 HQ presents Mary Queen of Scots, by John Guy, read by Jan Cramer. Prologue Around eight o'clock in the morning of Wednesday the eighth of February 1587, when it was light enough to see without candles, Sir Thomas Andrews, Sheriff of the County of Northamptonshire, knocked on a door. The place was Fothering Hay Castle, about seventy-five miles from London. All that remains there now beneath the weeds is the raised earthen rampart of the inner Bailey, and a truncated mound or mott on the side of the keep, a few hundred yards from the village beside a sluggish stretch of the River Neen. But in the sixteenth century the place was bustling with life. Fothering Hay was a royal manor. Richard III had been born at the castle in 1452. Henry VII, the first of the Tudor kings, who had slain Richard at the Battle of Bosworth gave the estate as a dowry to his wife Elizabeth of York, and Henry VIII granted it to his first bride Catherine of Aragon, who extensively refurbished the castle. In 1558 Elizabeth I inherited the property when she succeeded to the throne on the death of her elder sister Mary Tudor. Despite its royal associations nothing had prepared Fothering Hay, or indeed the British Isles, for what was about to happen there. Andrews was in attendance on two of England's highest ranking noblemen, George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, and Henry Gray, Earl of Kent. The door at which he knocked was the outer door of the privy chamber of Mary Queen of Scots, Dowager Queen of France, and for almost nineteen years Elizabeth's prisoner in England. The door opened to reveal Mary on her knees, praying with her bed-chamber servants. Andrews informed her that the time was at hand, and she looked up and said she was ready. She rose, and her gentle women stood aside. She was still aged only forty-four. Born and brought up to be a queen, she walked confidently through the doorway as if she were once more processing to a court festival. Almost six feet tall she had always looked the part. She had been fated since her childhood in France for her beauty and allure. Charmante, and la plus parfaite! Were the adjectives most commonly applied to her singular blend of celebrity? Not just physically mesmerising with her well-proportioned face, neck, arms, and waist, she had an unusual warmth of character, with the ability to strike up an instant rapport. Always high-spirited and vivacious, she could be unreservedly generous and amiable. She had a razor-sharp wit, and was a natural conversationalist. Grigarius, as well as Glamorous, she could be genial to the point of informality as long as her grandeur was respected. Many contemporaries remarked on her almost magical ability to create the impression that the person she was talking to was the only one whose opinion really mattered to her. As a result of premature aging caused by the inertia and lack of exercise of which she had so bitterly complained during her long captivity, her beauty was on the wane. Her features had thickened, and she had rounded shoulders in a slight stoop. Her face once legendary for its soft white skin and immaculate marble-like complexion had filled out and become double-chinned. But captivity had not altered everything. Her small, deep-set hazel eyes darted as restlessly as ever, and her ringlets of urban hair seemed as lustrous. Mary had been awake for most of the night, and had carefully prepared herself. This was to be her grandest performance, her greatest triumph. She had considered every detail. Her clothes set the tone. She appeared to be dressed entirely in black, apart from a white linen veil. Her face edged, and as delicate as gauze, it flowed down from her hair over her shoulders to her feet in the French style. Fasten to the top of the veil was a small white cambrick cap. It just touched the tip of her forehead, and was also edged with lace, leaving room for her curls to creep out at the sides. Her gown of thick black satin reached almost to the ground, where it was attached to her train. And with gold embroidery and sable, it was peppered with acorn buttons of jet trimmed with pearl. A closer look revealed an outer bodice of crimson velvet, and an underskirt of embroidered black satin, both visible where— Sample complete. Ready to continue?