The Wisest Fool mog-4

by Nigel Tranter

  At Amersham in Buckinghamshire, envoys from the King met the entourage, to change its course to Windsor. The hot summer weather was exacerbating the plague in London and people were dying like flies. King James would by no means set royal foot in his new capital in these circumstances and was having to postpone his coronation in consequence. Instead, as a sort of stop-gap, he was going to hold a great investiture of the Order of the Garter at Windsor Castle, the Order's seat. The Queen and her suite were commanded to hasten there with all speed-for His Majesty had expected her to have arrived long ere this-as the Prince Henry was necessary to the occasion, to be installed as one of the new knights.

  Anne, nettled that it was apparently her son rather than herself whom the King was anxious to see, agreed to turn the column due southwards to Windsor but firmly refused to hurry; indeed she seemed to go even more slowly, spending more time over wayside receptions and the like-to the increasing concern of Lennox and others.

  In this spirit the vast concourse descended upon the lovely and sylvan vale of Thames on an afternoon of scorching heat Unfortunately, at this stage, James sent to meet them, of all people, John Earl of Mar and young Sir John Ramsay, chief page- a move scarcely well received. Mar at least had the wit not to address the Queen personally, bowing distantly to her from the saddle-and receiving not so much as a flicker of an eyelid in response. Ramsay, one of the King's pretty boys-though a vicious one, who dirked to death the Ruthven brothers at Gowrie House three years before-was left to address flowery greetings to Anne, and got little better acknowledgment

  Mar reined round beside Lennox. "God, man!" he said in his choleric way, "What's this? An invasion? James will take ill out o' it-he will so. Where did you get a' these? This host? Aye- and where have you been? You were expected days back. A week and mair."

  Ludovick did not often play the duke, but he did not like Mar and conceived him a bad influence with the King. "I think you forget yourself, my lord," he said stiffly. "Her Grace does not have to account to you for her actions. Nor do I."

  "Humph! Hoity-toity!" Mar growled. 'You'll no' bide that way long, Lennox. No, nor the Queen either! I warn you, James is right displeased. Hot, he is. You'll discover it"

  "Then he ought not to be, sir. Unless someone has been poisoning his mind! He has his wife and son safely here-when she was at death's door, and the boy in danger of being taken and set up as King of Scots against him. James should be a thankful man -and I will tell him so. And small thanks to you!" "The laddie was held safe in my castle, was he no'?" 'The thing could be described otherwise!" The Earl of Mar removed himself to more congenial company.

  George Heriot and Alison Primrose-who, despite twenty-five years discrepancy in age, had become close allies on the prolonged journey-watched this charade from behind.

  "I fear our pleasant easeful dallying is over, Alison," the man said. 'Now for the reckoning."

  "The reckoning may have its own amusements, Geordie," she pointed out. "The Queen has discovered her hardihood. Aye, and much more. She may hold her own. It will be as good as a playacting. I vow! Holy Matrimony and the Lord's Anointed!"

  "You are an irreverent child!" he asserted. "Is nothing sacred to you?"

  "Much," she conceded. "But hot this royal comedy of the Lion and the Unicorn!"

  "Ha!" he said. "The Lion and the Unicom! That is an apt title, to be sure. England's lion and Scotland's unicorn-with the unicorn rampant! Yet-which is which, in fact? Which the noble beast and which the laughable creature that never was!"

  "Ask His Grace himself, some time," that shrewd juvenile suggested lightly. "Our learned liege might be the only one who could tell you, I think."

  As the head of the cavalcade wound its way through the narrow streets of Windsor town, Anne chose to ride a saddle-horse between Lennox and his sister Hetty. Ahead, the huge mass of the castle dominated all, not in soaring aloofness like Stirling or Edinburgh on their rocks, but crowning a slight eminence in sheer, massive bulk and serried, towered masonry. The newcomers could not but be impressed.

  At the great new gatehouse to the Lower Ward, built by the late King Henry Eighth, before a large and colourful concourse of fine folk, two thrones had been erected on a dais covered with cloth-of-gold. Higher, behind these on the sloping ramp, were grouped all the English great officers of state, from the Lord Chancellor and Lord Chief Justice to the Garter King of Arms and the principal Secretary of State, Sir Robert Cecil. But the King was not sitting enthroned amongst all this array of resplendent dignity; he was hobbling up and down and around, not on the dais at all, leaning on the shoulder of a long-haired, handsome young man, with the other hand wielding a long white stick, almost as tall as himself, beribboned and with a golden ferrule. James was very fond of this stick, despite its donor-the Master of Gray had in fact brought it to him from France-but in the present circumstances it was something of a menace to all concerned, even to its royal wielder, all but tripping him up time and again. But he found it convenient to poke with while he waited-for passive waiting was anathema to James Stewart So he hobbled about and poked, poked at dignified men's feet, at fine ladies' ankles, even higher on occasion-for he was a man of catholic interests-at the heralds' tabards and Yeomen of the Guard's halberds. He muttered panted pleasantries as he poked, panted because he was puffing and sweating profusely in the heat Everyone was hot, but James was hottest, his heavily-stuffed and padded clothing ensuring that. Always the King's clothes made him look twice the size he was, so filled were they with padding as protection against the thrusts of cold steel, the thought of which ever haunted him.

  He had found an interesting thing to poke at, the loose silver shoe-buckle of a Yeoman of the Guard which made a pleasant clinking sound and delightfully embarrassed its wearer, when the Queen's procession turned into the wide forecourt from the street. At the arranged sign from the Garter King, the ranked trumpeters raised their gleaming instruments and blew a mighty fanfare. James, wholly preoccupied with what he was doing and unprepared, all but leapt out of his bejewelled, slashed and padded doublet at the sudden blast His high ostrich-feathered hat was knocked askew and the stick fell with a clatter-posing another agonising problem for the unfortunate Yeoman, whether to stoop and pick up the King's staff or to retain a suitably stiff and upright stance. The Earl of Southampton-on whom the King was leaning-it was who retrieved the stick, while in stammering choler James turned and shook his freed fist at the musicians. The waiting company stood spellbound.

  The Queen, with Lennox and Lady Huntly, rode up-with Mar and Ramsay trying to edge in from behind. The trumpets ended with a flourish and fell silent, and for a moment there was no sound but the horses' scraping hooves.

  'Yon was a right coarse noise!" the monarch snarled, into the hush. "We are displeased. Right displeased." He still had his trembling back to his newly-arrived royal consort He turned, making no move either forward to greet his wife or back to his throne. "Annie," he said, "you're late. Fell late."

  She inclined her head slightly, with great dignity, and said nothing.

  James looked up at her from under down-drawn brows. 'You should have been here days agone. We've been waiting on you," Southampton tried to back out from under the royal grip, but could not

  Still the Queen stared straight ahead of her at the ranked notables.

  Lennox hurriedly dismounted and bowed low. 'Your Majesty's impatience to see your royal consort is very understandable, Sire," he declared, "but Her Grace has been grievously ill. It would have been most unwise to travel more hastily."

  "You speak when you're spoken to, Vicky Stewart!" the King said. "We have been kept waiting. It wasna suitable." The rebuke delivered, James was prepared to show generosity "You look well enough now, Annie. Aye, healthy. I've never see you look weller." "I thank Your Grace," she answered stiffly.

  "Majesty, Annie-I'm Majesty now. Aye, and you too. Yon Grace is done wi'." He peered up at her. "So the bairn died?" "Miscarried," she corrected him. "It was I who almost died."
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  "Hh'mmm. Stravaiging about the country, I'm told, when you should ha' been biding still. To Stirling, heh? Blameworthy, aye blameworthy."

  "The blame for my miscarriage lies with the Countess of Mar who refused to let me see my son. On your orders, she said!"

  "Ooh, aye. Well, we'll no' go into that the now. But-get down, woman! I'm getting a right crick in my craig looking up at you. Down, I say."

  There was a hasty dismounting all around, Lennox aiding the Queen to alight, the process drawing James's attention to something of the great size of her following.

  "Guidsakes-what's a' this?" he demanded. "This, this multitude and numerosity! Who a God's name are they a'? These folk. What do they want?"

  "To present their loyal duty to Your Majesty," Lennox put in hastily. "Your faithful and honest subjects. Er, English ones. Seeking the, h'm, sun of your royal presence. Her Majesty has been picking them up all the way through England…"

  "Waesucks-then she shouldna! Mouths-mouths to feed! I'm Christ's Vice-Regent, yes-but if s no' for me to feed the five thousand!" James managed a complacent smirk at that example of his quick wit-but quickly reverted to a frown. "It isna right You'll hae to get rid o' them, Vicky Stewart A, a plague o' locusts, just."

  "I told them, Majesty," the Earl of Mar declared, now well forward. "I said you'd no' be pleased…"

  "James," Anne intervened coldly, "instead of miscalling your good subjects, who see fit to show their loyalty and affection for your Queen, ought not you to be greeting your own children, Frederick and Elizabeth, who have journeyed all this way to see their father?" Princess Elizabeth had recovered of her ailment and caught up with the rest in the North of England.

  "Ummm," the King said. "Och, well. Aye, then-where are they, in a' this clamjamphrie? If you hadna brought sae many folk, I'd see them easier…"

  Heriot and Alison Primrose brought forward the two children, bowing low.

  "Och, is that yoursel’, Geordie. Aye, man-it's good to see you. Though mind you, I've a wheen bones to crack wi' you, just the same! But later. And who's this?"

  "Your fine son and heir, Sire, the Duke of Rothesay. And his sister, the Princess Elizabeth."

  "Sakes, man-d'you think I dinna ken my ain bairns! It's this bit lassie wi' the bold eye. Aye, right bold!"

  "The Mistress Alison Primrose, one of Her Majesty's Maids-in-Waiting, daughter of the Clerk to the Privy Council…"

  "Hech-that cock-sparrow! Jamie Primrose. Aye, and cock's the word, heh, wi' a' the brood he's faithered!" The King hooted. "So-this is one o' his gets? Cocky too, eh?" Then Majesty recollected. "But-where's the Kildare woman? I sent her to take charge o' the lassie, Elizabeth. Where is she? Aye, and where's Sussex and Lincoln. And Carey? I dinna see them in a' this stramash."

  "The Countess of Kildare is somewhere in my royal train, James. I do not require her services," Anne announced thinly. "Nor that of the lords you mention. Now-I humbly suggest that Your Majesty recognises your own royal offspring, the Prince Frederick…"

  "Och, I recognise them fine. They've grown much-the laddie in especial. Dinna stand gawking there, bairns-come and kiss your daddy's hand. It's the least you can do, in front o' a' these folic" James, in truth, did not greatly like children-unless slightly older boys-finding them embarrassing. However, after the pair had kissed his hand-and involuntarily recoiled at its ingrained dirt, for the King believed water on the skin to be unnatural and dangerous and only permitted an occasional wiping of his fingertips-he patted his son on the head and, having trouble with his stick, picked up the little girl in his arms-so that Southampton escaped at last. "Och, Bessie, eh? No' an ill-favoured wench. Heh -Harry! Harry Wriothesley-you there, man. What think you -she'll outshine her mother one o' these days, eh?"

  Southampton coughed. "If she equals Her Majesty some years hence, it will be more, I make bold to say, than any other princess on earth will do I"

  James looked at his current favourite pityingly, and turned back to his stiffly-standing wife, setting down the child and shooing her away. 'This o' Sussex and Lincoln. And the Kildare. I dinna like the sound o' this."

  "Then it can be discussed later, I think, Sire," Anne declared. "Here is scarce the place." She nodded towards the serried ranks of berobed and glittering officers and dignitaries behind the thrones. "Perhaps I should be informed who are all these?"

  "Eh?" James turned. He had rather forgotten the welcoming hierarchy, now looking distinctly limp and jaded in the hot sun. "Och, these are a' the English," he said. "Yon's Cecil, wi' the crooked back. And the wee fat man's Popham that they ca' the Lord Chief Justice-as though I wasna the Lord Chief Justice o' my realm! And him that's glowering there like a Hielant stot- that's Coke, the Attorney-General. A fell man, yon. Aye, and there's Egerton, the Lord Chancellor. And Suffolk, another o' thae Howards, that's Lord Chamberlain. And Nottingham, a Howard too, that's the Admiral. Och, and a wheen mair. A' wi' great swollen heads-aye and swollen noses too,, to talk through! Auld Elizabeth fair let them get above themsel's. I hae my hands full, wi' these critturs-but, guidsakes, I'll tame them! Think they're the salt o' the earth, stick their bit chins in the air-and havena' the rudiments o' wit and learning. They'd scarce muster a Latin paradigm between them! O' statecraft they've none, and the strategy o' nations no notion. Only of wars wi' Spain and France-war, the resort o' fools! Och, Cecil's got a sort o' cunning and manoeuvre mind and as smooth tongue-blandae mendacia linguae.! But I'll teach them. Jamie Stewart will be their dominie -ooh aye!" He paused, panting with all this eloquence in the heat, and glancing sidelong at the uncomfortable Southampton to see how he took it. Then, in case these disclosures might seem to imply a weakening of his displeasure with his wife, he frowned. "Och, well-we'd better awa' up to thae chairs. There'll be talking through long noses, and speeches where you ken every next word! Come on, Harry." And resuming Southampton's shoulder, he shambled up towards the twin thrones, leaving Anne to find her own way.

  Hurriedly, Lennox moved up to offer his arm and escort the Queen. After a momentary hesitation, Heriot and Alison brought forward the children. Garter King gave the signal for another fanfare.

  Belatedly the official welcome proceeded, with addresses, presentations, ceremonial, the Queen gracious, James looking impatient, tapping his shoe-toe and stick on the ground, and the children whispering behind the thrones. The sun beat down.

  At last the King could stand it no longer. Abruptly he got to his feet, waving his stick. "Enough!" he cried. "It's ower hot. I'm right tired. Enough's plenty. Ha' done, in God's name!"

  "But, Sire!" Garter King, who acted master of ceremonies, protested. "The presentation. To the Prince of Wales, to be…" "Prince o' Wales? Who's that?" The herald choked. "Why, Sir-your son. The King of England's heir, if a son, is always Prince of Wales…" "No' till I make him so, man!"

  "Of course, Sire. Lacking the official ceremony. But in courtesy…"

  "See you-I've told you all. I'm no' King o' England. Leastways, I am, but that's no' my title and style. My throne is that o' the United Kingdom o' Great Britain and Ireland. Wi' France if you like-though yon's a nonsense. I'll hae no limiting me to this England, d'you hear?" "Yes, Majesty. To be sure."

  "Aye. And the laddie's Prince o' Scotland, Duke o' Rothesay, Earl o' Carrick and Baron Renfrew. Is that no' plenty, at nine years?" "As Your Majesty wishes. And the Prince's presentation…?"

  "Can wait. Harry Wriothesley-where are you? Your arm, man. My lords and gentles-I'll see you later. Aye, later. Or at the Investiture the morn. Annie-come you." And the audience very much over, the monarch stalked off, tap-tapping, uncertain as to footwork but very definite as to purpose, the illustrious, hierarchial ranks parting hastily to give him passage on his way into the castle proper. There was some competition amongst the highest nobles as to who was to be the Queen's escort, Lennox brushed aside.

  "There goes the Coadjutor of the Almighty!" that young man observed, low-voiced to his friend Heriot. "By the Grace of God master of us all. Save, per
haps, his Annie!"

  "But master of this England, too, I note! I said it would be the English who would have to change, not James. These haughty grandees of Elizabeth's Court will resist and struggle, but they but hatter their proud heads against our liege lord's stuffed doublet! They cannot win. For he is entirely sure of his divine right to be master, and so is unshakeably sustained, requiring to concede nothing-therefore conceding only when it pleases him to do so." "Yet he concedes more to you than to most men, Geordie!"

  "Only because I require nothing from him. Not even the payment of his debts!"

  "A strange position, yes. And Anne? Has she reached that good position also, think you? She is a changed woman, since her illness."

  "It may be so. I think that she has chosen, now, to be queen indeed, but no longer wife. And she is a determined woman. James will have to come to some sort of terms with her-the only one he must. Anne is learning, I swear, that she is in a stronger position in England than ever she was in Scotland."

  "You think deeply in that long Edinburgh head of yours, Geordie!" "I must needs sum up my customers, my lord Duke!"

  ***

  The Garter Investiture the next day, 2nd July 1603, was a great success, at least as far as King James was concerned-though the Garter King and the Prelate, the Bishop of Winchester, on whom the ceremonial depended, tended to have their brows deep furrowed throughout. But that was a small matter. James had his own ideas, of course, as to how such affairs should be conducted, and if this was apt to clash with the traditional arrangements, that was unfortunate for the upholders of the latter. After all, this was a new dispensation. James enjoyed arranging things.

  Garter-and not only he-was shaken from the start by the unexpected inclusion of the young Earl of Southampton in the knights to be invested, but the King insisted. James had only met Harry Wriothesley a few weeks before when, despite the plague in London, he had paid a fleeting visit to the Tower-by river, which he was assured was safer-to see and evaluate the Crown Jewels kept there, a matter much on his mind. While therein, he had received a pathetic plea from the young Southampton to let him glimpse the sun of his royal presence and lighten the gloomy cell to which he was confined on King James's behalf, even for a moment The Earl had, in fact, been involved in the late Essex's abortive rebellion against Elizabeth, when that disgraced favourite had proposed that James should enter England in 1601, at the head of an army, and insist from strength on being recognised as the Queen's successor-a plot for which Essex lost his head and Southampton went to the Tower. James, not ungrateful and always interested in young men, had acceded, and down in the grim cell was greatly struck, indeed his heart wrung, by the other's pale beauty, delicate air and sad state. On the spot he had ordered a special pardon, coupled with a command to appear forthwith at Court. Progress had been phenomenally rapid thereafter-to the distress of certain young Scots, notably Sir John Ramsay and Dand Kerr. Now the Garter was to compensate him for all his sufferings.