"You sound, h'm, concerned, Mistress. I do not seek confidences. But if you wish to tell me aught, I think you can trust me to be discreet. It is to do with the Queen ?"
'Yes. The Queen... and the Master of Gray!"
He looked at her quickly, but said nothing.
"I cannot speak with certainty," she went on. "You could say that it is all conjecture. That I am a foolish woman imagining dramatics. I cannot prove that it is not so. But I know my father, I know the Queen, and I know the situation. All too well. And I must needs do something to save it, if I may. If I can make you believe me."
"I know, Mistress, how greatly the Duke of Lennox esteems you. Not only in his love, but for your ability and strength. The King himself speaks of you as having wits almost as sharp as the Master of Gray's own—which is saying much! I shall not lightly doubt you."
"Many would. For it is scarce believable. Unless you know my father, and what he can do, has done. I think that he has devised a plot, a most shameful plot. To be even with the King."
"I would not be surprised," Heriot admitted. "He was ever one for plots. And the King treated him most scurvily at Berwick."
"Yes. It was foolish of His Grace. Almost wicked, perhaps. And dangerous. For years the Master has held the King in his hands, guiding him—and the realm with him. Almost more powerful than the Chancellor and the Privy Council, claiming only this position of Master of the Wardrobe, yet in fact holding a balance, moving noble against noble, playing one faction against another,
the Catholics against the Protestants, Elizabeth against Spain, the Pope. I have hated it, men are no more than pawns on a board to Patrick Gray. Yet he has served the Kirk and the realm well, in his own way. There has been peace of a sort now, for years—Patrick's peace! The country has been spared the savageries of the great lords. And King James saved from disasters innumerable. For one purpose, to one end. The uniting in his one person of the two thrones, the two kingdoms. This has always been what Patrick worked for, to make sure that it was James who succeeded Elizabeth, against all other claimants. In order that Scotland should enter a. new era of peace and prosperity and the endless wars and intrigues between the two should cease. He may have been wrong in this belief—I do not know. But he believed it, worked for it, plotted and all but lived for it, shepherding James to it step by step. And now—this! Cast aside scornfully at the very door of England, while others enter in." She paused, panting a little with her long declamation, moved obviously, proof if that were needed, that she had indeed a feeling for her extraordinary father.
"I know it. Saw it. And grieved. But the King conceives him a rogue. Has always done so, it seems. And used him, in his turn."
"And the King is right He is a rogue. I, his daughter, admit it. But a clever rogue, with a great ability. Not the man to make an enemy of!"
"The King was ill-advised, yes. But no doubt he believes that, in England, on that greater throne, the Master can no longer hurt him."
"And that is where the King is wrong " She swallowed. "I believe that he, Patrick, intends no other than to unseat James as King of Scots!"
At the man's incredulous stare, she shook her lovely head. "Hear .me, before you scoff. The King's eldest child, the Prince Henry, is kept in Stirling Castle under the care of the Earl of Mar, and away from his mother the Queen. You know this—has been these six years. The cause of much bad blood between King and Queen. James does not trust his wife with the children, believes her weak and silly—as, in some truth, she is. He remembers how ill he was served by his mother, Mary. Patrick's plan is, now that James has shaken off the dust of Scotland from his shoes, to get Mar, the Prince's keeper and guardian, to proclaim the boy Henry as King of Scots in place of his father and declare no union of the kingdoms."
"God in Heaven!"
"Before you cry impossible, consider. There are many in Scotland who would welcome something such. Many who see the King's departure for England as a blow, a betrayal. Who believe that Scotland will become no more than a mere dependency of England, little better than a great county. That all which has been fought for over the centuries will be wasted, independence gone. Others mislike King James himself and would prefer a child-king who could be swayed to their purposes. Then there are the Catholics—Huntly, Erroll, Angus and the rest—still mighty strong, who had hopes of drawing James back to the old religion —but now, on the throne of Protestant England, they know that to be impossible. They could turn a seven-year-old boy Catholic easily enough!"
"Yes, yes—I see that. I see that it could succeed. In the hands of unscrupulous men."
"My father, you will agree, is sufficiently unscrupulous, sir? And remember, but newly on his English throne, James would scarce be in a position to mount any armed invasion of Scotland, to assert his rights. He has left behind in Scotland all the lords he does not like. He should not have spurned the Master of Gray !"
For moments George Heriot stared, fingering his small beard. 'The Queen?" he asked. "She is not in this? What of Her Grace? She would never lend herself to such treachery ?"
"As to that, I do not know. She is a strange woman and has long held a grudge against her husband over Prince Henry. And the other two children, both of whom he has taken away from her. She sees none of them, her motherhood soured. And now she is pregnant again, and in that state a woman can do strange things. She might prefer her three children, wholly her own, to a husband who shows more interest in pretty young men !"
"Yes—it could conceivably be so. But—Mar? The Earl of Mar is with the King. In England. How could he be in this? He has always been the King's trusted friend. They were as good as foster-brothers."
"Patrick may have some hold over him. I know not. But the Countess of Mar, his mother, has the Prince in Stirling Castle and is refusing to allow the Queen to see him. Whether on the King's orders, her son's, or on Patrick's, I know not But Patrick was at Stirling only three days back. He was not kept out!"
Heriot shook his head. "This is beyond all. If it is indeed so. Could it be but conjecture? Would the Master throw over all he has worked for, overturn his policy over England, merely for revenge?"
"I do not know. But Patrick loves power. Power for its own sake. And now, suddenly, he sees his power plucked from him. I think he might do this, to regain it. For of course it would be he, not Mar, who would control the boy-King, and Scotland with him. He might believe that he could then strike some bargain with England, to gain the advantages of the union, but himself still holding the balance, the power. Father and son on the two thrones, and himself in a position to call the tune! It could be..."
"It could be. But is it? You cannot prove it?"
"No, I cannot prove it, to be sure. The Master of Gray does not leave his plots open for proof or disproof. But his wife, the Lady Marie Stewart, believes he has some deep plan in hand. We ... we work together, where we may. To undo some of the evil of his ploys." She wagged her head, almost helplessly for that capable young woman. "And these great entertainments here in the Palace—these are not just to squander the King's money. I am sure that they are arranged so that Patrick can assemble important men here, confer with them. Important men for his plot, and for afterwards. None will suspect anything of huge intrigue amongst all these masques and junketings."
"You make it convincing, Mistress Gray."
"I could wish that I could not 1 You saw how Patrick was concerned with your coming. How he came hastening. Seeking to hear why the King had sent you. He might well be wondering whether, somehow, word of the plot had reached James. And you were sent to spy it out."
"The King is only afraid lest the Queen gets into some foolishness. Spends over-much of his money. Or mine. He has had a fright about the English Treasury—which he esteemed inexhaustible. Also he considers that she behaves indiscreetly with young men. That is all. But this—this is a nightmare, beyond all his fears."
'Yes. A nightmare, in truth. Which I have had to hug to myself for days. Not knowing to whom to turn. Wi
shing Vicky were here—the Duke. I had no one to turn to, save the Lady Marie. No one who could act..."
'The Chancellor—the Lord Fyvie? As head of the King's government here, surely he is the one to tell ? "
"My Lord Fyvie is a friend of my father's. Otherwise I think he would not be where he is. He may be honest—but he is new to the task. Not a strong man, as old Maitland was strong. More interested in building castles and palaces, writing poetry, than in statecraft He is at Dunfermline, building as ever. Would he listen to me, even if I could get to him? As I could not—for I am watched always. My father loves me, in his fashion, I am sure— but trusts me no further than I trust him"
"So-o-o! What would you have me do ?"
"See the Queen. Discover, if you can, whether she is in the plot If not, warn her. And somehow contrive to get Prince Henry into her hands, and safe away from Stirling. Into England, to his father. Little Prince Charles too, if that is possible. He is at Dunfermline with the Chancellor..."
"Save us—here's no light task, Mistress I How can I do this?"
"Somebody must And quickly. You have authority. A good head, all say. And, money—which might be important 1 And the Queen heeds you."
"I have no authority in matters of state. Only in private affairs. I am only His Grace's jeweller. I could send an urgent message to the King..."
'There is no time, sir. That would take days. Patrick may strike at any moment. What is to be done must be done at once. Do you understand, Master Heriot? At once. Even tomorrow may be too late. My father does not daunder either, when he sets his hand to a venture "
"I shall ride to Linlithgow tomorrow..."
"Tonight, sir, I beg you. I know you are weary. But the Master of Gray will have you watched—nothing more sure. If the Queen is in this, he may well seek to prevent you seeing her. Or at least, have her warned against you. He knows that we have been together, knows how I hate his plots. He is not stupid. He will see you as dangerous, I am sure. Ride tonight, Master Heriot—before he has time to make plans for you 1"
"This is all too much I So much beyond me, Mistress Gray— this sort of intrigue and plot and treason. For that it is."
"You are the King's loyal subject, servant and friend, are you not? So men say. And he needs such, in this case. Does he not, sir?"
Spreading his hands, he bowed before her urgency. "Very well —if needs I must."
"I would come with you—but that would wholly arouse the Master's suspicions. Force his hand, perhaps. But I shall send messages of aught I hear. Warn you if there seems to be any sudden change. I have a, a helper in Her Grace's household. Even if I cannot be with you, we can act in concert"
"So be it, Mistress. And you? Where will I reach you, if I require to?"
"In the Master of Gray's lodging, here in Holyroodhouse.'' "Dear Heaven!" he said.
"And, see you, sir—if we are to work thus close together, on His Grace's behalf, we can dispense with this Mistress Gray and Master Heriot, can we not? I have never found the name Mary to displease me."
He smiled. "Your friend, my Lord Duke of Lennox, was gracious enough to be saying the same two nights ago. I told him that my friends call me Geordie."
"Dear Vicky, he is a good judge. Though, to be sure, it will not be easy to call the richest man in Scotland Geordie "
"Am I that?"
"So men do say. Are they wrong ?"
"Say that more men owe me money than any other in Scotland ! I think it is scarce the same thing!"
4
IT IS EIGHTEEN miles from Edinburgh to Linlithgow in West Lothian, on the road to Stirling, and George Heriot and his grooms, getting away from Holyroodhouse again without hindrance, required less than four hours, even in darkness, to reach it. So they halted at the little wayside kirk of Binning, tied their horses to tombstones, and rolled themselves in their cloaks to sleep on the floor within. If the grooms thought it sacrilegious, Heriot did not
In the event, they overslept despite the hardness of the beaten-earth floor, for they were all bone-weary with long riding. Heriot left a silver groat between the leaves of the pulpit bible to mystify the minister, and moved on to Linlithgow town to breakfast, also to shave, before presenting himself at the gatehouse of the brown stone palace up on its green eminence above the wimpling loch in the sunny, breezy, April mid-morning.
He had no difficulty in getting past the guard, for all the Queen's household knew him. He had been the Queen's jeweller since 1597 and only later entered the King's service also. Anne was not the easiest person to deal with, any more than was her husband; but Heriot was grateful to her, for it was undoubtedly through her patronage and influence that he had become not only jeweller but banker to a large part of the aristocracy of Scotland. His father before him, of the Heriots of Trabroun, had been a prosperous Edinburgh goldsmith and burgess, but it was George's connection with the Court which had brought the real wealth.
Queen Anne had her own Court, smaller but almost independent of her husband's—for the truth was that they got on only indifferently well together. It would, indeed, have required the patience and forbearance of a saint to put up with James Stewart, in matrimony—and Anne of Holstein was far from saintly, or even patient. She was moody, extravagant, pleasure-loving and strong-willed—but also she was essentially kind-hearted, even generous, and straightforward. A daughter of the vehement, restless but autocratic Frederick the Second of Denmark, she took but ill to many of James's ideas on both monarchy and matrimony.
In the royal quarters of the handsome, quadrangular palace, much older than Holyroodhouse, Heriot was informed that the Queen was still abed. He was not surprised, for frequently she did not stir before midday—partly it was suggested in protest against the King's habit of rising, and rousing the palace, in the early hours of the morning, to indulge in his passion for hunting. Also, she not infrequently had been dancing or otherwise enjoying herself until much the same hour. Now, of course, she was seven months pregnant and so had ample excuse.
Heriot requested that his presence be made known to her, if she was waking, nevertheless.
A large Junoesque lady with a magnificent figure and a smouldering, sensual look to her, presently swept in to him, in the anteroom. "Why, here is a surprise, Master Heriot!" she cried. "How came you here? We—Her Grace thought you in London. With her husband. As did I, with mine! Have you been dismissed, sent back, like the rest of us? Do not say that Jinglin' Geordie Heriot is no longer required by our odd liege lord ?"
The man was careful how he answered that—however used he was becoming to the question. For this woman was thought by many to be a spy for King James. Certainly the Queen so reckoned her and cordially loathed her. But she could not get rid of her. She was indeed, in theory, her principal Lady in Waiting, maintained in that position by the King's direct orders. Nevertheless, Heriot had doubts about whose spy she might be—if any— tending rather to consider her a choice of the Master of Gray, who liked this sort of woman, while James certainly did not
"Sent back, yes, my lady—but, I think and hope, not dismissed," he said. "His Grace merely entrusted me with a message for the Queen."
"Indeed! An important message, surely, for the King to use the richest man in Scotland as his messenger?"
"That is a title I cannot claim. Indeed, I dare swear that your ladyship could buy me out twice over and scarce notice the cost!"
'You are too modest, sir. But then, you always were almost over-modest-seeming, were you not? I like a man who knows his worth! And I think you are ... very worthy ! In more than just money, Master George!" She came quite close as she said that, and there was no mistaking the hint of conditional promise and invitation in her throaty, deep voice.
"I am flattered, Duchess," he said, meeting her sultry and at the same time overbearing gaze. "I know my worth to within a pound or two. And yours sufficiently to recognise that you have no need for such as me!"
"I said in more than money, friend."
"Knowing my own
worth, lady, includes knowing that George Heriot without his money, would be worth—that!" And he snapped his fingers. "Even to kindly disposed duchesses!"
She frowned frankly, drawing away a little. Her voice colder, she asked; 'The King? He is well? No mischance sent you back?"
"None."
"No tidings disturb His Grace?" "Should there be, lady?"
"Stop fencing with me, man!" The Duchess of Lennox was not a subtle woman—she did not have to be. "I am not some simpering miss to be foxed with words. Or the lack of them I What brings you back to Scotland, to Linlithgow, so soon? If you are not dismissed ? If there is nothing amiss ?"
The man thought quickly. Would anyone so devious and careful as the Master of Gray use such a matter-of-fact minion as this? James might—but in that case the Duchess was no danger. Moreover, she was one of the greatest heiresses in the land, a bride found for the Duke of Lennox two or three years before, while they were both under-age; if she anybody's spy, it was not for payment—at least, not for money. He had no wish to make an enemy of anyone so powerful, and wife of the Duke—although she was only that in name, their marriage forced on them, and his affections wholly centred on Mary Gray.
"The King grew concerned that Her Grace might require aid, guidance, possibly money," he said carefully, but less stiffly. "He chose to send me, with his messages and instructions, as perhaps able to supply such, in some measure."
She eyed him directly, ponderingly, for a moment, and then shrugged. 'To be sure, Her Grace always requires money I And guidance! As to aid, is there especial need?"
"I hope not If so, I have yet to discover it. Has your ladyship anything of the sort in mind ?"
The tables turned, she shook her head. "She is troubled at not being able to see her son. But that is nothing new. And she is, of course, seven months gone with child . . ." She turned, as a young woman came into the antechamber. "Knock before you enter, girl!" she snapped.
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