The Wisest Fool mog-4

by Nigel Tranter

  "Ha-I swear he owes you money, like all the rest As do I, indeed!"

  "His lordship is, I am sure, an excellent risk, Highness. It is my privilege…"

  "Save us-you need not be afraid of miscalling Huntly in front of Hetty. She seldom sees him-nor wishes it otherwise! She had no more choice in wedding George Gordon than had I in wedding James Stewart! We are neither of us fortunate in our husbands 1"

  The man looked uncomfortable. "Your Grace jests. And I am a loyal subject and servant of King James also."

  "How loyal?" Anne jerked. "You were my servant, my jeweller, before you were James's, do not forget." He nodded. "I never forget it And am grateful," he assured.

  "Then-tell me of this plot You may speak out before the Marchioness. She is wholly trustworthy."

  "I was a d'Aubigny Stewart's daughter before ever I was a Gordon's wife," that young woman said quietly, her first contribution to the discussion,

  "Very well, Highness. There is nothing certain. But Mistress Gray believes that there is a plan to get Mar to yield up the Prince Henry, and to declare him King of Scots in place of his father, gone to England. The Master of Gray and sundry others, to rule the country in the boy's name." "Sweet Jesu! They would, would depose James? Impossible!"

  "Not so, I fear. After all, they deposed the King's mother, Mary. And King James is in no state to start his English reign by raising an army against Scotland and going to war." The women stared at him.

  "His Grace has grievously offended the Master of Gray, who so largely built up bis succession policy. And he is an ill man to cross. Moreover, there is no strong man, or strong faction, left in Scotland to support the King's cause. Most of his friends are gone south with him. The Catholic lords are here still, and strong, but…" He left the rest unsaid.

  "Aye-George would take a hand in this, I swear!" the Marchioness averred.

  "A mercy! The Master of Gray, it would be, to think of this! But-Mar? He is James's friend. No friend of mine, God knows. And an oaf! But would he betray James?"

  "This I do not know. It is the one factor which makes me doubt. Mar is with the King now. He was never keen on the English succession, I think-but I have no reason to believe that he would turn against the King. Nevertheless, the Master of Gray seldom misjudges."

  "He is an unpleasant man," Lady Huntly observed. "I would not trust him." "What are we to do?" the Queen demanded.

  "I think we must go to Stirling, Your Grace. If you are able to travel? Demand the Prince Henry from the old Countess."

  "I wrote a letter to her. Requiring her to deliver up my son to me. She sent reply that she would not. She would give him up only to the King."

  "If Your Grace went, in person. I with you. Saying that I came from the King. She might heed us. Lacking her son and the other Erskines." "If you think it. When? When shall we go?" "The sooner the better. For the Master may strike at any time." 'Today, then. We shall eat, and then ride. Hetty-my clothes…"

  "Ah, scarcely so soon, Highness. It is noon, and near twenty miles to Stirling. In Your Grace's present state you dare not ride fast. Tomorrow will serve, I think. Moreover, we need a tail of men. The Queen must ride properly escorted. How many have you here?" "A score. More."

  "Not sufficient, Highness. For this. You must appear strong. With authority."

  'Livingstone, the Earl of Linlithgow will find me men. At Haining Castle, but a few miles away. He keeps my daughter Elizabeth-but is no unfriend."

  "Good, I shall go speak with him. Tomorrow, then. In the morning. Highness-have I your permission to retire?"

  'To be sure. Ring the bell for the Primrose girl, Hetty. She will find you a room and see to your comfort, Master Geordie." "I thank you. She looks to be a bright lass, that one."

  "Over-bright, perhaps. For her years. I do not know, yet, whether I may trust her. I trust few in Scotland, even in my own household."

  "Including my lusty good-sister" the Marchioness said, sniffing. Alison Primrose appeared, and Heriot bowed himself out.

  "Where would you wish to have your bedchamber, Master Heriot?" the girl asked, innocently, in the cooler corridor. "Near the Duchess's? Or… otherwhere?"

  "Nearer yours, perhaps," he answered lightly. "Though- would I be any safer there…?"

  ***

  The next morning, escorted by the Earl of Linlithgow and sixty men-at-arms, the Queen and her ladies rode for Stirling, Anne carried in a horse-litter slung between two placid jennets, with George Heriot insisting on the most unhurried progress- for the last thing he wanted was for the King to accuse him of causing his wife to miscarry, as she had done once already. They went by the Roman Wall and the great Tor Wood, largely through Livingstone lands. On Heriot's suggestion Lord Linlithgow brought along his charge, the Princess Elizabeth, a lovely and vivacious girl of seven, all spirited grace, extraordinary to be the offspring of James and Anne, although not so extraordinary a grand-daughter for Mary Queen of Scots. She elected to ride with Alison Primrose, and together they lightened a dull morning.

  George Heriot rode with these two-save when he was summoned to the Queen's side-partly because they were the best company, partly in that he had, as ever, to be careful not to seem to presume on the Queen's friendliness. He was only an Edinburgh burgess, after all, and in the company of the Earl, Sir Harry Lindsay, Master of the Queen's Household, the Duchess of Lennox, the Marchioness of Huntly and other high-born individuals, he was of very humble status. Admittedly he came of lairdly stock, the Heriots of Trabourn, in Lothian, but that was three generations back, and his father had been a goldsmith, a tradesman, before him. Not infrequently his privileged position close to the Crown was an embarrassment.

  They came to the grey, climbing town of Stirling, above the silver coils of the River Forth but crouching beneath its soaring rock-girt citadel, in early afternoon. Queen Anne shook her fist at its lofty battlements. "My poor Frederick!" she cried.

  Through the narrow streets and up the steep hill they rode to the ancient fortress of Scotland's kings where so much of the land's turbulent history had been written. Their approach had been under observation for a long time, inevitably, and at the wide forecourt apron, high above the town and meandering river, the great gatehouse doors were found to be barred against them, the drawbridge up.

  "Who comes in armed strength to the King's royal castle of Stirling?" a harsh voice hailed them from the gatehouse parapet.

  "The Queen, fool!" Linlithgow shouted back. "Can you not recognise the royal standard of this realm?" And he pointed to the flag carried by one of his men. "Her Grace requires to see her son, the Prince Henry Frederick, Duke of Rothesay." A still larger royal standard than their own floated above the castle's topmost tower.

  "Wait you, while I inform the Countess of Mar," the captain of the guard returned.

  "Knave! Jackanapes!" the Earl roared. 'Think you to keep your Queen waiting like some packman at the door. Lower this bridge and open the gates immediately." There was no answer from the gatehouse.

  As the illustrious company fumed and fretted, the Queen swore that the guard-captain would hang for this.

  "He would hang the more promptly had he let us in, Highness," Heriot pointed out "The Countess Annabel has a notably short way with her, I have heard. She only is of account here."

  "In my country she would be horsewhipped and then drowned I" Anne snapped.

  "She would still have to be caught first, Your Grace 1" The Duchess of Lennox pointed out

  Presently, a small shrunken figure appeared at the gatehouse parapet with the guard-commander, rather ridiculous-seeming in a high hat with ostrich feathers and an old tartan plaid hugged about her, Annabel, Countess-Dowager of Mar, who had reared King James with her own family. She made no gesture towards the waiting company. "Her ladyship says that she listens," the commander called.

  As the Queen exploded with something wrathful and presumably Danish, Linlithgow raised his voice.

  "Countess of Mar-Her Grace is much displeased to be
kept waiting thus. She demands that you punish severely your insolent churl of a guard. And that you order these gates open, forthwith, that she may see her royal son." The Countess spoke to the captain, who began to answer. "Not you, fool! We do not speak with underlings."

  'The Countess says that she does not engage in unmannerly shoutings, sir." And as Linlithgow spluttered, "She says likewise that she will speak only with the Queen-if she is indeed present"

  In the ensuing uproar, Heriot moved closer to xthe Queen. "Wrath will achieve nothing, Your Grace," he said. "I urge that you move nearer to the bridge-end where we can speak without shouting." Reluctantly the Queen ordered it

  "Countess of Mar," she called clearly, from her litter. "I am Anne of Scotland-as you can see very well, unless age has blinded you I I require you to open these gates and deliver my son to me."

  "The Prince Henry is at the hurly-hackit ower the hill, yonder," a thin but strangely forceful voice declared. "It will tak a whilie to fetch him, y'Grace."

  "Then do so. At once. And meantime, open to me. I shall no longer wait here like some beggar at your door. Open. Do you understand, Countess?"

  "If Your Grace will show me a paper, signed by the King, ordering that I do so, I'll no' refuse, Highness."

  "How dare you make conditions to your Queen I Obey my royal commands."

  "I dare fine. For, lacking my son, I take instructions only frae the King's Grace, Madam. And his commands are right explicit. Without his written orders, signed and sealed, I deliver the Prince to nonesoever. And none sets foot ower the brig o' this castle!" "But… I am the boy's mother 1" Anne all but wailed. "His Grace kens that I hae nae doubt!" "This is outrage…!"

  "Countess Mar," Linlithgow interjected, "I have the same commission from His Grace. To keep and guard the Princess Elizabeth. But I do not keep her hidden from her royal mother. Nor does the Chancellor, Prince Charles. Here is the Princess."

  "Maybe so, Livingstone. You ken your orders, I ken mine. But my laddie's the heir. You'll admit there's a difference." The Queen and Heriot exchanged glances.

  "With His Grace in England, Her Grace has the supreme authority in Scotland, woman!" "No' to overturn King Jamie's commands."

  George Heriot took a hand. "I am the King's goldsmith, Heriot, Countess," he called. "I have come straight from His Grace. At York. He sent me to ensure that the Queen and his family were well, and having no troubles. To help prepare them for their journey to London. His Grace said naught of keeping the Queen and her children apart. Indeed he intended otherwise, I swear."

  "Sweer awa', mannie-but did he gie you a writing for me, to deliver up his son?"

  "No. But His Grace told me to see well to them all. I cannot do that while you keep this Prince hidden away. He said…"

  "Aye, he said! Or you say he said! I need mair than that. Aye, and I need mair than any goldsmith to come to me changing the King's express commands."

  "It is of no avail!" the Queen cried. "The old witch is beyond all reason. It is insufferable…" Despairingly Heriot tried one last throw. "Countess-His Grace gave me fullest authority to spend all necessary moneys on the Queen and her family's behalf. My purse, therefore is… not short! If anything is required, for the Prince's welfare, or in discharge of outlays here-I can deal with it…"

  "God's death-would you try to buy me, Annabel Mar, you huckstering httle shopkeeper!" the old woman shrilled. "Get out o' my sight before I hae my guards pistol you like an insolent scullion!"

  Strangely enough, George Heriot bowed from the saddle. "I apologise, Countess," he said. "I should not have said that"

  Alison Primrose actually clapped her hands-although her royal mistress looked less than approving.

  "I will have no more of this," Anne declared. "That I, the Queen, should be repulsed and insulted, kept out of a royal castle, by this woman! She will suffer for it-that I vow before God! We go. At once. I will not stay here another moment"

  'The boy, Highness? The Prince, your son? Do you not wait for him?" Linlithgow asked. "Yes-let us wait for Henry," the Princess Elizabeth cried.

  "Frederick!" her mother said sharply. "Frederick Henry, child." She set her long chin obstinately. "No. I will wait no longer at this door, like a beggar. To be mocked by this she-devil. Sir Harry- we return to Linhthgow."

  ***

  George Heriot was summoned to the royal bedchamber again that night, the Queen having retired, prostrate, on return from Stirling. He found her recovered somewhat, but very angry.

  "What do we do now, sir?" she demanded of him, before he was fully into the room "It was on your advice I went to Stirling- to be defied and insulted. Have you any more, and better, advice forme?"

  'The situation is difficult, Your Grace-but no worse than it was," he told her soothingly. "In the strongest fortress in the realm we cannot force the Countess to yield up the Prince. But then, neither can the Master of Gray! All depends on whether or no Lady Mar is in this plot of his. If she is not, then matters may be none so ill. For your son could scarcely be anywhere safer than in Stirling Castle, with that dragon guarding him."

  "She will be in it, the horrible creature! The plot. She hates me!"

  "I am less sure, Highness. Whether she hates you is scarce to the point, in this. What is to the point is-has she turned against the King? She did not sound so. And she has always loved him like a mother-a fierce mother, but still loved him…" "What of it? I want my son"

  "To be sure. But Your Grace has managed without him all these years. A week or two more will not try you too sternly. What is important is that the boy does not fall into the hands of the Master of Gray and his friends. To the King's grievous hurt And your own. If the Countess of Mar is not in the Master's plot and can remain proof against his pressings and blandishments-then the Prince is probably safer with her than even with Your Grace here. This is no fortress. Nor is any other royal palace you might go to. You perceive my point?"

  "I perceive that you said nothing of this yesterday, sir, when you urged me to go to get Henry!"

  'True. Perhaps I had thought insufficiently deeply myself. But we had to find out whether or no Lady Mar was in the plot. For myself, I do not now think she is."

  "Why are you so sure? I believe that you have conceived some shameful liking for the evil old bitch! You… you begged her pardon! When she had spat on me, your Queen!"

  "Only in that I had made suggestion that she might be bribed. That was a mistake. Let us be glad that she cannot, it seems."

  "Why think you she is not in Gray's pocket?" That was the Marchioness of Huntly, pale shadow of the Queen.

  "I am not sure. But she did not speak and act as I think she would have done had she been concealing complicity. She made overmuch of the King's authority, for one about to throw it off. I believe she is still loyal to His Grace. Whether she remains so or not is another matter. Depending on the Master's… inducements."

  There was silence in the over-heated chamber. The Queen dropped her head into her hands. "Is there nothing, nothing, that we can do?" she wailed.

  'Two things, I think, Madam. We must send an immediate letter to His Grace, telling him of the plot and requesting written authority to release the Prince. As indeed Lady Mar said…"

  "He will never give it. He is a cruel, unnatural man 1 He does not want me to have my son."

  "He will not refuse you at the cost of his Scots throne, I think. I shall write also. He commanded me to keep him informed." He could scarcely say that James would pay more attention to his plea than to the Queen's. "And the other? You said, two things."

  "That I might go again to Stirling. Myself. Alone, to see the Countess privily. Perhaps she would see me, hear me…" "Go deal with her? My enemy 1 Behind my back!"

  "Scarce that, Highness, surely. Rather to test her. Discover if she knows of the plot. Warn her, if she does not, and seems against it"

  "I will not have you having secret talks with that woman! Discussing me and my husband and son. I will not!"

 
; "If you do not trust me, Highness, send one of your ladies with me. Lady Huntly, here…"

  "I will not have any dealing with that she-devil," that lady declared. 'Then another. Merely to accompany me." "Not the Duchess, on my soul!"

  "No. That might be unwise. The young woman Primrose, perhaps? She would not seem to rival Lady Mar in status, yet could represent Your Grace well enough. It could do no harm, and might achieve something. While we wait for the King's authority. We might even have word with the Prince…"

  That same night an officer of the Queen's guard, with one of Heriot's grooms, set off for the South, with instructions not to spare themselves, or horseflesh, in getting their letters to the King with all speed. The other groom rode with them as far as Edinburgh, with a message for Mary Gray. And in the morning, their master, with Alison Primrose, headed westwards once more for Stirling at the crossing of Forth.

  It was extraordinary how different was their reception from the previous day's. The castle drawbridge was down, and although it was strongly guarded and could have been raised at short notice, a single man and woman represented no threat They were civilly received and a messenger sent to inform the Countess of their identity.

  With no undue delay they were conducted up from the gatehouse to a wing of the palace building on the crown of the rock, where in a small, bright room in a tower they found Annabel of Mar hunched over a fire. Close up, and in the cold morning light, she looked a very old and frail woman.

  "Well, Master Heriot 1 You are a bold man, I think, to return thus to Stirling! And who is this slip of a lassie you have brought to support you against an auld done woman?"

  "She is one of the Queen's Maids-in-Waiting, Countess. And I need all the support I can get!"

  "Say you so, goldsmith? Perhaps you speak truth. You havena come offering me more o' your Edinburgh gold today, I'm thinking?" "No. That was badly done. A man may make one mistake, may he not?" "With me, only one, sirrah."

  "He made apology, Lady Mar. Not all men would have done that," Alison Primrose said. "Nor required to, since gold speaks loudly!"