What is it? What is it?
My head! My head!
Are you mad? Or do you wish my son dead?
No, madam. I love him.
I know that what you would have done is stupid and reckless.
Don't touch him! I forbid you to hurt him!
O Majesty!
Uncle.
Be patient my child.
The doctors maybe trusted with the life of the king.
It is his third attack in a month.
He may well die of this illness.
We would be stupid not to consider it, and your fate upon us if he does.
He will not die. I will not let you talk of it.
Oh, yes, you will, Mary.
I shall be plainer than my brother.
We of Guise, the family of de Guise, have all finished.
If François dies, and there is no child of your body...
I will not think of life without him.
You must.
You are Queen of Scotland by birth and Queen of France by marriage.
And the Queen of England by right.
Elizabeth is bastard and has no right to the throne of England
A woman who consorts with her horse master
Beautiful, Robin. Beautiful.
You write songs as well as you sing them.
Your Majesty, the composer of such a melody
rises far above my poor talent.
I came across the tune when I was looking
through some old manuscripts at the Greenwich Place.
I thought it might amuse you to hear it.
Well, who wrote it?
It is said that your father composed it for you blessed mother, Anne Boleyn,
before they were married.
Oh. It is also said that when he asked her how she liked it,
she countered by asking him how his wife liked it.
By God, my mother had the courage of ten, and so have you, you horse.
A message for the Queen.
Message for the Queen.
From Sir William Cecil, my lord.
Your wife has been found dead.
Of a broken neck at the foot of a staircase.
I grieve for you, Lord Robert.
Lady Dudley was alone in her house.
There is talk of murder.
You will leave the court at once and not return until I send for you.
Now will the great scandal begin. Now will my enemies rejoice.
What do your spies at court say
the Spanish ambassador made of this news?
He remained silent.
And the French ambassador? He exults.
And says?
That soon he will see Mary Stuart on the English throne.
"For not even the Protestant English will support
"the bastard and usurper, Elizabeth, when she marries her horse master, Dudley,
"who has killed his wife to make room for her."
He is innocent.
Let him prove it.
When I was in great danger in my late sister's reign
he did not desert me.
Your Majesty, you are in great danger now,
from Mary Stuart and the Catholic cause.
Mary Stuart? She's safe in France for a lifetime.
Is she?
They say her husband has fevers of the brain.
If he should die, what direction would Mary turn?
Remember,
her mother rules as regent in Scotland.
Mary Stuart's mother does not rule in Scotland,
she tyrannizes Scotland with the French army.
She forces the Catholic faith down Scottish throats.
Half her nobles are Protestant
and in open rebellion rule, you say.
She barely survives.
I fear neither Mary Stuart in France nor her mother in Scotland.
Nor your own Catholic nobles who live in the north,
hard upon the Scottish border?
Why should I?
They are not persecuted. I am no tyrant.
Scotland is the backdoor to England.
It must not be unbarred by a scandal in the English court.
If you protect Lord Robert Dudley and seem to condone a murder,
the Northern lords are going to believe that next you will marry him.
The rumor is everywhere. They are certain to rebel.
Bring him to trial in open court, hide nothing.
It hurts! It hurts! It's like burning arrows in my brain.
Your Majesty! Your Majesty!
Please, François, come in. Please.
No, no, no, no.
I will ride from the pain. It goes when I ride.
Please!
No, no. I must!
François, please!
François!
Bring me a chair.
Please, come back inside, Your Grace.
I must keep vigil for the king.
Almighty God, if you love François more than I do,
then take him to you, but take me as well
for I have no wish to live without him.
Your Majesty.
Who's there?
A Scottish lord.
Lord Bothwell, emissary from your brother, Lord James Stuart, regent of Scotland.
James?
No, my mother is regent.
Madam, you mother is dead.
Your mother is dead.
No!
I'm sent ahead by your brother to prepare you.
Whatever James Stuart says to you, remember this, madam,
there is terrible disorder in your land.
The clans already fight for power.
This is my land.
You are needed in Scotland, madam.
François!
CATHERINE DE MEDICl: Enough!
Against my will, my son married her.
Now, he's dead.
She's the cause.
Oh, no.
I'll rule here, until my second son is of age.
If you defy me, my lords, I will not only banish her from the court,
I will exile her from France.
Brother, help me. What must I do?
You were always so kind to me, when we were children together.
Tell me what to do now, James.
Mary, if you wish it, I will take you home to Scotland
and there you will rule as the rightful Queen.
You have no need of foreign marriages or armies.
But would I be happy? Will the people of Scotland love me?
Tolerate the new religion, Your Grace, and they will give you their hearts.
She shall not.
Uncle, I must.
I cannot live out my years in exile,
I must believe there is hope for a new life in Scotland.
Will you help me, my lords?
Your Majesty.
My lords.
The usurper Elizabeth will be my neighbor, yes?
She will.
Well, then, I will make a new beginning with her
as well as my Protestant subjects.
I will travel to Scotland through England.
I will go to the court of Elizabeth, and win her friendship.
Never.
I would have no dealing with that lady, and I will use force if I must,
to stop her returning to Scotland.
That is unwise, Your Grace.
Explain.
Because, Your Majesty, if we do not bring her to Scotland,
subservient to a Protestant court,
she will soon arrive with a Catholic army at her back.
Her uncles will see to that.
If that happens, she'll soon be knocking on the back door.
And what will prevent her doing that now?
Are the Protestant lords of the congregation in Scotland
so devoted to me?
Well, madam, I am first amongst them
and I am devoted to peace and order in our two lands.
Once we have her safe in Edinburgh there is no further danger.
Mary Stuart will rule in name, I will rule in fact.
If you value my friendship you will keep that promise.
Then she shall come home. Yes.
But not through my realm.
Duc de Guise, madam.
Uncle François!
Mary.
Is it from Elizabeth?
She refuses me safe conduct through England.
She hates me.
She fears you.
She says, "Renounce your claim to the English throne."
You renounce nothing,
neither your voyage home to Scotland,
nor your true claim to the throne of England.
Quite right, brother. That is the ruling of Holy Mother Church.
Madam, you are the English Queen.
Elizabeth is bastard and heretic.
You're right.
Who's this priest, uncle?
He's Father Ballard, your new chaplain and confessor.
An English priest?
But I'm no longer Englishman.
Or Frenchmen or Scotsman.
There are in all life and death matters only two sorts of man,
Catholic and heretic.
Only a fool thinks otherwise.
I shall not forget it.
And this is David Riccio, a singer from Italy.
I have traveled far to serve you, Your Grace.
And we are far to go. Walk with me.
Only two sorts of men,
which sort are the English priest and the little Italian?
The priest is a Jesuit serving only you, the true Queen of England.
You may trust him with your life.
The singer is the agent of the Pope.
Yours will be a Protestant court.
You need a safe and secret way to your real friends.
Ourselves in France, Philip in Spain and His Holiness in Rome.
Riccio is the way. Let him seem to sing for his supper.
Promote him, slowly, and trust him.
He speaks many languages and he's expert with ciphers.
Andrew!
Move those lazy whores and peasants before I take the flat of my sword to them.
Lower your voice, my gracious lord, the sound of it is hard to bear.
Well, then you must stuff your delicate ears, madam.
You are going to hear many like it in Scotland,
when you've left the twitterings of the French court behind.
If that is an example of Scottish wit, we're in for a bleak winter.
Lord Bothwell, we now sail direct to Scotland.
Oh, that will be a rougher voyage than the Channel, madam.
I'm not afraid of the sea, my lord.
We shall next meet at the Port of Leith, Your Grace,
where I shall have your white horses fit for your triumphal ride into Edinburgh.
Shall I ride in triumph, Bothwell? Will all be well?
Well, there's only one question, Your Grace.
Will you rule the Scottish lords or will they rule you?
I shall rule the lords.
I wish you then, Queen Mary Stuart, a fare journey.
Adieu, François.
Goodbye, dear France. Goodbye.
I never thought to be sad at returning home.
It's so long since we all left there.
Sad. Dear Fleming, now it comes to it, I welcome Scotland.
There will be two ships.
The Queen in one and Bothwell, as escort, in the other.
Your sea captains can take Bothwell's ship, here.
Why? It'll provoke French anger and Scottish, to no purpose.
If I am to keep my promise, we must cage Bothwell.
He's dangerous.
With him to help her, Mary might find a way
to finish me and rule Scotland alone.
But he is no papist.
He's worse.
He's an atheist who mocks God and fears no man.
His pride is his loyalty to the Stuart Queen and he cannot be bribed.
Cannot?
I hope we catch him alive, my lord.
I'd like to study such a rarity.
Where are we, in the name of God?
I don't know, Majesty.
The captain swears this is the charted landing place.
Listen...
Jamie!
Good health to Your Majesty. Welcome to Scotland.
James, what has happened? Where are my people?
For five days fog has lain over land and sea. You were not expected so soon.
But you are here?
We rode hard when the warning gun fired.
Your loyal lords of the congregation welcome you.
Oh, I understand.
Then soon the royal guards will be here, the carpet for me to stand upon the canopy.
There will be gun salutes?
No, madam, there will be nothing. We can waste no money on idle show.
Aye!
This is not France.
God bless Scotland.
And God bless the Scottish Queen, who is so near her throne at last.
My lords of the Congregation,
you do me great honor to ride in such haste to meet me.
My good brother shows great wisdom that he wastes no money upon ceremony.
Aye.
Good brother, I embrace you for your wisdom.
And before these lords I name you my Chief Minister.
God save the Queen!
I thank you, dear sister. Bring the horses.
Bring the Queen's horses.
These are not mine. I will wait until mine have landed.
Your stable was taken by the English.
Taken? How can that be?
They are in the other ship. Bothwell has them safe.
His ship was captured.
It had no safe conduct through English waters.
Elizabeth's ambassador has already complained to me.
And Bothwell, is he dead?
They have him safely.
It is only three days since the two ships parted company in the fog.
And yet you, brother, know everything of its fate,
and the fate of Lord Bothwell.
Even the fastest horseman could not ride from London to Edinburgh in three days.
Will you mount, your Majesty? It is a sharp morning and we must move on.
Faster! Faster! Faster!
Well, Robin?
My wife's death is judged to be an accident. I am declared innocent, Your Majesty,
despite all efforts of Cecil's spies to find evidence against me.
Then you are indeed innocent.
So you may return to court.
If you permit it.
I order it.
And I order you to take the apartment above my own.
I feel I will have need of your advice, constantly.
If you would have me constantly at your side,
then marry me, my love.
In this land there will be but one mistress and no master.
Then, madam, I will come no more to court.
I will leave this land.
You shall not.
You are my Master of Horse. When they jibe at me in Catholic Courts,
they say the Horse Master, who mounts the Queen so freely,
would now put a bridal on her.
You dare to talk to me of marriage?
Forgive me. It was my delight in seeing you again.
You are a commoner whose head itches for a crown.
Attend to your common business, Horse Master.
Keep the Scottish Queen's horses well.
It may suit me to return them one day.
The Scottish Queen...
Here's a pretty widow for an ambitious lord.
Your grace?
I said, Robin, you shall dine with me tonight,
and we will keep each other loving company until the morning light.
Well, there you are, sister. Your palace at Holyrood.
Mary Stuart!
God struck down your mother and he will destroy you.
Who is this man?
John Knox, madam.
The leader of our church.
Of your church, not mine, brother.
Hear me.
I have prayed that this Queen would die before she set foot on this land.
See what she brings with her, a priest.
Better that she'd come with French troops.
She will comfort the papists we have driven from this land...
Monks, friars, priests...
Nuns and all such filthy persons.
One mass is more fearful than 10,000 armed soldiers.
Not to me, sir.
You defend the Mass?
I defend the Church of Rome, for that I think is the true Church of God.
Ride on. No.
I will hear with patience your ugly words, John Knox.
For you, like all my subjects,
shall have the free use of your conscience and I of mine.
Ride on.
Papist whore.
You have humiliated me.
You shall keep your religion, sister.
But I suggest you are a little more discreet about it.
Am I to rule here?
We must have no illusions, you and I.
We shared a father in James the Fifth of Scotland.
And I came out on the wrong side of the blanket.
It is the fate of the bastard sons of kings never to be kings themselves,
this I accepted long ago.
I am not ambitious for your crown.
I will resist any man that tries to take it from you.
You are the Queen.
I am the Queen, but you are to rule.
I want you to be happy.
You shall have dancing, and hunting, music and good eating.
But leave the troubles of state to me.
Come, Mary.
A secret way to the royal apartments.
Follow me.
Your bedchamber.
I persuaded your uncle, the Cardinal,
to permit me to bring from France all your personal belongings.
Thank you. I thank you with all my heart.
Here you will dine
and take your ease.
And this is where we will hold council.
Your Presence Chamber.
Prepare yourself, and in an hour
I will bring all the lords of Scotland and present them to you.
You have made a good beginning.
Remember, be discreet.
And consult me in all things.
There will be a private chapel for the practice of your religion.
Stay out of the public eye, priest,
and do not provoke the lords of the Congregation.
And, Mary, you may travel if you wish.
Scotland is a fine land.
I thank you, dear brother.
Dear sister.
Did you hear him, Davie? Did you hear him?
Run away and play, he tells me, as if I were a child.
Davie, I'm trapped.
Not yet, Your Grace.
He has me in a cage.
Then you must appear to sing sweetly and happily, madam.
I cannot do that forever. The lies stick in my throat. I hate him.
He is learning to trust you.
When he trusts you, he will become careless and then you will have him in a cage.
Davie, I have no army, no treasury, no allies.
You have allies. Your uncles are first among them.
They will solve your problems by finding you a husband.
A great prince. A Catholic.
With an army at his back.
To deal with the good James Stuart. Then you will march south, to England.
First, let us secure Scotland. Is it possible?
It is certain.
Then I will marry quickly.
I will not drag out my days in this barren land.
Did you smell those fine Scottish lords? Mother of God.
And to think my sweet mother endured all this for my sake.
Marriage, then, shall be our policy.
The marriage of Mary Stuart to any catholic prince
will be treated as an act of war against England.
Tell that, my lords' ambassador, to your royal masters.
We will have no foreign power upon our northern border.
We realize that our sweet young cousin in Scotland has been deluded
by dangerous and self-seeking men.
So now we offer a wise and just solution.
We have a plan for the marriage of Mary.
We offer our most loyal and loving subject,
Robert Dudley, to Mary Stuart in marriage.
And we shall tomorrow create him Earl of Leicester, that he is more worthy.
Mary will not take it. She will rage against the insult as they do.
No, madam, I must object again, most strongly
against this proposed marriage between Mary and this gentleman.
My God, it is not my choice to go north to that barbarous country?
It is mine.
A commoner, a Protestant,
and the subject of scandal and rumor? My choice.
However, I shall obey with a better heart knowing I am opposed by Master Cecil.
You are not suitable.
My duty is to foresee the result of English policy and convince the Queen.
What you judge ill for me must benefit me, that is the lesson of our past dealings.
And you can feel a crown upon your head.
It is you I love. Only you.
Then marry Mary.
For only when she is married to a loving subject of mine will I be safe,
from the assassin, the fanatic and the rebellion in her cause.
And she will take him, because I will send with him
the thing she most lusts after,
the promise sealed and witnessed of the English throne at my death.
Go and prepare for your journey,
and go quickly before my heart wins over my head.
Sweet Majesty.
Your Majesty, you will regret this day.
If you think Robert Dudley will put aside his ambition...
Do you really believe she will not take him?
I do.
Good. For I do not intend her to have him,
though I mean the world to think I do. Oh, no, William.
She shall not have the brave and faithful Robin!
I have someone quite different in mind as a husband for Mary Stuart.
But first, with your help,
I must find a suitable ambassador to bait the trap.
Out. Do not bolt the door.
Good sir, I'm told you cannot be bought.
Ah.
You're Cecil.
You give gold to Scottish traitors.
You are penniless because the Lord James Stuart has sold your lands.
And you may remain here in the tower until your death.
You have no friends.
I have long had it in mind to kill you.
I have it in mind to release you.
The price?
That you speak honestly to your Queen, for mine.
Here is the Deed of Succession.
Nothing is hidden. I freely offer her the crown.
After much thought I consider Mary to be the just and rightful claimant.
There is no signature, Your Grace.
There will be.
When your sweet mistress takes the noble Earl of Leicester in marriage,
she guarantees peace between our two realms.
Then I will sign this sacred promise and she will inherit all here,
after my death, which, pray God, will not be too soon.
Amen!
And I am to take your offer in secret to my Queen.
That is all? AII.
And as a gesture of my sincerity, I am sending with you Lord Henry Darnley.
Not only will he see you safely back to Scotland,
he will bear my personal greetings and gifts to your sovereign.
He will return to her Majesty her fine stable of horses.
Lord Darnley is also a cousin,
a member of one of England's oldest catholic families
He has a royal claim by blood to England's throne, second only to Mary's
Oh, he is the finest flower of our nobility, gentle, brave and chivalrous
Are you ready, my lord?
Ready, Your Grace.
God give you a good journey, my lord.
I charge you to tell our cousin, Mary,
it is our deepest regret that these fine horses were taken in error.
Say to her Majesty, "Elizabeth most abjectly begs her forgiveness."
Trust me, Your Grace.
I do, good Henry, to fulfill all my hopes.
Farewell, my lords.
Darnley looked beautiful, did he not?
I wager you fifty gold crowns Mary will take him.
Madam, it is too serious a matter for gambling.
Cecil, you may be an expert in matters of state,
but you know very little of women.
Mary is a young widow. Her blood is hot.
It's a strange thing, I feel I know her.
We have never met and yet I know her.
Your reasoning is beyond me.
If I were in her position, would I take the cast-off lover of my enemy as a husband?
No, madam. You'd be full of fury.
And would I, in my pride,
ignore the document of the Act of Succession
and look elsewhere for a husband to spite my enemy?
No, madam, you would not.
No, I would not. But she will.
And supposing at this time
there should come to my court a beautiful young man on a white horse,
with some claim to the English throne and a Catholic to boot,
would I not look upon him with favor?
But with Dudley comes the future crown of England!
No true monarch will turn her back on that, not even Mary of Scotland.
That monarch is first a woman.
You would never ignore such an offer for a pretty fellow.
This woman is first a monarch.
Here comes Robin.
Madam, you are wrong. Now I am certain.
No woman would choose the boy before the man.
I will accept your wager.
Fifty golden crowns she chooses Dudley and the succession.
If she chooses Dudley, then we are safe from foreign Catholic princes,
though I admit it will be a hard price for me to pay.
If she takes Darnley, we have given nothing
and she has a weak, degenerate fool as her consort.
Win or lose the wager, I cannot lose the game.
Harry! Harry!
Oh, my love. My love.
Don't move.
Be still.
What a happy fall, to have such a comfort afterwards.
There are tears on your cheeks.
I saw again the death of my husband, that is all.
But... Leave us!
Robin!
I am rejected.
She rejected me.
She kept me waiting five days without an audience.
She flaunted herself before me in the company of Darnley.
She dances with Darnley, she dines with Darnley.
She rides with Darnley.
And has rejected you?
With insults.
Encouraged by Bothwell, your honest messenger.
She spoke of me openly as your cast-off lover
and far beneath any true Queen.
She must be demented.
Before my eyes she tore up the document of succession.
But she consorts with that boy!
That lewd, mincing, pouting boy.
And by all the saints, madam, she is a woman that needs a man.
What kind of a woman, Robin?
Formed like a goddess.
More than I? Is she better formed than I?
No. No, madam.
Well, does she dance more elegantly?
No. But with a certain fire.
Oh, she is fiery! I had heard that she was very dull
and sits by the hour sewing.
Does she play instruments more skillfully than I?
No. But to do her justice, she loves music.
Can she converse freely in Italian, Latin, Greek as I can?
Who knows. But she speaks most charmingly.
She charmed you.
This woman who has offered me the most deadly insult, charms you, my lord.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I found her tiresome.
Liar! Madam!
Liar! Liar! Liar! Madam! Madam! Madam!
You were as eager as a young lover to ride to her.
To wed and bed her.
I went only at your command.
I love only you. Oh!
Well, you have played your part. I cannot complain.
My part?
Oh, it is her loss if she rejects you.
Oh, how glad I am to have you home.
Now tell me truly, I am no longer angry.
Is she really as beautiful as they say?
Well, she is quite beautiful.
Get out! Out! Out! I have it in me to send you
to cool your passion for her...
Get out! Out!
May it please Almighty God she hates me as I hate her,
for then she must marry Darnley, and I have won.
You seem very rich, Davie.
I am valued.
No. You are hated.
But not by you, sweet Harry.
The commoner. The detested, little foreigner.
You are jealous of my influence.
You must speak for me, Davie. I will be king here.
I have the right to be a king.
All the Catholic nobles of England will support Mary's cause if I am king.
But you are vicious, Harry. You have a taste for all the vices.
I thought you loved me.
I love the Queen better, and I think it a cruel act
to help put you between her sheets.
You want to keep me between yours?
Oh, Edinburgh is full of pretty boys,
and like you, I have a taste for a woman as well.
I shall not lack comfort.
We are outcasts in this court.
No man is your friend save me, and no man is mine save you.
Like it or not, sweet Harry...
We must hold to each other.
The Queen!
Working. Always working.
I could not sleep.
Nor I.
Davie, you must advise me.
If I can, Your Grace.
Is it not true that all our hopes for my freedom through marriage are dashed
because we are told if I marry a foreign prince
there will be war with England?
It is true.
But...
What if I married an Englishman?
Englishman?
Harry Darnley.
Answer me. Is he a good match?
Will the holy father give his blessing to us?
I cannot deny it.
I believe it is God's will that both wise policy
and my deepest longings are fulfilled in him.
I love him.
It is the good fortune of Queens to choose where other women must wait to be chosen.
I choose him, Davie. He will be my husband, my lover, my companion.
And your master if you make him King.
Oh, no, I am the Queen. He will be my consort.
He will understand that if he loves me.
Who could fail to love Your Majesty?
But will the Scottish lords hate him, Davie?
No more than any other foreigner set over them.
What would James say?
Oh, what a fine king Darnley will make. I must have him.
Pray for me, Davie.
Does she often visit you at night, Davie?
Oh, we work here in secret.
Is it only for state matters that she comes?
You have the mind of a brothel keeper. Did you not listen at the door to find out?
I listened, but the door was too thick.
Harry...
If I speak for you with the Queen,
will you at all times give her first place,
acknowledging her the true monarch of this realm?
No. I will be the master.
Then I will oppose you.
"I choose him, Davie."
When will she find the courage to ask me? Will it be tomorrow?
Do not betray her. I warn you.
"What a fine king he will make..."
Listen to me.
No, listen to her.
"I must have him, Davie."
Oh, she shall have me, and I shall be the master.
Kiss the hand of your King, Davie, and I will forgive you for your little warnings.
Kiss it, Davie.
Come.
Kneel to me.
Kneel.
Say "I will love and serve you, King Henry."
Say it, Davie.
It is in God's hands, Henry...
But you are reckless to scorn your only friend.
Now the sly little Italian will try poison against me.
He will whisper in her ear. He will plant doubts.
He fears to lose his place.
It's not in God's hands, Davie.
It's in mine.
Admit the Lord James Stuart.
Madam, what is so important that I am summoned from Council
and then kept waiting at your door?
Dear brother, I wish you to make preparations
for my marriage to Henry, Lord Darnley.
I forbid that.
He is a Catholic. And neither I nor John Knox...
John Knox, that hypocrite who has just married a girl of 15.
That aged lecher who hides behind the words of God.
Madam, you forget yourself.
No. I do not. You shall not prevent my happiness.
I will marry Henry, Lord Darnley.
I will speak to you again when you have more control of yourself.
Guards!
It was a bad day for you, James, when you sold off my lands.
From this moment I alone rule in Scotland. Now who is caged, brother?
David Riccio, I choose you as my Chief Minister.
James Stuart, Earl of Moray, I banish you from my kingdom.
Give up your keys and seals of office to Master Riccio.
Riccio, you are a Catholic.
Be sure that you are confessed and in a state of grace each hour.
For from this moment, I promise you, death is at your shoulder.
Truly I am of the old religion
and we shall have such a re-birth of it in this land as will rejoice the hosts of heaven!
Your Majesty,
if you value your safety, either imprison or execute him.
I will not take that advice.
But I shall give it to you.
When he has gone, the other lords will bow the knee to you,
but in time, when he returns, they will join him again for bloody revenge on all here.
I will not begin my reign like a tyrant.
Escort my brother to the border and return as soon as possible.
We must prepare for my marriage to Lord Darnley.
And with my body, I thee worship.
And with all my worldly chattels, I thee endow.
In the name of the Father...
...and of the Son...
...and of the Holy Ghost.
Amen.
I am so happy, I dare not speak of it.
What is that?
A gift, Your Grace. From my Lord Bothwell to the Queen.
The jewel from the hilt of his sword, Your Grace. It is all he has of value.
Return it.
The Lord Bothwell bade me tell you
that when you have need of the sword from which this jewel is taken,
then send me Andrew to summon him.
Yes, I will, good Andrew.
Harry, look!
If you keep it, you do not love me.
I love you dearly.
Then do what I ask.
I demand it as your husband.
I may not, for then you would rule here, Henry. That cannot be.
You shall rule above all others, save the Queen.
I am the King.
I will be obeyed.
I am the King!
On the night of his marriage a King shall be served by his lords.
Morton, Ruthven, Huntly, you shall serve me.
Come. We will show this Queen who is the master.
Your Grace!
I am the Chief Minister, I will serve you.
I will kneel to serve you if you wish it.
Let these good lords continue their pleasure on this happy day.
No.
No. They shall serve us both, Davie, I order it.
I, your King, order it.
No, Your Majesty...
I ordered you to sit with me, Davie.
This is your reward for speaking to the Queen for your loving friend.
Come, my lords.
All servants, get out! Get out!
We have better servants here.
Sit by the Queen, Master Riccio.
It is your right, for you are the Chief Minister.
My lords...
You see how I am obeyed, Madam?
I see how you will behave if you were ever granted the crown matrimonial
and become a King in your own right, my lord.
They obey me.
When the Queen is served, serve the Chief Minister, serve him before me.
Serve the little Italian, who is the Pope's friend.
Now their hatred for you will be so great, Davie, they'll have none left for me.
My lords, soon I will be abed with this lady...
My Queen.
Therefore I drink a toast to my firstborn.
Your Majesty...
Be seated.
I sent for you to thank you for your gift.
Why are you leaving Edinburgh?
Now that you have chosen a King it is time I left the court to care for my own affairs.
But I need you here, Bothwell.
But, my lady, you now have a husband to protect you.
He will lead your army,
put down such of your lords as intrigue against you
and make wise policy, I have no doubt.
Do you oppose my marriage?
I never oppose the rightful monarch. I've grown poor in the habit.
I will not be mocked.
"Mocked"?
I could not find words to mock a Queen of Scotland
who chooses a smooth-faced boy as her master
and a base-born Italian as her Chief Minister!
Go then! Leave the court! Stay from it!
Bothwell.
You've grown poor in my service, you say?
I have.
You shall be paid off, my lord.
I can manage well enough without.
Spare me your arrogance. I will give you money!
Keep it to buy suits for your husband.
Why are you angry?
Do you fear you are displaced? Are you jealous?
You could say, Your Majesty, with truth
I am jealous.
Then you are foolish.
I need your help, Bothwell, to keep order in this country.
And in due time we will march south.
We will destroy that heretic Elizabeth, and I will rule my two Kingdoms,
as I was ordained to do, if God is willing.
Will you stay at court and help me?
I will return when I have settled my affairs on the border.
When?
When I have married for money, Your Grace.
Married?
Not without my permission, my good lord. I promise you...
Now I know who is King here. This upstart!
And you come creeping to him at night.
That's not my child you're carrying, it's his bastard!
The child is yours, God help me, the child is yours.
You have both betrayed me.
That's why he speaks against me.
You're not fit to rule. That's why I oppose you.
I am your enemy, not the Queen!
Now go. You disgust me!
I disgust you?
You loved me.
Now I disgust you.
I'm lost.
Hawk Master!
Your Majesty! What is it?
The King, Your Majesty.
Mary!
Keep the others at a distance, Seton.
The Queen bids you rest.
Mary!
You must return at once. At once.
Why are you shouting? Are you drunk as ever?
No. No. Forgive me, Mary, but there is a plot and you must return.
Plot? Are you ill?
I'd like to believe that, for then I could forgive you the bitter shame and pain
you've caused me these past few months.
Your own guards turned me back from the Royal apartments.
When I drew my dagger on them they threatened to kill me... To kill their King.
You are not the King. You are the King consort. That is all.
You're merely Henry, Lord Darnley who married a queen.
If that queen dies, you will be Henry, Lord Darnley again
and have no rights to the crown.
It was you!
You ordered them to keep me back!
Yes. Your habits disgust me.
You have shamed me. The whole court will ridicule me, Madam.
Then leave the court!
I'm forbidden your bed?
You shall never come near me again.
Ride home, my lord. You have new apartments.
That little bastard Riccio is behind this. I will be revenged!
I will be revenged!
Don't kill me. Don't kill me!
Stand up, Your Majesty. We are your loyal subjects.
We believe you are much wronged, Your Grace.
By God, I am.
The papal spy, Riccio, has bewitched the Queen.
There is talk of their meeting in his room at night.
State business, they say.
They say you are cuckolded, my lord.
Lies!
It is an unnatural thing for a woman to rule.
And it is most unnatural that the great lords of Scotland
shall sit in council to be lorded over by the little papist
when there is a King in the land.
You mock me. Look, I am not the King. I am the King consort, a puppet King,
shut out from all power. You know this.
We, your loyal subjects, will make you the true King.
We, the Council, will grant you the crown matrimonial to rule here,
to be the first in the land.
If this is done, Your Grace, you will rule even if the Queen is dead.
King Henry the First of Scotland and the Isles!
Long live the King! Long live the King!
And what must I do to gain the prize, my lords?
Embrace the Protestant faith and defend it against all papists in this land.
The Queen is a papist.
All papists.
I agree.
We have drawn up this covenant.
On our part we pledge you the crown
and that we will pursue and slay and root out all who oppose this resolution.
You will cut Davie's throat?
There is no word of killing in the bond.
And if need be you will kill
one other?
We have all signed the bond.
And no man among you dare betray the other.
It is a good Scottish custom.
It lacks one signature.
On your part, you will hold us innocent and defend us,
even in the presence of the Queen herself,
no matter what action we have to take.
Is that all?
You will pardon and recall James Stuart, Earl of Moray.
Agreed.
Then sign, Your Majesty, and hasten the great day of your coronation.
On one further condition.
Name it.
That you will kill Riccio in her presence when I am there to see the deed.
She must come to no harm
before that moment.
Is this true?
That is a copy from our ambassador.
Everyone in the Scottish court knows of it, save the Queen and her Italian.
Everyone.
And her loving husband has put his signature and seal to it.
He has.
So much for marriage.
The Lord James Stuart is ready to travel to Scotland.
So? He must have money
to hold the lords in his payroll.
Then let him find it elsewhere.
But, Madam, everything that you hoped for has happened.
Now we must support our Protestant friends.
That is a murder bond drawn up by treacherous subjects against their queen.
Where is my name on it?
Where does it say that Elizabeth of England shall pay the wages of assassins?
Your Grace, it was you who sent Darnley to Scotland.
But the rest was in God's hands. I leave this to him also. Come, Robin.
The lady is with child, a child that could one day be King of England.
How long must I live under the shadow of this other queen?
I desire her to be without power but not dead.
By God, if it were not for policy,
I have it in me to ride north into her very palace
and warn her of what is to come.
Madam, these Scottish lords are set upon a certain course.
It is wise for us as it is for them that they pursue it to the end.
Then let them find the means elsewhere!
Majesty...
Majesty, if you would but marry me and bear a child yourself,
then her shadow would be lifted from you.
Master Cecil, pay James Stuart 3,000 crowns in gold
and send him home on a fast horse.
Let the gold coin be of any kind save that which has my head on it.
I will have no knowledge of her death. See to it!
Almighty God, I thank thee for the endless ambition of Robert Dudley to be king,
and for the many times it has provoked the queen to wise policy,
against her will, but to Thy glory.
Amen.
Where are they?
In the turret.
Elizabeth is so demanding of the gentleman's affection
he'd never be reconciled with his own wedded wife
for fear the royal anger.
Why are you here?
If it please Your Majesty,
let Davie Riccio come out of this privy chamber where he has hidden too long.
It is by my command that he is here.
He has offended your honor!
Your mind is full of fantasies. You have a fever.
Escort Lord Ruthven away and lock the doors.
Lay not hands on me!
Oh, God! Save the Queen!
Oh, God, Harry.
Save me! Save me!
In the name of God, I'll save you.
Save me! Oh, my God!
No!
Riccio! Kill him!
Stop it! Stop it! Stop them!
And this is from the King.
Losers!
Oh, no, Your Grace, speak gently to His Majesty.
I will never rest until you have a heavier heart than I have now.
Be silent!
That in my belly will be revenged on you all!
If you live!
Silence, my lords!
Do not threaten the heir to Scotland.
He shall be born, but we shall keep this queen imprisoned from that time.
"Imprisoned from that time"?
This good King shall have the whole government of the realm.
The heir, we will bring up to the Protestant faith,
and you shall be our perpetual prisoner.
The child! I believe it is the child.
Harry!
Help the Queen to her bed.
Take her gently.
Hurry here. With all care.
My lords, give us privacy!
If the queen is in labor after these dreadful events
then there must be calm.
Come, my lords.
I will stay.
The palace is guarded.
You have chosen your way, Sire, you must follow it to the end.
I have chosen.
Forgive me.
The King is there alone, but the outer door is guarded.
We must escape tonight or we are lost.
And we must take my husband with us or the lords will use him to seize the Crown.
Madam, how?
I must make that traitor, my husband, into a double traitor.
Find Andrew. If possible, he could bring us horses.
Be brave. God will watch over you.
Harry!
What's become of your pain?
Why are you here?
Forgive me, Harry, our child is still alive, it is not yet time.
I have never betrayed you, but I have wronged you and I beg your forgiveness.
It's too late.
No, I swear it is not.
You shall be the King without being elected by those murderers,
but I'm in terror for you, Henry.
Those murderers will butcher you once they have our child safe in their keeping.
What can I do?
Harry, don't be afraid, I know what to do, I know what to do, trust me.
Trust me.
Hurry!
For God's sake, hurry!
Harry, will you wait? I cannot go so fast for fear I miscarry.
Miscarry if you will, we can make another when we're safe.
Father, Davie...
I know. The Lord Bothwell is waiting.
Can you ride a horse, Your Grace? There's no coach or litter.
Yes, I can ride.
Have we enough horses?
Aye, Madam, you shall ride with me.
It will be safer, so tuck up your skirts...
And hurry.
But if we are caught, they will cut us into collops and feed the dogs by us.
Andrew!
Welcome to Hermitage.
My sanctuary, Madam.
Thank you, my lord.
Are you all right?
Indeed, I am
and in good spirits. Come, let us go in.
Who is this lady?
She was the Lady Jean Gordon, Your Grace, daughter of the richest of Highland lords.
Was?
She is now Lady Bothwell.
Welcome to Hermitage Castle, Your Majesty.
You were married.
Yes, Madam.
Help me, the child is coming!
I gave you no permission to marry, my lord.
Take her in quickly.
Well?
Scotland has a new prince.
Oh, no!
The Queen of Scots is lighter of a fair son.
I am but barren stock.
I kept it from her as long as I dared,
but the defeat of the Protestant lords of Scotland forced me to speak.
They're defeated?
Yes.
Bothwell raised an army and put them to flight.
Ruthven, Morton, and Huntly have come over the border to the sanctuary.
Stuart is under siege at Dunbar.
Stuart!
All right?
Rouse yourself, James, don't you hear the pipes?
It's your loving sister come to put a rope around your neck.
Your Majesty, the rebels are defeated.
Dunbar is yours.
The Queen has triumphed!
Where is my brother? Is he dead?
No. I've saved him for the scaffold.
Then let him make his will and say his prayers,
for I shall hang him before tonight.
You cannot hang me without killing your husband.
I took no part in Riccio's death...
Liar.
...but your husband was there.
He signed the murder bond with the Scottish lords.
It is a forgery.
It is a copy.
The original is safely hidden in England.
No court will condemn me without him.
And even you, great Queen, cannot act without due process of law.
Then, by God, I will act with it.
It will give me great pleasure to see you both on the same scaffold!
Bothwell, let us do it now.
Will you split the kingdom?
Hang the Stuart line?
If you accuse brave Harry, he will shout from the rooftops
that your child is Riccio's bastard, and that you were Riccio's whore.
And that the killing was the just execution of a commoner
who had committed high treason by cuckolding the king.
No! We do not need the law!
Your brother will have died of his wounds in battle.
No. For myself I care nothing,
for the shame I care nothing,
but I dare not give the heretics of Scotland and England a case to use against my son.
And I will not risk his inheritance even for the pleasure of your death.
Scotsmen, here is your future king, James VI of Scotland.
And in good time, James I of England.
I am the Queen by right of birth and right of arms.
And tyranny, I detest.
I practice the old religion but I tolerate the new.
I rule in God's name, so I rule in justice.
The better part of justice is mercy,
therefore, on this great day of triumph, I shall be merciful.
I pardon James Stuart, Earl of Moray.
Before you all he shall be reconciled with my husband and Lord Bothwell.
But I... He hates me.
Not as much as he hates me, Your Grace.
Put a good face on it, for policy's sake.
We are deceiving the people.
Take my hand, sire.
A man who first betrayed the Queen
and then betrayed his fellow conspirators is like a leper...
Must be glad of a friend.
So, I will and wait impatiently for the day when one of you slit the throat of the other.
Or yours.
Leave me go!
I have had enough! Everywhere I go I'm shunned!
People look through me like I'm a ghost!
I will not be made to feel guilty over a scrap of paper.
To your bed!
No, Madam.
I will go to your bed...
Either that or I'll leave the country. I shall go to Italy, to the Pope.
He will annul our marriage.
I shall tell him that you were so eager that you forgot the dispensation
which cousins must have to marry.
Villain!
Annulment will make your son a bastard!
I know. I know. And she will do anything to save her son's inheritance
as the future King...
So come to bed, sweet wife.
Bothwell!
Leave us!
And quickly,
I have a great appetite.
Oh, for God's sakes, smile, madam.
And bring me some wine.
Even though I disgust you,
you will love and fondle me
and have me by your side again as King.
As I mount you, so shall I mount the throne.
Have you killed him?
No...
I came to do you that service.
He's drugged.
He's diseased.
Diseased?
Since before the birth of the Prince he's been vagabonding at night.
He is poxed. He will rot with it.
Merciful God!
An honorable end is better than this.
Bring back the lords in exile. They will bring him to account.
Once more.
"I have departed the court with my Lord Bothwell
"You will await my return
"Husband, there are certain lords in England who have been punished enough,
"lords who murdered Riccio
"They are therefore pardoned by the mercy of their Queen
"Soon you shall meet them again"
I am betrayed.
I brought him home to lie in Scottish soil.
On his deathbed, we swore vengeance.
So let us decide which of us will kill the King in combat.
He's sick of the pox.
He cowers in his bed. He'll not fight.
Then we'll drag him out and kill him as we did Riccio.
Nobody cared about the death of a little foreigner.
Everyone will care about the murder of a king.
His Majesty has a house outside the wall of Edinburgh
where he took his whores and his young men.
Kirk o' Field.
He plans to murder Mary Stuart in that house.
He has filled the cellars with gunpowder.
He means to go there with the Queen
and make his excuses to leave her for a few hours.
And then...
Blow her up!
With a choice of knife, gun, poison, or rope, why would anyone choose gunpowder?
Nobody chooses gunpowder, Stuart, in these hard times.
Nevertheless, the cellars at Kirk o' Field are full
of gunpowder.
His Majesty is a notorious drunkard and fool. Also, he is sick...
I think that he will bungle his attempt on the Queen and blow himself up.
Can you help us?
Bury your dead. Leave the rest to me.
Next he will lord it over us.
For a while... A very little while.
And so we safely arrived at Kirk o' Field
I have obeyed you, my love,
because I believe that he is condemned to death by the pox,
which is the wrath of God upon his vile nature
So what is planned is no sin
But God forgive me if I do wrong
And after your divorce we shall be man and wife
And you shall be no puppet king but the master
For the first time I am loved and fulfilled
I have turned my back on God for you So be true to me, my love, be true
Andrew? My lord.
Get ready. We leave for Edinburgh.
There is work for you to do.
Aye, my lord.
It is time to leave, Your Grace.
You promised to stay.
It is Fleming's marriage feast, so I must go. I will return.
Why'd you keep Davie's guitar. Why'd you play it?
Is it to anger me once more?
No, Harry. But I never forget those who are loyal to me.
Davie is dead. Let him go.
Yes, it is just a year.
Pity me, kinsmen.
For the sake of Jesus Christ.
Pity me!
He was to have an honorable death, to be challenged to a duel.
You told me so. I would...
Death is death however it comes.
Now we must look to our future.
The Ambassadors of France and Spain, Your Majesty.
And of Scotland.
We are mourning the late King Henry of Scotland.
We mourn because the Scottish Court does not.
He was once our subject.
We are shocked at his abominable murder.
We are astounded at what followed.
The King was taken at dead of night and buried without ceremony.
His clothes, his goods, his horse and his armor were given to Lord Bothwell.
Voices cry out that Bothwell is the murderer.
The Scots have risen in rebellion.
Catholic and Protestant, lord and peasant, combine to destroy the tyrant Bothwell.
And yet Queen Mary Stuart has married him.
It was once said in Catholic courts
that Elizabeth would marry her horse master who had murdered his wife.
Then her people would turn her out in favor of Mary.
I have not married. Leicester is innocent.
My people did not rebel and Mary Stuart does not rule here.
Tell your masters, do not interfere in Scotland nor will I.
Let the Scottish Queen settle her own affairs as I once settled mine.
How she longs to hear of Mary's death.
And how she dreads it.
No, no, no.
What is it?
A dream.
Be thankful it is not James Stuart knocking on the door.
I am full of fears waking and sleeping.
All my forces will be here by day.
I sent the messengers three days ago. Do not be afraid.
It's all right. It's my Borderers. It is dawn.
They're all round us.
We can hold them till my men come.
Bothwell. Bothwell! Show yourself, or are you afraid?
I will speak with him.
I am here, Stuart.
Tell Her Majesty to come down to us. We have no quarrel with her.
It is you we have come for.
I will not go down.
Bothwell, have you the courage for single combat?
Or will you go on hiding in the skirts of the Queen?
I am not a sick man like the King you murdered.
I will cut him to pieces.
No, I will not let you go.
I will not be shamed, Mary.
Our forces will be here within an hour and then I will see you hanged from these walls.
You waste your breath. Roy!
There are your messengers.
Come now and fight.
That I will.
Andrew! Andrew, bring my armor.
And when he comes down, we will cut his throat.
Jamie, you must not go down. They will kill you as they killed Davie.
I will fight. I will finish it this time.
When I go down you must leave by the secret way out of here.
No. It leads beyond the castle ground.
Andrew will guide you.
No. Let us go together. I beg you. You will not be seen.
I will not be dishonored.
My dear love, who remembers the honor of the dead?
You are no match for the treachery of these times.
Seton! Seton!
Mary. I beg you, do not disgrace me.
Listen to me. Your death will be mine. You must escape.
Rouse the Borderers yourself. I am still the Queen. While I live I reign.
Do not do this.
Goodbye, my dear love. Go now.
Give me courage. Come with me and look down on those traitors.
Soon we must open the gates and give ourselves up to them.
God help us.
I shall watch the combat from here, brother.
You shall not wait long. My husband is determined.
I cannot dissuade him.
The Deed of your Abdication.
It is the will of the lords
and of the people
that you sign it.
I will never abdicate. I am the Queen. I will die the Queen.
Huntly.
In this casket are your letters to Lord Bothwell
which prove that you are a murderess and that you led the King to his death.
Abdicate or I will publish them and have you tried for murder.
No.
The Lord Bothwell will not be coming to your aid, lady.
He did not escape. I have him.
It's not true.
Tomorrow I shall hang him.
No. No. No.
Will you sign the Deed of Abdication?
Never!
Jamie! Jamie!
Mary, my love.
Jamie.
I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.
No.
Your brother saw an advantage in keeping me in this world for a further time.
They will pardon me, spare you, give me a passage to Denmark.
If I can persuade you to abdicate.
Oh, Jamie.
Now listen to me, Mary. I'm an ambitious man hungry for life,
but I do not fear death.
The only thing I fear is what can happen to you.
The Scottish lords demand your trial and execution.
Your brother wants you out of the way alive before it is too late.
He lies. He wants me dead, too.
No. Above all, he's a Stuart. He'll save you if he can.
If you abdicate, he'll see you safe to the English border.
Our deaths or separate exile. Jamie, there's no choice.
I can't exist without you. I cry for death.
No.
You are Mary Stuart, the Queen. Remember what you said to me.
"While you live, there is hope." Cling to that. We shall not be separated.
One day I shall return for you with an army.
Until then, my love,
I hold you close to my heart.
Well?
Death or exile?
The English border is two miles from here.
I bid you farewell. We shall not meet again.
So you must hope.
Long life, sister. We will bring up your son a good Protestant.
My son, my son, God help him.
Seton, in this little time until we reach the English border we are quite free.
Free. How it eases the heart.
And I have good hopes.
I shall overcome all and be united with my Bothwell.
I am but five and twenty years of age. I have my whole life before me.
Free! Free!
God help us if Cecil finds out about this.
Do not fear, madam, no one will find out.
The Catholics of the North have flocked to pay her homage
since she came over the border.
At Carlisle she held Court even.
Is she mad to behave so blatantly?
I feel I may have misjudged her all these years.
She has never learnt discretion.
Well, is it discretion for me to meet her in secret?
It is imperative.
It's said you have a wolf by the ears, madam.
Well, let us look at the animal.
Stay here!
Sweet cousin.
Dear sister and cousin.
I am here to meet you as you so urgently demanded.
My business can only be discussed between us face to face.
I know you to be the enemy of all rebels against their rightful prince.
Indeed, madam, you are right.
The crime of my lords against their anointed queen
is so great it buries all past differences between us.
I am confident of your help. I ask it as a right.
I see that you have courage.
And I see that you are the great Queen of whom all speak.
And you are young.
Not too young to ride at the head of an army.
You have come to ask me for an army?
Yes, an army, supplies, money.
And money?
Which I shall most happily repay to you when I reign once again in Scotland.
How else may I aid you? Be open with me, dear cousin.
For be assured there is no waking hour in my day
when you are far from my thoughts.
Your fate is linked with mine.
We are princes both. We are joined by blood.
What else have you to tell me or to ask of me?
Nothing. Nothing?
Why? What else could there be?
Some helpful word concerning the murder of Lord Darnley.
Yes, of course.
Rest assured, Elizabeth, that I am innocent in the matter.
That gives me great joy.
For when you are honorably acquitted of the crime of which you are accused
then you shall have your army and your money.
Cousin,
put it out of your mind that I came to England merely to save my life.
I came to recover my honor.
If you dare to doubt my word that I am innocent,
then I will go at once to France.
You shall not.
Madam, in the past you have sheltered those very traitors who now rule in Scotland.
They entered freely into England, just as freely they returned.
Do you offer me less than my treacherous subjects?
Am I your prisoner? If so, by what law?
If you forbid me to go to France, what will you do with me?
I shall take you deeper into England for your protection.
Then I am your prisoner.
If you are innocent, what have you to fear?
You have deceived me. You are in league with my brother.
I will answer no accusations.
Who is there who may try me? Who is my equal?
Will you do it? In public before the eyes of the world? No.
You lack the courage. You hope to dishonor me.
It is you who are dishonored.
Did you believe I would send you back to Scotland at the head of a great army?
Did you believe I would sacrifice my reputation on your behalf?
It is not enough, madam, to speak one's mind in season and out as you do.
That is not the conduct of a Queen.
It is the outpouring of a pampered woman demanding that all indulge her.
It does not surprise me that you are here helpless and that your brother rules.
You are not fit for the high office to which you were born.
And you, madam, who hate me and wish me dead and fear to kill me,
you are my mortal enemy.
I have noted since the day you denied me a passport through England
all the blows you have struck against me.
I glory in your hatred.
For it is clear to me that Elizabeth, the bastard,
the heretic, the usurper, is cursed by God,
and will soon be too old to bear a child and will die a solitary old woman.
Above all it is clear that Elizabeth fears Mary.
And whatever my fate, my son will rule here in time.
You have noted all the blows I struck against you.
AII.
All save one.
It was I who sent Henry, Lord Darnley to your court, sweet cousin.
Darnley?
Any Queen who could be guiled by such a pretty, wicked fellow
and take him to her bed, and put a crown upon his head,
does not inspire fear. She inspires pity.
You have my pity, madam, as you had it on the day I sent Darnley north,
knowing you to be without wisdom, discretion
or any of the attributes of a Queen.
I see you have learned nothing since.
It is not surprising that you are spoken of in the courts of Europe
as an infamous royal whore.
Madam.
My lord, I urge you to guard your mistress well
for there are many who would wish her dead.
Now I have no choice.
I must keep her prisoner until the day of her death.
May it be soon.
Madam, there is an English officer from the French court to see you.
Yes.
Sir.
I bring you greetings, madam, and some letters which, I must tell you,
I have already shown to the authorities here, for I am a loyal Englishman.
Very well. Leave them.
No, ma'am. I'm ordered to wait for your reply.
No need to waste time on these, Your Grace.
Father Ballard!
Up, Your Grace. There is work to do, work of great danger.
Mistress Seton, do put an ear to the door and give us good warning.
Aye, Father.
This is from King Philip himself. He has a new plan against Elizabeth.
Another?
We've been shut up for years and no help from him.
This one is different. Read the letter, madam.
Very well.
What news have you from Scotland? How is my dear son, James?
I have written to him ever since I judged him able to read,
but not one reply in all these years.
He is well enough to write regularly and cordially to Elizabeth.
Well, he is his father's son, after all.
The letter, Your Grace. Read it quickly.
Just one more question.
Have you any news of my husband, Lord Bothwell?
Lord Bothwell has died, insane, in a Danish prison.
Oh, Father.
Now I do repent of all my actions that have brought him to this terrible end.
Then will I hear your confession, my sovereign lady?
Yes, Father Ballard, it is time.
We need safeguards. The risk is great.
It follows the pattern of similar plots, similar to the one in Northumberland.
It would be sensible, madam, to order her immediate execution.
No. I will not have Mary killed.
Why am I driven to bloodshed?
In all the years of my reign the scaffold has rotted from disuse.
Until Mary came into England.
Leave us!
Madam, I beg you, open your eyes.
Since the Pope has excommunicated you for keeping Mary prisoner,
your Catholic subjects have been torn in two.
Whom should they serve, Pope or Queen?
They risk the block in this world if they rebel
and Hell in the next if they do not.
Keep this fact always before you. It is now no sin to kill you.
To the Catholics it is the act of a Saint.
I am ill. I will hear no more.
Destroy Mary, and all problems wither away.
No.
I fear her execution. It threatens me. She is an anointed Queen as I am.
If I bring you proof that she plots to kill you?
No. Written proof. Irrefutable proof.
Is there such proof?
There will be.
William!
No forgeries. The evidence must stand up before the people and the parliament.
It has always been, from the beginning, her death or mine.
No, Walsingham, that priest will die before he speaks.
We have the rest, Babbington, Tichbourne, Charnock, Gerrard. We have them all.
It was a great conspiracy.
But the absolute proof that Mary is personally involved we do not have.
You are wrong.
This good fellow is from Spain.
We caught him with Ballard, but he carried a letter in Mary's own hand.
She endorses the murder of Elizabeth as the main spring of the plot.
Now we have her.
"To His Holiness, the Pope."
"From King Philip of Spain."
"From an English gentleman."
And another.
And yet another.
Madam, you cast an evil spell on all you meet. Save me.
And now, my lord?
It has taken me years to trap you, madam.
Now you will come to justice.
No matter the evidence, I fear a terrible retribution
if I sign her death warrant.
Your Grace, until you decide, she must be shut away
where no more traitors can reach her.
Where will you send her?
Fotheringhay Castle.
Jeez you, that evil place.
My heart goes out to her.
I have brought you proof positive.
If she begs forgiveness of me, she shall live.
Fotheringhay. Am I to be murdered here?
As you see, despite your efforts, I am not dead.
Forgive me, I must sit.
The bitter winters of my imprisonment
and the damp that runs down English walls has entered my bones.
My council, my parliament and my people
demand that I bring you to trial.
Like your father to your mother, will you permit me the sword
and spare me the dull axe?
Madam, do not play with me.
From the moment of your imprisonment
I have lived in constant fear of assassination.
Your assassins, madam, your followers.
I have forced myself to walk in the open freely among my people,
and I have never known at which moment the pistol or the dagger will do its work.
So make no jokes with me about death.
I'm very tired. Tell me what you want and then go.
I want to spare you,
but you must beg my forgiveness.
You must write it now while I am here. Then I will forbid the trial.
Yes.
I knew of the plans for your death. I was glad of them,
but now in this room, as I look at you, face to face
it is another matter.
I am glad you have been spared.
I will be happy to ask your forgiveness here between these four walls.
That is not enough. Write it.
No. It would damn me forever in the eyes of posterity.
I will keep the letter quite secret from all save my Chief Minister.
I am offering you your life.
I long for the trial. I long to stand before the world
after these years of darkness and defend myself.
I thank God in his mercy and wisdom he has brought me to it.
I shall die a martyr to the Catholic faith, which is the true and eternal faith.
Nothing can prevent it.
No man is my judge. Not even you, madam, may judge me now, only God.
How little you have changed.
How wildly you rush to your destruction.
Your letters to Bothwell, madam.
Will you appear a noble Catholic martyr when these are read to the Court?
What will the world think when,
after the details of the plots to murder me are revealed,
we turn to the past?
Your life is steeped in blood and violence.
The actions which led to your disgusting marriage to the murderer Bothwell
will be fully recounted before the Court and before the world.
Your absurd love letters will be read out for the people to gloat upon.
Will all this evidence of treachery, cruelty and lust rise like a hymn of praise to God,
or will it cast you down forever?
Oh, God!
Write one short page to me and I will spare you the trial and you will live.
For the first time in your life put aside your personal desires
and behave like a Queen.
Think of your son who will one day rule these two kingdoms, and do as I say.
No. You cannot tempt me. You are the devil. I will not succumb to you.
Jeez you.
In all my early years I was misled and betrayed.
I sinned most grievously. I lost my faith.
I will deny nothing to you here in this room, madam, for I have repented of it all.
I have made my peace with God.
I begged him that I might atone for all that has gone before.
And he has brought me here to die in glory.
I was greatly punished.
My kingdom, my possessions, my child, my husband were all taken from me.
I have been shut away for many years in abject misery
and now I must die. It is my destiny.
And it is your destiny, Elizabeth, to kill me.
I leave to you the pomp, the power, the intrigue
and all that a prince in this world must endure or may enjoy.
Nothing you can say or do will avoid my martyrdom.
So now it is I who pity you.
For you cannot avoid ordering the thing
you have always feared more than death itself,
the judicial murder of an anointed Queen.
It will torment you to the end of your days.
Robin!
My lord.
I shall pray for your mistress, Elizabeth, at the moment of my death.
Madam, if your head had matched your heart
I would be the one awaiting death.
O Lord,
I put my trust in you. Do not let me be confounded.
It is time, madam.
Do not weep. I am happy. Yes, I am. I'm happy.
Goodbye, dear.
You have been so faithful to me. I do thank you.
Pray for me.
In you, O Lord, have I put my trust.
For you, O Lord God, are the thing that I long for.
You are my hope even from my youth.
I am become, as it were, a monster to many,
but my trust shall always be in you.
Oh, let my mouth be filled with your praise,
that I may sing of your glory and honor all the day long.
Forsake me not when my strength fails me.
Go not far from me, O God.
My God, hasten to help me.
I will go forth in the strength of the Lord God.
My lips will be fain when I sing unto you
and so will my soul whom you have delivered.
Forgive me, madam.
I forgive you with all my heart.
I thank you even. I hope this death shall put an end to all my troubles.
For in my end is my beginning.
Lord, into your hands I commend my spirit.