"I hate the sea.”

The Queen sat in the window seat of her rooms in the garrison house at Calais, looking out at the ocean. None of us had seen much of it since leaving Scotland, thirteen years earlier, and since then we had spent much of our time in landlocked French royal palaces. Now, all we had to do was sit, and stare mournfully out at the ocean, wishing that we were able to set sail for Scotland.

“We left Rheims a fortnight ago,” the Queen mused. “Then, I thought it was just a matter of asking permission from my cousin Elizabeth for safe passage across the English Channel, and through England. Now, I know that I hoped in vain. I thought Elizabeth, a sister Queen would be my natural ally, but I was mistaken in thinking this.”

“There is still time,&rdq...

Please subscribe to keep reading.