used as the holy relics of a martyr. Angus turned to Jack and spoke for the first time since witnessing the horror of the execution. His voice trembled.
“You’re going to have to explain to me what we have just seen…”
“But not now; we need to work out how to get out of here.”
“What about one of those?”
Angus nodded at the line of horses along one side of the courtyard. A number of them were saddled, ready for the gentry and noblemen. Many of those attending had been called at short notice to witness the execution, and some of them had ridden all through a rain-soaked night to arrive in time.
“I forgot you could ride.”
“Of course I can ride — I live on a farm.”
Jack wasn’t sure this was something he wanted to hear. “But I can’t.”
“Easy — you just sit on the back. The horse does the rest.”
“That’s what I thought you might say. Anyway, those horses don’t belong to us…”
Angus shrugged and turned back to the fire. Its warmth was little comfort.
“We need to do something. This crowd’s starting to thin out — soon we’ll be noticed. I’ve already had some funny looks.”
They glanced around furtively. Across the other side of the courtyard, next to a large, arched doorway, they spied a group of men together with some servants. Jack jumped out of his skin when one of the servants seemed to point him and Angus out to an older, official-looking man. A moment later, three guards appeared from the doorway brandishing halberds. They advanced towards them.
“I don’t like the look of this.”
“Neither do I… we shouldn’t hang around.”
Without hesitation, Angus sprinted towards one of the tethered horses. He untied it, and, with impressive athleticism, jumped up onto its back.
There was a cry from the approaching soldiers.
“Spies! Stop them!”
Angus wheeled the horse round, “Come on — get up or we’re done for.”
