Introduction

The next few hundred years, following Mary's execution, saw the hangings fall and the music stop. Its glory days over, the Castle was simply another property that belonged to the Duchy of Lancaster. A lot of building work was carried out, new towers and curtain walls were built under various monarchs. The South Tower was completed in the 1450’s and the North Tower by 1460.

Fit for A Queen

Despite this it was certainly still imposing; as one historian describes it as "more of a fortified town than a castle". It was also conveniently remote - both from the centre of Elizabeth’s power in London and from the neighbouring kingdom of Scotland. Perhaps that was the attraction for Elizabeth in choosing it as a castle fit for a queen – a special queen – a captive queen.

Impressions

On the 4th February 1569, Mary Queen of Scots and sixty attendants, including her gaoler Knollys, rode into Tutbury Castle. She had been many hours in the saddle and for the first time since her arrival in England, she realised she was now in prison.

Mary loathed Tutbury. Not only because of what it represented but also because it was cold, draughty and extremely damp - threatening Mary’s already delicate health. She wrote of its miseries in winter that "mechante vieille charpenterie" caused the wind to whistle through her chamber. Rather than waxing lyrical about the magnificent view Tutbury offered, she described it as "sitting squarely on top of a mountain in the middle of a plain" subjecting her to all the winds and "injures’ of heaven".

Shortly after arriving, Mary’s keeping was handed over to George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, husband to Bess of Hardwicke. Shrewsbury remained her gaoler with only a few respites for the next fourteen years. We know something of how she spent her time – reading, writing and a great love of her life, embroidery. She sent gifts to powerful figures such as Queen Elizabeth herself. Perhaps on consideration the embroidered pillow we know she sent to Norfolk was not such a good idea – he was ambitious enough.

At the end of February 1569 Nicholas White was travelling to Ireland on behalf of Elizabeth’s Chief Minister, William Cecil. White broke his journey to visit Mary at Tutbury Castle. His letter to William Cecil reporting what he found is enlightening. He stated the Queen spent far too much of her time embroidering. "All the day she wrought with her needle and that the diversity of colours made the time less tedious". They also discussed the artistic values of carving and painting during the course of which Mary expressed her view that painting was the greatest skill. He replied sharply that he believed painting to be a false truth – ‘Veritas Falsa’. Mary understandably, at this point, ended the audience and withdrew into her own rooms.

So despite Nicholas White being able to resist the considerable charms of Mary, he couldn’t resist describing how she looked – as "having dark hair", although he had been warned by Knollys she wore false hair of different colours, and "hath withal an alluring grace, a pretty Scotch accent, and a searching wit clouded with mildness. Fame might move some to relieve her, and glory join with gain might stir others to adventure more for her sake". A warning indeed.

Endlessly on the Move

In June 1569 she was moved to Wingfield Manor to avoid suspected rescue attempts. In the November she was moved to Coventry. Later in 1569 Elizabeth discovered to her fury, the Norfolk marriage plot, so on 2nd January, 1570 Mary was moved back to Tutbury. She had her suite cut down and she was unable to give or receive messages to the outside world. Huntingdon was also sent by Elizabeth to assist Shrewsbury in his task.

When Mary’s health seemed to worsen in Tutbury’s atmosphere she was moved to other houses, but on 14th January 1585 she was sent back to Tutbury for the final time. The impregnable fortress was this time guarded by Sir Ralph Sadler, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. He was kind to Mary, finding his task as distasteful as his absence from home. He allowed Mary to hawk and ride. This news in London caused some anger so in April 1585 she met her most severe gaoler, Sir Amyas Paulet – she loathed him as much as Tutbury. One of the first things he did was remove her chair and royal cloth of state. Despite her tears, he remained unmoved. His puritan conscience kept him severe and distant.