December 9, 1553
Château Saint-Germain, Seine Valley, France

I am for some reason thinking of numbers today as I write on this first page of the diary my dear mother sent me for my birthday, which was yesterday. So I am now eleven years and one day. I was a Princess for only ten months and one day. But I have been a Queen for ten years, three months, and one day. I was crowned Queen when I was a baby, before I could walk. Although I am told I could pull myself up by any table leg, chair, or the fringe of any wall tapestry in the castle. I am Mary, Queen of Scots, but I am far from Scotland. I live in France.

It could have worked out much differently, especially this being my eleventh birthday. For at one time I was to be given in marriage in an agreement called the Treaties of Greenwich to Edward VI, the English King. But the treaty was broken – all for the best, seeing as Edward died just six months ago at the age of sixteen. Now I am to marry Francis, the son of King Henry II of France and his Queen, Catherine de Medici. That was decided after the broken treaty with England, and that is why I live here now and have since I was five years old. This way I can be schooled in the ways of the French court. And thus Francis and I might become good friends before we become man and wife. We are good friends, best friends, and we need not worry about marriage for a long time – until I am at least thirteen or so.

I must go now, for my uncles de Guises are arriving for luncheon. They are one day late for my birthday, as the roads between here and Meudon were impassable because of heavy rains. My old nurse, Janet Sinclair, will have fits if my hair is not tended to properly. I have red hair – like pale fire, almost blonde. Some think it is my best feature. I think it is just hair and requires too much time even if I am a Queen.

 

PS How, thinking so much of numbers this day, could I forget to mention that my lucky number is four? Why is four my lucky number? Because of my four Marys, my best friends and companions since I was a baby. They came with me here to France all the way from Scotland. They are Mary Seton, Mary Fleming, Mary Beaton, and Mary Livingston. They are known by everyone as the Queen’s Marys. I think of them as my lucky clover leaf.