Chapter 26
1601
The next morning, I awoke to a murky light. I pulled the gowns I’d lain over the thin blanket towards my shoulders as I shivered in the morning chill and looked up towards the window.
Was there any way I could climb up there and somehow get out before that vile dishevelled man returned? In my many wakeful moments through the long, dark night I raged and cried in the realisation that this was not a mistake; this was deliberate. I was meant to be abandoned here, as punishment for bearing only daughters. And I know Alexander also suspected that when little Margaret had been so ill, I was to blame for the unfortunate accident on the stairs, whereas I was not. But in his eyes it was all my fault; I had failed my husband and the Seton family for only providing him with daughters and so the name would not continue. I was a disgrace and had to be locked away.
I began pondering what would happen to me. Would I become mad, like my father’s Aunt Marjorie? She had lived at Drummond Castle with us when I was little, in a room high in the tower. Sometimes we children had been forced up the winding stairs to visit her and at first it was fine, for she was in bed constantly and looked just a little frightening to our childish eyes. But after some time she refused to sleep in her bed and insisted on spending her final months on the floor under a tent, a form of pavilion that the servants had to construct from sheets for her. At first, we children thought this amusing but when she also refused to bathe and the smell in the room became increasingly foul, we all stopped going and Mama did not force us. She 121 died in that room one day in the winter, head poking out from her tent, lying on a deerskin on the floor, all alone.
I shivered as I remembered her and tried to think what I could do. Was that vile man hired by my husband or the Douglases? Surely not the latter, though presumably they had no reason to come over to Loch Leven Castle during the winter months if they were living in the comfort of Aberdour Castle. So he was undoubtedly employed by Alexander to keep me locked in here, with the minimal comforts of water and a fire.
I flung off the gowns from the bed and strode over to stand beneath the window. I dragged over the chair and stepped up onto it. Even on tiptoes, I could only just rest my chin on the ledge, and the window was so narrow even a child would have difficulty getting through it. I looked out over the loch where a low mist hovered. There was a sudden noise, a flutter and flapping and I could see a swan take off from somewhere below me and fly over the loch towards the shore. I watched as she glided just above the mist, flying low over the water towards the reeds where she landed, so gracefully. As I strained my eyes to see whether she had a nest there on the shore, I thought of the freedom this beautiful white bird had, to fly from an island in the middle of the water towards the safety of the lochside and presumably to her little ones. And I wept.
Some time later I picked up the poker, having decided that I could threaten my keeper so that he’d have to let me out and I could get in the boat and row to the shore. I had no idea how to row, but surely it was not hard. Then I could walk until I came across a house and ask for help. I had changed into my yellow brocade dress as that was warm, in case I had a long walk. 122
The fire was out and I had drunk all the water; I was thirsty and more hungry than I had ever been in my life. There was a pit in my stomach and my head ached a little, perhaps from lack of food or lack of sleep. I was just practising how I would swing the poker when I heard the steps.
I ran over to the door and stood behind, waiting for the key to turn in the lock. As it creaked open, I swung the poker above my head and hovered. And as his eyes darted around the room to see where I was, I froze and I realised I couldn’t do it; I could not hit him. I couldn’t hit anyone. I was someone who even as a child could not kill a spider or swat away a fly. So when he swivelled round and saw me there, he ducked his head, grabbed my arm, then whacked the poker to the floor. I stood there, helpless, pathetic, snivelling.
“That could have been dangerous,” he said, picking up the poker and heading to the fireplace, where he knelt down and started to make up the fire, without a word.
As I watched him, it suddenly occurred to me that this was where I ought to have used the poker, when he was already on his knees, not when he was fully standing at the door. I was such a fool.
I approached him, crouching down so I was level with his eyes, in case I could somehow arouse sympathy. “Might I have some food, please? I’m so very hungry.”
He ignored me and continued with the fire then got up from his knees. He picked up the poker. “If I remove this you will not be able to stoke the fire. And it’ll go out soon and you’ll be cold. If I leave it with you, you’ll keep warm. Do you see what I’m saying?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
He scowled then went to fetch the water.
“Please,” I pleaded, “please can I leave now? I should like to go home.” 123
He put the water down and looked at me.
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s the Master’s orders.”
“Did he say why? For how long?”
He shrugged. “Right, I’ve got things to do. There’s your fire and the water. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He prodded the poker towards me and snarled. “So you want me to leave this with you to keep the fire going or shall I leave it outside the door?”
“Here, please.” I looked at him, trying to see if there was any compassion in his eyes. “And is there any food at all I can have? I’ve not eaten since yesterday morning and I’m famished.”
He shook his head, scowled once more and headed for the door, which he swung open then shut with a heavy turn in the lock.