Black Douglas (Coronet Books)

by Nigel Tranter

  “You are unfair, my lord! To His Grace,” the Bishop protested. “It is not so, I swear. He honours you, in this. Appoints you his realm’s chiefest spokesman. To deal with the English . . .”

  “I was honoured to be the realm’s chiefest spokesman to deal with the Pope likewise! And came home to planned treachery and evil. Only a fool does not learn, man.”

  “I do not think that this is the way of it, Will,” Hay said unhappily. “I do not think the King intends you ill, in this. You are but the best man for the task. And friendly with York, as is known . . .”

  “Aye — there, I swear, we have it. His . . . how does he put it? His known amity and close association with the Duke of York! James Stewart has not forgiven me my visit to the English Court. He does not say that with love, I think. I pay a price for the Protector’s amity!”

  “You are suspicious . . .”

  “I am suspicious, yes. Do you wonder at it? Ask my lady wife. Am I too suspicious of my liege lord James?”

  Margaret shook her head. “I think not, Will.”

  “That he should deem me a traitor, I can perhaps forgive. For this, it seems, is a weakness of kings. But to deem me fool! The thing stinks! To have appointed Crawford to this embassage! A man who loses temper at a gnat. With wits like a weathercock!”

  “He is one of the greatest lords in the land,” Turnbull pointed out. “You yourself have a bond with him.”

  “He has three thousand men. That is the reason for my bond. And his sister wed to my cousin, whom Crichton and Livingstone slew. But here is no reason for appointment to negotiate a treaty! And Angus — a fledgling, whose only virtue is that he hates our house! It stinks, I say! First, I am to be won over and softened by the regrant of these charters and offices. Then, to be cozened into leaving Scotland. For why? What plans King James next? Or is it Crichton?” Will turned on his brother-in-law. “Had Crichton any hand in this?”

  “Not that I know. We have come from Stirling, not Edinburgh, Crichton comes little to Stirling . . .”

  “But as Chancellor he must be concerned in this treaty?”

  “That may be. But James spoke as though this was all of his own devising. He spoke of it with us, frankly. I think that you misjudge, Will . . .”

  “It is scarce clever enough for Crichton,” Margaret put in.

  “No. True. Nevertheless, I will not go to Durham.”

  “But . . . my lord! You cannot say,” Turnbull exclaimed. “Here is no request, no plea. It is a royal command. Even Douglas must needs obey.”

  “Must needs? You think so? See you — this royal command is delivered to me by proxy. Douglas shall obey it the same way — by proxy!” He tapped the letter. “Here is paper. And sealing-wax. James Stewart’s seal.” From inside his doublet, Will drew a golden trinket on a slender chain, and tossed it on to the paper. “Here is another seal. That of Douglas. This shall go to Durham. In my name and room. As you brought the other to Newark, in the King’s. It shall go with my wishes and recommendations for this truce. My authority. The Lord Fleming shall bear it. Beardie can go, if he will. But I bide here, I do not leave Scotland, see you. It is understood?”

  The others gazed at him, wordless. None dared enunciate the word rebellion.

  Will nodded. “Enough, then. Enough of this folly of kings and governance and the like. Let us be ourselves, my friends. Forget for the once who and what sent you. Accept instead Newark’s good fellowship. A plague on all statecraft, say I! Sit you, my lords . . .”

  But little relieved, his visitors sat down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE weeks passed, the Scots commissioners went south to Durham minus both Douglas and Crawford, though still nominally under the former’s leadership — since King James was too proud to admit that his command had not been complied with — Will returned to Threave, and winter set in. It was a hard winter, of continuing snow and ice, wherein men found it difficult to travel the country however necessary their journeys. As for Will Douglas he was well content to stay at home or at least in the Galloway area; but it was not in the nature of the man to remain inactive, and he and his brothers found plenty to occupy their time without concerning themselves overmuch with affairs of state. They had of course almost one eighth of Scotland to administer, through their chamberlains, stewards and deputies. That winter, for Will, was the most domestic of any since his accession to the earldom, and he found no little satisfaction in the fact. Indeed, he became almost grateful to James Stewart for depriving him of the office of Lieutenant-General, and all the responsibilities that went with it. For a young man of twenty-seven he had had more than his share of responsibilities. He found himself more at ease with Margaret than ever he had been, and yet with pride watched Meg bloom joyously with the motherhood she had prophesied.

  It was towards the end of February 1452 that the pattern was changed. As was almost inevitable, it was a messenger from the north who heralded it. Again it was from the monarch, and once more James sent a friend — this time Sir William Lauder of Hatton, a vassel of Douglas, who had indeed accompanied him to Rome, and was, oddly enough, at present under forfeiture for technical rebellion, after trouble with some of Crichton’s people.

  Lauder repeated the procedure by also bringing two separate letters, both closed with the royal Privy Seal. One was a summons, though in the most friendly terms, requiring the Earl of Douglas to attend upon the King, in person and forthwith, at Stirling, for council and fellowship. The other was much more elaborate, much more strange. It was, in fact, a safe-conduct, in detailed and explicit terms, promising the Earl of Douglas complete security of person and interests during the said visit to Stirling, signed by the monarch himself and countersigned by sundry prominent members of his Privy Council.

  They were sitting round the great table in the Upper Hall of Threave, a family gathering, as was normal. Will put the papers down slowly, thoughtfully. Then he pushed them across to Jamie.

  “Read these,” he said. “Read them aloud. Our friend, Sir William, has brought us interesting tidings. The lesser first, Jamie.”

  His brother, all eyes upon him, did as he was bid. His voice faltered a little when he came to the safe-conduct wording.

  There was almost uproar before he had finished, Hugh and Johnnie vying with each other in question, protest and invective, others little less vociferous. Yet when Margaret opened her lips to speak, all stopped their clamour.

  “What is this, Will?” she asked. “It is such as is granted to pass through an enemy’s territory, is it not? Or to venture in a foreign land. Such the King of England might grant to Douglas. But not, surely, the King of Scots?”

  “Aye — it is an insult!”

  “Douglas is his own safe-conduct, by God!”

  “James Stewart must be crazed! He to pledge Douglas’s safety? In Scotland!”

  “Take five thousand men with you to Stirling, Will. And see who needs safe-conduct!”

  “Aye. We’ll go there. Give him back his piece of paper . . .”

  “Peace! Peace!” Will cried. “Of a mercy! My lady-wife asked a question. What is this, she said. Myself, I have never seen the life. Perhaps we should ask Sir William, whom His Grace has sent. What means this paper, my friend?”

  The knight was embarrassed. “My lord — do not ask me! I do not know. I knew naught of this safe conduct. The summons, yes — His Grace told me of that. He said he sought your presence with him, in love and affection. Gave me the two letters. But said naught of any safe-conduct. For Douglas . . .”

  “Others know of it.” Will reached for the paper again, and drew a candelabrum closer. “Here are the signatures and seals of the new-made Earl of Huntly. And the Lord Haliburton. Aye, and Gray — both Grays, my lord and his brother, Sir Patrick! And Darnley, Lennox’s son. All assure me, me, of my safety!” He barked a laugh. “Here is touching care and kindness! But . . . I wonder why?”

  There was a babble of suggestions, few of them complimentary to their liege lord or
his present advisers.

  “My lord,” Lauder only just managed to make himself heard. “Do not too hardly blame His Grace. Here is no insult, I am sure. He would not wish that, since he wishes you to come. To offend you would but keep you away. He much desires your presence, that I know. I think he conceives you as scarce trusting his goodwill. And kingly word. That is why you would not yield the man Maclellan into his hands. Or lead the commissioners to Durham. So, I think, he would assure you that no ill is intended against you, by this safe-conduct.”

  “Maybe so, friend. But there is more behind it than that When men think that Douglas could need a safe conduct, in Scotland, and to visit his king, there is something far wrong. Wrong with the thinkers! James may not say it, but it is clear that at heart he considers me enemy. Rebel! This is the behaviour as to a miscreant. Who must be coaxed and cozened.”

  “I swear it is not so, my lord.”

  “Perhaps not. But James Stewart may here speak clearer than he himself knows.”

  “My lord — does Sir William know the reason for the summons?” Margaret put in. “Why does King James so urgently need your presence?”

  “That I do not know, lady. But my lord has not attended these last Privy Councils. Nor his brothers. It is much spoken of. It may be that His Grace requires his counsel. And unless he himself comes to Threave seeking it, this is the only way to gain it.”

  “If the King esteems my counsel so highly, he should not have appointed Crichton to be Chancellor again. He knew my judgement of the man — all honest men’s judgement. I will not sit at the council-table under that knave!”

  “It may be, I say, that here is part reason for the summons.”

  “What will you do, Will?” his wife asked, anxiety in her voice.

  “Why, I will go, to be sure. It is a royal command.”

  “It was a royal command that you went to Durham.”

  “That was different. I cannot refuse the King’s summons to his own presence, I have vowed my homage to him. I am no rebel.”

  “Aye. We will all go. All go to Stirling,” Hugh cried “Douglas will wait on the King, since he wishes it! Douglas, in his thousands!”

  “Aye! We will all give of our counsel!” Johnnie agreed. “In a voice that all the realm shall hear. Too long we have sat back. What say you to Jamie, for Chancellor? He is clerkly enough.”

  “No!” Will snapped. “There shall be no thousands. I go alone. James Stewart asks for me to attend him. Myself only. The safe-conduct names only me. I will not ride to Stirling at the head of a host. That would be to show him that I, Douglas, had need to fear. That his safe-conduct had some meaning. Douglas does not need a host, or any escort, to ride to see his liege. I go alone.”

  All round the table there were murmurings, protests.

  “Think you this is wise, Will?” Margaret said, troubled.

  “You would not deem this paper necessary?”

  “No. But . . .”

  “Enough, then. I ride with Sir William tomorrow, for Stirling. Alone. And leave this paper behind, for the midden! No — enough, I say. Let us have better entertainment than this. Meg — will you sing for us? . . .”

  So Will Douglas presented himself once again before the gates of Stirling Castle, almost as modestly as on that first occasion, eight years before, with no single Douglas at his back — although this time he had Sir William Lauder and three of the King’s Guard for company, all looking grander than he. The little party was not kept waiting at the gatehouse — but again King James met him on the way up to the castle’s living-quarters, coming hurrying down to greet him, even though the light was fading from the February sky, at the head of a group of wary-eyed courtiers.

  James Stewart was affably hearty in a nervous fashion, actually embracing Will and patting his wide shoulder.

  “My good Cousin — you have come!” he cried. “It is long since I have seen you. Long since you have honoured my poor Court! Welcome, my lord.” He looked behind, and at Lauder. “You . . . you come alone?”

  “Aye, Your Grace. Alone.” Will was the more restrained for the King’s effusiveness. “It is not my host that you sought?”

  “No — ah, no. It is yourself. It is well. Very well. Come. You will be weary . . .”

  They walked up to the crown of the castle rock, the company falling in behind. Will noted that there were few, if any, of his allies amongst the courtiers — but, on the other hand, neither was Crichton present. Nor Bishop Kennedy. The brothers Gray were there, Haliburton, Darnley, Lennox’s son, with Boyd, Cranstoun, and a number of the other new men James had gathered round him. The only friend that Will saw was Sir John Forrester of Corstorphine, now looking a sick man.

  Will found the royal apartments much transformed, the woman’s hand of Mary of Gueldres in evidence. James presented him again to the smiling sonsy Queen, and proudly showed him the infant heir to the throne, now seven months old and a healthy-looking child.

  The King then led his visitor on a tour of the castle, always with the tail of sycophantic supporters, to show him the new works and rebuilding, in which the monarch seemed to be inordinately interested. Will was less so, and could not believe that it was for this that he had been summoned to Stirling. After a while, he indicated as much.

  “Your Grace wished to consult me? To ask my counsel?” he said, breaking in on a disquisition on a new audience chamber. “So I came at once. In what can I serve you, Sire?”

  James waved a hand. “No, no. Time for that later. Tomorrow. Aye, tomorrow. You shall come and dine and sup with me, Cousin. Tomorrow we shall speak of many matters. Tonight, you are weary with long riding. I will myself show you to your chamber.”

  Will shook his head. “With Your Grace’s permission — no. You are too kind. I shall lodge in the town. And accept your royal invitation to dine. Tomorrow.”

  Quickly James looked at him, flushing, seeming even younger than his twenty-one years. “Why? There is room for you here. Under my roof. Why lodge in the town, man?”

  “You are throng with folk here, Sire. A weary man is better alone. I shall serve Your Grace best when I am rested. I am but ill company, save at my best. I ask you to excuse me.”

  The King was frowning now, and the murmur of talk behind them had stilled to silence. “I do not understand you, my lord,” he said. “Why you seek other roof than mine? Do you . . . do you not trust me? I sent you safe-conduct, did I not?”

  “Why did you send Douglas a safe-conduct, Sire? Why did you think Douglas required it?”

  James blinked. “It was . . . you had not come. Before. You seemed to keep your distance. As though you feared. Feared for your person. Your safety. So I sent the safe-conduct. On my royal word. That you might be assured.”

  “What should Douglas fear? In this Scotland?” Slowly, deliberately, Will looked from the monarch round all the watching, listening throng, and back again. “If any fear, surely it should not be Douglas? Whose arm is sufficiently long to assure himself!”

  “Yes. Yes. To be sure, Cousin. It was perhaps not necessary.”

  “Not necessary — no, Sire. So I left your safe-conduct at Threave!”

  “You are proud, my lord,” the other said, hotly now. “Too proud, too high, for a subject! Do not trust too much to your Douglas strength. To your thousands of men.”

  “Did I trust to them? To come here, Sire? I came alone, did I not? I trusted not to my thousands — any more than I did to your safe-conduct. I came, as any other leal subject, to your royal summons.”

  James eyed him doubtfully.

  “And now, have I Your Grace’s permission to retire?”

  The King no longer sought to detain him. “I shall look to see you, to have your counsel, my lord, tomorrow,” he said shortly, and turned away.

  Will rode thoughtfully down into the town again. He still had not discovered the reason for this summons, but he was convinced that James Stewart was up to something. And he had twice overheard the name of Crawford muttered amo
ngst the courtiers around the King. Could it be another attempt to brand him with treason, linked to Beardie Alex?

  Aware that he was being discreetly followed, he found lodging in the establishment of the Grey Friars, below the castle rock. What the friars thought of their unexpected guest they did not reveal.

  Confirmation that his movements were being watched reached Will while still abed next morning, when one of the King’s gentlemen came bringing an invitation — which, from that source amounted to a command — for the Earl of Douglas to attend His Grace at a hunt in the Cambusbarron area. Horses would be at his door under the hour.

  So Will Douglas spent another day in the saddle, a day mercifully free from complications, with the sport only fair, the weather inclement, but King James in genial mood, apparently unconcerned with all but the chase. Tired and wet, but in a much more normal and contented frame of mind, his visitor ended that short February daylight feeling closer to his liege lord than for years.

  At dinner in the castle thereafter, the good humour continued, indeed developed into conviviality, as the wine flagons were refilled and filled again. Will was accorded the place of honour between James and his Queen, and had no reason to complain of neglect by the royal pair. Unfortunately the Lord Crichton made his appearance during the meal, presumably having ridden from Edinburgh. Will wondered whether a courier had been sent hotfoot for him the night before. And what his presence now presaged. But meantime the King only nodded casually to the Chancellor’s deep obeisance from the doorway, and went on with replenishing Will’s goblet as Crichton took a late-comer’s lowly seat near the foot of the great table.

  Despite James’s attention to his guest’s cup, Will was drinking only moderately — the more so as his monarch grew ever noisier and still more hearty. James was fond of wine, and apt to be merry of an evening; but Will gained the impression that he was drinking tonight more determinedly than usual, the Queen’s frequent and slightly concerned glances over at her husband tending to confirm this. The visitor wondered whether majesty was perhaps priming himself up for an uncongenial task.