Queen Mary stopped writing then. Yesterday afternoon,7th February 1587, we heard a horse outside our win-dow. Mary looked out. There was a man there, on the road from London. He had a letter from the Queen of England.
In the evening, an Englishman, Lord Shrewsbury,came to see Mary,‘I am sorry,my lady,'he said.‘But I have a letter from my Queen. You're going to die, tomorrow.'
Mary did not move.‘When?'she asked quietly.
‘At half past eight in the morning,'he said.‘I am very sorry, my lady.'He went away.
We did not sleep much that night.We talked and prayed to God, and she gave me her letter to her son, James.‘Give it to him, Bess, please,'she said.‘And tell him how I died.'
‘Yes, my lady,'I said. And so now I am going to tell you.King James.This is how your mother died.
At six o'clock she got up,prayed, and dressed. She put on a red petticoat first, then a black dress, and a white veil over the dress. The veil came from her head to her feet; she could see out through it, but we could not see her face. She looked like a woman on her wedding day.
When the Englishmen came we went downstairs with her.Her little dog walked beside her, under the veil, but the Eng-lishmen didn't see that. Six of us went into a big room with her. A hundred people stood and watched.
A Protestant churchman came to talk to her,‘My lady,'he said.‘Pray with me—'
‘No,'she said.‘Thank you, but no. I was born a Catholic and I'm going to die a Catholic. I think God understands that.'she prayed for five minutes, and then stood up. The executioner came towards her. He was a big, strong man with anaxe, and something black over his face.
‘I am sorry, my lady,'he said.‘I don't hate you, but this is my work. Please forgive me.'
‘Of course I forgive you,'mary said.‘I am old, and tired,and you're going to open my prison doors for me. I am going to see God.Do your work well.'
Then she looked at me and her friends.‘Don't cry for me,ladies,'she said.‘Please, don't cry now.'
She could not walk to the block, so the executioner helped her. He took off her white veil, and then he took off her black dress, and put it on the floor. She stood there, in her red pet-ticoat,with a smile on her face. Then the executioner put something over her eyes. Very slowly, Mary put her head on the block.
‘The Lord my God is my one true friend,'she said.‘I give my life,oh God,into your hands.'
Then the executioner lifted his axe, once… twice… oh God!three times…and her head—her poor,poor head,fell on the floor.
It was very quiet in the room after that. It is a little thing,a head—a very little thing. But there was so much blood—blood on her red petticoat, blood on her black dress and her white veil, blood on the executioner's shoes, blood all over the floor. Blood, blood everywhere.
We all looked, and said nothing. The executioner put down his axe and stood quietly. And then Mary's little dog came out from under her bloody dress and veil, and walked slowly, un-happily, through the blood towards her head.
My lord,the story of your poor mother's life finishes here.We, her friends, cry for her, but that is how your mother died. She died like a Queen. A good lady and a famous Queen.
Mary, Queen of Scots.
9 死亡
然后,瑪麗女王停止了寫信。昨天下午,即1587年的2月7日,我們聽到窗外傳來了馬蹄聲?,旣愊虼巴馔ィ瑥膫惗胤较騺砹艘粋€男人,他捎來了英格蘭女王的一封信。
晚上,一位英格蘭人,休斯貝林勛爵來看瑪麗。“我很抱歉,我的夫人,”他說。“可是我有一封英格蘭女王寫來的信。你明天將被處死。”
瑪麗一動也沒動。“什么時候?”她平靜地問道。
“早上8點半鐘。”他說。“我十分抱歉,我的夫人。”他說完就離開了。
那晚我們沒睡多少。我們談著話并且向上帝祈禱,她把給她兒子詹姆斯的信交給我。“請把信交給他,貝斯。”她說。“并且告訴他我是怎么死的。”
“好的,夫人,”我說道。因此,現(xiàn)在就由我來告訴你,詹姆斯國王,你母親是怎么死的吧。
早上6點鐘,她起床了,祈禱完畢,穿好衣服。她先穿上一件紅色的襯裙,然后穿上一件黑色的連衣裙,再在裙子外面套上一件白色的薄紗裙。紗裙一直從臉罩到腳;透過它,她能看得見外面,但我們不能看到她的臉。她看起來像個婚禮上的新娘。
那英格蘭人來的時候,我們就跟著她下了樓。她的小狗跟在她身邊,跑在紗裙下面,但那英格蘭人沒有看到它。我們六個人跟她走進了一間大房間。有100人站在那里觀望。
一個新教教士走過來和她說話。“我的夫人,”他說道。“跟我一起祈禱——”
“不,”她說。“謝謝你,但我不。我生為天主教教徒,死也為天主教教徒。我想上帝會明白的。”她祈禱了5分鐘,然后站了起來。那劊子手向她走過來。他又大又壯,手里拿著斧子,一個黑乎乎的東西蓋著他的臉。
“我很抱歉,我的夫人,”他說。“我不想傷害你,但這是我的工作。請原諒我。”
“當然我會原諒你。”瑪麗說。“我老了,也感到累了,你將為我打開監(jiān)獄的大門。我將去見上帝了。好好干。”
隨后她看著我和她的朋友們。“不要為我而哭,夫人們,”她說。“現(xiàn)在請別哭了。”
她不能走到木臺那兒,于是那劊子手拉她過去。他脫下她白色的紗裙,然后脫下她黑色的連衣裙,放到地板上去。她站在那里,穿著紅色的襯裙,臉上帶著微笑。接著,那劊子手用東西遮住了她的眼睛。慢慢地,慢慢地,瑪麗將頭放在了木臺上。
“我的主上帝是我的一個真正的朋友,”她說。“噢,上帝,我把我的生命放進你的手中。”
然后那劊子手舉起了他的斧子。一次……兩次……噢,上帝!三次……她的頭——她的可憐的,可憐的頭顱,掉在了地板上。
在那之后房間是一片寂靜。它只是個小東西,一只頭顱——一個非常小的東西。但卻有這么多血——鮮血滲到她紅色的襯裙上,滲到她黑色的連衣裙和她那白色的紗裙上,鮮血流到了劊子手的鞋上,地板上到處是血,血,到處是血。
我們怔怔地看著,一句話也說不出來。劊子手放下了斧子,一言不發(fā)地站著。那時,瑪麗的小狗從她那被鮮血染紅了的連衣裙和紗裙下面鉆了出來,淌過鮮血很傷心地,慢慢地走向她的頭顱。
我的國王,有關你可憐的母親的生平就說到這里了。我們,做為她的朋友,為她哭泣,但這就是你母親怎么死的。她死得像個女王。一位好夫人,一位馳名的女王。
瑪麗,蘇格蘭女王。