A Pawn for a Queen: An Ursula Blanchard Mystery at Queen Elizabeth I's (Ursula Blanchard Mystery at Queen Elizabeth I's Court) by Fiona Buckley Page A
Authors: Fiona Buckley
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by the Earl of Moray, who had on this occasion chosen to defend his half sister rather than his religion, and had personally stood in the chapel doorway to defy the mob, had kept it out.
I wondered what the young queen’s good and gracious spirit had thought of a scene like that. At that moment, a new commotion broke out around Knox, causing the officer to falter and stop speaking. Knox, brushing other people out of the way, was marching toward the empty pulpit. Reaching it, he climbed the steps, faced the hall, and began to declare loudly that it was a grievous day when the idolatrous mass was allowed to be heard in the very chapel of the queen, in the palace where he himself had once been a royal chaplain.
“Master Knox! This is not the time or the place! Be good enough to leave the pulpit immediately!” shouted the provost.
A couple of men, both well dressed, who seemed to be Knox’s friends, pushed their way to the foot of thepulpit and began trying to persuade him to come down. Knox continued to declaim, booming that on that day at Holyrood, Ericks had been only one of many other honest men outrraged by this blasphemy, and had in fact been loyally following his lorrd, who was in turn one of Knox’s own followers. The provost, his face now red instead of pink, picked up his gavel and pounded the table in front of him in fury. One of the men climbed into the pulpit and took Knox’s arm. Knox resisted; the other man pulled, and the two of them lurched about and then came down the pulpit steps in a stumble that was just short of a fall.
The near-accident produced a few snorts of laughter, but Knox, shaking his friend off, drowned them out by thundering: “For Patrick Lindsay is one of the Lorrrds of the Congrrregation whose shepherd and pastor I have the honor to be . . .”
The crowd had turned to him again and he was on the verge of mounting the pulpit once more, no doubt in the hope of taking over the entire proceedings. By raising his voice once more and using the gavel as though he wanted to smash the table to pieces, the provost regained control, but I could feel that the balance of power in the room was slipping. For the moment, Knox was forced into silence, and his friends held him back from the pulpit, but we all felt that at any moment he might burst out again.
Ericks, asked for his side of the story about the interrupted mass, coolly agreed that it was true and added, with apparent pride, that he had personally snatched an altar candle from a servant who was carrying it to the chapel and thrown the thing on the ground and stampedon it. There were various murmurs in the court, by the sound of them mostly of agreement by people who already knew about the exciting first Sabbath of Queen Mary’s reign in Scotland and had probably taken part in the uproar. They assuredly were not expressions of surprise.
Standing there with Brockley and Dale, I realized that, after all, the Thursbys had been partly right. Prompt though the officers of the law had been to investigate my cousin’s death, nevertheless, this was a violent land where a mob trying to interfere with the private worship of their sovereign was not thought strange or even particularly wrong, and a respectable minister with great lords in his following might encourage such a thing.
Ericks, once allowed to resume his testimony, said, quite openly, that with a few tankards of ale inside him, he was apt to be free with his fists and had let himself be provoked by the sight of Edward’s cross and had “told the popish fellow to put it out of sight.” Edward had indignantly refused, and words had been exchanged.
“I asked him who he was, prinking about wearing silver crosses, and he told me his name and said he was a supporter of Queen Mary, but I didnae like his mincing southron voice, so I threw a punch,” said Master Ericks casually.
Edward had hit back, and with bystanders cheering the two of them on, there had been a lively display of
I wondered what the young queen’s good and gracious spirit had thought of a scene like that. At that moment, a new commotion broke out around Knox, causing the officer to falter and stop speaking. Knox, brushing other people out of the way, was marching toward the empty pulpit. Reaching it, he climbed the steps, faced the hall, and began to declare loudly that it was a grievous day when the idolatrous mass was allowed to be heard in the very chapel of the queen, in the palace where he himself had once been a royal chaplain.
“Master Knox! This is not the time or the place! Be good enough to leave the pulpit immediately!” shouted the provost.
A couple of men, both well dressed, who seemed to be Knox’s friends, pushed their way to the foot of thepulpit and began trying to persuade him to come down. Knox continued to declaim, booming that on that day at Holyrood, Ericks had been only one of many other honest men outrraged by this blasphemy, and had in fact been loyally following his lorrd, who was in turn one of Knox’s own followers. The provost, his face now red instead of pink, picked up his gavel and pounded the table in front of him in fury. One of the men climbed into the pulpit and took Knox’s arm. Knox resisted; the other man pulled, and the two of them lurched about and then came down the pulpit steps in a stumble that was just short of a fall.
The near-accident produced a few snorts of laughter, but Knox, shaking his friend off, drowned them out by thundering: “For Patrick Lindsay is one of the Lorrrds of the Congrrregation whose shepherd and pastor I have the honor to be . . .”
The crowd had turned to him again and he was on the verge of mounting the pulpit once more, no doubt in the hope of taking over the entire proceedings. By raising his voice once more and using the gavel as though he wanted to smash the table to pieces, the provost regained control, but I could feel that the balance of power in the room was slipping. For the moment, Knox was forced into silence, and his friends held him back from the pulpit, but we all felt that at any moment he might burst out again.
Ericks, asked for his side of the story about the interrupted mass, coolly agreed that it was true and added, with apparent pride, that he had personally snatched an altar candle from a servant who was carrying it to the chapel and thrown the thing on the ground and stampedon it. There were various murmurs in the court, by the sound of them mostly of agreement by people who already knew about the exciting first Sabbath of Queen Mary’s reign in Scotland and had probably taken part in the uproar. They assuredly were not expressions of surprise.
Standing there with Brockley and Dale, I realized that, after all, the Thursbys had been partly right. Prompt though the officers of the law had been to investigate my cousin’s death, nevertheless, this was a violent land where a mob trying to interfere with the private worship of their sovereign was not thought strange or even particularly wrong, and a respectable minister with great lords in his following might encourage such a thing.
Ericks, once allowed to resume his testimony, said, quite openly, that with a few tankards of ale inside him, he was apt to be free with his fists and had let himself be provoked by the sight of Edward’s cross and had “told the popish fellow to put it out of sight.” Edward had indignantly refused, and words had been exchanged.
“I asked him who he was, prinking about wearing silver crosses, and he told me his name and said he was a supporter of Queen Mary, but I didnae like his mincing southron voice, so I threw a punch,” said Master Ericks casually.
Edward had hit back, and with bystanders cheering the two of them on, there had been a lively display of
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