"Your performance in the past few months has opened my eyes, dear Mary. I am waiting for your good news in France and am willing to support you at any time." The Duke of Guise says with a smile on his face and a hint of meaning.
He has not been optimistic about this niece he has watched grow up, but he did not expect that her husband's death would give her a lot more political sense. In several private conversations, she could analyze the situation in detail.
Perhaps after going to Scotland, Mary could really take control of the power of Scotland in her own hands like her sister, Queen Mary de Guise.
"Of course, my three uncles, we are the closest relatives, and our family affection is the most solid alliance." Mary Stuart says with a sincere smile.
After the Guise family leaves, the sailor unties the huge white sails, and under the encouragement of the strong wind, leads the fleet to slowly leave the port, away from the warm France, and heads for the cold and humid northern island country.
Mary Stuart stands on the deck, her black hair flying in the sea breeze, watching the coast of France become distant and hazy little by little.
The curtain of her life is officially opened.
The rare favorable weather makes the sailboat sail fast. The sails swollen by the sea breeze looks like huge white scallops or white wings of seagulls, leading the entire fleet to break through the clouds and waves on the sea, leaving a long wave of foam on the blue sea.
After a night of sailing, the coastline of France has completely disappeared, replaced by the outline of Great Britain looming in the sea.
Mary Stuart walks from the cabin below to the deck, facing the sea breeze and watching the rising sun, she hears the passing crew members and helmsmen talking about the rare good weather and smooth sailing, and Bothwell, the commander of the Scottish Guards, is patrolling back and forth with the musket on his waist.
These make Mary Stuart's brows relax a little.
She still remembers that when she returned to Scotland in her previous life, as soon as the sailboat left the harbor, she saw a small boat that was not well sailed hit the rocks and then sank into the sea. Soon after, the sea breeze gradually stopped, leaving the crew to sail by manpower.
This is a good sign in this time, Mary Stuart thinks to herself.
Her maids and friends have secretly talked about it behind her back, saying that after the Majesty fainted at the funeral, she no longer had any of the kindness, enthusiasm, joy and courage she had before, and was replaced by ice-like calmness and sharpness, which was not bad, but made them feel too... unfamiliar.
Only Mary Stuart herself knows that she is actually not as confident as she appeared in front of everyone. On the contrary, the closer she gets to Scotland, the more uneasy she becomes.
She had been separated from her head and defeated once, because of Elizabeth I and because of her own stupidity, but she could not guarantee that she would not fail a second time.
But no matter what, she would never give up the struggle with her own destiny.
Not long after, the maid Mary. Beaton also comes out of the cabin, wrapped in thick squirrel fur, holding a white ermine cloak in her hand, and comes over to help her put it on.
"Your Majesty, the weather is too cold, please put this on." Beaton says urgently.
"I feel fine. I want to walk around on the deck and relax a bit." Mary Stuart says, lowering her head obediently and letting Beaton tie her straps.
It is hard to describe the feeling of sleeping on a swaying sailboat. If she used her other half of her soul to compare it, it would be like sitting on a pirate ship in an amusement park and taking a nap. She couldn't sleep well at all. She is stiff and sore all over and needs to move around.
"I just asked the captain. If everything goes well, we can reach Scotland tomorrow... My God, your majesty, there is a ship that is about to sink into the sea!" Mary Beaton suddenly exclaims.
Because of this ominous word, Mary Stuart's heart also sinks. She frowns and looks in the direction of Beaton's gaze. She sees a sailboat with billowing smoke on the sea painted with morning glow, which is swaying and supporting itself. From time to time, gray and black wooden boards fall into the sea. The deck is full of scattered barrels and containers, which are being entangled and burned by fire snakes.
At this rate, in just a dozen minutes, the ship will sink completely into the boundless sea.
The two ships are not far from each other, and Mary Stuart could not see clearly whether there are any active figures on the ship, nor does she hear any shouts, so she is not sure whether there are any survivors existing.
Bothwell takes off his hat and comes over to ask, "Your Majesty, do you need to get closer to see the situation of that ship?"
"Go over there immediately to see if there are any survivors who need to be rescued..." Mary Stuart thinks for a moment and says, "... Let the soldiers of the Guards go with the crew to avoid pirates or other dangers."
The huge sailing ship with the royal flag immediately turns according to the Queen's order, and soon it approaches the ordinary wooden ship. After a commotion, several soldiers carries a dying young man out of the sunken ship in thick smoke.
Bothwell leads the way in front, orders the soldiers to put the young man on the deck, and then comes over and whispers to Mary Stuart, "Your Majesty, something is wrong."
"What do you mean?" Mary Stuart asks.
"Everyone on the ship is dead, and they are all fatally wounded..." Bothwell says, gently stroking his neck with his hand, grinning, "... extremely professional techniques, all aimed at the neck and other fatal places, and killed them in a few strokes. The person who killed those crew members must be an old hand, full of experiences."
"Is it possible that they are killed by those pirates?" Mary Stuart asks.
"Impossible, I have already checked, and dozens of barrels of fine wine and silk furs on the ship are not moved away. Your Majesty, the pirates absolutely can't give up these." Bothwell says, and then smacks his lips slightly, feeling a little sorry.
Those goods are worth a lot of money, but it's a pity that the ship is about to sink, and there is no time to snatch them back.
Mary Stuart indeed has a complicated personal relationship with Bothwell, her third husband in the previous life, just like Lord Darnley, her second husband. She doesn't say much except for orders, but she absolutely believes in his judgment as a military veteran, and can't help but be curious about what happened exactly on the ship.
The only survivor is still lying on the deck. An old sailor who knows a little bit of medical skills is busy pulling out the crossbow arrows from his body and wrapping up the wounds of all sizes on his body with clean gauze to prevent further bleeding.
The four maids gather next to the old sailor to watch with the excitement. They hold their breath and stare at the bloody scene they have never seen before, fearing and wanting to watch.
After a while, the maids suddenly burst into exclamations at the same time.
"Oh my God, we saved Apollo, the sun god." Miss Livingston says with her mouth covered, and the other three maids agree very much obviously.
Mary Stuart also just finishes talking about various speculations with Bothwell at this time and walks towards the surviving young man.
When the people gathered around see the queen coming, they immediately make way and expose the face of the young man on the ground to the morning sun.
Well...It is indeed a face that could be likened to the sun god Apollo, with light blond hair as bright as the sun, and deep and beautiful facial features, similar to those marble statues unearthed from the Greek seaside. Even the exposed body is not like the pot-bellied body of most nobles today, but reveals beautiful muscle lines, which makes Mary Stuart stunned for a moment when she sees it for the first time.
"By the way, does he have any noble emblems to prove his identity?" Mary Stuart reacts quickly and asks.