Page 38 of The Changeling

It’s naught, I told myself. You’re frightening yourself for no reason. You’re three storeys up from the ground, the palace is well guarded, no-one can reach you here.

The light made of the glass a mirror. I saw my pale face and frightened eyes, the black mass of my hair. You’re safe here. Naught to fear.

Subtly the shadows shifted. Another face stared back at me out of the reflection of my own. Thinner, older, wilder. A crown of twigs on her head.

‘So I have found you at last, Rue,’ my mother said. ‘Do not think you can escape me again.’

III

Rue

For a moment I stood, frozen, staring into my mother’s triumphant dark eyes.

The world seemed to tilt.

I dragged the tapestry closed and blew out the candle, scrambling away till I was crouched against the wall. Carlin growled, still staring at the curtained window, one paw lifted and cocked. Somehow I got my nettle string out of my pocket, and tied a knot in it, muttering, ‘I canna be heard, I canna be seen, I am but a shadow, I am but a dream.’

After a long moment, the bristling hair along Carlin’s spine flattened. She dropped her paw and came to lie beside me, her head on my lap. I stroked her silky ears, listening intently. Carlin began to snore. I was very cold and stiff, so I crept into bed, huddling the blankets around me. Carlin got up, stretched, and dropped with a thump on my pallet. I curled up like a dormouse, chanting my charm against harm over and over again.

Eventually I dozed off and woke in the morning to find I was still fully dressed, and Mistress Gowland was ringing the bell to tell us it was time to rise.

I was afraid. How had my mother found me? Was the raven her spy? Or was it because I had tied the nettle string to the hawthorn tree and made a wish?

I served the queen her breakfast with a sombre face, and went about my duties with leaden steps. When Robbie came and made a signal to me to meet him outside, I just shook my head and turned away. He tried several times over the next few days, but I would not go outside. I was too frightened. Eventually he and his brother left court to go home for Christmas, and then I worried that he was in danger, that I should have told him the truth. But how could I tell him I was not human, that I had no soul, that I was heir to a dark and mysterious realm?

In the New Year, the queen travelled to Falkland Palace, and I had to go with her. I kept my plaid drawn over my face and my head down, every inch of my body rigid with tension. When a raven flew over, cawing hoarsely, I jerked so violently my horse shied and almost threw me.

When I dismounted in the stable yard, I caught a glimpse of myself in a puddle and my stomach lurched. I was sure it was my mother’s face, not mine. But the crown of twigs was just the reflection of a bare tree branch, and the dark haunted eyes were mine. Or so I comforted myself. I hurried inside, and for once I did not long for my duties to be over so that I could escape into the forest.

Falkland Palace was only a day’s ride away from Monzie, if you had a good horse and fair weather. I was tempted to ask the queen’s permission to go home, even if only for a few days. My longing to see my family was a constant ache within me, and I wanted to be sure they had understood my warning. But I dared not go so close to the Knock, or leave the protection of thick castle walls and the queen’s guards. Instead, I walked up and down the long gallery, muttering charms of protection to myself. Carlin gave up after several circuits, flopping down and tenderly licking her paws.

Mary spent her days hawking and hunting in the forest, or sitting by the fire embroidering with her ladies and listening to music. Most evenings she would have a light supper in her sitting room, joined by her most intimate circle of friends. Signor Rizzio was often among them. The queen had appointed him secretary just before Christmas, and he now wrote all her letters for her and diverted her with his wry observations on the Scottish court. Many did not approve of his meteoric rise, including Lord James, whom Mary had recently raised to the rank of the earl of Moray.

‘You are too soft,’ he told her one night. ‘You favour men because they can sing a sweet tune, or recite a bonny poem, and you raise them above your own lords who are the ones who should be advising you.’

‘The same lords who keep plotting behind my back?’ Mary said with cool irony. ‘You told me if I had anyone who defied me executed, the rebellions would be quashed, but it is like chopping off the head of the Hydra. As soon as one is decapitated, two more heads grow back.’

‘They should all be hanged! Along with the thieves and vagabonds and pickpockets that infest our cities.’

‘Then I would be queen of a country of ghosts,’ Mary answered.

‘You need to make them fear you.’

‘I would rather they loved me.’

He snorted in derision.

‘Men do cruel things when they are afraid,’ Mary said, ‘and crueller still when they hate. If my people loved and trusted me, they would not constantly be seeking to tear out each other’s throats.’

Lord James smiled sardonically. ‘You are in Scotland now. We are a land of warriors. You would do well to remember it.’

‘How can I forget?’ she cried bitterly. ‘When I have suffered plot after plot against me ever since I returned here? I am the queen! It is my right to rule!’

‘A lass with her mother’s milk still wet on her lips,’ he sneered.

I had been quietly serving the queen and her half-brother their supper, but at Lord James’s words I looked at him in surprise. I had never before heard him betrayed into injudicious speech. He saw my glance and scowled at me.

‘I have been queen of Scotland since I was six days old,’ Mary said with dignity. ‘It is my divine right to rule, and I am appointed and anointed by God. You would do well to remember it.’