eternal blot.’
Mary was not swayed by his rhetoric, nor did she entertain any naive doubts regarding the certain outcome of the commissioners’ trial. Moreover, even at this dangerous hour, she clung tenaciously to her perceived right of succession to the English crown. She insisted on appearing before Parliament lawfully assembled, so I may be declared the next [in] the succession [to the English crown]’. Better still, she would agree to her case being heard directly by Elizabeth and her Privy Council so that her ‘protests may be admitted and [that] I may be acknowledged the next of kin to the queen’.
She looked directly into the grim faces of her judges and told them boldly: To the judgment of my adversaries, amongst whom I know all defence of my innocence will be barred, flatly I will not submit myself.’
Burghley, exasperated, stopped the discussions there with an imperious wave of his hand. Bluntly, he told Mary that the commissioners ‘will proceed tomorrow in the cause, though you be absent and continue in your contumacy [stubborn and wilful obstinacy]’. She snapped back: ‘Search your consciences! Look to your honour! May God reward you and yours for your judgement against me.’
With her words ringing around the presence chamber, the delegation retired, bowing and retreating backwards from the Scottish queen, displaying their respect and an incongruous attention to royal protocol in stark contrast to their constant attempts to demean her royal status.
Late that night, a courier arrived post-haste from London bearing another letter from Elizabeth to Mary that hinted of a possible reprieve. But the queen, clearly well briefed about the latest discussions at Fotheringay, began with a forthright accusation:
You have planned in diverse ways and manners to take my life and to ruin my kingdom by the shedding of blood.
I never proceeded so harshly against you; on the contrary, I have maintained you and preserved your life with the same care which I use for myself.
Your treacherous doings will be proved to you and made manifest in the very place where you are. And it is my pleasure thatyou shall reply to my nobles and to the peers of my kingdom as you would to myself were I there present.
I have heard of your arrogance and therefore, I demand, charge and command you to reply to them.
But answer fully and you may receive greater favour from us.
ELIZABETH
By the same messenger came another letter, this time to Burghley, instructing him that the commissioners should not pronounce sentence until they returned to London and that a full report of the proceedings should be dispatched to Elizabeth without delay. She was already becoming infected by doubts over the Scottish queen’s fate.
Early on the morning of Friday 14 October, Mary asked to see a small group of the commissioners. Walsingham was now amongst them, presumably having arrived overnight at Fotheringay. It was the first time she had met her great adversary face to face. In the brief silence that followed the delegation’s arrival, each must have studied the other’s expression, trying to divine and comprehend their thoughts and intentions.
But compromise seemed to linger in the air: the Scottish queen had realised overnight that being tried in absentia would harm her cause, as her voice would effectively be silenced. Perhaps Elizabeth’s less than subtle hints of possible clemency weakened Mary’s earlier resolve to stand fast upon her royal rank and dignity. Now, Burghley asked her again if she would attend the imminent legal proceedings, if her protests of regal status were received in writing ‘without allowance [concurrence]’. After some debate, Mary reluctantly agreed, as she was anxious, above all, to purge herself of the allegations made against her.
In order to prove my goodwill towards [Elizabeth] and to show that I do not refuse to answer to the charges of which I am accused, I am prepared to answer to that accusation only, which