February 2, 1554

Mary Beaton pounced on my bed this morning and shook me. “Up, up! We must get out of doors right now.”

“Why?”

“Mary Stuart!” All four Marys gathered round my bed. Now Mary Livingston raised her voice. “Have you forgotten our dear Scotland? It is not all prayers this Candlemas Day and going about with candles.”

I smacked my forehead with the sudden realization. Indeed I had forgotten. “Quick, Minette, dress me.” Minette came rushing in with my partlets and hoops and corset. Oh, my goodness, I thought. So many layers to put on. I needed to be quick. I remembered the night I visited Nostradamus. How free my body felt in Minette’s clothes without all those underpinnings of partlets and corsets. “Minette, I shall not need my corsets or partlets. Yes, and I think I’ll not wear a kirtle. Just my chemise and overdress and those heavy, thick stockings.”

A silence filled the room. Minette stood with her mouth open. The four Marys looked as if I had gone mad.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Mary Seton gasped.

“Of course not, but do you want to get out to the courtyard or not? The sun waits for no one – not even the Queen of the Scots!” I replied.

They all giggled, and quick as a pig dipped in lard I was in my clothes. We roared out of our apartments, which are in the lantern tower. Mary Beaton was singing in Gaelic at the top of her lungs an ancient song sung by old Highland chieftains:

 

Edward Longshanks, Edward Longshanks,

You come to claim our kin.

Our fair land, our fairer folk

You come to slay again.

 

But Braveheart will cut you down

And save our children dear

And banish bloody English troops

For he does not know fear.

 

We passed Madame de Parois on the grand double staircase. A look of horror scored her face. “Savages!” she muttered and pressed herself against the ballustrade.

Out in the courtyard we danced about, looking for our shadows and chanting the Scottish rhyme:

 

If Candlemas Day is bright and clear

There’ll be two winters in the year.

 

And then Mary Livingston made up another verse:

 

And if you see your shadow now

There’ll be snow on your favourite cow.

 

Janet Sinclair came down and joined us in the courtyard. “Girls, girls! Oh, shadows!” she exclaimed as she saw our dancing ones on the cobbles. “Spring will be here soon!” She joined in our fun and laughed at our antics. But then the dread words: “You must go up now and bathe, girls.” We all groaned. “This is the day of the purification of the Virgin. I shan’t hear of you not bathing. It has been since Saint Stephen’s Day six weeks ago that you had your last bath. Now, go for the honour of the Blessed Virgin.”